Leaving downtown, they headed for one of the wealthiest neighbourhoods in the outer reaches of Detroit.
Entering the district, winding roads lined by rows of trees flashed past them, with beautiful villas surrounded by neat and often intricate greenery that reminded Connor of the more beautiful aspects of the Zen garden.
Distantly he wondered about the juxtaposition of such carefully coded beauty containing one of his most traumatic memories.
His gaze lingered idly on a fishpond as he imagined trying his hand at recreating his mind palace in the form of a garden at some point in the future.
The idea of building a safe haven in his mind that reflected such calm beauty appealed greatly.
It might even help him lessen the trauma, those memories still inflicted upon his mind.
'stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools' the poem had said.
Yes - he decided - this would do as a future project. His first conscious choice to distance himself from his default settings.
A fluttering mixture of excitement and pride made him shift in his seat, as he carefully eyed the gardens around them for inspiration and compared them to pictures online. Especially images of large ponds full of colourful fish caught his interest and he didn't even notice the wistful smile lighting up his face until Hank's amused chuckle drew him back to the present.
"I'll have to take ya to the botanical garden one of these days, if ya like all this green stuff that much."
Connor grinned in excitement. "I'd like that. Maybe we could take Sumo with us?"
With a content little smile, he grabbed the idea and ran with it, proceeding to ramble about the notable features and plants for show at the local gardens and comparing them gleefully to the private gardens around them, hands waving animatedly.
Hank listened in patient amusement, ducking an energetically pointing finger and fondly remembered Cole doing nearly the same upon visiting the zoo.
His son had loved animals of every kind passionately while his partner was apparently partial to gardens - and fish.
They soon came to a stop in front of a flat modern villa, grey stone plates flowing in geometrical forms around various big window panes, surrounded by a neatly trimmed but snow covered lawn of considerable size.
A high metal fence lined the edge of the property, the gate standing wide open and tire tracks clearly visible on the white driveway leading up to the house.
Ringing the doorbell, they waited patiently for multiple long minutes, but no life signs could be heard from inside the house. After ringing again with no further reaction, Connor interfaced with the digital door lock, brute forcing the mechanism in a matter of seconds.
"Not so tech savvy, this one." Hank huffed in amusement, following the android inside.
The open architecture presented a fascinating view of the contrast between clean and tidy furniture and the chaotic signs of a hasty departure.
"Looks like someone did a runner. Damn it!"
Hank snarled, before pulling out his phone and calling the station for a team to head out to them and for an AOS order to be put out for Dirk Crestwood.
Connor looked around the room attentively. He noted the clean surfaces and orderly shelves - too orderly for a human to accomplish - before a sudden whim pulled him over to a door next to the garage entrance.
Followed by a curious looking Hank he entered a small dark storage room, where at the back, squeezed between cleaning supplies and shelves, a single offline PL600 stood crammed awkwardly in a charging booth.
Hank sighed tiredly, putting the phone back in his pocket and watched the by now familiar process of Connor interfacing with another android.
"Wake up."
With a small jerk, the blond android snapped awake and stared at Connor and Hank in panicked confusion.
"No need to be afraid. My name is Connor and the human over there is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. We are police and here with a search warrant for Mr. Crestwood's house."
As patiently as possible Connor went on to inform the newly awoken android about his freedom and the possibility of joining the others at Hart-plaza.
"But- but what about Mr. Crestwood's house?"
Leading the still highly stressed android patiently out of the dark storage room, Connor answered, "Mr. Crestwood appears to have left Detroit in a hurry and I don't expect him to return for a while yet, if at all."
Looking questioningly from the android's red LED towards his nodding partner, he continued, "If you don't mind waiting in the car out front, we'll take you to the others after we finish up here."
The PL600 nodded gratefully and his LED calmed down to yellow.
Seeing the other's stress levels sinking, Connor asked, "Would you mind answering a few questions before you head outside?"
He received another nod.
"What is your name? And do you know when and where to Mr. Crestwood might have left?"
"I was called Gregory before." A small frown. "I don't know if I'll keep that name, but it will do for now. As to your other question, I was ordered to stay in standby when my daily tasks are done, so I don't know when Mr. Crestwood might have arrived or left. I know that he has a summer house in Brazil that he tends to visit once a year, but I can't tell you if that was his destination. I'm sorry that I can't be of more help. Was there anything else?"
Hank looked over his shoulder at the living room. "What were those daily tasks, if you don't mind me asking?"
Gregory shrugged and gestured at the rest of the house. "My tasks included cleaning the house, tending to the garden and polishing the car," he hesitated slightly, looked towards the liquor cabinet and added quietly, "as well as repairing anything broken."
Hank frowned suspiciously and followed his gaze.
"He ever break you?"
Gregory shifted uncomfortably, before averting his gaze and nodding timidly. "He liked his gin when work was stressful. He would call me and rant about his work. I made the mistake of offering a suggestion, once."
He touched the side of his head carefully. "He- let's just say I did not try that again and leave it at that. I- would you mind?"
He pointed towards the exit with a shaking hand, his LED once again glaringly red. Hank nodded bashfully and pulled his car keys from his pocket. Gregory took them with muttered thanks, before hastily leaving the house.
Hank waited for the door to close before cursing Crestwood loudly and creatively. Silently, Connor had to agree.
He had been aware of the mistreatment faced by other androids, but this talk left him feeling like someone had kicked his thirium pump regulator. Guilty he thought back to his previous naive defense of CyberLife's anti-deviant stance at the start of his investigation.
How could he ever have agreed with such an erroneous view?
He vowed to do everything he could to help victims like Gregory in the future. Anger flooded his systems as he remembered that as of right now Crestwood would not even be considered guilty of any crime.
The ceasefire might have been declared, but no laws concerning androids had been released yet.
His anger turned into burning determination as he finally came to a realisation that he should have had much earlier.
Things had to change. Things would change - he would make sure of it.
And - meeting Hank's fierce gaze - he knew with utter certainty that he would not be alone.
They searched the chaotic mess cluttering the house for anything relevant, but only managed to confirm their previous assumption.
Crestwood had hastily packed his most important possessions as well as most of his wardrobe and left by car.
Checking his bank accounts and finding them suspiciously empty, they concluded that he didn't plan to ever return.
Before the team of police officers could arrive to continue searching the house more methodically, they headed back towards the car to bring Gregory to safety.
Going by the rules, they should have taken him to the station to get an official statement, but both silently agreed that the stress would probably be too much for the still nervously shifting android.
Hank headed straight for Hart Plaza, where he pulled over a block away. Gregory climbed out of the back of the idling car and looked one last time at Connor.
"Thank you. I owe you for everything. I mean it. If you ever need anything, call me." He pinged the android once to transfer his ID and closed the door, before heading off down the street.
Hank grinned at Connor's slightly befuddled stare, before patting his back proudy.
"Ya did good today, kid. Really good."
An android - a deviant - had just thanked him!
They may have been too late to capture Crestwood, but even so this felt like a victory.
He had not failed for once!
Connor blinked the slight moisture from his eyes and whispered, voice broken by static, "Tȟ̢an̗̕k͔̏ ̉yŏ͓u̱̇."