AN: One of my fav chapters to write, I hope you enjoy this thrilling chapter!

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw blue. Thirium blue.

Spurting from Daniel's hand; trickling down Ortiz's killer's forehead; oozing out of Connor's temple.

Emma said something to me, breaking me from my thoughts, and I startled, the jump causing me to slice open a red line in my finger. With a curse, I set down the knife and moved to wash my hands.

"Take mine." I offered her my prepared bagel, strawberry jam glistening like rubies on its surface. She accepted it eagerly while I made my own, hastily spreading the jam over the bread and sitting down. Just the two of us. The best part of my day.

"You have a lot of those," Emma said. She chewed slowly, her mouth open with fascination as she took in all of the marks scarring my hands.

"I'm a badass." I wiggled my fingers to show them off properly.

Emma spewed bagel and jam across the table as she spoke, her nose scrunching. "Sure you are."

When the sun slid beneath the horizon and a deep indigo sky blanketed Detroit, I often returned home to find Emma nestled like a bird in my bed. Her hair spilled across my pillows, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over her. Cuddling beside her, I'd vowed each time to free her from the cage Mom was slowly fastening around her. I'd held her tight, remembering the good times with Dad. All the times Daniel had defied his programming to be our friend.

Piece by piece, Emma had pulled herself back together. The edges were never completely the same, but that's how life goes. With every corner that stuck out, she'd arrange it to her liking, until that puzzle became her armor.

I only wished she'd never have to use it again.

"That a bet?" I challenged. She nodded vigorously and with dramatic effect, I shoved the entire bagel into my mouth. Emma screwed up her face in disgust as I set down a single sheet of graph paper and slashed an X into one of the latticework of squares.

She drew a wobbly O, and we continued our battle of tic-tac-toe until I fumbled, letting her claim victory with a whooping cheer.

"How will I ever beat you?" I bemoaned.

Emma beamed. "Give up, there's no hope."

"I don't accept defeat."

She held out her palm for a handshake and I puffed out air, sending my hair fluttering across my cheek. "Fine, you won." I handed her a glittering phone case, hidden in my pocket, and she gasped.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Secret," I said. "Happy early birthday."

Emma frowned. "My birthday was last month."

I scooped up her empty plate, "I know."

She replaced her case with the sparkling silver one, rhinestones shooting blinding beams about the room in the sunlight. In the center was a cluster of pink and blue stars.

"When do you get home tonight?"

"Whenever the job's done. I'm sorry, I wish I had more time."

Work occupied most of my day, and Mom left early to toss money at whatever she believed to be more important than making sure her youngest was fed. Being cooped up inside all day had to drive her mad.

Emma didn't attend school either, and in fact, was homeschooled - not that many went anymore, what with the all-time high unemployment rates resulting in many parents refusing to have their children taught by androids. Yet, somehow, they were perfectly fine with one as a personal maid, the irony.

We were comfortable thanks solely to dad. He'd worked with computers, rising to the upper echelon of his company, and then had been transferred to work at CyberLife. His intellect had joined the likes of many top creators, and soon he'd come up with new model ideas. Like Daniel himself.

Still, I couldn't skimp out on work, especially now that I'd handed Hank my application for the exam to become a detective. Like Emma, I'd go stir-crazy if I was in the house with no real purpose all day.

"Who's Connor?" She was flipping through my moleskine, chewing her nails.

"What?"

In the upper left-hand corner of a blank page was a note. The handwriting was too neat for any human to have made, the classic signature of CyberLife Sans.

"He your boyfriend?" she teased, and I flicked her nose.

"I'm disappointed, Em. You know this font."

"What are you talking about? I'm not stupid, it's some kind of love note."

I showed her the careful, without-error scrawl and she shrugged. "You ordered an android boyfriend?"

"What on earth have you been looking up online?"

"This is why everyone calls you uptight," Emma said. "You only look at one thing at a time."

Huh, Hank'd said something eerily similar. Not that I'd tell her that. I was still her older sister and whether she liked it or not, I wanted to show off to her. Not many people became cops today, especially women and I'd be damned if I wasn't a good role model.

