I loathe deciphering what technology exists and what doesn't in David Cage's head, so I've decided to simply stop trying, and play by my own rules. It's the wild west, and this town ain't big enough for the two of us.


November 17, 2038

In the dark hours of the morning, a hooded figure approached the Detroit Police Department. They were bent over and walking backwards, in order to drag the body they carried in their arms. When they reached the top of the stairs, they pulled the body over the ledge and tossed it across the ground in front of the doors. Standing fully, they kicked it onto its back before retreating from the scene.


Andy woke that morning feeling lighter than she had in a week. It was foolish - she still had to stand before her captain and possibly the Chief of Police to answer for her insubordination - but the night before had been a victory. Jericho could rest, even if for a little while, and that meant she could too.

She arrived at the precinct alone, leaving for work earlier than usual. As she turned onto Third Avenue, she could already see the crowd forming around the front steps. At the time, she'd assumed it was because of Jericho's demonstration.

Parking her bike near the corner of the station, she removed her helmet as she watched them. They were larger in numbers than she expected to see, but most were reporters, which she first took as a good sign. It meant no one was holding an anti-android protest outside the building. She squeezed through the crowd, considering herself lucky to make it to the entrance with little fuss.

Richards was walking along the side of the bullpen with a tablet in hand, and she called to him once she made it inside. He stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up.

"They can't all be here about Jericho, can they?" She asked, pointing her thumb behind her.

He shook his head and told her, "They're not." He stopped outside the forensics lab and opened the door, nodding into the room. With furrowed brows, Andy stepped inside and he followed.

An android was on the exam table, deactivated and badly beaten. His right arm was missing, and from the elbow down, so was his left. Tangled wires and thicker cables poked out of exposed legs, while his face and neck bore scrapes, burns, and deep gashes. His torso was almost entirely open, save for a patch on his chest which had been made monument to large, messy cuts forming the words DEATH TO ANDROIDS.

That light feeling Andy had when she left the house that morning was immediately gone and forgotten. "Jesus...," She whispered, her eyes unable to land and focus on just one part of his remains.

"Definitely not a good way to start the morning," Richards mumbled, walking around the table to face her across from it. He placed down his tablet, saying, "The techs should be here in an hour."

She pushed down the feeling of wanting to be sick, and asked, "Did we fingerprint him?"

He was already looking for a box on the counter space behind him as he answered, "They brought it in here and waited for a lieutenant to show up." Pulling out two pairs of disposable gloves, he held one out to her. "Lucky me," He said, letting his brows shoot up to join the sarcasm in his tone.

They slipped on their gloves and began to scan the android for fingerprints. They moved slowly to cover every inch possible on his body. After a few minutes, Richards broke the silence. "You got here early."

Andy nodded, hovering her scanner along the side of the torso. She knelt down to look underneath him, saying, "Yeah, well, I figured I'd get Fowler's lecture out of the way as soon as possible."

"If that's all it is," Richards muttered.

She glanced up at him. She knew she was asking for the unlikely, but she hadn't let herself think too much on any terrible outcomes. She wouldn't have been able to get out of bed if she let herself dwell. If Richards was worried, though, maybe she should have. "You hear anything yet?"

"My usual sources aren't talking," He replied, scoffing, "I think they're too scared."

That was worse than she expected, but she didn't have a chance to respond. As she turned to the android's left forearm, bright green lines appeared on the view finder of her scanner, indicating a fingerprint. "Got something," She called.

"Me too."

Carefully, Richards pulled what appeared to be a small chain out of the abdomen. At the end of the necklace was a slim rectangle of metal, and Andy squinted, recognizing the shape. "Is... that a dog tag?"

Richards brought it closer to his face to read the surface, so Andy put down her scanner and moved to the computers in the lab. "John W. Fraye. F-R-A-Y-E," He spelled. He was reaching for an evidence bag as he continued, "Blood type A. Catholic. Got an address here, too."

Dropping the tag into the plastic envelope, he laid it down on the desk beside her. While she input the information into the computer, he turned his attention to the scanner Andy had been using. He would send the print to his tablet, and later find its match.

Meanwhile, Andy turned in her chair toward him, but kept her eyes on her monitor. "John Fraye, born in '76, died last year."

"Any family?"

"Marie Wallace, his thirty-eight year old daughter," She looked back at him, finishing, "Who called dispatch about her missing android last night."

Richards snorted, eyes drifting over the body on the table. He doubted the android was in this condition when she made such a report. "By deviants or thieves?" He wondered aloud.

The door to the lab opened, and Chris Miller's head peaked in from the hall. "Fowler wants to talk to you."

"Which one?" Richards asked.

Chris shifted, answering, "Both."

The two SID agents shared a cautious glance, and Andy let out a heavy sigh. "So it's gonna be that kind of lecture," She groaned.


"What the fuck were you two thinking?"

Andy and Lieutenant Richards stood side by side in Fowler's office. He'd been pacing when they first entered, then he moved to stand in front of his desk. A man stood off to the side of the room, yet to be introduced. He was tall and thin, and the fitted black suit he wore made him appear even more so.

Fowler was glaring down at them, and Andy couldn't remember a time when she'd seen him so angry. He'd asked a question, though, and he waited for their answer. "Half the department did it," She weakly argued.

It did not help. Squaring his anger on her, he exclaimed, "You spurred on half the department to do it!"

She shrunk back at the raising of his voice, and Richards lifted a hand to come to her defense. "It wasn't-"

Fowler pointed to him, interrupting, "And don't get me started on those damn roadblocks, Harvey. I spent two hours last night trying to explain this shit to the Chief!" He turned to move toward his desk, ranting, "Now to top it off, I've got a scrambled android on my doorstep, and CyberLife's hounding me because apparently they think we're harboring their pet project!"

If CyberLife was wanting Connor back, that was another problem entirely Andy would have to deal with - but not here. "That's ridiculous," She scoffed.

"Is it?" Fowler pressed, leaning forward.

No, it wasn't, and they both knew that.

Beside her, Richards huffed and muttered, "Detroit should be thanking us for preventing a massacre."

They'd almost forgotten the stranger in the room was there, but it was at that point he chose to speak. "Until President Warren officially declares androids a new form of intelligent life, what would have happened yesterday is more of a clean up than a massacre, Lieutenant," He explained, his London accent thick and his hands casually sitting in his pockets. Nodding, he added, "A clean up you two cut short."

They stared at him until Richards looked to Fowler and pointed. "Who the hell is this guy?"

The man leaned forward and piped up, smiling, "Arthur Vick. Internal Affairs."

"Oh," Richards replied, followed by a mutter. "Great."

Fowler noted the deadpan tone, and he wouldn't let it slide. "This investigation has to happen, and I don't want either of you putting it off. You give him full access until he decides we have at least a half decent way out of this without letting you both go."

"Fatalistic, Captain, but not inaccurate," Vick mused. Shifting to face Andy, he said, "I would like to start with you, Detective Hope."

Richards wasn't prepared to let this happen without a fight. It was his squad under fire, and he would put himself in front of those bullets first. "Why her? I'm the one in charge of SID," He asked.

Vick nodded, but turned his focus to the glass walls of the office. "Yes, but you're not the one who's formed a relationship with that."

"What?" Brows furrowing, Andy and Richards turned around.

Within the precinct bullpen, Hank and Connor stood at their desks, openly watching the scene. Once the attention landed on them, Hank jolted and turned away. He grabbed Connor's shoulder and pushed the android to do the same, and the two pretended to be wrapped up in files on their desks.

The anger returned to Fowler's face, accompanied by surprise. That Connor was still with Hank was not what got to him. If anything, he couldn't believe they were stupid enough to bring him back to the department.

What Andy couldn't believe was their timing. They looked like idiots out there, and now she had to point and tell her captain in a dull tone, "I can explain that."

