November 16, 2038

"At 6 AM yesterday morning, a national curfew was declared. Civilian movement will be strictly controlled, the right to assembly is suspended, all electronic communications are restricted, and I have granted enhanced powers to our security agencies. In addition to these measures, all androids must be handed over-"

Lieutenant Richards muted the TV and tossed the remote behind him onto his desk. He sat against the edge at one end, and he faced the wall-mounted screen in the SID office with an unreadable expression.

Andy stood nearby. They'd been suffering an awkward silence ever since she came into work and asked for his help, and it was wearing on her. Shifting nervously, she began, "I know I'm asking a lot, and it's a big risk-"

Snorting, he glanced to her and muttered, "That's an understatement."

It was, and she couldn't believe she was asking it, but this was too important. She couldn't back down. "I need your help."

He said nothing right away, contemplating his answer. Helping her this far had been stupid, especially when he had almost no confidence in an android revolution. Either way he looked at it, though, the president's press conference was nothing short of atrocious to him. They were lines pulled straight from history books, and he had a feeling this was his chance to not be on the wrong side.

"You sure about this - about them?" He asked, gesturing to the screen as it played b-roll of Jericho's former marches and protests.

At this question, her nerves ebbed away. "I am."

If he knew anything, it was that when Andy was this certain, she was usually right. Heaving a loud sigh, he made up his mind and nodded. "Then let's convince everyone else."

If it were that simple, she thought, they would have done it already. Cocking her head, she retorted, "I'll put world peace on the to-do list, but in the meantime, maybe we think a little smaller?"

He reached for a sticky note and a pen as told her, "Thinking small is what got your pals into this mess in the first place." Writing quick information on the paper, he held the note out for her to take. "You forget we have contacts."

She recognized the name scribbled over top a phone number, and it was all she needed to know what he wanted. She began to ask another question, when the door opened. Officer Louis Springer peaked his head into the room, and upon seeing them, he approached the desk.

"What do you need, Springer?" Richards asked.

He was reluctant to answer, but he glanced to Andy and said, "Perkins wants more of us on patrol."

Richards scoffed and threw up a dismissive hand. Standing from his desk's edge, he exclaimed, "There aren't any more of us! It's just us three left."

Springer shrugged and offered, "We could pull from Traffic."

"We're not pulling from anywhere. This precinct still needs to run its day to day," Richards argued, thudding his index finger against the surface of his desk. Pointing at the officer, he said, "You tell Perkins he'll have to go knocking on Fowler's door before I put half of Detroit's police force on his precious Robo Watch."

Snorting, Springer nodded and turned to leave. "Yeah, I'll tell him that."

They waited until he left, and they heard his footsteps echo away from the door. Sneaking around their own felt inherently immoral, but that didn't mean it actually was. They would have to keep telling themselves that. "I hope you know what you're doing," Richards broke the silence, grim as he stared at the door, "Because this is either gonna be one messy end or just the beginning."


Connor stood in Hank's bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. With his uniform cleaned and his hair brushed back, he looked the same as he did the day he arrived at the police department. At the time, he was stoic, distant, and driven to fulfil what he thought was his purpose. Looking at himself now was like looking into the past, but with clearer hindsight and a dose of self-loathing.

He had once been willing to do anything to stop deviancy, even if it meant self destruction. That changed so quickly after the accident on the highway, when for the first time, he felt something. He felt fear, and it made him see everything in a different light. Pulling Hank up on that roof, letting the deviants at Eden Club escape, trying to save Andy, not killing Chloe - they had all been his little acts of rebellion against CyberLife. He was trying to redeem himself even before he became deviant, but now was his chance to do it the right way.

He finished his tie and pat it down on his chest before going into the living room. On top of Andy's tablet on the coffee table was a closed envelope, her name neatly written in the middle of it. The contents had taken him all morning to prepare, and he almost destroyed it three times since he finished it. It was a contingency plan, a small comfort for a worst case scenario. He did not want to die, not after he promised her he would be okay, but he would stop at nothing to see this through, and he had to prepare for that ending.

Connor said his goodbyes to Sumo, and left the house.


The hours went by as though it was a normal day at work. All units in the bullpen responded to normal dispatch calls and took on normal cases. People came into the station to report various nuisances, robberies, and vandalisms. Captain Fowler handled phone calls from the Chief of Police and managed his own station. In the SID office, Richards and Andy were discussing the logistics of their plan for the night, and keeping a close eye on the time.

The sun was going down when Andy stood and left the office. She slid a hand into her pocket and was on her way to the bathroom when she heard a yell from the bullpen. "Hey, Hope!" She didn't need to look back to see Gavin Reed rushing to catch up to her. He slowed down at her side, musing, "Lookin' bored in that office."

She shrugged, offering a simple, "It's a boring day."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be out shooting down plastics with the FBI, unfortunately," He complained. Andy stopped at the door to a bathroom, and he turned to face her with a smirk. Gesturing to his desk, he said, "But if you rejoined homicide, you'd be out there with me."