Partly to humor her and partly because she was right about my being too focused on one aspect at a time, I read the note.

Officer, I'm pleased to be your new partner. I can assure you that I'm the best at what I do. I understand you may have more questions than you had last night, in which case I've left a file in your drawer answering the most common FAQs. Officer Miller has also been gifted one. Please be aware that Detective Reed frequently doodles in your journal when you're not present. I hope you don't mind my intruding, I didn't know when I'd be able to relay this information to you. Thank you for last night.

-Connor

"What's last night?" She waggled her brows and I mirrored her, getting her riled up before I ruined her fun with:

"I saved him from getting shot."

"Yeah right."

"Told you I'm a badass." I closed my journal. When did he have time to write in it?

"How long has this been going on?" she continued.

"I met him yesterday, nosy. He seems like a good guy. You'd really like him."

She sighed. "Boring. What happened to Sam?"

"Sam was an asshat, and I don't want you ever dating someone like him."

Emma nodded. "Yeah, he was pretty rude to you. Is that why you kicked him in the dick?"

Hearing those words come from my little sister was new, but I smiled. "Exactly. Anyway, do some math today, I'll check it when I get back."

She groaned.

I had to get to work, and I needed to see what Connor had left me.

At around 10 AM, I arrived at the DPD, pushing through the glass doors and across the smooth, shining black linoleum floor. The android at the reception desk logged me in, and I passed by the small handful of people lounging in the cream leather seats, their gazes glued to the screen above. Tensions were still mounting with the ongoing threats of Russia colliding with America in a full-blown war.

With the way things were going, I wouldn't be too surprised if one did break out.

Chris stood at my desk and I greeted him briefly. There was a clear file identical to the one he was holding lying on my desk, so I reached past him to pick it up. "Do I even want to open it?" I asked.

He dipped his head enthusiastically. "It's classified information." The gleam in his eyes had me praying to whatever gods would hear my plea.

Mostly everyone had migrated towards the break room for their morning supply of caffeine. The androids along the walls stared ahead at nothing. Hank wouldn't be in for a while, and Fowler was on the phone. There wouldn't be a better opportunity.

I flipped the page and it was as if the temperature had skyrocketed, leaving me a red, flustered mess.

Chris stopped me from slamming the file shut and leafed through the documents for me, settling at one in particular with a wide grin.

"This is porn!" I hissed.

He snickered. "No, it's research. Dug up specifically for you."

I scowled. "And you." Let's not forget who kept asking Connor all those questions, Chris.

Chris smiled. "A really thoughtful gesture, but one better suited for the android hater." He slid the file beneath the clutter on Gavin's desk. "See? The gift he never knew he wanted."

"You're the greatest."

"I know."

But that didn't stop him from keeping the page open until I read it.

"Wait, they're not even equipped? But the girls are? What the hell?" I said, no longer concerned about the graphic imagery. Feminism was more important.

"It's pretty messed up. The guy can walk right in and just pay for a session, but the girl has to specifically purchase an add-on along with a partner, if it's a male. My wife was always saying women paid more for things, and it looks like she's right."

"It's almost the cost of the session itself, what kind of rip off is that?" I exclaimed.

"Eden Club provides a wide selection of selectable features for women, a feature which isn't available for male customers. Their prices work in tandem to ensure the best experience," a new voice joined the conversation, causing both of us to jump.

I slammed the file closed on top of Chris's hand and he shoved me lightly in response.

Connor extended his arms to show us his hands gripping steaming mugs. "Good morning, Officer Miller, Officer Phillips."

"Philips can't have coffee, Gavin ruined it for her." Chris looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Sorry," I said.

"Yes, I've brewed her some tea instead. Your file mentioned something about a coffee incident with Detective Reed."

My file? Had he been digging into my records, or had Fowler given him a basic report?

He tilted his head inquiringly and I accepted the mug, relishing in the delightful chamomile scented steam curling into the air. When I didn't elaborate on the subject, Connor gestured towards the file and continued, "I'm not well versed in the art of intimacy, and would need to contact Eden Club directly if you have a question I'm unfamiliar with-"

"It's fine, that won't be necessary," I interrupted, shoving the file into the deep trenches of my desk drawer where it would never see the light of day again.