Fowler shook his head and clenched his jaw. "Get out!"


The two SID members scurried out of the captain's office with Arthur Vick not far behind them. While Richards separated and headed for his own office, Andy moved to meet Hank and Connor at their desks.

Hank dropped his distracted act and faced her, throwing up his arms in an expectant shrug. "Well? What's going on?"

Andy began to reply, but a body moved around her and interrupted. "You're Hank Anderson," Vick declared, reaching a hand out and smiling at the lieutenant. "I'm Arthur Vick. I'm with Internal Affairs. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Shaking his head, Hank narrowed his eyes. That was not usually the response he got from IA, at least not since he left the task force. "You sure you with Internal Affairs?"

Vick retreated his hand and pulled at his suit collar to straighten his appearance. "I'm new," He said, taking on a bashful but optimistic stance.

"Explains a lot," Hank snorted, side eying Andy.

Acknowledging the android beside Hank, Vick gestured and said, "And you must be the detective android from CyberLife."

Much like the time he met Agent Perkins, it did not take long for Connor to decide he didn't like Arthur Vick. This felt different, though. Vick had yet to say or do anything dismissive, but he stood there hovering over Andy's shoulder like he owned the department. Connor would offer nothing more than a nod, and a short introduction. "My name's Connor."

Whether he picked up on hostility or not, Vick just grinned. "They did an excellent job, didn't they? You almost look like a human cop the way you're scrutinizing me."

Andy was crossing her arms as she muttered, "Most intelligent life aren't fans of you."

"Not intelligent life, Detective Hope," He quickly corrected, though he tilted his head and added, "Not yet, anyway- but good luck with that."

"Are you investigating Detective Hope?" Connor asked, brows closing in toward his eyes.

Vick countered the question with one of his own. "Do you typically concern yourself with her affairs?"

Before Connor could say anything, Hank's hand jutted out and pressed against his chest. "Don't answer that."

Shrugging, Vick said, "Well it doesn't have to, but if everyone wants to clear this whole mess up for Detective Hope's sake, I hope there's a change of mind, and soon." There was a small pause as his eyes drifted to the doors. "Especially considering Connor here may not be with us much longer."

Indeed; the CyberLife representative they once dealt with, Danielle Carnegie, had just entered the bullpen. She marched down the room, and her eyes were sharp on the group as she neared Fowler's office. She was on a mission today, and she would not leave as empty handed as she did last time.

"Shit...!" Hank cursed under his breath.

Clearing his throat, Vick turned toward Andy and told her, "Well. Meet me in Observation Room One in ten minutes." He nodded to them all in acknowledgement, and then walked away.

They waited for him to create some space. He was gathering his briefcase from an empty desk as Hank asked Andy, "How's it looking with him?"

She shook her head and muttered, "Like someone's losing their badge." Wasn't she in a good mood this morning? Where had that gone? Oh. Right. The mangled android, she remembered. "Have you heard about this morning?"

They were at a loss, so Hank shrugged, "I'm guessing not."

"Someone wrecked an android and left them outside the station. You should talk to Richards," She explained.

More good news, Hank complained to himself. It certainly explained the press outside. "Yeah, okay. We'll do that."

Andy stepped back and turned to peer into the captain's office. Carnegie was in a heated discussion with Captain Fowler. "What's CyberLife going to do?" She asked, looking back at Connor. She needed to know how much she needed to worry about this.

He was watching them, too, with a deep scowl. He knew it wouldn't be as easy as walking away. It wasn't for any deviant, but he was an advanced prototype. His thoughts went to Markus' speech - the events that occurred there were ones he told Andy he'd discuss with her later, and they were the reason he believed CyberLife was going to fight harder than any of them were expecting.

"They'll claim I'm their property and I should be returned to a facility to be deactivated." The answer was absent-minded. At the forefront, he was formulating every possible outcome of the rest of the day. Few were positive.

That wouldn't stop Andy from trying, however. "How do we get out of that?"

"Okay, okay, wait." Hank shook his head and slashed his hand back and forth. "I'll take care of Connor. You deal with your problems, all right?"

Andy recognized she may have had enough on her plate, but life didn't stop throwing things at you just because you were overwhelmed. "But-"

"I agree," Connor interrupted. He ignored her offended stare, telling her, "If you do anything to help me, it'll be used against you." And it was true, for the most part. She needed as much distance from him as possible while Arthur Vick was here if she was going to make it out of that investigation. It helped Connor, too; she would press him to talk about the night prior, and he still wasn't ready to. "Please leave it to us," He pleaded her.

With a loud sigh, she threw up her hands and turned to leave. "Fine. I'll stay out of it," She breathed out, walking away.

They watched her a moment. It was a very familiar scene. Connor felt himself going back to the first day they worked together, and she said something similar in the back of Hank's car. It was a lie then. "That wasn't convincing," He complained.

Snorting, Hank grumbled, "Yeah, I didn't buy it either."


Andy stood at a table in the department's kitchen, staring at the time on her phone. There was no point in trying to squeeze work into the ten minutes before her interrogation, as she called it, so she would sit and wait and worry.

She was pretty sure she had no legal ground to stand on here. Perkins was the shot caller, and not only had she refused his order, she jumped in front of his firearm. It was a questionable move on his part to take aim at Markus in that moment, but she was not a judge. She was an SID officer, and last night in her riot gear, she was on loan to the FBI.

There was no word from Jericho, either, not to her or Connor. They had no idea if Markus returned the groups to the old church, or if they'd moved just to be safe. For all they knew, Jericho wasn't even in Detroit anymore. There were so many androids Connor freed, after all, that sheltering them was no doubt Markus' biggest concern at the moment.

Then there was Connor. He freed warehouses full of androids, and his existence alone was throwing deviancy in CyberLife's face. Going back to them was not an option now. If they couldn't convince Carnegie to leave him be today, the only option she could see for him would be to leave. Would he even know where to go? Markus would help him, of course, but would he ask for it?

"What is Arthur Vick doing here?"

Andy jumped, having been pulled from her spiraling thoughts by a loud voice behind her. Desta Delgado, one of Detroit's DDAs and the one assigned to Andy's red ice case, stood in the doorway. She looked mildly panicked, and very inconvenienced. It was her usual expression at the central Detroit precinct.

Sliding around the table to face her, Andy answered, "He's investigating SID. What are you doing here?"

Delgado moved into the kitchen, but stopped in the middle of the room. "I'm here for the android this morning."

Now that was unusual. DAs didn't get involved until the case was almost over, or there were extraordinary circumstances. Incredulous, Andy said, "We barely have a suspect for that."

Shrugging, Delgado moved to the coffee maker and stated, "It's high profile. An android's on the precinct doorsteps morning after President Warren said androids might be intelligent life." Her coffee was pouring as she turned and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the counter. "In case she decides they are, Chief Simmons wants this treated like a homicide."

That almost had Andy choking on air. "A homicide?" She asked. That felt like good news. It had to be, right?

Delgado didn't know what else to say. "It's high profile," She repeated.

"It must be," Andy mumbled. She glanced to her phone: it was time. Sighing, she picked it up and gestured to the door. "I have to talk to IA."

"Be careful with Vick," Delgado called out. Andy stopped and turned to express either sarcasm or annoyance, whichever came to her first, but Delgado insisted, "I'm serious. He might be new here, but he's not new at this. Don't tell him anything more than you have to."

Andy gave a dramatic nod and said, "I'll talk to him like he's a lawyer."

It didn't put the district attorney at ease. Delgado shook her head and pointed, stressing, "No, you talk to him like you're a lawyer."

For as long as they knew each other, Delgado had been the more straight laced of the two. She studied until she passed out in her books, and she fretted over ironing her suits to a perfect condition. Andy knew when things were just Desta being the way she was, and when things were actually as serious as she made them sound.

Light expression falling, Andy nodded and said, "Okay."