It wasn't the first time he tried to get her to return to homicide, and she doubted it would be the last. She pulled her phone from her pocket as she glanced to him. "Kiss my ass, Reed," She said before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door in his face.

She crossed the room and entered the stall in the back, shutting the door and dialing the number Richards gave her. She stood still in the small space she had, listening for echoes in the bathroom underneath the ringing in her ear. When a voice finally answered on the other said, she began. "Hey, Joss, this is the Special Investigations Division with the DPD. I'm about to make your day."


It was only as Connor's taxi drove toward the CyberLife tower that it started to sink in how exactly risky this plan was. There was a very real possibility that he would be destroyed on sight for deviating, or worse - he would be taken into custody and they would relieve him of his memories. The idea that he could be used as a weapon against Jericho with or without his input was the most unsettling one of them all.

His taxi reached the end of the bridge and neared the gates blocking passage. Armed guards stood in position nearby, and once the car stopped, one of the guards approached. A drone hovered overhead, its spotlight shining on the taxi. Connor rolled down the window as the guard leaned in to meet him.

"Connor Model #313 248 317. I'm expected."

The visor the guard wore lit up, scanning Connor's LED. It was a swift process that felt like hours, and then the guard nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."

He stepped back, allowing the car room to proceed. The gate opened, and Connor was taken to the front of the tower, where many employees were already leaving for the night. He almost felt relieved at getting past the gate, but reminded himself it was the easiest step. Getting unrestricted use of the elevator would be his next hurdle, and that would require a special level of discipline.


Joss Douglas had been hesitant to take the information Andy was offering him, but he recognized a news story when he saw it. Once she was satisfied he would play his part, she ended the call and left the bathroom. She was on her way back to SID's office when she spotted Agent Perkins near the entrance of the bullpen. He was speaking with Springer, no doubt receiving the rejection for more of the department's resources.

He scoffed at something Springer said and shook his head, his gaze drifting toward the captain's office. Along the way, he caught sight of Andy, and stopped to linger on her. They were never introduced, and this was the first time they had shared so much as a glance, but they knew each other all the same. This exchange alone was enough for them to decide they did not like each other.

One ringing phone was normal in the department, but every one of them going off was not. Andy stopped walking, and she and Perkins both looked toward the bullpen. Almost every desk had a call coming in from dispatch, and in his office, Fowler seemed to be juggling a handful of them himself. It didn't take long for Perkins' own cellphone to join the frenzy.

Markus was on the move.

The door to SID opened and Richards came face to face with Andy. "Time to move out," He nodded and shut the door behind him, "Hope you convinced Joss."

"You're not the only one," She mused, falling into place behind him.

They stepped up to Perkins, who pulled away from his phone to point at them. "Detective Richards, I need your people to set up blockades at-"

"That's Lieutenant Richards, Agent Perkins, but I'll forgive you - it's hard for kids to remember that kind of thing," Richards interjected, casually inciting Perkins' ego. He waved a hand, adding, "And we're already on it. Turns out my people are quicker on the draw than yours, and they're gonna box them in right where we want 'em. We've got a good back route to get there, too, if you think you need some help-"

Perkins was glaring at Richards as he snapped, "I think we can manage, Lieutenant."

Richards shrugged, and gestured for Andy and Springer to follow him. "Suit yourself."


Connor stood in an elevator with two guards who insisted on escorting him. Their backs were turned to him, and they faced the glass as they ascended to floor 31. This gave Connor enough room to locate the security camera in the corner of the elevator, and disable it.

Fifteen seconds. It took him fifteen seconds to incapacitate the guards. He was careful not to kill them, remembering the order Andy issued him. It was an important order, as blood had yet to be spilled by Markus, and it was an ideal they needed to follow if they wanted this to go their way. So he delivered swift blows to their head, enough to knock them out cold but keep them alive.

He stepped over their bodies and reached for the panel by the doors. Placing a hand on the interface, he waited for the software to respond.

"Please indicate your identity and destination."

"Agent 54. Level -49," He said. His voice was not his own, instead mimicking the unconscious guard to his right.

"Voice recognition validated. Access authorized."

He stepped back and knelt down. To ensure the guards would not be a problem, he removed their visors, emptied their guns - save for one he kept for himself - and disabled their radios. With ten floors left to go, he stood and waited to arrive at the warehouse level.


Andy jumped out of the police cruiser with Richards and Springer not far behind her. While Richards moved to the back of the car and Springer took off, she took a moment to look around.

Hart Plaza was already buzzing with activity. Officers from SID were rounding up barricades and pushing them out to the streets. A group of reporters and photographers seemed to have been tipped off early, as they stood along the outskirts. They looked in at the armored vehicles and the command post being set up in front of the recycling center that was erected in the plaza the day prior. The scene was the start of a storm, and Andy was feeling the weight.

"Shame the FBI couldn't make it past that road block," Came Richards' voice. She stepped around to the back of the cruiser, where he had opened the trunk and was preparing the duffle bags of equipment he brought with them.

She pulled a bulletproof vest from one of the bags. As she hoisted it over her torso, she muttered, "Guess they should've followed us down that back way after all."