"Understood."

The three of us lingered at my desk, Chris smiling into his cup and Connor shifting his gaze between us every so often. Gulping down a mouthful of tea, I nearly scalded my tongue, and I coughed, blinking tears from my eyes.

Connor chose that same moment to talk. "I was informed the Lieutenant wouldn't arrive until noon, is this true?"

"Probably, he shows when he wants to." Chris looked faintly apologetic for speaking ill of his hero.

Connor's LED pulsed blue as he processed the information. "I understand, thank you. I shall wait for him."

Fixated by Hank's desk, he wandered over to amuse himself. His nimble fingers were long and elegant, delicately picking up a pair of white headphones connected to a music player. Connor lifted one of the padded cups to his ear, and I winced too when he jerked backwards at the scream of Knights of the Black Death blasting into his eardrums.

He circled around Hank's space, messing with his phone, admiring the Japanese maple, and finally staring at the board of an eclectic assortment of notes. His gaze settled on one in particular, Hank's own scrawl of 'We Don't Bleed The Same Color' in sharpie.

The usual tendril of hair had loosened from its slicked back arrangement and skimmed the pale skin of his brow, tracing a line of intrigue down his profile.

Androids were precise, professional, and sharp. Yet, there was something about the RK800 model that clearly stood apart from the rest. He was more polished, more refined, more attuned towards society. He could pick apart your emotions with a single glance.

Was it simply his programming or was there more to Connor than anyone knew? Even himself?

"He's gonna find Hank's stash," Chris said.

"Better watch out." I elbowed him, and my friend exaggerated a look of pure horror, widening his eyes while I continued to watch Connor fiddle with Hank's personal area.

I sighed. "Looking at a man in a suit is like biting into sweet, sweet chocolate."

"Wow, and here I thought women went crazy for uniforms."

"Oh yes, DPD's sensual attire." I rolled my eyes.

Connor's brow furrowed, and I followed the harsh lines down the slope of his nose, the soft plushness of his lips. Pursing my own in contemplation, I made a thoughtful noise. Emma would really like him, she always enjoyed pretty people.

"May as well go bite the chocolate, you're drooling," he said.

"Not my fault they decided to start making models like that," I said, tapping my mug. "Wouldn't it be smarter to make a scary looking one for us, instead of something a little too…" I fumbled for the right words, "distractingly innocent?"

Chris took my cup from me and said in a God-awful impression, "The thirst is strong with this one."

Hank's arrival just a few seconds later was highlighted by the rumbling voice of Captain Fowler, ordering him into his office. Connor immediately straightened, expectantly gazing after his superior like a puppy awaiting instructions.

God, Connor was just agonizingly adorable.

Compared to his dark and threatening interrogation from last night with the deviant, I would have to say that I much preferred this side of him.

"Drool," Chris teased, and I swatted him away, self-consciously dabbing at my mouth when I turned my back to him. I hurried after Hank and Connor, and braced myself for whatever Fowler was about to say.

Everyone was accustomed to Fowler's rages, especially where it concerned Hank. Except today, I was privy to the scene unfolding between the two, rather than peeking into the glass office from behind my monitor. I stood behind Hank and to the left, arms folded neatly in front of me while my superior hunched over in the chair like a rumbling storm cloud at Fowler's desk.

To my right, Connor stood, mirroring my stance, but making it look somehow more stiff.

Fowler started briefly by explaining the rise in crime committed by deviants, which had recently evolved into serious offenses such as murder. Like with Ortiz.

"I don't care how nicely you tried to kiss my ass, but I can't shift this case to anyone else."

Hank had tried to get out of this case? Unwillingly, I glanced at Connor, and I found his gaze staring back at mine.

Guilt prickled my neck. If Hank had tried to drop the case because I'd put my life on the line last night, he really was serious.

"Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Hank asked, bracing his hands on his knees. "I'm the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case - not to mention assigning Phillips isn't the best idea either."

I closed my eyes, willing away the urge to cut in.