Andy and Arthur Vick sat across from one another behind the desk in the operation room. His briefcase was just behind him on the table, and under his hand was a notepad and pen. The window beside them both looked into an empty interrogation room, and made the space they were in feel much larger than it was. It made it tense, and a little awkward.

Pulling at the edge of his blazer, he shifted in his chair and said, "Sorry we have to do this in here, but there aren't many options for privacy."

She kept her arms crossed, and one leg over the other. Leaning back, she replied, "This is fine."

He watched her body language closely, and with no reservation. Chuckling, he assured her, "You don't have to be nervous. I just want to talk." When she remained stoic and quiet, he smiled and straightened his back, waving a hand between them. "I'll start. Why did you disobey your orders last night?"

"I've followed every order I've gotten from the DPD," She declared.

"Except that last one," He quipped.

Shaking her head, she corrected, "Perkins doesn't work here."

"He was the commanding officer on site, as told to you by Lieutenant Richards."

"And then he wasn't anymore, according to the president."

"After you disobeyed."

She shrugged and dismissed him, "Can't help that."

He huffed out a laugh but caught himself. She spoke on it as casually as if all she'd done was take a bathroom break, and he was trying to wrap his head around it. "You could've, you just chose not to," He accused.

Maintaining their eye contact, she argued, "It was a bad order, and President Warren proved it."

At that, he dropped the pen in his hand and leaned against his chair. Entwining his fingers, he rested his hands in between his knees. It was a laid back pose, and it had the exact opposite effect on Andy. She'd seen this enough times - done it herself, even. He was trying to disarm her, get her to let her guard down. It meant he either led her where he wanted her in this conversation, or he'd hit a frustrating wall.

"Do you usually think personal feelings justify misconduct?" He asked her.

She almost gave an instant response. They weren't just personal feelings. It was a civil rights concern. It was a world-changing concern. That sort of thing justified a lot. Taking in a shallow breath, she answered, "No."

He hadn't expected that. "No?" He repeated, tilting his head forward.

She mimicked his gesture, asking, "Are you having trouble?"

With another huff, he sat straight. He reached out his hand and began to poke the surface of the table for emphasis, saying, "If personal feelings don't justify misconduc-"

"It wasn't misconduct," She interrupted. It wasn't. It was insubordination, it was bold, it was reckless, but it was not misconduct. It was exactly why she became a detective. To do something right. She decided then and there that if that was misconduct, her superiors would have to answer for that, not her.

He said nothing right away. She seemed to be at the edge of blurting out more, but she held it in and stayed reserved. A tiny grin, somewhat knowing and a little irritated, started to form on Vick's face. "I saw DDA Delgado arrive. She spoke to you about me?"

Outright, it wasn't a terrible question, but it led somewhere. Andy could tell that a mile away; what she didn't know was where. "Yes."

"She warned you about me," He said, both a question and a statement. She nodded. "You two must be close."

"That isn't relevant," She averted.

He was quick to retort, "Oh, I think it might be." Waving a hand toward her, he went on, "You attended the University of Michigan at the same time. Did you meet her there?"

Yeah, she really didn't like where this was going. "Yes."

"Does she share your beliefs about androids?"

"I don't know."

Crossing his arms to match her pose, he asked, "And what are your beliefs?"

She didn't know how much the answer was going to cost her, but if she was ever going to lie to this man, this was not that time. It was absolutely the one question she had no choice but to be honest about. There were ten different news channels with footage indicating what she thought. With a subtle, nervous gulp, she told him, "Androids are intelligent life."

And that was where he wanted her. He didn't smirk, but he did in his own way, with the way his shoulders relaxed and his head tilted down just slightly. It wasn't mocking or sadistic, but there was an arrogance to his posture. Whatever had just happened here, he won.

"Did you believe that when you were helping Nick Weaver push narcotics made from deactivated androids?" He asked.

She was feeling a distinct pebble of dread forming in her stomach now. It was not new - she was all too familiar with this particular guilt - but it had been pushed down for a long time. Wasn't she in a good mood this morning?

"This isn't just about last night, is it?"


Hank knew that being called in on the first day of his suspension didn't mean anything good, and he also knew that bringing Connor with him would be a risk, but Connor insisted on coming with him. It had been his routine for the past two weeks, and no matter what happened, the department felt like home to him. Hank believed that, but he also knew Connor was going through things he wasn't ready to face yet with Jericho. He needed space from Markus and their people, so Hank brought Connor into work.

When Fowler called them into the office, they braced themselves for the fight that was going to take place. They walked in with their backs straights and their heads up, and they ignored Danielle Carnegie as they stopped in front of their captain's desk and waited for whatever was to come.

They were met with Fowler's hard stare. "You've already met Danielle Carnegie," He started, gesturing to the woman.

Carnegie hadn't changed much since Hank last saw her. She was a business woman with a sharp eye and a sharper tongue. Connor was staring at her, but Hank would not address her until he absolutely had to. "From CyberLife, yeah," He replied, focused on his captain.

Unfortunately, now was the time he absolutely had to address her. She spoke up, her voice loud and demanding. "I'm here for the RK800."

"No way," Was Hank's immediate response as he delivered a glare her way.

"Hank-"

"No!" He exclaimed, interrupting Fowler. Waving a hand, he argued, "Come on, Jeffrey, you gotta see how bullshit this is."

Fowler's eyes narrowed, and he threw a hand up at the glass walls looking into the bullpen. "All I see is the biggest company of this era breathing down my neck because half my station jeopardized the goddamn FBI!" He yelled.

Hank shook his head and stepped back, running a hand over his mouth. He knew this would be the result of this meeting, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

"The RK800-"

He turned, correcting Carnegie with a sharp, "His name's Connor."

She paused a moment. It wasn't due to nerves or fear, but a seething expression as she asked, silently, Are you done? "The RK800 was loaned to the Detroit Police Department for the duration of the case against deviancy, and then for an extended time to help with a task force," She droned on, no doubt reciting whatever CyberLife's legal team had told her to say, "After yesterday's events, we've requested them return it to us. I'm not leaving here without it."

Hank scoffed and asked, "And what if the president decides androids are intelligent life, huh?"

It was a question to which she already had their official answer. "CyberLife will deal with that when it happens. In the meantime, we want our property."

Tired of being the subject of the conversation and not an active participant, Connor interjected. His expression was hard as he told her, "I stopped being property of CyberLife the moment I broke through my programming and became deviant."

She turned her attention to him with less anger than she gave Hank, but remained just as stern. As if she was a teacher to a student, she said to him, "Not deviant. You merely became defective."

That crossed a line for Hank, who stepped forward to place himself between the two. "Hey-"

"Regardless of your personal belief, Lieutenant," She interrupted coolly, "The law is not on your side."

Fowler had been staring down at his desk with his arms crossed, letting them duke out, until that comment drew in his attention. Connor was grasping at straws to fight for his life as he argued, "What about Detective Hope's red ice case? I have evidence they need in my memory."

They had been aware of this, and as per usual with CyberLife, they had a solution. "We'll send the DPD relevant hard drives after we've deactivated you," She answered with a satisfied nod.

She was the only satisfied with it. Realizing there was no real argument CyberLife would submit to, Connor would just have to put his foot down. "I'm not returning with you, Miss Carnegie," He said. At the end of the day, that was all there was to it, and that was what CyberLife had to fight, not the law or anything else.

Carnegie was realizing it, too, and with an exasperated huff, she looked to Fowler for aid. He blinked a few times, contemplating what just happened before him, and then shook his head. "This is between you and the android," He decided.