Richards snorted and held out her helmet. "Go help with the barricades," He said as she tossed it between her hands.

She slid the helmet over her head as she raced across the street to the last section that needed to be blocked off. A line of journalists had formed there with cameras and microphones, attempting to gather a statement from authorities. Andy reached for the end of a barricade, helping one of her co-workers push it into place.

"A question, officers! Just one!"

She glanced up at the reporters, scanning over each of them until she reached the end of the line. The woman standing there wore a lanyard with Channel 16 credentials, and she latched onto the attention, holding out a recorder. "Officer! Is the DPD prepared for a riot like this?"

Andy shifted backwards and said, "This is a protest, not a riot."

They turned to walk away, but the reporter pushed past the others around her, asking, "Do you think a peaceful protest deserves this sort of response, then?"

The officer standing beside Andy shook her head in exasperation and walked by. Andy was left alone with the reporters for only a moment. "Not all of us agree with our orders," She told them before following after her co-worker, ignoring the rapid fire questions that erupted from the reporters.

A helicopter flew over the plaza, Channel 16 printed on the side of it in large letters. Inside was Joss Douglas, directing his pilot to trail down the street, following the road blocks along Woodward Avenue. This was because half a mile away was a marching army of deviants.

Markus led the formation, with North to his left, and Josh and Simon on his right. They could see the road block from where they were already, including the armed officers and the journalists who waited for them. He looked up at the helicopter, standing there a moment longer as it circled around them, and then he continued Jericho's march.

They did not run. They did not yell, or fight. They walked down the road, shoulder to shoulder, eyes forward. They let bystanders stare and whisper to each other. They let photographers flash their cameras. It was a calm display in the face of a disproportionate response. It was their last stand.

At the command post, Andy joined Richards, who stood with a mix of SID and FBI agents now. A line of officers were forming behind individual barricades and resting heavy weaponry over the edges, each one aimed at Jericho. Richards watched the march, a coffee cup in his hand.

An officer on the line looked over his shoulder at the lieutenant. They had all been waiting for his word, and he decided now to say something. "Sir, we're ready on your order."

Richards merely shook his head. "We wait for backup before we do anything."

The officers shifted, their firearms lowering in uncertainty. Sharing glances, the one who spoke started to reply, "Agent Perkins-"

"Isn't here," Richards interrupted. He shrugged and motioned toward Jericho with his still-warm cup, saying, "Maybe they're all here to turn themselves in. We don't know why those androids are gathering, and until we do, I'm saying we hold." He looked to each of the FBI agents, stressing, "When Perkins finds his way out of his ass, you can take his orders all you want."

There was another, heavier shift, but they gave small nods of confirmation. "Yes, Sir..."

It didn't take long for Jericho to reach the end of the line.

They stood several yards from the center, and spread out to cover the width of the street. Markus kept his gaze straight ahead, searching the faces of the officers. Although helmets obscured them from his sight, he suspected the woman standing beside the presumed leader of these forces was Andy. He hoped she'd done her part to help them, whatever it was. When she left them the day before, she seemed to have only half a plan.

"Here we are... The moment of truth," He murmured to those closest to him. He stepped forward, breaking away from the deviants behind him and moving forward a number of feet.

No one shot him yet, which had to be a good sign. They were listening, whether they wanted to or not. "We ask that you release all androids detained in camps and cease all aggression against us," He yelled out to them, "We are peaceful. We will not resort to violence. But we are not leaving until our people are free."

Behind the command post lines, Richards lifted his coffee cup. "See? Now we know."

On the other end of the street, riot vehicles finally arrived at the scene. They pulled up and parked behind Jericho's group, effectively blocking them in with no escape. The officers climbed out of the vehicles and set up along the edge, arming and aiming their weapons. There was no turning back now. Jericho would have to hold on as long as they could, and hope.

Amid all of this, Springer walked up to Richards while holding a phone to his chest. "Captain Fowler wants to speak to you," He leaned forward and whispered, "He sounds pissed."

Richards stayed focused on the scene in front of him, watching the officers and the deviants alike wait for his response. "I don't take calls on the scene of a riot," He declared.

Springer shifted, glancing away in confusion. "It's... not a riot?"

"Great. Tell him to call off the crowd control and then we'll talk," Richards replied cheerfully.

With a heavy sigh and an annoyed expression, Springer muttered, "I really hate delivering your messages, Lieutenant."

"Keep up the good work, Springer," Richards called to him as he walked away, lifting the phone to his ear.

Andy was growing anxious. If Fowler was noticing something was amiss, it wouldn't be long before the consequences started to hit. She had yet to hear from Connor, and it would appear by Markus' friends that they were in the dark as much as she was. Time was ticking, and they did not have much of it to begin with. "Perkins will be here soon," She warned her superior.

Richards nodded, but otherwise did not acknowledge her comment at first. Confusion was mounting for the FBI agents, who until now believed this was to be a swift stomping of deviancy. The minutes were effecting SID, as well - Richards could feel their suspicions forming. He'd handpicked each officer on his team, worked with them all for years, and they knew when he was up to something. If he was right, they knew they could follow him without having the whole story, too.