"I know jack shit about androids, Jeffrey! I can barely change the settings on my own phone," Hank continued, clearly gearing up to argue his case.

Fowler spread out his arms, "Everybody's overloaded." Exactly what he'd told me last time. "I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation. And Phillips is also suited for this case, you saw how she handled the situation."

Hank shot out of his chair, sending it rolling back into the toe of my boot.

"Bullshit! She almost got herself killed. She threw herself off her roof last week. She got shot and stabbed, and then last night was a fuckin' mess. And the truth is - nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids, and you left me holdin' the bag."

Fowler gave me a knowing look, as if telling me to leave it to him, while Hank turned around, hands on his hips, and passed by me, breathing out harshly through his nostrils.

"Everyone puts themselves on the line working in the force. If she hadn't, I'd be taking her off the case for her incompetency, and writing her up again. She's more than healed, and she handled that situation better than anyone else. For once."

Wow, that was unexpected. Mostly a compliment, too, it seemed.

Hank snorted.

"Cyberlife sent this android to help with the investigation. It's a state-of-the-art prototype. It'll act as your partner, along with Phillips."

Whirling around, his voice like thunder, Hank roared, "No fuckin' way! I don't need a partner, and certainly not this plastic prick!" He didn't even turn around to jab a finger at Connor.

I unfolded my hands and let them dangle at my sides, glancing over at Connor, whose gaze had shifted towards Fowler. Something about his posture had changed, though I couldn't quite put my finger on what.

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are supposed to do what I say, and shut your goddamn mouth!"

"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?" Hank leaned into Fowler's space, forcing him to raise a hand.

"Ok, I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cuz it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over!"

As if on his last straw, Hank braced himself on Fowler's desk, his voice strained.

"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know I hate these fuckin' things. Why you doin' this to me?" His voice dropped lower until it was almost a whisper by the end.

I felt the floor beneath my soles move. This wasn't something I wanted to hear; Hank already didn't like discussing Cole on a good day, and this definitely did not qualify as one of those.

Connor's mouth parted, and it was obvious he hadn't gleaned the reasons for his superior's unabashed prejudice towards him. It wasn't my place to tell him, even if I wished I could end his clear confusion.

"Listen, I've had just about enough of your bitching. Either you do your job, or you hand in your badge. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

Hank lingered, as if reading Fowler for a way out. Finding none, he left the room with a growl and a slam of the door that rattled the glass.

Fowler said nothing, his attention dedicated to the work in front of him.

Connor spoke first. "I would like to start reviewing the case files. Can you tell me where I can-"

"Talk to Hank," Fowler cut in, holding up a hand. "Close the door on your way out. Phillips, you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." I murmured.

To my surprise, Connor said, "Have a nice day, Captain," his words laced with a deliberate hint of sass. He opened the door for me and I flew down the stairs, gunning for Hank.

"You couldn't even talk to me about it, huh? Had to bother Fowler? For what? To take me off the case? Or because you just don't wanna do it?"

He was sitting in his chair, arms folded and a stormy expression hardening the planes of his face.

"Okay, fine. Don't answer me. But I'm not some kid you can move around as you like. I'm going to give my all for this case and you're going to submit my application. If I find out you spent even a penny of my money on booze I'll make sure you never drink again." When he didn't respond, I reached over and swiped a donut from the green box on his desk. Just as a finishing touch.

Connor looked from me to Hank, then said, "I get the impression my presence causes you some-" his face seemed to crumple with the effort to voice his concerns- "inconvenience, Lieutenant." It hurt just looking at him, how crushed he was after hearing what Hank has said about him. "I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that."

The donut suddenly was too sweet, painfully so.

Hank's utter rejection of silence made Connor stutter. "In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very happy to be working with you."

My superior nodded over and over to himself, like he was entertaining the thought of smashing his face in. I recognised it from my own experiences.

"I'm sure we'll make a great team." He smiled, all pearly whites. But it was forced as hell, punctuated by clear hurt.

Hank continued to nod to himself, obviously fuming.