As she processed his words and began to respond indignantly, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. Placing his hands atop his desk, he peered at her with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. "The law is not on our side?" It was a quiet anger he displayed as he repeated her words. Gesturing to the bullpen and then his phone, he yelled, "Right now, I've got an IA officer out there deciding if an entire squad can keep their badges or not. I've got my Chief on speed dial with the president of this country trying to figure out where the hell we all go from here-"

He bit any more of his rant down. It had been a long two weeks for him, and it felt like it had been an even longer morning. He was adrift at sea, with every type of predator circling underneath him and overhead. This situation, the one with Connor and CyberLife, was the very least of his concerns.

He leaned forward more and warned her in a grave tone she could not dismiss, "Don't you ever presume to know whose side the law is on again, Miss Carnegie." Standing up from there, he shook his head and moved around the files on his desk. "I'm not allowing use of force on any non-violent android until I know we're not going to face a civil rights lawyer over it. Figure this out yourselves."

It was as close to a breakdown anyone at work would ever witness Fowler have. His space was no longer welcome to them, and so the other three standing there shuffled out of the office.

Andy was leaving the operation room as they entered the bullpen, and she spotted them moving toward Hank's desk. She stood by the cubicle divider, watching them turn to face one another.

"I have express orders to bring this android back to CyberLife headquarters with me," Carnegie continued the argument, hot on their heels.

Hank shrugged, indifferent to her dilemma. "And he's refused. Imagine that."

She scoffed at him, and Connor decided that if everything else hadn't worked, he would have to appeal to something more pragmatic. "Jericho will only grow stronger with time, and I'm going to help them. Going through all this to try to deactivate me could be more trouble for you than it's worth," He warned.

On the surface, it was simple reasoning. Jericho was looking to be the victor in the debate of android rights, and CyberLife was going to have an increasingly complicated time of acquiring any sort of legal authority - authority that Connor would not obey. Deeper, though, his words were a threat. He knew CyberLife's secrets, and he knew that information would destroy them. For their own sake, they needed to leave him be.

Whether Carnegie was in on those secrets or not, whether she picked up on his meaning or not, she would not express. She continued pushing, saying, "That's up to CyberLife to decide, and we've decided not to let our most advanced prototype wander the streets without a leash."

Another line had been crossed, and Connor glared. "I'm not just a prototype!"

The outburst didn't surprise Carnegie. "I understand your desire for that to be true, but it isn't," She shook her head, gesturing to his person. "Think about what's inside you. Your thirium, your regulator, every inch of wiring - it was all manufactured by CyberLife. On every level but emotional, you belong to us."

Her words stopped him, having formed a kernel of doubt in the back of Connor's mind. Logically, what she said made sense. Emotion was a leading factor in much of Jericho's cause, and without it, Connor was not so confident in who he was. Emotion was why they were all deviant. What if she was right?

Hank noticed the wheels turning on Connor's face, and stepped in to end this debate. They were getting nowhere with each other, and he wasn't interested in wasting any more time on CyberLife. "Look, we can sit here and argue back and forth all damn day but the fact of the matter is Connor's not going anywhere without consenting to it."

That much, Carnegie knew to be true. She narrowed her eyes, ending the argument with a final exclamation. "Then I'll call in a technician to disable it!" She spun on her heel and walked away, and they watched her turn the corner in the kitchen with her phone in hand.

Having stood at the sidelines quietly until then, Andy crossed her arms and asked, "How long you think that's going to take?"

Shrugging, Hank offered, "A few hours? Hell if I know." Going back to the moments in the office, he snapped his fingers and leaned toward Andy with a hint of a grin. "Hey- Fowler stood up for him," He let her in on the news, jutting a finger around him to point at Connor.

Of all the things to happen today, that somehow seemed the most shocking to Andy. "What?"

Connor looked to them both and said through a scowl, "He just refused to intervene, which was the only good option he had. Besides, Miss Carnegie isn't giving up yet." Deciding he'd had enough of his own problems for one sitting, he relaxed his shoulders and focused on Andy. "How did your interview go?"

It went terribly, and it left a bitter taste in Andy's mouth, but so did the idea of giving them any of those details. She snorted and resorted to whining, "Don't suppose I can just quit and skip town?"

On either side of Hank were airs of doom and gloom, and he was tired of it. He couldn't believe he was the one suddenly in charge of morale. He shifted an incredulous glance back and forth over the two young adults in his presence before exclaiming, "Jesus, how about you both act like adults, huh?"

Starting with Connor, he insisted, "You heard Fowler. You're safe in the precinct while we figure this out. That means something. That's a win."

Before the android could respond, he rounded on Andy. "And you-" He pointed across the way, threatening, "You're going to put up with this bullshit and get back to work, or so help me, I'm kickin' your ass."

They stood there in the bullpen and took in his words like scolded children. With a stubborn shrug, Andy grumbled, "I could take you."

Hank began to reply, angrily and loudly, but was interrupted by another voice. "Detective Hope," Arthur Vick called from the doorway leading to the lobby. They turned to him, and he nodded for Andy to follow. "With me, please."


It was foolish, Andy realized, to think her day wasn't about to get worse.

Vick had taken her to the abandoned subway line. He parked at the side of the nearby hospital and he led her down the sidewalk to the alley. They stopped in front of the entrance, where Vick seemed to wander almost aimlessly around the steps descending into the ground. When he stopped and turned to face her, he did so in anticipation. He watched and waited, making the air hang over them awkward.

He wanted a reaction out of her, she suspected, and she refused to let him have one. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she clenched her jaw and asked him, "Why are we here?"

"You recognize it, I hope?"

"Of course I do," She scoffed.

He nodded and spun on his heel, dipping his head down toward the entrance. "Good, then you can walk me through what happened."

"Why?"

He looked back at her as if he'd been blindsided. Straightening his posture and his blazer, he tilted his head. "Is there a reason you're delaying this or do you just enjoy my company?" He teased.

She tensed, though only for a moment, and decided the sooner this was over, the better. She took in a deep breath and began, "I was going for a jog-"

"On Michigan Drive?" He interrupted.

"Yes."

"Why that road?"

She didn't understand the point of the question, but she shook her head and answered, "It's the one Lieutenant Anderson lives off of."

He held a hand out, asking, "You're staying with Lieutenant Anderson?"

"Until I can get situated," She nodded.

He was quiet a moment, in his own indiscernible mind, before rolling his wrist and saying, "Go on."

She sighed. "I was pulled into an alley. We fought, he turned my gun against me, he chloroformed me."

"And you didn't see or hear him before that?" He prodded.

She kicked her head back and scoffed. "Yeah, I heard his breathing and I thought, 'Hey, that sounds like Nick Weaver's breathing. I should wait and see what happens,'" She retorted.

Vick stared at her, apparently displeased. He started to move closer as he went on to summarize, "In your report, you said that after you woke up, you drove for seven minutes, turned left four times and right once, and you delivered enough code words to Lieutenant Anderson over the phone that he was able to give a vague description of the situation to Lieutenant Richards."

By the time he'd finished, he was standing inches away from her. There on the dimly lit pavement, he was looking to be an entirely different man than the one she'd met at the precinct. This one was much more intimidating, and far less patient. He leaned down a little, telling her under his breath, "So when I ask you if you witnessed something, let's not pretend it's a stupid question."

"Long-winded way just to tell me to shut up," She joked. She glanced away, unable to maintain confident eye contact, but she tried to stand tall. Rolling on the balls of her feet, she regained her composure and answered, finally, "I had earphones in. It was foggy. I didn't notice anything."

The casual veneer returned to him as he nodded. Taking a step back, he gestured to the subway, and said, "Lead the way."


"Jesus Christ...!"

The sight Hank and Connor were met with upon entering the forensics lab would be one that haunted them for a while. They weren't naïve enough to think there would be no backlash from what transpired, but they expected protests and boycotts. They expected people to be loud and obnoxious, to shake their fists and complain. This wasn't any of those things; It was sinister and malicious, a grand gesture that could only indicate worse was to come.