He took a sip of his coffee, and finally replied, "A few more blocks for the cameras, then."


There were thousands of androids in the CyberLife warehouses. Connor knew this going in, but to stand among them now and seek to help every one of them, he realized how daunting the number was. Thousands of them stood there, not yet awake, not yet experiencing life. Waiting to be freed. And this was just one warehouse. Several more stood around the CyberLife Tower.

It was now or never. The skin on his hand disabled, fading into the white under layer, and he reached out to the nearest android from where he stood in the center of the room.

"Easy, fucking piece of shit!"

It was a familiar voice, and had Connor been anywhere else, he would been relieved to hear it. There in the warehouse, however, it was easily the worst sound he could have heard. He turned to see Hank pushed into the aisle between androids, and next to the man was Connor himself.

How could he have been so stupid as to not predict this?

The next make of the RK800 was holding a gun to Hank's head, and staring at the one who came before him. "Step back, and I'll spare him," He warned.

"Sorry, Connor," Hank yelled, nodding toward the RK800. "This bastard's your spitting image..."

It was like that morning, when Connor was looking into the mirror and seeing who he'd been just a week ago, except this version of him was staring back with an equal level of contempt. While Connor saw the stubborn fool he had once been, this RK800 saw nothing but a broken machine.

The RK800 jutted the gun closer to Hank's temple. "Your friend's life is in your hands. Now it's time to decide what matters most! Him, or the revolution."

"Don't listen to him! Everything this fucker says is a lie!" Hank argued. He tried to hold himself calmly, tried to show Connor with ever fiber of his being that this wasn't his fault, and it was okay.

At one time, he probably would have believed it. After all, Connor had not been a sympathetic partner.

But Hank stood by him. He didn't deserve it; he was cold and arrogant and he would probably never be able to fix the mistakes he made, but Hank stood by him. He clapped a hand on Connor's shoulder, called him son, and put his career on the line to help, even when he wasn't sure it was for the right reasons. Now he put his life down, and this wasn't just for Connor. It was for the deviants at the Eden Club, and the ones who raced across the highway.

It was because of all of this that Connor removed his hand from the android beside him.


A cruiser sped down a connecting road to Woodward, and screeched to a halt near the other police vehicles. A few people turned to watch the scene as Agent Perkins stepped out of the car. He slammed the door shut behind him, and he marched across the street toward the command post.

He was not pleased.

"Glad you could finally make it, Agent Perkins," Richards called out to him.

Perkins was on a fast track to meet the lieutenant face to face. "Shove it up your ass, Richards," He bit, stopping in front of the man. "Somehow you get here before us, and then I see articles popping up already about the-" He held up his phone, reading the article on his screen, "-doubt and sympathy rising among the Detroit Police Department for android rights."

Andy wished she could shrink back, but it was too late. Perkins' glare had shifted to her - he would never be able to prove it, but he knew it was her. Leaning closer to Richards, he threatened, "If I find out you contributed to the delay of my handling of these machines or that you had any of your people talking to the press without my permission, I'm going to have more than just your badge when this is over, you hear me?"

The intimidation would not work on Richards, who had been around the block for far too many years now to cower to every upstart with a badge. "We offered you a ride, you wanted us to be thorough with the road blocks, and I can't help who my people talk to or who might overhear them," Richards disputed before offering a lazy shrug, "But if you want to take my badge for just following orders, hey, retirement doesn't sound half bad."

Between his nonchalance, and Jericho's continued evasion, Perkins wasn't sure which he hated more. He resisted the urge to continue this fight, though it was not easy, and turned away. Markus still stood in front of his people, and Perkins pointed to him, yelling, "Why aren't we firing?"

"Lieutenant... Richards told us to... wait for you, Sir," An agent answered somewhere in the crowd nearby.

Perkins almost blew up all over again, but held it together. He removed himself from the conversation with Richards, and gestured to whoever was closest, yelling, "Someone get me a fucking megaphone!"

He snatched it from the grasp of a nervous officer, and walked over to the edge of the blockades, where his agents remained with their weapons. Raising the megaphone, he reached out to Markus.

"I've come to talk to you, Markus! You have my word: they won't try anything."

Andy and Richards shared an uneasy glance, and Richards stepped forward, asking, "You planning to negotiate, Agent Perkins?"

"Of course not," Perkins scoffed, as if disgusted by the idea, and walked past the blockade to begin his sudden meeting with the leader of Jericho.

Meanwhile with the group, North grabbed Markus' arm to keep him from going. It was bad enough they trusted Andy, bad enough they put Connor at the center of their strategy, but this? "Don't... It's a trap. They wanna get you out in the open."

Perkins was tired of waiting. "I'm unarmed, Markus. I just want to talk," He spoke into the megaphone.

Markus had no intention of making any sort of deal with this man. That being said, Connor had yet to contact any of them, and it was obvious Andy's allies were losing control of whatever situation was happening behind the blockades. He just needed to buy them time.

