When I returned to the office, I found a storm cloud of a man, hulking like an unfurled umbrella at his desk, Connor at his side. Hank heard my approaching footsteps and glared at me.

Connor turned like hands on a clock, one leg moving first before the rest of him followed suit. It was odd to watch, like a newborn fawn struggling to take its first few steps.

"Where the fuck is your phone?" Hank snapped.

"You been drinking?" I asked, fishing it from my pocket. No new notifications, so he couldn't say he'd called, which I could tell was his immediate next question.

Sure enough. "Why the hell did you buy that fucking thing if you won't answer my damn calls? Don't even bother anymore."

I placed my cell atop his desk and folded my arms, and Hank grumbled and started mumbling incoherently.

Connor, meanwhile, said, "The Lieutenant hasn't called you, Officer Phillips. He was quite preoccupied with his drink this evening."

"Shut up," Hank snarled, drawing a startled look from Connor.

I asked, "What's going on?"

My superior shot Connor a scowl and said, "You, get your ass outside. We'll leave in a sec."

"Certainly, Lieutenant."

I grabbed Connor's wrist as he passed by. "Did you forget it's raining right now?" I said to Hank. "Give him the keys."

"Fuck that. Just stand in the lobby or somewhere I can find you, okay?"

"Yeah, wouldn't want your seats to get soaked," I snapped at the old man. "See you in a bit," I told Connor, much more gently.

The android looked between us before leaving the room.

"You don't have to be such an ass."

"Don't go telling me how I should treat those plastic assholes, thank you very much."

During one of my least proud moments in law enforcement, I'd broken down at a crime scene. The deviant involved had been horribly abused and tortured, and I couldn't understand why my coworkers had treated the victim as the monster.

Without what I knew now of Hank's past, I never could've guessed how much pain my own suffering during that time had caused him. To see someone shed tears over a machine, the kind that had taken his happiness away; he must've felt like he was being torn apart trying to calm me down.

But that didn't excuse his actions, such as writing me up as the office Android Sympathizer, later admitting it was one of his biggest regrets when he'd broken down at Jimmy's over his beer. We'd been partners for over a year when he'd cracked in front of me, and despite the awful start we'd had, he'd said he never meant to hurt me. He thought he'd been teaching me a vital lesson-one he didn't expect would stain my record for the years to come, preventing me from obtaining a promotion. An angry report of my constant empathy for androids that could get in the way of future missions was meant to prove how I wasn't in the right headspace, had been his way of thinking.

"It was kind of you to pay me a visit at the hospital."

Hank stiffened, slowly meeting my gaze.

My dad and his son, destroyed by androids. Had he not just returned from drinking, and had my family's lives not been uprooted only a week ago, this might've been some dark humor we could've shit on together.

To my surprise, Hank snatched my arm. He pulled me into the kitchen area and told the android standing there to leave. With alcohol on his breath and grief scuttling across his weathered face, the man looked worse than usual. His gray hair enveloped him like a bird's nest, and his scruffy beard only served to sharpen the point of how far he'd let himself go. Not that he didn't keep reminding me about my inability to control my emotions for them. He was right, in some ways, he just went about the harshest route trying to illustrate his point.

I wondered what Connor had thought upon seeing Hank's official ID compared to the man now. The difference was like night and day.

"Listen to me, and listen good," he said. "We're leaving right now for a homicide case and from what Connor's told me, it sounds like a deviant."

Oh no.

"I shouldn't have to watch out for you every time those things get involved, but I do. More than ever now."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

Hank's laugh was rough like gravel. "They sent that thing to work with me. It was just supposed to be me, they said. But when your name crops up as much as it does, as some poor shit who cries for the poor killer androids-"

"They're being abused by their owners," I snapped back, and Hank's gaze bore into mine with an intensity I'd never seen before.

"When you're constantly getting stored away into a pretty little file about how you can't stop your bleeding heart; about how you tried to protect one of those things during an investigation, and I had to come up with a story to get you out of official questioning, do you see where that puts you?"

Dread pooled in my stomach. He was beyond pissed, having to recount my past like that. Or, if the twitching muscle near his jaw were any indication, beyond worried about me.

"That thing's meant to be here for hunting down those plastic things you can't stop having pity-parties over, but I can bet you my next drink you're being watched too."

"There's no way they'd send out a new model just to monitor me."