Richards looked up at them and offered half an apologetic grin. "Shoulda warned you, huh?"

Replying with a glare, Hank shook his head and moved to the end of the exam table, grumbling, "Well I'm glad I missed breakfast. What do we got so far?"

"We picked up a fingerprint. That's being scanned now," Richards answered, holding up his tablet for emphasis. "We also got this," He said, crossing the room. He retrieved an evidence bag from the desk in the corner and turned to dangle it in the air.

Hank squinted. "Are those-"

"Dog tags, yeah," Richards nodded, dropping the bag on the desk, "Guy died last year, but his daughter reported a missing android yesterday." Gesturing toward the exam table, he looked to the former android detective and said, "I was hoping Connor here could tell us if this is it or not?"

Connor stepped forward, his eyes on the body. Mainly, he lingered on the message carved into the torso. It was a threat, and a promise, and he found himself wanting to call Markus after this.

"He was an assisted living android for a man named John Fraye," He explained after scanning the ID that remained on the android's face. At least he still had that.

Richards nodded, confirming, "That would be our vet."

"So the man dies and his daughter takes in the android," Hank speculated. Shrugging, he added, "Most people just... toss 'em out. She have any older kids, or in-laws?"

"Divorced with two kids, both under the age of fifteen."

"I'll look into the husband," Hank called out. With one last look to the dead android, he scoffed and reached for the door. "It's always the husband," He muttered on his way out of the room.

Connor stayed in the lab, and it was only partially because Danielle Carnegie was stalking around the precinct. He waited for Richards to document the android, taking videos and photos of what remained of the body. The computer in the corner was open with two profiles on the screen, one of John Fraye, and the other of his daughter, Marie Wallace. It wouldn't be long before someone was sent to question her.

That brought him to a new thought - Richards was heading this investigation. That was unusual, and the department was scrambling more than he realized if SID was taking on cases like this one. He wondered how, if at all, this would affect the ongoing internal investigation.

"Lieutenant?" He called.

Richards peeked up from his tablet. "Yeah?"

"What do you know about this Internal Affairs officer?"

"Vick?" Richards shrugged. "Nothing."

That was also unusual. Connor remembered when the man introduced himself to Hank, citing he was new to the force. Something didn't sit right about this, and Connor murmured, "Why did they assign a new officer to such an important case?"

Richards began to respond, but cut himself short. Gaze drifting, he said, "That's... a question I would like the answer to." He stopped and glanced to Connor, as if only now noticing that he hadn't followed Hank. "Hey, is it really okay for you to be here? Y'know... being deviant, and all."

Connor didn't know the answer to that, but what other choice did he have? "I have nowhere else to go."

With a small huff, Richards admitted, "I am definitely not equipped to deal with that."

He returned to his task, and Connor watched him. He still referred to androids as objects, and it made Connor wonder. "May I ask you something?" Richards nodded absent-mindedly, and Connor asked, "Why did you help Jericho? I never got the impression you were sympathetic."

Richards side-eyed him, muttering, "My wife tells me that, too." Taking in a deep breath, he lowered his tablet and faced Connor fully. "Look, I don't know what to think about you androids. Maybe you're people, maybe I should have... followed Perkins," He shrugged, then ran his hand through his hair. He got lost in his own thoughts for a moment before saying, "All I know is, Hank's the best detective I've ever met and Andy's life has been in my hands for a long time. I owed 'em this much."

Connor wasn't sure he understood it, making hard decisions you didn't quite comprehend or support for the sake of people who did. He tried to imagine himself in that position, but could only go back to the moments before he was deviant. If Andy and Markus hadn't succeeded at that, he didn't know what he would have done, but he was sure he wouldn't have let them go. He wasn't deviant then, though, and if Andy and Markus hadn't succeeded at that, what happened after wouldn't have been his choice. He would convince himself of that eventually.

He turned to leave, but stopped. Looking down at the android, he said, "His name was Keith."

Richards was confused until he saw Connor's focus was on the android. On Keith. "I will say this...," He mumbled, picking up his tablet, "Whatever you might be, you definitely don't deserve this."


Vick took slow steps through the abandoned office in the subway, crossing over debris left behind by old inhabitants. He scanned the floor as though he would find something, and moved to the empty desk. All relevant evidence had been long since removed, but he pictured the events in his mind as clearly as if he'd been there during them.

Turning, he asked Andy, "This is where he took you?"

She nodded and looked to the chair that was moved against the wall. "Tied me to that chair."

"And his android was..."

"Standing there," She pointed, "He slipped a pocket knife into my hands after he tied me down, and waited for his orders."

"Why?"

Brows furrowing at the question, she explained, "Weaver would have killed him if he didn't-"

"No," He shook his head and added, "Why did the android slip a knife into your hands?"

She stopped. If they were standing in that subway talking about this, he knew the answer to his question. He was steering her there to highlight a point, but there was no around it. "He found out I was undercover a couple months in. He decided he wanted to help me."

"And did you tell your handler the investigation was compromised?" He asked, his hands returning to his pockets and his head tilting upward.

Narrowing her eyes, she began to protest, "It wasn't c-"

"Did you tell your handler?"

She bit her tongue and swallowed her arguments. "No."

He didn't linger on it yet, but she doubted it was due to any sudden act of mercy. "So what happened next?" He asked.

With a heavy sigh, she led him out of the office and around the station floor. She retraced her steps, gesturing up the stairs as she described Connor showing up, and hiding from Nick Weaver as he found his way to a fuse box. He asked questions at every turn, seeking specific details and pushing for more information than she'd recounted in the past. She was a suspect, and he was analyzing her story.

Waving a hand around the large room, she came to the end of her story. "He thought I was out of shots so he let his guard down. Connor stepped out, Weaver turned, lifted his weapon to fire, and I shot him three times in the back."

Vick was standing a handful of yards away, in front of one of the columns she had once ducked behind to avoid gunfire. "To save Connor? An android?" He questioned.

The implication that an android was not worth saving almost got under her skin enough for an outburst, but only almost. She knew that was what he trying to provoke. She tried to remain calm as she said, "He would have just turned and shot me immediately after."

"Or you would have fired warning shots and the police would have arrived before he had a chance," He argued.

Her eyes narrowed at him, and she insisted, "That's not a risk I was willing to take." When he had no reply, and he looked away from her, she found her nerves fraying. "Why are we really here? What all are you investigating? What, use of force?" She scoffed, exclaiming, "Weaver was a threat. He fired at me even when he was dying!"

He looked back and was watching her intently, but still he said nothing. It was like she was on exhibit, and he was silently picking at everything he thought to be a flaw and mistake.

Andy was unraveling under his stare. "Is it the undercover work? Sam didn't jeopardize the case. He was my source, and all the information he gave me was good." She trailed off, but her glare only hardened as she tried desperately to guess at his motives and the real reason he was going to all of this. "Or is it about the red ice?" She stepped forward, continuing, "I never used it, I never manufactured. I was told to play my part, to 'stand off to the side and watch.' That's the whole point of being undercover! I did my job!"

"Have you gone to counseling yet?"

The question was like a slap in the face, and it stopped her in her tracks. "What?" She choked.

Eyes drifting down, he gestured forward and muttered, "You keep shifting your arm..." He shook his head, dismissing the comment himself. Finally, he began to approach and give her answers. "You shot a man in the back because he was about to damage a machine. You contacted Lieutenant Richards numerous times in the hour before a raid was conducted on Jericho and mysteriously, deviants were in mid-escape when officers arrived. The detective android you worked with turned deviant itself, but not before letting almost every deviant it was hunting escape, half of those situations which you yourself witnessed."

