November 9th, 2038

PM 04:41:34


You could've done without the talk with Chris about how much he didn't want to be evacuated, or how Hank almost punched an FBI Agent in the face as they dragged him out. You could've done without the standing ovation when you entered the precinct alongside comments like, "Now we've got two 'Deviant Hunters' on payroll."

You would've been alright without the attitude from the DPD Android Specialist as she finished a sandwich at her desk, empty of work in the tech wing while you fished through Connor's locker for any kind of CyberLife care package.

"Bionic Omni Healer…"

You shoved it in your ever-growing duffle bag, packed with extra Thirium-310 and whatever else you'd scavenged. A zipped-up replacement uniform lay flush against the inner wall of the locker.

"RK800."

A one-of-a-kind prototype, signed, sealed, and delivered straight to the DPD's doorstep. One who'd literally had his heart ripped out and stomped on by another android.

It begged the question: How did he make it out of the shuffle?

"You just gonna stand there with all that inventory or are you gonna do my job for me?"

The specialist took a sip of her drink, screwing the bottlecap on tight.

"I'm gonna leave you to finish whatever you're doing while I keep the city from fucking falling apart."

She scoffed behind you as you left, and your TeleBand started vibrating. It had a haunting chirp – like when Detroit tested its emergency sirens.

"This is not a drill-"

You clicked the button, "Yes, Captain?"

"In my office. Now."

Captain Fowler disconnected, and you adjusted the thick strap over your shoulder.

You weren't out of the woods, just yet…

"I'm not even going to talk about what happened at the Stratford Tower." Fowler was sitting on the edge of his desk with a three-page-long report in a folder on his lap, "But attacking a CyberLife retrieval agent? Drawing a shotgun on an unarmed civilian?" He looked up from the document, "What's gotten in to you two?"

You fidgeted, clawing at your wrist behind your back, "The CyberLife personnel tried to repossess Connor and destroy him."

"And the gentleman on Woodland threatened to 'put us down like he did his android,' after jumping in front of our cruiser. High on Red Ice, naturally." Chris added.

You shivered at the memory of fists pounding against the hood of your patrol vehicle, and the sound of glass almost cracking as someone took metal to it.

"Miller, give us a minute."

Chris looked at you out of the corner of his eye, giving you a reassuring nod as he left.

"Do I look like an idiot to you?" Fowler sat in his chair, sipping at his coffee, "Did you not think I didn't know who you were and who you were running from the minute you stepped inside this precinct?"

You were stunted, hands slipping into the cuffs of your sleeves as you retracted into your DPD puffy coat for a shell.

"I didn't sign off on your paperwork just so you could use this department as a social platform for android justice."

"I'm not, Captain, I promise-"

"Save it. Your ego is writing checks your butt can't cash."

You sank further in your coat until the lip of the zipper scratched just under your nose. You slouched in the seat, wishing you could bolt through the clear doors and go home.

"I've been on the force longer than you've been alive, and I picked you out of all the other cadets lining up to put on that same uniform you're wearing right now. I picked the best, because I don't settle for anything but the best. That's how I got assigned to DPD Central Station – the best of the best." He was pointing and waving his hands, crafting a powerful image with his words, "So before you go out there running headfirst into danger, trying to prove me wrong, I'd suggest you do whatever you need to do to get your head back in the game because we've got a city to protect and serve."

He chased down the compliments with coffee that probably burned less, "Now go home, rest up, and be back here at 0600 if you're not called in beforehand…"

Your mind was spinning so quickly trying to process the revelation presented to you that you could only pin down one simple question.

"0600?"

Fowler put down his mug. Looked at you, licked his lips, and ran a hand over his face before pointing to the flashing, spastic data board for a wall, "Did you not see what's going on?"

You looked up to find the street cameras going wild. Protestors chanting in mobs, androids hung from trees and street lights-

"Oh my…God…" You winced.

"It's a fucking jungle out there." He sighed, leaning back in his chair, "And there's no God in these streets…Not anymore…"

"Don't say that." You smirked, shooting your hands out of your sleeves as you pushed yourself out of the chair, "'rA9 will save us all.'"

"Clever." He nodded at the door, dismissing you, "Your snarky bullshit is just what I needed…"

"Have a nice evening, Captain."

"…Yeah."

A forlorn sigh followed you out of the office. You saw Chris packing his lunch bag with his cell phone pinned between his cheek and his shoulder.

"Nina, I'm on my way right- yes, I'm fine- I know I was supposed to watch Damian tonight- honey, I'm coming, okay? I promise-"

He looked up to you in a panic, and you let him off the hook with a wave.