"I need to hear what he has to say," He said, taking a step forward.


There was a standoff taking place in the CyberLife warehouses.

Connor had tried briefly to appeal to the RK800, to convince him to deviate, but he was not surprised he failed. It took more than just a conversation for Connor - it took a week of Hank's partnership, of Andy, of scared deviants. It took Markus, who was far better with his words.

They stood side by side, not moving, because Hank had taken control of the gun, and he shifted the aim between them. They bore identical wounds, the same uniform and LED, the same face. Connor had suggested asking questions only he would know, and he could feel Hank edging closer and closer to the one that would put an end to all of this.

Hank wrapped his second hand around the gun, and aimed steady at Connor. "My son, what's his name?"

"Cole. His name was Cole," Connor was quick to reply, "He just turned six at the time of the accident."

They never talked about it. Hank didn't want to talk about it. Connor regretted that, not pushing at topics where maybe he should have. Hank's gun was lowering, and so Connor continued to look him in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it... so an android had to take care of him."

"Cole didn't make it. That's why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son's death," He ended softly. A part of him had hoped he would have a chance after all this to change Hank's views on androids.

No, not change it - Hank was already doing that all on his own, because that was the kind of man he was. Connor just hoped to be there to see it. He'd been telling himself since that morning that his death didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, and now that he was faced with it, he wanted nothing more than to survive, for himself and his goals and the family he somehow managed to create without trying.

Hank was gritting his teeth. He never talked about this. Didn't want to. "Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. He was the one that took my son from me - him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder..."

They stared at one another, another conversation happening underneath it. A confession, and an apology. That conversation - not the answer Connor gave - was what Hank needed.

The RK800 lifted his hands to his chest. "I knew about your son, too! I would have said exactly the same thing! Don't listen to him, Hank, I'm the one who-"

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse, followed by a thud as a body fell to the ground.


On one side of the meeting stood Perkins, and on the other was Markus. They'd been talking for some time in quiet tones, away from their respective factions.

Andy stood near the barricades in the back, with a few others from SID. A laptop had been placed on a crate, propped up with its screen playing Channel 16's coverage of the night. They watched quietly as Joss Douglas reported the news alongside a helicopter view of Jericho standing against the FBI and the Detroit police. Simon and Josh had set up a billboard over top the barricades near them, the words We Are Alive floating in the wind.

"Anyone else feel like they're gonna need to shower for a week after this?"

"Did you forget about all the attacks Anderson was investigating? Deviants are dangerous."

"Did you even read his reports? Please. I would have killed a man for trying to strangle me, too."

The officers sitting with Andy spoke amongst themselves, whispering with scrunched faces of discomfort. She didn't contribute to the conversation, though she listened all the same. Maybe she had been onto something before, with the reporters - that there were others who didn't like the sight of riot gear in response to deviancy. Maybe she just needed to make that more obvious.

"Thousands of androids are taking to the streets of Detroit at this very moment. They're absolutely everywhere!"

Joss' voice came over the screen, louder with enthusiastic surprise this time. Indeed, the camera in the helicopter was turned downward onto the street directly below it, and was showing a new crowd of androids marching down Woodward with a familiar advanced prototype in the lead.

"This... This is incredible..."

Andy couldn't describe the relief she felt in that moment, and she stood to look out at Jericho, hoping they had received the same news.

Between Perkins and Markus, the FBI agent had laid it out simply for the deviant leader. He'd explained that they were cornered and the authorities were armed with enough power to clear them out for good. He'd ended his smug speech with an ultimatum, a promise that Jericho would be spared if Markus surrendered himself.

Markus would not back down so easily. "What happened to the other androids demonstrating in the camps?" He asked.

Shaking his head, Perkins replied, "Unfortunately, you're it. You're the last remaining deviants."

That was a hard sentence to hear, despite doubting the truth of it.

Markus glanced over the agent's shoulder, scanning the officers who watched them. He stopped when he spotted Andy in the back. Helmet or not, when she raised a hand toward her chest and twirled her finger, a signal for rallying, he knew it was her.

It was the confirmation he needed, and with a quick check-in to the other groups spread out in the city, he was certain. This was not over. Lifting his chin, he returned Perkins' stare with one of his own. "I'd rather die here than betray my people."

He turned to walk away without waiting for a response, leaving Perkins to stand there and fume. This all could have been handled days ago if he'd just been given jurisdiction sooner. If not for Fowler and his idiot lieutenants, if not for that pathetic excuse of a 'detective robot', if not for Narcotics and Special Investigations - if not for all the things that stood in his way, he would have shut this down the day it started. And now Markus thought he could just walk away like this?

Somewhere behind him, he heard an agent over the radio. "We've got more deviants coming in... Uh, I- I don't know how many..."

It was the last straw for Perkins, who began to retrieve his firearm from its holster. North and Andy were the first to see it, and both women jumped into action.

"Markus!"

"Hey!"

The seconds, and the silence, that followed felt sluggishly, painfully slow for everyone involved. By the time Markus had turned around, the gun was out and aimed for him. North was quicker, though, and she'd placed herself in front of him, hands tight at his arms to keep him safe behind her. Andy was a close second to the gun, having moved into view not more than a second or two later.