It was unlike him to wait for her response, but he granted her that. When she remained silent, like a deer caught in the headlights, he straightened. "You grew sympathetic from working with Weaver in a botched investigation, and that trauma led you to obstruct the FBI's efforts to curtail deviancy. A Deputy District Attorney and two Lieutenants went above and beyond to help you. Now it's a conspiracy," He rattled off before stopping in front of her. "That's what Agent Perkins will say when he asks for your badge and it's what Jason Hart's lawyer will use to get his case dismissed."

She averted her gaze but quickly raised it to meet his again. "They'll be wrong."

"Will they?" He retorted. "Your metal friend isn't the only one on a deadline, here. Until and unless androids are given rights, you're not just at risk of losing your badge, and it's not just you on the line." Leaning forward, he told her quietly, "I suggest you get a lawyer, Detective Hope." His words hung over them, casting a heavy atmosphere. He let it sink in for her, now, the severity of the situation she was in.

Andy's ringing phone cut through the air, echoing through the station. It pulled a jump from her, but it was all the indication she gave as she reached into her pocket. She continued to meet Vick's stare with one of her own. "Yeah?" She spoke into her phone.

Richards' voice came through the other end, unaware of the scene he'd just interrupted. "We got a match to that fingerprint. I'm sending you the address."

"Got it. Thanks." Hanging up, she shoved her phone away as she turned for the stairs. "Now it's my turn to drive."

She couldn't leave that station soon enough.


The address Richards gave led them to a small, one-story home within the suburbs. Andy parked at the curb adjacent to the driveway, and looked out the passenger's side window. The yard had been recently maintained, and to a near perfect degree. A driving mower was stationed near the porch, at the end of which was a work table holding various cans of paint.

Vick sat beside her in the car and examined the home, though he didn't know what he was searching for. "Why are we here, Detective?"

"That android someone left in front of the station had a fingerprint," Andy answered, picking up her phone from its tray built into the dash. She switched the screen to one of a photograph, revealing the ID of a stout, middle aged woman. "Jennifer Washington, landscaper."

Vick looked over the photo, frowning. "Are you sure you should be the one handling this case?"

"Richards was put in charge of it, and I found the fingerprint."

He huffed. "I didn't realize the DPD worked on a first come, first serve basis."

She didn't give his criticism any thought, putting her phone away. "It does now," Was her empty response as she removed herself from the car. She pointedly slammed the door behind her, the vibration jolting through Vick's seat.

Vick chuckled to himself, and left the car to follow her. They walked down the driveway and climbed the steps to the porch, where Andy rapped her knuckles against the front door. A radio playing inside the house stopped at the sound, and allowed them to hear muffled footsteps travel from one side to the other.

Andy looked around her as they waited, from the porch to the yard, and then to the rest of the neighborhood. It was an average area, with homes only a little bigger than Hank's, but the sidewalks were clean and the streetlights looked new. Most of the properties had some sign of domestic life outside, be it yard equipment or child's toys or decorative statues. She paid a special deal of attention to the neighbor's house at her right, because those things were not present, and if she looked closely enough, she could see lines of cut grass bleeding from this yard to theirs.

The front door opened just a few inches, the woman in the earlier photo behind it. She eyed them with heavy suspicion as she greeted with a gruff, "Yeah?"

Andy's attention was still elsewhere. Noticing this, Vick cleared his throat, "Miss Washington?"

"That's me."

"My name's Arthur Vick. This is Andy Hope," He introduced, flashing a smile and his badge, "We're with the DPD. We have some questions for you."

She turned her head somewhat, scowling. "About what?"

Vick started to reply, but Andy beat him to it. Returning her attention in front of her, Andy asked, "Do you do your neighbor's yard work?"

Both gazes snapped toward her, baffled by the abrupt topic. "What?" Jennifer asked.

"The work in their yard crosses into yours. Do they pay you?" Andy pursued, ignoring Vick.

Jennifer scoffed, but answered, "Yeah, every month. Why?"

"Have you ever seen an android on their property?"

The confusion on her face shifted to paranoia. She stared hard at them, quiet for several seconds before quietly asking, "This about that android with a missing arm?"

Vick and Andy stiffened, and shared surprised glances. Even Andy only half expected that to go somewhere. "He's missing a lot more than that," She joked.

"Shit..." Jennifer muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "I didn't have nothing to do with that, all right? I don't know the guy, I just mow his lawn."

Vick was the one to continue their line of questioning, now that he knew where they were going. "How did you know about the android?"

"I was coming home from work last night and he was trying to get this android out of his car. The thing was half out of it, couldn't walk on its own," Jennifer complained. She leaned out, pointing to the neighbor's home. "Stew asked me to help him get it onto the porch."

"Did Stew tell you anything about the fact it was missing a limb?" Vick asked.

"I don't know, he said something about it getting hit by a car," She moved back behind the door, telling them, "Look, I was late on the curfew last night with those road blocks you people put out for that protest, so I wasn't interested in sticking around listening to some excuse I didn't really care about. I helped him get it to the porch and I came back home."

Instead of pushing for more information, or attempting to poke holes in the woman's story, Andy shrugged. "Good enough for me. Thanks for your cooperation," She said, nodding as she moved to the steps.

Vick watched her leave, unable to believe what he'd just witnessed. He took off after her, hearing Jennifer shut the door behind him as he descended the stairs. By the time he reached her, they hit the sidewalk. "So you're going to just take her word for it?" He asked.

"You're free to go back and interrogate her if you want," She told him, speeding up her newly rejuvenated stride as she muttered under her breath, "It'd give me a break from it."

He sighed, and jumped to keep up with her. "This is ridiculous...," He grumbled to himself. She took the steps two at time and leaped across the porch, knocking on the door. Upon reaching her, Vick faced her. "By all accounts, Detective, we're hunting down a man who broke a computer."

She'd been told to treat this as a homicide, but she had a feeling letting him know that would make a bigger mess of things. Still, she was sick and tired of him pushing this position on androids, so she decided she would use his logic against him. Hands sitting in her pockets, she raised lazy brows and offered, "That's vandalism at least."

"Vandalism?"

"The android was stolen-" Pulling out a hand to snap, she added, "Which is also theft. And then they dropped him on government property, so... littering."

He stared at her, growing more exhausted by the minute. "You really don't understand what my job is here, do you?"

Shaking her head, she retorted, "Don't care."

She leaned sideways and to the right, looking in through a window on the porch. The curtains were thin and pushed out of view of the window, and from where she stood, she could see the living room and an open kitchen. There was a coffee table holding an assortment of tools and gadgets, and somewhere behind it on the floor was a flashing blue light. She bent down, trying to determine its source, and she swore she saw eyes staring back at her.

Just as she was able to register that information, she caught sight of movement in the kitchen. A hooded man had opened a window by the door, and was halfway outside it.

"Hey!"

He jumped, and started to work faster on his escape. Andy pushed Vick out of her way and took a wide step back near the edge of the steps. She threw her foot against the door and kicked it open as the man's feet hit the ground on the opposite side of the property.

"Detective-!" Vick began, though he was cut short by the next several seconds.

Andy raced across the living room into the kitchen, her hand slamming down on the window frame as she leaned down to get a glimpse of the direction he was going. She took one, brief look back into the house. What she saw had indeed been eyes; an android was laying on the floor by the couch, half her body destroyed.

"Check on her!" She ordered Vick as she threw the back door open and left to give chase.

They didn't remain on the property for long, the chase taking them out through the back of the neighborhood and into a commercial district. He wasn't especially fast, but he was tall and determined, and those were enough to make up for it. They went down a single block, then through an alley, climbing over a chain link fence that blocked off a large construction area. Andy chased him across the dirt fields and to the sidewalk on other side, which was bustling with city life.

Andy hit the edge of the pavement, skidding to a stop. He was gone from her sight, and with a road full of traffic, including quick public transportation, she had no idea which direction to even look. He was gone.

"Damn it!"