You usually walked out together, chatted a bit while your cars warmed up, and shot the shit until his fatherly duties called.

This afternoon? You had to smuggle over a grand in CyberLife inventory out from under your desk and through the backdoor of Central Station.

Just put that on the list of things you didn't expect to be doing today.

Valet service didn't exist anymore.

At least, not the familiar android you'd grown used to seeing every day. You were hoping for the best, but after listening to the news the entire drive over, you should have expected the worst.

"The authorities have ordered all androids to be delivered to the nearest police station or army barracks immediately. If you are worried about your safety, dial the number on our website and the authorities will come to collect your android. Under no circumstances should you try to destroy your android yourself. They are unpredictable, and potentially violent."

You parked your car in the garage you'd never entered. Never needed to enter, because an android had done it for you. Sat in the driver's seat with your hands still on the wheel, trying to work up the nerve to get out and enter the building. Finally shut the door and popped the trunk, throwing the hand-sized DPD duffle in a box marked "ANTHONY," an old keepsake that traveled with you.

You wondered what he'd have to say if the two of you were ordered to go "collect" an android from someone's home. Wondered what Chris would say, and if he'd be on board to letting it run free to go find…Jericho.

You slammed the trunk shut, locking your car with a press of a button. Tried to push Perkins and his taunting into the farthest corner of your mind, but the visualized version of him kept shouting to close the distance. Balanced the box on your hip as you made your way through the service hallway and lobby, noting the missing android secretary.

CyberLife had swept this place. Used their "shiny white compactor" as Hank called it.

You couldn't save everyone…

But if you were going to try, you figured starting with Connor would be a safe bet.

You eyed the dent in the elevator – the one labeled "CAUTION" with yellow and black tape.

A safe bet?

No.

More like, a cautious gamble.

[7 UNREAD TEXT MESSAGES]

Hank Anderson

Today 16:01

At your place. Nice booze collection. Hope you don't mind.

To: Hank Anderson

"Hope" you didn't empty the bar.

Message Sent

Hank Anderson

Today 18:00

I was gracious. You're welcome.

Captain Allen

Today 17:00

Come see me tomorrow morning. We need to talk.

To: Captain Allen

Aye-aye, sir.

Message Sent

Captain Allen

Today 18:01

No one says that.

Gavin Reed

Today 017:06

Wtf i just got here with border collie n we're sent home? the fuck is this shit i wanna be out there LETS GOOOOOOO

To: Gavin Reed

You say that now…but we're just getting started.

Message Sent

Gavin Reed

Today 18:02

Imakjtjimys comoutwthus

To: Gavin Reed

What happened to that girl you were seeing?

Message Sent

Gavin Reed

Today 18:03

guy?

To: Gavin Reed

Sure.

Message Sent

Gavin Reed

Today 18:03

IDFKLOL

Ben Collins

Today 17:33

Made it home. Rest up, "hotshot." Not target practice today, huh?

To: Ben Collins

Will do. And no, not today, Ben. Not today.

Message Sent

Ben Collins

Today 18:05

Disregard those texts from Reed. I don't know how he got his phone back.

To: Ben Collins.

Easy.

Message Sent

Chris Miller

Today 17:54

Home. Let me know when you get there, okay?

To: Chris Miller

Home. Say hi to Nina and the kid for me.

Message Sent

Chris Miller

Today 18:06

Nina said hi, and Damian threw his toy. You're cursed.

To: Chris Miller

Could've told you that.

Message Sent

Carl Manfred

Today 18:07

They took my android. Eli is staying with me until these shenanigans blow over.

To: Carl Manfred

Jesus Christ…Okay. I'm glad he's with you. Let me know if you need anything.

Message Sent

Carl Manfred

Today 18:08

That was quick. Thanks, hun. I will.

UNKNOWN SENDER

?:?

Carl and I were both visited by the same person. Watch your back.

To: UKNOWN SENDER

Who?

Message Failed to Send

Retry?

[Y] [N]

You'd been so preoccupied, you hadn't realized you'd gone into autopilot. The box was balanced between your hip and the wall, your phone in hand. Your eyes flashed to the panel on your door that went from red to green. A rumble and a notification drew your attention back to the screen.

[1 UNREAD TEXT MESSAGE]

Connor

Today 18:10

Come in…I won't bite.

[2 UNREAD TEXT MESSAGES]

Connor

Today 18:10

Hard.

You clicked the lock button, swallowed the staleness in your mouth, and entered the threshold.