Hank sucked in a breath. "Kid, if you really wanna become a detective you need to stop seeing what's in front of you, and see what's surrounding you. You're wasting good money by applying for that exam with how you are." He jabbed a finger into my shoulder. "I don't think our android's watching you at all. If anything, it's stuck too far up in its investigations for me to worry."

I flinched. "CyberLife?"

Hank glanced around, as if to make sure no one was there. The nearest camera was just outside this room, occasionally turning to record the area. But Hank had driven me into the corner near the fridge, so our voices wouldn't carry.

"Who knows," he whispered, despite the camera's distance. "All I know is you've quite the record, and despite all the more experienced candidates in this office, you were chosen to be my partner."

"Fowler said he had too many officers and not one of them would put up with you," I hissed back.

He shrugged. "Damn right I don't got time for them. It makes sense to put my partner up in this - but something feels off, given your history, and deviants popping out of the air."

"Maybe, but it just seems a little too much to be suspicious of someone like me. What threat do I even pose to a company as massive as CyberLife?"

"How should I know?" he said. "Look, when we get to the scene, you do exactly as I say, got that?"

He left me to the corner to collect my thoughts for a few moments. It was absurd to think Cyberlife might be concerned about a nobody cop - I wasn't even a detective. Hank had just had too much to drink. If anything, Hank should be worried someone would be coming up to him about his alcohol consumption while on duty.

Steeling my nerves, I headed for Hank's car.

Rain pelted the night while heavy metal shredded through the vehicle. Hank parked and addressed Connor with a pointed finger. "You wait here. I won't be long. Come on, Phillips."

Connor leaned forward as if trying to catch Hank's attention. "My instructions are to accompany you to the crime scene, Lieutenant."

I unbuckled as Hank said, "Listen, I don't give a fuck about your instructions. I told you to wait here, so you shut the fuck up and you wait here."

Connor's eyelids fluttered, and he settled back in his seat, lips pressed tight together. It was a startingly human action, and I had to remind myself of Hank's warning.

Hank shut the door behind him, trapping some of the cold air inside. I didn't say anything to my new partner, too frazzled after Hank's earlier lecture and what lay ahead.

Red and blue lights flashed through the raindrops, scattering the colors into a blinding crystalline sheet. Freezing cold bit through my leather jacket and sliced through my hair, trailing behind in wet ribbons. A crowd of reporters amassed outside the house where patrol kept them back.

"Joss Douglas, for Channel 16, can you tell confirm if this is a homicide?" A man blocked my path, pushing a microphone into my face.

I shoved it aside and followed Hank.

In the distance, I heard a car door slam. Connor.

Passing through the holographic yellow crime scene tape, I headed towards the man on the porch, who was anxiously drumming his fingers against the stack of paper in his hands.

From behind, I heard the patrol officer say, "Androids are not permitted beyond this point."

Hank, who'd been speaking to another officer, rolled his eyes to the heavens as if asking them to send a flood to carry away the plastic garbage swimming after him. "It's with me," he said.

Connor passed through, completely unfazed by the rain soaking him or the visibly pissed off Hank.

"What part of stay in the car didn't you understand?"

"Your order contradicted with my instructions, Lieutenant."

I bit back a laugh at the look in Hank's eyes.

"You don't talk, you don't touch anything and you stay outta my way, got it?" he gave up.

Connor agreed.

The man on the porch, a detective named Ben Collins, nodded at me, then stepped into the rain to greet Hank.

"Evening, Hank. We were starting to think you weren't gonna show." He looked Connor up and down with amusement.

"That was the plan until this asshole showed up," Hank said.

"So, got yourself an android, huh?" Ben mused, leading us to the porch and into the safety away from the rain.

Hank scoffed.

The detective explained how the landlord had become disgruntled, then worried when his tenant hadn't paid his rent for a few months, only to walk in and discover his corpse.

I'd gotten used to seeing and handling the dead, no matter how surreal it was. It was part of the deal of law enforcement. My friends used to ask me about murders and the like, but when it came down to it, cases involving the dead weren't exciting.

They were depressing, they got under your skin and buried into your REM cycle, haunting you when you couldn't break free of sleep paralysis. I eventually grew a tougher skin to deal with it. With having to pick up and touch the deceased to learn what had happened to them; to look past who they'd been so as not to become overwhelmed by it all. But the one thing that always got to me, always got to even the most seasoned officer, was the smell.