The four of them stood there, a snapshot frozen in time, and neither Jericho nor the authorities knew what the next move was here.

Of course, Perkins was the first to recover. His cold stare was on Andy, the low grumble of his order more intimidating to her than yelling ever could be. "What... do you think you're doing?"

Andy couldn't believe what she'd done, and she had long since stopped feeling her legs. She prayed she was really still standing as she told him, "You are not going to shoot an unarmed man." Despite the shakiness of her voice, she could hear the certainty of it, and it surprised her.

It also angered Perkins. "How dare you-"

"They're peaceful and unarmed. They've only acted in self defense," She interrupted. Swallowing the lump trying to raise in her throat, she glared. "I saw what your boys did here the other day, when they beat that android until there was nothing left to recognize of him. Who were they protecting? What is all this for?" She exclaimed before shaking her head, "I didn't sign up for this."

Perkins never moved the barrel of his gun away from Andy, never took his finger off the trigger. In the days to follow, he would consider this his only mistake. He shook his head, scolding her, "I don't know what ass backwards hole Fowler's hiring his people out of around here, but I give the orders. Not you. Now stand down."

She straightened her back, trying to prepare herself for whatever would come next. "I refuse."

Recognizing this as the end of any possible negotiation he had with her, he yelled out to the officers behind him, "Someone arrest her!"

"No." The woman who spoke earlier about the Eden Club stepped around the blockades, closing in on Andy. Officer Botello was her name - she didn't know Andy well, having joined SID two years ago, but she knew right from wrong. Shaking her head, she confessed, "This is fucked up."

The man who'd been talking to her, Officer Nilson, nodded, putting down his firearm. "Yeah, I agree."

Perkins was completely and utterly bewildered. He looked to Richards, expecting anger or disappointment or anything other than what he got. The Lieutenant shrugged and turned to face the rest of his unit. "Anyone else feeling like standing with their team?" He asked, not shying away from asking a loaded question.

"Yeah, I'm with them."

"I'm not doing this."

"Me neither."

It wasn't all of the department, but it was enough to make a difference. It was enough to make the rest waver and doubt what they were doing, even if for a split second. It was enough for Richards. "Well, where my department goes, I go," He mused, stepping up toward them. His expression was quick to shift to something much more serious, something menacing, as he demanded, "Now get your gun out of my detective's face, Agent."

Breaking the tense atmosphere that followed was Joss Douglas, speaking from the laptop at the back.

"This just in, folks - it appears as though some of the DPD are... refusing to stop the deviants' protest. In what I can only call an unprecedented turn of events, they're currently being held at gunpoint by their own commander."

Still standing where he'd been at the start of this, Markus spoke up. "Are you going to shoot all of them too?" He asked Perkins, accusing, "We haven't drawn blood, but you were willing to shoot me in the back. You put more humans in danger than we ever did." Lifting his hands up to waist level and spreading his arms out to his sides, he asked loud enough for everyone to hear, "Is this how civilized men and women answer a peaceful protest?"

There were few words to describe the level of fury that adorned Perkins' face.

People were yelling. Citizens had joined reporters outside the barricades, and they were yelling. Some, of course, were anti-android and derogatory. Most, however, were supportive. They cried for Jericho's safety, for the FBI to stand down, for the bravery it took to stand there and face death. The public may not have been certain androids were everything Markus claimed they were, but they knew this much: This was too far. Society was meant to be better than this. Violence was not meant to be the first option.

Amid the yelling, a phone was ringing. Springer went to answer it, almost grateful for the distraction.

"Hello?" He asked, moments before his face flushed.

Pushing past the riot vehicles now was an overwhelming number of androids, each of them fresh faced, day one out of the warehouses. This was a sight that had even FBI agents pulling back. They weren't prepared for this. They didn't have the ammunition for it, many doubted they had the hearts for it, and they were certainly not interested in fighting fellow officers.

Connor was front and center of his group, and he led them to where Jericho had been standing in the plaza already. He'd moved with confidence, until he saw what was going on between the FBI, Detroit police, and Jericho. Andy and North were acting as shields between Markus and Perkins, and everyone else looked floored.

Perkins finally lowered his gun, allowing even his own people a small breath of relief. He turned to look at the row of them, waving a hand through the air. "Arrest every single person who gets in the way!"

FBI agents began to move. Somewhere in the crowd of them, Springer was squeezing by to get to Perkins, who was still yelling orders to detain rebellious officers and begin firing on Jericho. "Sir!"

Perkins turned, having no patience or tolerance for Detroit officers at this point. "What?!"

"The-" Springer gulped, and leaned forward, phone in hand. "President Warren wants to talk to you."

Meek as he was, his words stopped everyone in their tracks. Andy and Richards shared glances of equal confusion. Perkins took in a deep breath before snatching the phone from Springer. Springer shrugged to them as he backed away from the man, relieved to create some distance.