Andy sat in Connor's old chair in the bullpen, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her head in her lap. Her hair curtained over her face, but she shifted her head to see through to the captain's office. Arthur Vick had been standing inside for the past twenty minutes, along with DDA Desta Delgado. What started as a heated argument - she could hear words like 'trespassing' and 'warrant' getting thrown around - soon turned into a tense stillness. Vick handed over a tablet and waited for Fowler to finish reading.

Connor stood in front of Andy, leaning against the desk and watching the office with her. He and Hank had been debriefed on what happened with Jennifer Washington, and the stranger who kidnapped another android. Looking down, he asked her, "Are you all right?"

"Oh yeah, dandy," Came her muffled response from beneath arms and hair.

He frowned at her dismissal. "Andy," He called, waiting for her to unblock her sight and peak up at him. "Talk to me."

She didn't expect to hear the gentleness of the request, but it soothed her somewhat, and made her want to talk. There were so many things wrong today that she could throw a dart and land on two or three of them.

The subway conversation was still fresh in her mind, and it was turning out to be the hardest to handle. Wringing her fingers together, she confessed, "The red ice case is falling apart, Richards wouldn't be in this trouble if it weren't for me, and now Delgado's in there, too." She repeated the issues Vick once brought to her attention, each one dropping more weight onto her shoulders. It made her feel sick. Scoffing, she asked, "How bad did I mess this up?"

They hadn't talked about whether she regretted helping Jericho or not yet. With everything going on, and Connor's own reluctance to discuss the night prior, he didn't push it. He decided now he should have pushed, should have pulled her aside that morning and made sure she was doing okay.

"They're helping you because you were right," He told her.

She threw him a skeptical glance. "Richards didn't help me because he thought I was right."

No, he definitely didn't do that. It made even Connor wonder why Richards would put himself on the line like that, which was why he sought out those answers himself. "He helped because you're a good person."

She almost refused him outright, but found herself at a loss for words. Who could decide that sort of thing, and how big a trail of destruction could her actions leave behind her before they weren't so good anymore? Finally, she murmured, "Good doesn't always mean right." Leaning back in her chair, she didn't allow him a chance to argue. She tried to move the conversation along as she waved toward Fowler's office and said, "I'm just off my game. IA in there took me to the subway. Had me walk him through the whole thing with Weaver."

This event, Connor and Hank didn't know about. He leaned off the desk, an outburst bubbling from him. "What?"

She watched him stand, surprised by his sudden movement. "I wasn't supposed to leave the scene until I gave a report in the first place, so...," She trailed off, shrugging.

It wasn't good enough an explanation for Connor, who was going through an emotional cycle of protective concern and anger that he'd never experienced before. "That wasn't appropriate. What happened was traumatic and the report that was made was sufficient. He shouldn't have taken you back there," He insisted, feeling himself grow more and more riled.

"I'm okay," She assured him, holding out a hand. She was annoyed to admit as an afterthought, "I would have done the same thing if I was him." That got to her as much as everything else - Vick chipped away at all her vulnerable places, just as she was trained to do with the people she knew while undercover. She'd been just as easy to manipulate as any of them.

Connor still stood in front of her, but he seemed to calm down. She eyed him as he shifted awkwardly, as if unsure of what to do, and she felt herself becoming amused.

He noticed it, and his eyes narrowed. "You're smiling now."

Attempting to hide her grin behind her knuckles, she looked away. "You looked like you were gonna kick his ass," She mused.

"I..." He stopped, mouth hanging open before he admitted, "Don't know what my plan was." It pulled a bark of laughter from her and he tried to glare, but the subtle smile betrayed him. "I'm glad you're feeling better, but I could do without you laughing at me."

"I'm sorry," She apologized through her chuckling. Once she controlled it, she added, "But thank you. For being concerned."

"Of course I would be," Was his immediate reply. It was inane to thank him for that, Connor thought. Concern for her - and Hank - were a given at this point.

Footsteps pulled their attention to the corner of the bullpen. Richards and Hank approached them, a tablet in Richards' hand. "We got a name," He called out, stopping at the end of the desks and reading off his screen, "Stewart Combs. Forty-three, lost his job last year when the factories switched to android staff."

"Go figure," Hank huffed.

A door to Fowler's office opened, and Fowler stood in the doorway. He whistled, and when they looked back, he nodded. "You three. In here."


Hank, Richards, and Andy filed into the office like nervous schoolchildren. Those already there watched them and waited for them to settle in front of the desk. Once they had, Fowler crossed his arms. "First of all, good work out there today." He looked pointedly at Vick, indicating their initial argument was about Stewart Combs. "We've got people canvasing the area, and CSI has the whole house blocked off."

"What about the android?" Hank asked of the woman found on the floor of the man's living room.

Fowler shook his head. "Didn't make it."

It was bad news, but they worried it was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg, so they braced themselves for more. Tilting his head toward the agent by the wall, Fowler said, "Detective Vick finished his report on what happened last night."

Hank glanced to him, "Is this where we hand over our badges?"

Fowler didn't answer, instead waving his hand for Vick to speak. Vick took a small step forward, pulling at the edge of his blazer. He cleared his throat, and began, "After reviewing all the materials, I've decided that the road blocks Lieutenant Richards put into place, while certainly questionable, did contain the deviants' march to the main road. That Agent Perkins found himself delayed was merely a sacrifice for the safety of Detroit. They did offer him an alternate route, after all."

"That's what I've been saying," Richards grumbled.

With a thin smile, Vick retorted, "Considering what followed those events, it was necessary to investigate your actions."

Before the exchange could devolve into an argument, Hank sighed and pointed between Andy and himself. "What about us?"

"Well after much discussion," Vick was sure to pause and focus a bemused stare on Delgado, "I've decided that Detective Hope's act of protest is just that: An act of protest. I suggest it stay that way." It was the biggest decision that would be made tonight, and the relief washed over Andy. Her shoulders dropped, making her realize how tense she'd been all day.

Vick continued, turning toward Fowler, "If the president rules in favor of androids, she will likely pardon any persecution against Detective Hope. Even if she sides against, public opinion has been swayed and outlets clamor to find out who Detective Hope is and why she did what she did. She's our own little media sensation. It will be a controversy the department is not in a good position to defend."

Delgado had been standing quietly to the side during this meeting, but now it was her turn to speak. "Which is what we'll say if Jason Hart's defense attempts to use this against us," She interjected, her voice turning snide as she added, "Though as I said already, that he fed information to Nick Weaver about Detective Hope is more than enough to keep his lawyers' tails between their legs. They want to lay low just as much as we want them to."

"So..." It was sounding too good to be true. Andy's voice cracked as she asked, "I'm good?"

Vick hummed and shook his head. "Not quite. You still refused a direct order, and that deserves punishment."

At this point, Fowler picked up the tablet that sat at the center of his desk. It lit up with what appeared to be the IA report, and he read off the screen, "Effective immediately, Detective Andrea Hope will be removed from the Special Investigations Division and transferred to a more structured department as chosen by Captain Jeffrey Fowler."

There it was, the inevitable negative. A burst of panic hit her - she'd been with SID for so long, under Richards' authority. This was an intimidating change, and worst of all, it may have been a demotion, after everything she'd worked for. Eyes widening, she started to protest, "No, I-"

Fowler shot her a hard stare, interrupting, "This is the best you're going to get, Hope."

"There's one more thing," Vick pulled their attention to him and declared, "I believe it's in everyone's best interest that Detective Hope no longer live with Lieutenant Anderson." It was insult added to injury, and they were caught off guard as he rounded on Hank. "How much involvement would I discover from you if I really dug into this investigation, Lieutenant? Would you have allowed this to happen if she hadn't moved in with you and influenced your own views on androids?"

Hank scoffed, "She didn't influence shit-"

Fowler tossed the tablet onto his desk, exclaiming, "Bullshit; she and that android both got into your head!"