Connor slipped in the water sluicing off Hank and slipped off the edge of the porch. He landed on his rear with a splash in the muddy lawn. One of the patrol officers standing inside snickered. Hank and Ben had already passed over the threshold of the main entrance and hadn't seen.

"You alright?" I asked, helping him back up onto the porch. A droplet fell from my chin and landed on his nose.

Connor blinked up at me, looking like a lost puppy. "Yes, thank you, Officer," he whispered.

A knot tightened in my chest. Androids were constantly harassed, ridiculed, and beaten down, often literally. I didn't know what life Connor had led before now, or if he even had had one before this, but right now, all I could see from the others was disdain for his existence. Mockery for his efforts. It hurt.

"Officer?" Connor tilted his head up questioningly while I became lost in my own thoughts. He reached over to pat my shoulder and I started.

"Your sense of smell is stronger than mine, right? You may want to prepare yourself for this one." We stood back on dry ground. The officer at the entrance had disappeared into the house, leaving the door open for us.

I let go of my partner and made for the entrance, but Connor grabbed my hand.

"Officer, you appear to be under a lot of duress. Are you nervous about the body?"

"I just prefer to see living people," I said.

"People - they tend to glance to the left, and often their pulse rapidly accelerates, when they lie. Sometimes their voice may even change."

Damn, maybe detective really wasn't in my stars.

"Let's put those skills of yours to the test, Connor," I said, sliding out of his grasp and stepping into the house.

Carlos Ortiz was like most of the people in Detroit who'd purchased an android; a product promising a wealth of advantages to the mundane lives of today.

Now, in his house on Pine Street, Ortiz lay folded in on himself like a crumpled paper bag, blood streaking down his protruding belly and speckling his forehead.

His android was nowhere to be found.

There had been such a recent surge in deviancy cases, but I could only imagine that Ortiz was still shocked when the product he'd purchased had turned against him.

CyberLife advertised androids like any other company would a phone. They did what you wanted them to, because that's what they were designed to do. They didn't have sentience.

When I glanced over, Connor was busy piecing together the too-neat scrawl of 'I AM HUMAN' above the body, which Hank had linked immediately to Ortiz's android. He moved toward the knife on the floor. Hank watched him with concealed expectation as he slid one finger through the dried blood and pressed it to his tongue.

My eyes widened.

Hank shuddered. "Err, Jesus! What the hell are you doing?" Beat me to it.

The android stood and looked at Hank as though he were the crazy one. "I'm analyzing the blood. I can check samples in real time. I'm sorry," he said, suddenly seeming to realize that humans didn't regularly put blood in their mouths, "I should've warned you."

"Ok, just...don't put any more evidence in your mouth, got it?" Hank fumbled for something to say, completely unnerved.

On this, I agreed with Hank.

"Got it," Connor said, looking back at his fingers like he just couldn't wait for a tasty snack.

"Fucking hell, I can't believe this shit."

I worked tirelessly beside my superior, inspecting the evidence before me and piecing it all together in my head, in the most logical explanation I could manage. I'd seen a packet of red ice, a dried puddle of blood further away from the body, and of course, the multiple stab wounds puncturing Ortiz.

On a table were several ads. One in particular sat atop the pile, as if it'd been recently examined. Sporting bright neon pink letters, and a scantily clad android woman, the logo read, 'Eden Club: Come Visit Us'.

Chris joined me. "Hey, how's the night life going?" He glanced at the small piece of paper and raised his eyebrows.

I smirked. "You their advertiser?"

"Plastic doesn't do it for me," he said, eyes glazing over as he undoubtedly thought of his wife at home.

"God, you're almost as sick as Ortiz was."

"Don't judge, some people can't handle a real person," he joked.

Hank pushed through us, and raised his eyebrows at the card in my hands. "Is this why you're so emotional about these damn things?"

Heat flooded my skin. "Shut up, Hank. I'm pretty sure they only have women anyways, I haven't seen a single ad for a male."

"And how would you know about that?" Chris teased, clearly enjoying my embarrassment.

"You're not helping me here," I said, cheeks aflame. "Don't pretend we weren't on that Eden Club case a few months back."

Hank crouched down to look at a pool of dried blood on the floor. "Kids these days. You used to be excited for some new damn phone, and now you're talking about fucking plastic."