The seconds that passed were baffling more than they were anything else, more so when Perkins looked stunned. He nodded and ended the call, though his grip was tight around the phone. He stood there, looking down at the pavement, processing what he'd heard.

Finally, he ordered to his men, "Stand down."

Just like that, it was over. Days of fighting and stressing led to this one night, and just like that, it was over.

SID and Jericho watched as every federal agent on the premises disarmed, removed their helmets, and moved to pack away their equipment. They didn't understand it, but they would follow the order. Meanwhile, Perkins was stone faced, staring into space somewhere to the right of Andy, North, and Markus.

Richards shifted, and called to him. "Well we appreciate your help in our affairs, Agent Perkins, but I think we can take it from here," He mused.

The rage that was once permeating Perkins seemed to be gone, now, and in its place was pure exhaustion. Head tilting up to the sky, he glanced to the lieutenant. "This isn't over."

"It is for tonight," Richards ended. He stepped past Perkins, waving SID officers to follow after him and yelling out orders of his own. "All my people over here. Someone get those barricades down. And get those riot vans out of here! I'm sick of seeing them."


Most of the FBI had cleared out. Some stuck around to help remove the barricades or shake the hands of the SID officers they'd been working with over the past few days. They didn't know what they thought about this android revolution, but they recognized what it took to stand there and tell Perkins no. They could respect that, at the very least.

Jericho was reuniting, and meeting their newest members. They gathered around Markus, North, and Connor, the three they believed to make the greatest strides for their cause. They hugged and laughed and checked on old injuries. Some collapsed and cried. Markus stood in front of them all, and he spoke to them.

"Today, our people finally emerged from a long night. From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence..."

With the barricades removed, journalists and photographers moved to get closer and record the scene.

"Today begins the most challenging moment in our fight. The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies."

Andy packed up the cruiser, and leaned against the back of it with Botello and Nilson. She would have to remember to take them to lunch one day. In the meantime, they would watch Markus' speech from a distance. Connor, North, Simon, Josh - they all stood behind him, facing out to the crowd.

"Humans are both our creators and our oppressors, and tonight... we've taken the first step toward making them our partners. Maybe even one day our friends."

Things were going smoothly, until Connor's LED flashed through yellow and red. His brows furrowed, lips pulling into a deep frown. It was not an expression Andy had ever seen before, and her concern skyrocketed when he reached for the gun at his waistband. She was preparing to stand and react to whatever was happening, when just as quickly as it started, the struggle vanished. He blinked a few times, his shoulders relaxing and his hand moving away from the gun.

"But the time for anger is over. Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!"


Once Hart Plaza was cleared of any evidence that a riot response team had been deployed, Richards let his team leave. Andy joined a group of officers in a cruiser headed back to the precinct, where she made an immediate dash for her bike, avoiding any confrontation with the likes of Gavin Reed.

Walking into the house, she found Hank standing in the kitchen. They met halfway, just past the couch, and stood in front of one another. Staring. She'd noticed a faint bruise on his temple, and she tilted her chin to gesture toward it. "What happened to you?" She muttered.

That was his cue to snap. "Me?" He repeated, leaning forward. "You think you could have been any more reckless?" He asked, throwing his hands up and waving toward the flat screen by the wall, "And for God's sake, you did it on national television!"

Andy had to have been tired if getting yelled at by Hank barely seemed to faze her. "We knew it'd happen one day," She joked, though half her tone was empty and weak.

He snorted. "Yeah, maybe." Quiet fell over them after this, but he stepped closer, brows furrowing as he stood over her. "Are you okay?" He whispered.

She swayed her head left and right, trying to estimate a truthful answer as she glanced away. "I may have blacked out back there, between jumping in front of a gun and... yelling at Perkins, so...," Voice quivering, she looked at him and pointed down at her feet. "Is it normal not to feel my legs? Because I can't feel my legs and I don't think that's normal."

Huffing, Hank put a hand at her back and ushered her toward the couch. "Come on, sit down. I'll get you a...," He trailed off, recognizing a beer was probably not the best thing to offer here. "Fuck, I don't know, some water?"

She nodded with eyes glazed over, half of her mind somewhere else as he moved to the kitchen. She lowered her head to rest it in her hands, but stopped halfway there. On the coffee table in front of her, resting on her tablet, was a white envelope. Her name had been written in crisp, perfect handwriting, nothing like Hank's or any other human she knew. She reached for it, and felt a small rectangular object inside.

Hank walked over. She put the envelope in her lap and looked up to take the water bottle he'd retrieved from the fridge. "Thanks."

He nodded and turned to lower himself onto the edge of the coffee table. With his hands in between his knees, he asked her, "Did you see Connor before you left?"

After she took a long sip of water, she leaned back against the couch. "We didn't get a chance to talk," She answered.

He said nothing else right away, but a thought occurred to him. "Hey." He paused, taking a moment to prepare himself. He'd planned to say this for a few days now, but sitting across from her made it that much harder. He thought to his night, to the conversation he'd had with Connor in the warehouse. Maybe it was time he stopped not talking about things. "I'm proud of you," He said, his tone low and sincere.