I wiped my mouth and set down the donut on Hank's desk. "It's a pleasure to be working with you, Connor," I said, my own smile sincere and filled with the warmth Hank wouldn't give him. I grabbed his hand and squeezed. If Connor could feel hurt from Hank's grouchy attitude, I sure as hell hoped he could feel the kindness from me.

Hank was going to take a while to break through, but I'd done it. Even if he was still a crabby, selfish bastard, when he let you into his heart, you were there for good. And he'd fight for you, against you, and with you, depending on what you needed (and not what you wanted - I'd learnt the important difference). I hoped I was able to convey even a fraction of that into my handshake with my android partner - no, my partner.

The dejection shadowing Connor's features slackened into pure, unadulterated gratitude at my acceptance. Just how much did he know about me? About Hank?

"Thank you, Officer. I'm happy to be your new partner." His smile was soft and touched his eyes, transforming his entire being. It made me feel grounded, my chest lighter, and my anger dissipate.

I could tell we'd become good friends, and I found that same sentiment reflected in his eyes.

Huh, they were a much lighter brown than I'd first thought. The day I met him beneath the streetlamps, they'd appeared dark, nearly black. Now, inches apart, I could clearly see they were a warm, beautiful brown.

I let go of him, but his warmth seeped into my veins, calming my frazzled nerves.

Connor, likewise, stared back at me with bright eyes.

"Good luck," I murmured, seeing his conviction to get on Hank's good side.

"Send me the files, now," I snapped at Hank, and settled back at my desk.

I didn't bother to conceal my blatant eavesdropping as Connor attempted to win over the stormy man by expressing interest in Hank's favorite music, sports, and more.

"You have a dog, right?"

Hank gave him a suspicious once-over. "How do you know that?"

"The dog hairs on your chair."

The older man glanced down at his seat, almost self-consciously.

"I like dogs." The way Connor said it was so innocent and heartwarming, I wanted to reach over and throttle Hank for being such an ass.

"What's your dog's name?"

Hank looked as if he couldn't believe his own ears. "What's it to you?"

Connor nervously blinked and lowered his gaze.

Even Hank didn't seem to be immune to that. "Sumo. His name is Sumo." And then Hank returned to his monitor, more shaken than before.

"What's that grin for?" Chris smirked, bringing me back to my own desk.

"You know that feeling you get when you just know you're going to get along with someone?"

He shrugged, miserable bastard.

"I'm gonna like Connor a lot," I concluded, draining the last of my tea. "And I think Hank will too. Eventually."

Connor was still fumbling for his words, sitting across from Hank at the empty desk no one wanted.

"Two hundred and forty-three cases... there can't be that much, can it?" I exclaimed, scrolling through the files.

"Good luck," Chris chuckled.

Most were missing, many when their owners had left their residences and not bothered to do anything with the androids. I opened my journal and started recording the most recent, the most similar, and the most dangerous deviants.

Last night, a model AX400 had killed a man in his home and kidnapped his daughter. She appeared on my monitor, her countenance sweet and compassionate. Her name was Kara. What had set her off; why had she taken the girl with her?

As I was parsing through the list, the sound of a body being slammed into something broke my concentration and I shot to my feet instinctively. Hank had the lapels of Connor's suit jacket in his hands and had him pressed against the glass wall. I couldn't make out what he was snarling at Connor, but it certainly wasn't an apology.

Chris was faster.

He sidled up to Hank and said," Lieutenant, uh, sorry to disturb you. I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night. It's been seen in the Ravendale district."

Holding Connor's gaze, Hank said," I'm on it," and slowly, he broke eye and physical contact to follow Chris.

I stood still as Connor straightened his attire and his shoulders fell with a breath. His gaze fell to the floor, confused and lost. Then they travelled back up and found mine.

To think I'd already expressed hope at Hank accepting Connor so soon was laughable.

Rain slicked the roads, danced off the metal roof of Hank's busted car, and soaked through my clothes, pressing my slacks tight to my skin with cold wetness.

Hank collected case files from several officers, dismissing the lucky guys from their shifts. I stifled a yawn, huddling beneath the roof to keep from getting more soaked than I already was. A vain effort, as Hank sauntered over with a sly smirk.