I was about to put down the ad and head over to the southern part of the room when, to my horror, a hand reached over and turned the Eden Club card around. His sleeve was steel gray. Connor's breath warmed the shell of my ear, making me hyper aware of every inch of him, despite the gap between us.

The house was small to begin with and with the addition of evidence scattered about, there was even less room to go around. I was trapped with the table to one side, Chris on the other side, Hank in front, and Connor behind me.

"Officer, I can assure you that CyberLife has done its best to ensure equal pleasure for both men and women. As you can see here," he pointed at a line of text near the bottom, his hand brushing against mine, "both male and female androids have been supplied to ensure the most satisfying experience for its customers."

I wanted to die.

Chris covered his laugh with a cough, making himself busy by looking back at his notes.

"If you're ever dissatisfied, you may fill out a survey for Cyberlife. They take customer service very seriously."

"Oh, I see..." I said, wanting all of this to be over, but not wanting to cut Connor off when he was so eager to explain.

"Additionally, being their most advanced model to date, should you need to express any concerns or feedback to Cyberlife, I am able to relay such information directly to them at any time."

"I don't think that'll be necessary."

Chris cheekily said, "Connor, question."

"Yes, Officer Miller?"

I glared at my friend, but he ignored me.

"I don't understand how," he coughed, fighting to maintain a cool demeanor, "that stuff works. Can a girl get pregnant from the android?"

"Chris!" I snapped.

"What, it's a valid question! Haven't you ever thought about it? Like, if it's synthetic stuff, I guess you wouldn't have to worry, but how do they even get it up?"

"Just stop, we're supposed to be investigating. You're starting to sound like Gavin." I hit him with the best insult I could think of.

He was playing dumb, I could see it in the way he expectantly awaited Connor's answer.

"Of course I'm happy to answer that for you; that's a common question." I had let go of the card, but Connor was still holding onto it, and by extension, me. Why were we having this conversation?

Hank, bless the man, cursed. "Knock it off, Miller, Phillips. If you're here to mess around, then leave. And Connor, let go of Phillips, everything about that angle looks so fucking wrong - it's weirding me the shit out."

"Sorry, Hank. Just really curious," Chris said.

Connor released his grip and the card fell back to the table, its embarrassing pink slogans charged with innuendo. I ducked away from him, thankful for the dim lighting to conceal the color blooming in my face. Connor looked at Hank, then at me, lines creasing his forehead. "What did he mean by it looked 'wrong'?"

"Nothing, Connor, he just wants us to hurry up with the investigation."

My partner pursed his lips, having caught me in a lie again.

I passed Chris, who broke down into laughter. He covered his mouth with his shirt.

"What the hell? That's not funny, Chris."

"Come on, your face was priceless," he said.

"In case you haven't noticed, there's a dead body in the room and we're disrespecting him."

He raised both hands. "Alright, I got it. Just lighten up a little."

I huffed, scratching my neck.

Hank had told me not to leave the room, so I waddled about, having seen all there was to see. Connor was up close and personal with the deceased, examining every detail. Did he have some way to dial down his olfactory receptor sensitivity?

"Report your findings," Hank ordered me.

"Ortiz was likely high on red ice when he got into some altercation with his android. They stabbed him until he died."

"It stabbed him until he died," Hank corrected me. "Where's it now?"

"The place had been locked up tight before the landlord arrived. My guess is they're still here."

He didn't bother correcting my pronoun used to address the android, nor did he object to my theory. "Barely a pass. Let's see what plastic cop here can do."

As if on cue, Connor appeared around the corner. "Lieutenant, he was stabbed; twenty-eight times."

I gasped. "Twenty-eight? Holy shit."

"Seems like the killer really had it in for him," Hank commented, appearing pleased by Connor's deductions.

The latter, however, looked troubled. He glanced to the side, his eyes narrowing in thought. From the kitchen, Chris crowed at a magazine in his hands. "This guy really loved androids. Guess he wasn't one for the talk after the deed."

I shook my head. "Dude, if you keep talking about that stuff I'm going to think you're into it too."

"My wife is my only lover," he beamed, throwing the magazine down.

Connor headed for the back door, peering at the footprints outside. Hank followed him out, fixing me with a warning glare to remain where I was.

"I got it," I said, deflating. It's not like I was gonna find the deviant and help them get away.

A chair was overturned, drops of blood leading to the larger pool back in the other room. Right in front of me was a bat. I gripped my stomach, fingers digging into the bullet hole in my side.