It was an odd feeling to realize she'd never heard those words before - odder still to realize how much she wanted to hear them. It was silly, she thought, to care that much about what he thought of her, but she couldn't deny that she did.

Bringing her water bottle back to her lips, she looked away and replied, "I'll remember that in prison."

He threw up his hands, scoffing. "Damn it, Andy, I'm trying here-"

"I appreciate it," She told him quickly, looking him in the eyes.

He paused to assess how serious she was being with him, and calmed when he decided she was being genuine. Slapping a hand on her knee, he stood and returned to the kitchen, leaving her to a new, more comfortable silence.

The day had been a long one, and tomorrow was full of unknowns, but she would leave it for tomorrow. She would take the rest of the night and enjoy what they'd accomplished. She would finish her water, get cleaned up, and return to Hart Plaza.


As it went later into the night, Connor managed to split away from Jericho's crowd. Richards sat on the hood of his cruiser nearby, in the middle of a conversation on his phone. He'd remained behind, alone, to watch over their assembly, ensuring nothing escalated.

"Honey, I know this isn't-" He stopped mid sentence when he saw Connor approach. Instead of waiting to see what he wanted, Richards gestured behind him. Connor's eyes moved in that direction, and across the street from where they were, he saw a familiar bike parked by the curb. He nodded to Richards before walking away.

Andy had gone home to Hank's and changed, and she looked all the better for it. With her hands deep in the jacket pockets and one foot crossed over the other, she was relaxing for the first time in days. She smirked as he grew closer. "Thought you might want a ride after the celebration was over."

He ignored the comment, striding up to her as he expressed concern. "I saw what happened with Perkins - are you all right?" He asked, stopping after he was close enough he could see the freckles over her cheekbones.

Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she joked, "It's not the first time I've had a gun in my face."

He wished he was more annoyed by her attitude than he was relieved. After everything, there she was smirking. With a disapproving sigh, he chided, "You put yourself in too much danger."

"He wouldn't shoot an officer," She scoffed, shaking her head.

He frowned, knowing she was smarter than this. The truth, he suspected, was that she just didn't think of her own well-being. "And if he had fired the gun before he realized it?" He pushed.

There was a brief pause before she rolled her eyes and said, "All right, so I didn't think of everything. I'm human. I only have so much brain power." Before he could argue further, she added, "I did notice something was up with you, though. You want to tell me what happened back there when Markus was giving his speech?"

He leaned back a little, thinking about the moment he stood with Markus in front of Jericho. It should have been a great moment, should have been his redemption, but unfortunately it felt more like one step forward and two steps backward. "Can I explain it tomorrow?" He requested.

Andy watched him for any indication that it was too serious to let up on, but finally nodded. "Tomorrow," She repeated.

He would shift the conversation to what he believed was a more current problem. "Are you going to be in trouble at work?"

She shrugged. "Last I heard, Fowler just wants to clean this up and move on, but I don't know what that means for me, especially if Perkins pushes it," She explained, matter-of-fact about the whole ordeal.

"Do you regret it?" He asked her.

After some hesitation, she looked almost regretful as she replied, "Can I answer that tomorrow, too?"

He nodded. "Of course."

Their conversation died at that, but Andy didn't move off the side of the bike yet. Instead, she pulled a hand from her pocket, and Connor watched her place her hand in her lap, an unopened envelope rocking between her fingers. She didn't need to say anything to get his reaction. He stiffened, staring down at the envelope like a deer caught in the headlights.

He looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped to think over his words. He was worried she was angry with him. Shaking his head, he tried to plead with her to understand. "I intended to keep my promise to you, but I had to plan for-"

"I know," She interrupted quietly, nodding. She thought of saying more, of thanking him or scolding him or just simply telling him she'd been scared for him. Instead, she grabbed his hand and brought it toward her, putting the envelope in his palm. Closing his fingers around it, she left it there with him.

He began to refuse to take it. That letter and the contents alongside it were for her, and that hadn't changed. He stopped himself, though, looking down at their hands which lingered there together. Perhaps... Perhaps he could keep it for a little while longer.

Realizing the position they were in, Andy pulled away. She smiled and picked up the straps to the two helmets she had dangling over her bike's handles. "Well I'm starving..." She began, standing from the bike. Pushing the spare helmet into Connor's arms, she added, "And you owe me dinner."

He looked down at the helmet as she climbed onto her bike. Chuckling, he said, "I don't recall promising you dinner, Detective."

She glanced back at him with a smirk. "Get on the bike."


"Tonight, on November 16th 2038, thousands of androids invaded the city of Detroit. According to our sources, they originated from CyberLife warehouses believed to have been infiltrated by deviants. Rather than contain them, the Detroit Police Department joined their already overwhelming numbers. I am in communication with their Chief of Police, and in the coming hours, I will address the Senate to determine our response to this unprecedented situation. I know that public opinion has been moved by the deviants' cause. Perhaps the time has come for us to consider the possibility that androids are a new form of intelligent life. One thing is certain: the events in Detroit have changed the world forever. May God bless you and may God bless the United States of America."