Hank was at the bar, that was to be expected. He gave you a nonchalant wave over his shoulder as he took another shot, flicking through a datapad with the heels of his shoes hooked on the circular rung underneath the barstool.

"Didn't wanna leave him alone with all this shit going on."

You adjusted the box, the weight getting to you. Looked over at the living room, and the lit fireplace with the TV switching channels above it.

KNC News.

"Detroit's heavy snowfall is expected to continue throughout the night. The forecast is 22°, far below seasonal averages. And this cold front is likely to persist over the coming days, up until Monday evening."

CTN TV.

"The Arctic conflict has escalated to new heights this morning. We have just learned that the USS Iowa, a destroyer-class submarine patrolling in the region, is reported to have disappeared after surfacing for repairs. President Warren immediately called for a crisis meeting of high-ranking officers in the White House. With the world on the brink of war, this incident could well be the spark that lights the fuse."

Channel 16.

"If this message is verified, that would have serious repercussions for national security. Is this the beginning of a terrorist campaign, conducted right here in the United States?"

A cycle of three familiar news anchors, and three broadcasts that held one looming, unified message:

The world was ending.

Connor's head and shoulders hovered just above the back of the couch, one arm extended along the top and the other out of view. He was focused – absorbing all the information and didn't even flinch when you dropped the heavy box on the counter.

"Been telling him all night to stop watching…" Hank's ice rattled in his empty glass as he planted it on the granite, sitting across from you, "Shit's depressing."

You looked at the news article he'd been reading, "Kind of hypocritical, isn't it?"

It was titled, "Detroit in Chaos," published by Detroit Today.

"They're destroying all of them…as a 'necessary precaution.'" He looked over his shoulder with a frown on his beard, "Fowler said we shouldn't worry. That we had immunity…" And then back to you, "Connor didn't seem like he was immune to CyberLife's rampage to me. How 'bout you?"

You pulled a glass from a rack overhead, nodding at the opened bottle next to him.

"Nope."

He poured you a drink, and you clanked a cheer before downing it with a burning gulp.

"Watchya got there?" He nodded at the box.

"Anthony's old things…never brought them inside after I cleaned out his locker."

You pulled the repair kit out, sliding it to the side.

Anthony's jacket was underneath. A sweater, and overshirt. Jeans, boots, and a hat. Everything he'd worn to work that day…

"You shouldn't do this to yourself…not now."

"When's a good time, Hank?"

"Never."

You scoffed, tipping the cardboard over and dumping the clothes out.

"I just needed the box."

You took it to your desk, planting it on the surface in front of your laptop.

"Yeah…Looked at that earlier." Hank moseyed his way over to you as you began ripping notes from your investigation board, throwing them inside, "You're neck-deep in this, aren't you?"

"You think?" You tore each clue, every letter – even the cover of Revised Article 9 from it's fastened position and tossed it in.

And then the entire hardcopy, itself.

"What are you doing?"

You sighed at the mess of paper and string, push pins and torn edges – all buried by a transcript you'd held on to with everything you had.

"It's only a matter of time until Perkins gets a warrant…" You chewed the inside of your cheek, "You still have that barbeque pit out back?"

He crossed his arms. Shifted his weight, lifting his chin and giving you the "Lieutenant" look as if he was piecing things together.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thought about firing it up tonight." He leaned forward, peering inside the box, "Looks like enough to get a good fire started."

You huffed through your nose, shaking your head as he hoisted it up.

"You don't know the half of it…"

Hank said his goodbyes, earning a pair of raised fingers from Connor before they lowered back on the couch. You held the door open for him, and he paused on the other side.

"You guys are good together." He mumbled, "But not if you both end up dead."

Your brows creased, and you leaned into the door.

"We've made it this far…Can't turn back now."

"No…" His somber gaze dropped to the box, shuffling it before giving you a sarcastic grin, "I guess we can't."

Hank made his way down the hall, giving you a nod before the elevator hid him from sight. You closed the door, fingers fumbling with the lock as they began to shake.

You weren't ready for this.

Not to be alone, to deal with Connor…or to be dealt with by him, the threat disguised as a promise he had so eloquently spelled out.

But he was quiet. Waiting. Your night at home started to feel more like a night in holding.

Global conflict was centered in the Arctic, and it was just as cold here.

A Bering Strait of its own from one side of your apartment to another. A silent standoff without an end…

Two sovereign states, on the brink of war.


Behind the Scenes


Top Gun Quote

"Your ego is writing checks your butt can't cash."

Chris's Wife's Name from "A Friend in Need" by Ms_Chanandler_Bong

(Thank you for giving Chris his own spotlight!)