"Alright, Phillips, you clock around and look for something to turn up, got it?"

I saluted him just to piss him off. "Aye aye."

Going off four hours of sleep wasn't new, but it still crept into your bones, settling in the marrow and sapping the energy from you. I felt half a step away from dead. The wound in my side had healed well, only an ugly bruise left to clear up, so at least I wasn't in agony anymore.

The knife that had decorated my shoulder last week was now only a sore reminder of Daniel, and I doubted it'd ever leave.

Connor stood across from me, staring blankly ahead at nothing. He let the rain plaster his clothes to his body, his lashes fluttering every now and then against the droplets.

Daniel had once told me androids didn't get cold or hot, that their bodies were so well-regulated there was no chance, unless they overheated from exhaustion or freezing temperatures froze them completely from the inside out.

Still, seeing Connor stand in the rain like he would a sunny day concerned me.

"Here." I held out my umbrella and Connor blinked away the rain, surprise alighting his features.

"Officer, I don't get cold. The rain is no problem."

"I know," I said, and he frowned slightly, confused. "I just don't like it when I'm all wet, and I don't think it's comfortable for you either." My jeans always chafed when they got wet.

He opened his mouth, but the words never spilled forth.

"If not for yourself, then perhaps Hank?" I glanced behind me at the man, still conversing with his patrol. "He puts up more of a front than you think. I started off worse than you did. He absolutely detested me."

Connor tilted his head. "You two are very close, from what I've seen."

I smiled. "Who woulda thought, huh? Don't worry too much, he'll come around."

Slowly, Connor reached out and took the umbrella from me. "I will keep that in mind. I appreciate it, Officer."

I beamed up at him. Then I marched off into the rain, eyes peeled for deviants.

A woman walked further up ahead: her steps were a little too fast, her path a little too frenzied. Normally I wouldn't have thought too much of it, but the little girl beside her was so similar to Emma, what with her little brown ponytail flopping behind her. Same height and frame, too.

The woman's hair was cut short, as if she'd done it herself without a mirror. A thick, brown coat hung over her slight frame. She crossed the road, her pace quick.

The lights changed and traffic once again pooled into the streets, preventing me from crossing. I stood there, watching the two pick their way down the sidewalk until passerbys consumed them completely.

They were probably hurrying home from the pouring rain, I told myself, returning to my original path. Lucky them.

My phone buzzed about an hour later, and it was Hank who answered when I picked up, his voice a gruff growl. "We got a lead, meet us there."

He sent me his location and I hailed a taxi, using the dry moment to sketch a picture of the woman and the little girl. Something about it felt...lonely, and I couldn't quite discern what it was. Staring at it made my stomach queasy, so I shut it closed and stuffed it into my jacket pocket, wishing I'd thought to check the weather and change into a raincoat for the day. I should know better, having lived in Detroit my whole life.

The rain cleared up by the time I arrived at the address Hank gave me, not fifteen minutes later. The building was dark and rotting from the exterior, the inside even worse. I scrunched my nose against the stench that greeted me in a waft of putrid bird dung.

Good Lord, just what was I walking into?

I approached the entrance, only to be flung to the ground in a flurry of flapping wings, a world of feathers, and two figures barreling down the hall.

Hank lumbered out into the hall and cursed, seeing me sprawled on the floor.

"Was that Connor?" I asked, and he nodded, already chasing after the two.

That meant the other had to be a deviant.

I scrambled to my feet and pushed my way through the door after them. Legs pumping, and body spiked with adrenaline, I jumped off the expanse of building into a field of wheat. Hank was a little farther ahead, two figures becoming black specs in the distance.

Willing myself faster, I lengthened my strides, pushing harder into my steps to kick off.

A truck pulled to a stop in the street, its package of hay serving as a ledge to leap onto the next building. Hank halted, cursing.

I kept going, throwing myself hard at the hay. My fingers dug into the stiff material and I pulled myself up, hissing as it snagged my clothes and ripped into my flesh.

Being short had many advantages, but this wasn't one of them. How I'd leap over was going to be the test of a lifetime. I didn't pause, I just jumped.