The chair had been knocked down, there was a bat scratched to hell, and Ortiz lay dead with twenty-eight stab wounds in his chest. I rose to look at the kitchen knife holder on the wall. One was missing.

Red blood splattered the floor at my feet, right against the counter above where the knives rested.

The door clicked shut, drowning out the sound of the rain, and Hank chuckled. "Lucky guess, Phillips. It's in the house after all."

My blood ran cold.

Why would they stay cooped up with a corpse for three weeks?

"Come on, let's find them."

I bunched my fists.

"Hank, I think I know what happened," I said.

Hank gave me one of his rare smiles, the kind that was gone between one blink and the next, making you wonder if it'd been a trick of the light. His voice was softer than usual. "I know."

My lips parted in surprise. "But I never said anything?"

He smirked. "You've been doing this for four years now, I know when you're onto something. And for the record, minus the things only he can detect, I'd say you passed."

Ah, so he was testing Connor.

I smiled, pride warming my chest at Hank's praise.

As if that smile had wiped away the haunts of his past, Hank pointed his chin at Connor, and I saw that glint in his eyes. He was excited by this. Despite his alcoholic tendencies, Hank was made for being a detective.

Connor said, "I think the victim attacked the android with the bat."

"That lines up with the evidence, go on." Hank folded his hands behind his back as Connor circled around to the chair.

"The android stabbed the victim."

"So, the android was trying to defend itself, right? Okay, then what happened?"

"The victim fled to the living room," Connor answered, and I watched Hank carefully, seeing the tiny spark in his eyes grow brighter.

We retraced our steps back to where Ortiz lay, and Hank said, "And he tried to get away from the android? Alright, that makes sense."

"The android murdered the victim with the knife."

Hank shrugged. "Okay, your theory's not totally ridiculous, but it doesn't tell us where the android went."

The Lieutenant had also walked me through the steps on my first crime scene, as if it were a dance, each person taking turns at forming the next step. He'd been just as smug then, but also just as helpful. I couldn't help but wonder why Hank was so invested in helping a 'plastic asshole'.

Connor looked into the distance, as if picturing the scene. "It was damaged by the bat and lost some thirium."

"Lost some what?"

"Thirium. You call it blue blood."

Shit, Ortiz really had been abusing his android. "What the fuck is wrong with people?"

Hank shot me a sharp glare and I sighed, meeting Connor's gaze. A strand of his hair had come loose, curling over his forehead.

Connor explained that thirium evaporated after just a few hours and only he could detect it, so Hank let Connor wander ahead to pinpoint where the trail ended.

"Don't let her out of your sight, got it?"

"Hank, what the hell do you think I'm gonna do?" I protested.

"Got it, Lieutenant. Follow me, Officer."

If Hank was so worried, why let me go with Connor, who was trying to find the deviant? I swear I couldn't tell what that man was thinking sometimes.

The bathroom was right next to the dead-end hallway Connor was examining.

"Did we check in here?" I asked.

"No, I haven't," he said, and we entered the cramped space. I moved aside the shower curtain, drawing back in shock at the sight of a statue standing on the shower floor. It was thin and tall, intricately carved and deeply unsettling, especially paired with the many 'rA9' phrases marked all over the walls.

"What the hell is that?" I picked it up carefully, looking back up at Connor. "Is this some kind of cult thing?"

"You mean a religious offering?"

"I guess. You don't think he killed Ortiz as a sacrifice, do you?" I asked, chewing my bottom lip. "Stuff like this really creeps me out - here, you look at it."

I pressed the statue into his waiting hands, rubbing my arms as a chill swept up my back.

"I can't tell what it is," he admitted, placing it back on the tiled floor.

"Well, I don't want to look at that again," I said, despite knowing I'd have to after the deviant was rounded up for questioning.

Connor headed for the door and I hesitated.

He looked back at me. "Officer?"

"What happens," I swallowed, "when androids die?" If deviants were so scared of dying, surely it was for a reason. Daniel's terrified expression flashed through my mind; and now, the deviant who'd been defending themselves was desperate to hide, knowing if they were caught, only the end awaited them.

My partner paused, leaning against the door frame.

Anxiety built within me, a swirling tempest that threatened to take me with it. Shit, I'd let my emotions boil over again. Hank was right, a detective wouldn't behave like this. And if I were being kept on a record, they had only to look at me to know everything.

"There is nothing," he said.