November 10th, 2038
AM 10:34:42
"When pack meets with pack in the jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken; it may be fair words shall prevail."
Elizabeth had her hand in the curve of your back, guiding you through the floor after the two of you had gone over costs, schedules, a plan of action…nothing friendly, or casual.
You sat, unnerved by the surrounding vacancies…
Chris's desk. Hank's.
Connor's.
The picture on his desk was gone, along with your car keys. You didn't have to check his locker to know that Anthony's clothes were gone, too.
Gone.
Connor was gone, and that, somehow, alarmed you more than the intense interrogation you'd barely survived. But an unexpected conversation kept you from dwelling on it.
"Thank you for calling me…" Elizabeth purred, leaning over Gavin's shoulder, "To say I was surprised would be an understatement, Mr. Reed."
He straightened his back. Seemed shaken, and had his leather jacket hung over his chair behind him. The buttons on his thermal were undone, one flap hanging on the side. His hair was disheveled.
"Thanks for answering."
You raised a brow, and quickly dove back behind your terminal when he caught you watching.
"My sister would like to hear from you, you know."
"No offense, but your sister shouldn't have fucked an android in our bedroom."
The rolling of wheels filled your ears rather than your eavesdropping, and you raised a shy pair of eyes to the Detective leaning back with his arms crossed; heels serving as a brake to his mobile seat.
He may have been worse for wear, but the "Gavin Scowl" was still going strong.
"You're a shithead, you know that?"
"Yeah." Your teeth squeezed against each other as you dryly swallowed, "A shithead in deep shit."
He shook his head, sighing through his nose before rubbing his eyes with two fingers, "'Yeah.'"
"Just remember what we talked about, and your friend here will stay out of federal prison." Elizabeth crossed her ankles, holding her briefcase in front of her with both hands, "It wouldn't be the first show her and I have run together, isn't that right?"
You gave her a nod, idly tapping your fingers on your keyboard.
"You two know each other?"
"She was my…our, attorney when Elijah and I still worked for…at, CyberLife."
"Ah, right, yeah…that whole thing. What in the actual fuck?" He tensed, his elbows sliding down to his thighs to support his weight as he looked at you, "What a fucking closet of skeletons."
"You're telling me." You frowned, "You don't hate me now, do you?"
"Hate you?" He scoffed, "That doesn't even cover how pissed I am. You fucking helped Kamski create-"
"Ahem…Gavin." Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at the cubicles filled with police officers; some with phones to their ears, others with coffee to their mouths, "Perhaps now is not the time."
"Fucking…Whatever. We'll talk later…" Gavin snorted, "Or maybe we won't."
He slid back to his desk, holding on to his armrests before turning back to his screen.
It was obvious something was gnawing at him. He was way too focused on his case – lost in his work instead of playing on his phone. As a detective, this shouldn't have been alarming…
But it was Gavin, and focusing on work wasn't very "Gavin."
"Reed." You coughed.
He ignored you.
"Thanks for looking out."
He shook his head, huffing through his nose before throwing a middle finger over his shoulder.
"Fuck off."
There he was.
"People often judge me by my work." Elizabeth surveyed the office as she spoke, staring off into space, "They judge by the lengths I will go to give my clients a fair trial, and a fresh start…"
Illegal lengths. That is what she was known for.
One of the best defense attorneys in the corporate sector who rarely got involved in cases like yours.
"But when I cross paths with people like you, and Mr. Kamski…it only strengthens my position that they are wrong to judge, because it is not their place, to judge."
She patted your hand before stepping away, "Do not let Richard get to you, sweetheart. There is only one person whose judgement matters in the courtroom, and they have the law to keep their biasness at bay."
She turned her back to you after you shared a sweet, calming smile. A moment of peace.
And then she ran into someone.
"Oof - shit, I mean sorry, I mean ma'am, I-"
"It's alright, Officer Miller. My mistake."
Chris blinked himself back to reality as he pinched the bill of his hat in one hand and the back of it with the other, straightening it out from the tilt it was jostled on. He watched her leave, his neck rotating like a beacon.
"Careful, Miller." You smirked, "Nina might get jealous."
His face whipped around, a guilty smile on his lips.
You narrowed your eyes, "You're covered in snow…What were you doing?"
"Helping the – uh, squad…clean the cruisers off-" He covered a cough with a fist, "You know, androids aren't around to do it anymore."
He plopped in the seat next to you, wrists falling between his knees, "Crazy day, huh?"
You leaned forward on your elbows. Mimicked his position.
Gave him a sad smile, shaking your head in disbelief at the fuckery of it all.
"Yeah, Miller…It's been a crazy day, alright."
…
You filled two hours with burying yourself in your work as the example was set, anxiously checking your phone in 15-minute intervals waiting to hear something from someone.
Anyone.
Ben, who left with Hank.
Neither of them had answered you…and Connor hadn't either.
Then there was that small fact that the FBI was flipping your apartment.
You kept peeking at Captain Fowler, who hadn't sat once during the stretch of time. Even when he'd sent out another mandatory overtime notice to the office, he'd stood while he typed the e-mail.
"56 cases available…32 units active." Chris sighed, rubbing his chest, "That's short-staffed if I've ever seen it."
He was watching the Captain just as well, taking a break to drink more of his energy shake.
"You know…" You rested your neck on the edge of the back of your seat, rolling it to face him, "You're awfully calm about everything."
He shrugged, "Whatever Perkins wanted, he didn't get. You're still here, and that's good enough for me."
You smiled at him, at your Merlin – the replacement wingman that was assigned to you after the previous "came and went."
He really did ground you, and the appreciation and gratitude couldn't be put into words.