I smacked right into the wall, barely grasping a hold. Rolling over the edge, I wheezed, struggling for air.

Ahead, I saw Connor's steel gray attire disappear into the greenhouse. I pelted after him, dodging fallen cargo and doing all in my power not to fall behind.

To my horror, he leaped off the edge on the other side.

"Just go, just go!" I screamed to myself, hating my life choices as I slid down a glass incline. I jumped at the last second, missing the impact of the ledge against my legs in time.

I thundered after Connor, down the aisles of androids keeping watch over plants. He skidded to a stop against a glass door and took off through another exit.

Purple flowers lined the ground and I jumped over a line, struggling for air. Connor pulled himself over a wall and I had to jump twice to grab it. Fuck being short.

I hauled myself over and over the roof, groaning as Connor jumped off once more.

A screech ripped from my throat. Smooth glass stretched down, preventing any brakes down its slope. I sped after Connor, unable to slow my momentum, my stomach shriveling as a steep drop approached.

And of course, a fucking train had to drive by.

Gritting my teeth, I flung myself over the edge and slammed face first onto the train's roof. That was gonna leave a mark.

I stood on shaky legs and leaped after Connor, landing on a blue ladder and pulled myself over the wall.

There had to be a stop somewhere up ahead. Right?

My energy was depleting and fast. Gasping for air, I chased Connor through a muddy area, trees casting delicious shade over us. Sprays of water wet my skin and mud splattered my trousers.

Another goddamn wall rose before me, much too tall to climb over. Connor pushed off the ground and easily swung himself over the edge. To the left was a hydrant; I used that as leverage and toppled over the wall.

He was farther ahead because I wasn't fast enough, but I followed through another green house, avoiding the carts of potted plants in my tracks.

A cornfield swallowed Connor and I dashed through, arms thrust before me to protect my face. I kept going until I stumbled out onto a roof, and my heart flew into my mouth as I saw Hank fly over the edge of the roof.

Connor drew to a halt, glancing at the Deviant then Hank.

He dove for Hank.

I sped after the Deviant.

"Why the fuck," I gasped, "are there so many ledges?!"

I practically rolled down each ledge where plants had been bedded to eat up the sun and drink up the rain. My boots smashed several to pieces, but the fall of each ledge nearly did the same to my bones.

There was another steep drop where the Deviant stood, assessing his options. I was almost there, when he bolted in another direction.

My ankle snapped in the clutches of one of the plants, tripping me. I rolled over the edge and slammed onto the final ledge. I dug my nails into whatever I could, finding purchase in the rough brick ledge.

Dangling by my bloodied hands, I gasped for breath. My lungs were on fire, my body was bruised to shit, and below stretched hundreds of feet to certain death.

My muscles screamed at me to let go but I couldn't. The Deviant threw me a look and I feared he'd kick me off. But he took his chance and disappeared.

"Are you kiddding me?" I roared, scrabbling to pull myself up.

I made it half way when the glass walkway beneath my fingers grew slick with my sweat and I slipped backwards.

I screamed. I was going to die.

A hand circled my wrist, pulling me to safety.

I collapsed against a chest, solid and warm, the scent of detergent and mint making my head fuzzy. Hands gripped me, holding me up and pressing me close, as I fought to control my ragged breathing and stand on quaking legs.

Carefully, I peeled myself away, afraid I'd lose all my strength if I let them hold me.

"Phillips, what the shit kind of stunts are you pulling? Did you come from a circus or something?"

Hank's voice was like a funnel in my ears as my blood rushed through my head. I doubled over, coughing, blood streaking my face as I wiped away mud.

"Officer, are you alright?"

Connor grabbed me by the shoulders, holding me up to examine me. His eyes were wide, his LED flashing yellow.

"Yes," I gasped. "I'm sorry, he got away."

"Don't apologize, we know what he looks like," said Hank, his words soft. "Jesus, you must really want that promotion if you're jumping roofs onto fuckin' trains."

Connor's gaze snapped towards mine and he jerked back. "You followed me?"

I blinked hard, finally giving in and leaning against him, unable to stand without tottering.

"I don't get paid enough for this."