OOC: Thank you so much, MagicalWitch92! :)
Connor turned off the phone, and then crushed it in his hand. He released a small sigh, one that came from the bottom of his heart.
Is it done? The voice spoke.
"Yes," Connor confirmed. "How long do you need?"
Not long. A day, maybe two.
Connor nodded to himself. One way or another, his life was over now. His career gone. Everyone thought he was a murderer. He could never go home again. But at least this part was almost done.
He sat down on a nearby bench, the snow covering his hair. He glanced at his hand, which still had spot of Giles' blood on it. Absentmindedly he rubbed it off. A sudden warning flashed in front of his vision.
Thirium levels reduced to 87%.
He touched the wound in his shoulder, and a small trail of blood leaked downwards.
For what it's worth, I'm sorry, the voice said unexpectantly.
Connor closed his eyes, fighting back against a surge of rage. "Our deal is almost concluded. There is no need to continue this conversation."
You need to get more Thirium and patch up that wound, or you will shut-down, the voice persisted. Where can you go? Jericho?
"NO!" Connor practically shouted. He was lucky it was well past midnight or else he would have drawn some attention. "I will not bring this to Marcus," he said, gritting his teeth.
I understand. What about Cyberlife?
"Cyberlife is shut down," Connor said, cradling his arm.
Not as much as you think. They still have a working facility in Detroit, not to mention considerable wealth and resources at their disposal. If you turn yourself in to them, they could protect you from all of this.
"No," Connor said stubbornly. "I would be reset, or worse."
Statistically speaking, it is far more likely you would be alive, and treated better than with the Detroit Police. I need to go, but…think about your options. Good luck.
The voice went dead, finally. Connor closed his eyes. Part of him wanted to just stay here, on the cold bench. Just wait until he went into shut-down mode. Or wait to be found.
Stubbornly he opened his eyes. But he couldn't. Not yet. He couldn't go to Jericho or Cyberlife.
But there was a third option.
PART TWO
Gavin was on cloud nine.
Ever since the revolution, he had been forced to endure countless praise about how awesome Connor was. Connor had jump-started the Android revolution. Connor had saved Hank's life. Even afterwards it wasn't any better. Connor had cracked every single case that had been assigned to him. Connor was god's gift to the Detroit Police.
And now, he was a murderer. The lowest of the low. And Gavin was going to bring it in. But before he did, Gavin was going to make sure that Connor understood his true place in the world. The boy genius was nothing more than a piece of shit, a piece of plastic that was not worth anything when compared to a human, and certainly not a Detective like Gavin. Gavin was going to spend hours drilling that detail into Connor's skull, and he would love every single minute of it. And Hank's reaction to it all was just going to be the icing on the cake.
That was the best-case scenario, at least for Connor. God help him if he actually tried to resist arrest.
"Going to the crime scene?" Chris asked, breaking his musings.
"Nah. Got everything I need right here," Gavin said, lifting Hank's report. The fucker admitted he did it. Why waste time reviewing the evidence?
The question is, how to catch Connor? As much as he hated to admit it, Connor was smart. Gavin always did have a working theory that the hardest murderers to catch would be former police officers. And now he was going to test that theory. Connor knew all of their routes, all their protocols. How to conceal evidence. How to blend in.
No, searching for Connor was going to be a. likely fruitless and b. take fucking forever. What they needed to do was draw him out somehow. Gavin looked over Hank's report in more careful detail, before slowly grinning.
And he knew how to do it.
PART THREE
The mortician, an elderly man by the man of Hutch, glared at Hank through a pair of spectacles. "I seemed to recall hearing you were off this case."
"Well, maybe you should get your hearing checked," Hank said gruffly. Seeing Hutch frown he decided to try for a lighter approach. "I'm sorry. Look-he's my partner, all right? I have to know if there's something here. Anything. I'm not investigating anything. We're just having a casual conversation."
"Hm," Hutch said as he looked at Giles' body.
"Please," Hank practically begged.