"You have any idea where Connor is?"
But then he choked…on nothing.
That warm feeling in your chest gave way to ice, and you shot forward.
"Chris."
"No-"
"What did you do?"
It was his tell. One of his many tells when he was lying, or hiding something.
"I didn't do anything, okay?" His brows creased, his lips curled, and his neck snaked back, "Just don't worry about him."
"Excuse me?"
"I said: 'Don't worry about him.'" He snapped.
Wet boots squeaked down the hall, marking the contact of stomping feet.
"MOVE!"
Gavin twisted to the side, his arms raised above his head.
"Shit, watch it-"
He ducked and wove through officers in the hall, a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his ear as he slid to a halt in front of his desk. He was covered in melted and solid snow – a mix of white flakes and beads of water. He was out of breath and pacing.
"Hey-hey, hey hey-" He reached his arms out, grabbing Tina by her biceps as she passed by, steering her fast-paced walk in a circle and flipping her to face him.
"What, Reed?" She scoffed, adjusting the folders under her arm.
He turned her around again, pointing to the televisions, "Unmute that one."
She sucked her teeth, "Why?"
"Patrol 457 just called in a report of thousands of androids marching down the street-"
"What?" You, Tina, and Chris barked.
"Look, fuck if I know, just unmute the-"
"Wait, did that chick in dispatch you banged tell you about this-"
"Chen."
She rolled her eyes, tapping her TeleBand and aiming it upwards…
The television speakers popped before clearing up the signal, broadcasting a harrowing message.
"'A new stage has been reached, demonstrating beyond all doubt that these defective machines have become a real danger for American society…'"
KNC News reported with a message scrolling along the bottom banner.
"PRESIDENT ANNOUNCES NATIONAL STATE OF EMERGENCY…"
And right above those words was a warzone caused by pack meeting pack in the jungle.
A mob of protestors in bandannas versus an army of androids led by a man you'd learned to hold a grudge against.
The face of the revolution…The leader of Jericho.
Markus.
He raised a fist, him and his android followers shouting one, unified chant:
"WE ARE PEOPLE!"
You hadn't realized you'd jumped out of your seat. Didn't take notice to the flock of Detroit Police that'd formed behind you; watching the shaking, helicopter-mounted camera feed in awe.
Some mouths were covered, others had cell phones pinned between their ears and their shoulders.
"Tell Damion I love him, and I'm going to be home late. I love you too. I know."
There were a lot of phone calls like Chris's reverberating through the gathering…and the only thing that tore anyone's attention away from the television was the glass door of Fowler's office locking tight behind him.
And then you all watched; all waited for the sovereign leader to address his loyal subjects, hands gripping the balcony with sleepless nights hanging on his face.
"Chen, mute the televisions."
She did, and a weighted silence fell over the office.
Just the hum of servers, the coughs of civilians in the waiting room, and the clicks from red lights flashing on the receivers of muted work phones in each cubicle.
"I know you're all tired. I know you all miss your families. And I know, that you all know, we haven't seen the worst of this yet." He sighed, and rolled his shoulders, "But know that I am working just as hard to make sure you all return home, safe."
You looked at Chris from the corner of your eye, and he did the same. Both of you shifted your gaze to Gavin, who pursed his lips and gave you a helpless shrug.
"I wouldn't ask any of you to risk your lives if it wasn't absolutely necessary…" He closed his eyes, opening them after a brief pause before sweeping the room with a fiery gaze, "We knew this might happen. We held that briefing this morning because-"
He looked at his pocket. Retrieved his cell phone, and checked the screen.
"It's the Commissioner…I have to take this." He looked back to the workforce on the floor, all awaiting directions.
"Carry on."
And you did.
All of you mindlessly hovered around your desks, trying not to stare at the riots of rivalry forming in the streets. Tried to focus on the tasks at hand, and not panic about the chaos bleeding into the veins of Detroit.
The veins of the jungle that was being flipped on its head, and the men and women tasked with protecting it that were losing control.
A wave of ascending rhythms and synchronized chirps flooded the office as the receivers were given permission to alert their owners. The phones were ringing off the hook, activated one-by-one.
You held your finger over the button that would open your line to dispatch, but hesitated.
Something felt off.
You lifted your focus to Captain Fowler, wondering what the Commissioner was doing calling the man charged with running Central Station at a time like this.
Fowler walked to the digital display that served as his glass cage's farthest wall. Lifted the phone to his ear, and held it there in perfect stature. Gave himself a brief nod, and without facing you and the rest of his team, tucked the phone away.
He pressed his palm to a scanner, and typed in a password.
A TeleBand alert went off on the other side of the office. And then another.
And another.
So many screens flashed until the virtual mobilization spreading like a viral cat video hit yours.
"RIOT CONTROL – REPORT TO THE ARMORY AND PREPARE FOR DEPLOYMENT."
You found Chris, his fingers pinching the circular screen around his wrist.
He looked up, and you returned a reassuring nod.
"Time to walk the line."
A tired smirk crinkled the left side of his mouth.
"Let's roll."
No, you couldn't dwell on what happened only hours ago. Not on love lost or the scrawny prick shoveling dirt from the grave you'd laid the last few years to rest in.
Because even if the FBI was nipping at your heels – even if Connor was MIA under mysterious circumstances…
This was the tipping point, and it was your sworn duty to balance the scale.
This is what it meant to "Protect and Serve."
To put yourself in harm's way for the greater good.
And in making this grand capital offense, you were a repeat offender.
But come forth a hostage situation, a terrorist attack, or a riot in the streets; no matter what form the call to arms took…
You'd always be the first responder.
***T-minus 1 Chapter till Riot Event***