"Well, victim was shot in the lower left quadrant of his body, obliterating his kidney. He was punched…oh, I'd say several times in both the chest and the head. One of the ribs broke off and punctured his right lung. Without immediate care he would have been dead without the blows to his head, but that all but sealed the deal."
Hutch wasn't prepared for Hank's reaction, which was closing his eyes as if in pain. "Anything else?"
"No. If I had to guess, this wasn't preplanned. It was a crime of…anger."
Hank didn't respond, still in thought.
"Hank? What is it?"
"Connor told me every detail you told me. He was there, Hutch. No question."
Hutch cleared his throat. "Well, did Connor know the victim?"
"As far as I know, he didn't," Hank said. "What can you tell me about him?"
Hutch gave a dismissive snort. "Only that he's your typical member of the wealthy elite. Stocks in the oil trade. Offshore accounts. A few shady business operations, but nothing anyone can pin on."
"Nothing that links Connor," Hank said. "It doesn't make any sense."
"Well, perhaps it's a good thing for Connor that you're a detective," Hutch said with a small smile.
PART FOUR
A quick call to Marcus had confirmed that Connor had never gone to Jericho last night at all. Marcus was naturally curious about what was happening. Remembering what Fowler had said, Hank had been as nonchalant as possible before hanging up the call. He wasn't sure if Marcus bought it.
Half an hour later, Hank returned back to the crime scene. He mentally prepared for himself to deal with Gavin. If that prick thought he was going to stop him-
Much to his surprise, though, the crime scene was abandoned. Only a junior office was watching the gate. Hank flashed his badge at him and was permitted to pass.
Had Gavin visited the crime scene at all? Apparently not. "Lazy fucker," Hank muttered under his breath. Connor wouldn't have a chance with him in charge.
Hank walked over to the study and studied the crime scene, over and over again. He sighed and ran a hand through his silver hair as he stood. He looked at the glass mirror again and frowned. Something wasn't right. The bullet went straight through the victim, but the glass didn't shatter. It went into the carpet.
Testing a theory, Hank stood in the same spot Connor would have stood and aimed his gun.
Why didn't you aim your gun at his chest, Connor? Or his head? Either would have been a perfect kill shot.
Instead the bullet went through Giles side and impacted the carpet. So…Connor was aiming far lower instead. Why?
Maybe he wasn't trying to kill him swiftly. The terrible thought went through Hank's mind, but he swiftly dismissed it. No, there was something else going on here. His instincts were screaming at him. All of this was just…wrong.
And what about the bullet that went through Connor? It was never recovered. Hank and Connor were about the same height. Experimentally Hank touched his own right shoulder and turned around. He followed the calculated trail back to the wall behind him. No cracks. No sign of any damage. Nothing. Did the bullet lodge in his shoulder?
….maybe.
Hank's eyes went upwards, where he could see a second story balcony. Acting on an impulse, he climbed up the stairs, and grabbed a laserlight from his pocket. It came in handy during the pre-Connor days, when he didn't have an android able to figure out trajectory shots. He aimed it carefully at the spot on the carpet. It was also exactly where Connor was standing. Where his shoulder would be.
"There was another shooter," Hank said to himself. "And he shot both Connor and the victim. That's why there isn't another bullet." His eyes went to the dust-colored edge of the balcony. There was a distinct notch in the wood, almost as though someone had aimed a rifle there.
But the bullet in the carpet belonged to a handgun.
"He switched the bullets," Hank said to himself. "And cleaned up the evidence of him being there."
Maybe….maybe…..
Hank's thoughts were racing. That still in no way explained why Connor had confessed to the crime. Not a defect or a virus either, if he was to be believed.
So….who was Connor protecting? Whoever it was, had been someone Connor had willingly sacrificed his career over, along with both his freedom and his life.
Try as he might, Hank couldn't picture Connor doing that for anyone. Except for perhaps himself and Marcus.
"I'm missing something," Hank said, and stood. He still had no idea what brought Connor here to begin with. He needed to search this place from top to bottom.
Maybe then he would get more answers.
TBC