"I don't have a place to live, remember?" Andy spoke up, waving her hand to remind them her life was currently the topic at hand. "That's why I was there in the first place."

It was a good point, and Vick had prepared for it. Nodding, he assured her, "We recognize how difficult it is to transition back into normal life. The DPD will offer a little more financial aid than usual to get you into an apartment by the end of the week."

Andy fell quiet, as satisfied as she could be, all things considered. When no one argued or whined, Fowler spoke up. "I need you three to really understand what happened here, and how close you were to losing your jobs. If anything like this ever happens again, we're not protecting you."

The three in front of his desk shared insecure glances, nodding their heads and murmuring their confirmations.

"Understood."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yeah, whatever."

It was good enough for Fowler, who gestured behind the group. "Now get the hell out of my office. Hope, we'll figure out where to put you tomorrow."

Everyone turned and began to leave the room. Andy took hold of the door and was the last to go, but stopped on her way out. A conversation still lingered in the back of her mind, and made it hard to leave just yet. She closed the door, hand hovering on the handle.

Fowler noticed her presence and sighed, assuming more protests to be on the horizon. "Hope, I'm not arguing about this with you. We're lucky this is all he decided to do-"

"I want counseling," She interrupted him. The words tasted strange, painful almost, but they hadn't even made top three on the list of things she would dwell on tonight. Eyes drifting downward, she clarified, "A month, at least. For everything, the red ice, Weaver... Yesterday."

He stared at her a moment, his expression unreadable. Counseling was required after officer involved shootings, but they'd skipped a lot of protocol with the incident regarding Weaver. He was paying for that in the long run; they all were. It surprised him that any of his people would seek help, but he hoped it was a good sign. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for all of them to talk to someone after this.

"Okay. I'll get it in order for you."

"...Thank you."


Vick was packing away his briefcase when Andy left the captain's office. She veered off her original path when she saw him, yelling, "Hey!" He looked to her as she stopped beside the desk, and she complained, "What was all that crap in the subway about needing a lawyer if you were just going to do this?"

"Oh, make no mistake, Detective. I still think you should get a lawyer," He said, pulling the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder. Turning to face her, he explained, "What I did today was to protect the DPD. Agent Perkins went through department channels this time, but he might go after you alone next, especially if the president declares deviants to be broken machines."

It wasn't what she wanted to hear, that this may not have been over for her. Still, he'd said it himself in the meeting that pursuing legal action would be too much trouble. She would take his advice, and hope that he was right. "What do you think she should do?"

His appearance changed as he smiled and postured for his reply. "My opinion is whatever the department wants it to be."

She huffed. Kiss ass, she thought. "God, that's boring."

"It's efficient," He corrected. There was a tiny pause as he glanced above her head to the kitchen, where a CyberLife representative still paced and argued on the phone. "You can tell Miss Carnegie that until our android friend is legally declared a person with free will, it's evidence. And considering the reach of Nick Weaver's influence and how lucrative his list of contacts has been so far, the DPD will not be handing over any form of evidence to a company which may find it in their best interest to obstruct an ongoing investigation."

Andy shook her head, needing a double take to understand the sudden shift. "How..."

He smirked, saying, "I did my research, Detective." With that, he walked away, and along the outside of the bullpen toward the entrance. As he passed Hank and Connor, he lifted a hand to give a lazy wave.

Delgado had been talking to Richards nearby, and she pulled away from him to approach once Andy was alone. Hand resting against the edge of the cubicle divider, she said, "I'm going back to the office until you have more on Combs." Andy nodded, but Delgado didn't leave yet. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to whisper, "Hey, this'll go away. Everyone was feeling the heat, you were just the first to do something about it. FBI knows that. They're going to cry and stomp their feet for a while, but they'll go away."

It was uncharacteristically optimistic of her. Andy wasn't sure if that meant things were that dire, or if she was really telling the truth. Either way, she'd done more to help than was ever expected. "Thanks for whatever you said in there," Andy said, glancing to the office.

Delgado nodded and with a small smile, she mused, "Welcome back." It was a long overdue welcome, one Andy distinctly remembered Delgado once joked about not wanting to give. Andy returned the smile and the two shared a laugh before parting ways.

The detective returned to Hank and Connor. Hank huffed as she closed in, saying, "Well... that could have gone worse."

"It's not over yet," Spoke Richards from around the corner. He was staring through the doorways into the lobby of the precinct, where a middle aged woman paced by the wall. The trio moved to stand by him, watching her as well. "Never had to do a notification for an android before. This should be interesting."

It was all they needed to know who she was. It was time to talk to her, and yet none of them moved. Death notifications were always delicate, but this was the first of its kind. It was for an android. It didn't help that Stewart Combs was still on the loose, and his victim count had already doubled before the day was over.

Connor broke their awkward silence. "I'd like to do it, Lieutenant." Everyone turned to stare, and it took him some time to notice their attention. He shifted, then explained, "I tried tracking Keith's last whereabouts, but the system had been deactivated almost a week ago."

"He was deviant," Hank realized.

Nodding, Connor said, "He chose to stay where he was. I think it would help her to hear what happened from me."

Neither Hank nor Richards gave him the go ahead right away. They'd danced the line of protocol enough lately, and death notifications were meant to be given by them, not a third party. But he was onto something, Andy believed, so she piped up, "I'll go with him, make sure it's right."

It was better than doing it himself, Richards thought. Shrugging, he pulled the dog tags from his pocket. He handed them to Connor, who closed his fingers around them and looked to Andy for reassurance. She grinned at him, a tiny but approving one, and ushered him to the doorway. Hank and Richards stepped closer together to watch the upcoming scene.


"Miss Wallace?"

Marie Wallace stopped her pacing and turned to find Connor and Andy standing there. She didn't know how long she'd been waiting in that lobby, but she had called the babysitter twice to extend their services. It was frustrating, but that paled in comparison to the anxiety that was simmering and tying her stomach into knots. The longer the clock ticked on, the more certain she was that she would be getting worse and worse news.

"Yes? What's going on?" She questioned, taking long strides to meet them at the door. "Did you find Keith?"

They wouldn't answer her, and it very nearly sent her into a fit. Andy steered the conversation away from that, asking "What can you tell us about him?"

Marie wanted to refuse to entertain this, but her feet hurt and her imagination had been left to run wild for hours. Shaking her head, she started, "Um, my dad got him. He needed help around the house after my mom passed." She gave a small, amused huff. It was hard to believe that was how everything started. "He really took a liking to Keith. I couldn't just leave him out on his own after my dad died. Not that I wanted to, though. He's been a big help since my divorce."

The smile the memories left her with started to fade with the concern born from their stares. She couldn't tell if they were angry or nervous, and she started to suspect maybe she was in trouble. "This isn't about me not turning him into the police, is it? I know I was supposed to, for those... recycling centers, but it's not like I missed the deadline. I was just... waiting. Hoping something would change," She stuttered, shifting her eyes between the two in front of her, "Things... changed, right? I saw the news last night."

She recognized him - Connor. He was one of the androids on the television in her living room last night. Her family watched him lead half of Jericho down Woodward. Keith had been speechless. Her sons had been speechless. Under any other circumstances, she probably would have asked him for a photograph to bring home. It would have sat on the mantle with every other memory. Now she was three feet away from him, with a thousand different questions.

"Where is Keith?"


Danielle Carnegie left the kitchen at the Detroit Police Department with new levels of exhaustion. She would be returning home for now, and then would convene with a boardroom of lawyers in the morning to decide on CyberLife's next move. If they had to, they would go around Captain Fowler and straight to the Chief of Police.

She slowed to a stop by Hank and Richards, spotting Connor in the midst of conversation with a woman in the lobby. "What's it doing?" She asked, pointing.

"He's making a death notification," Richards answered, turning his head to look down at her, "You want to interrupt?"

The answer baffled her. They had just finished being under investigation for their involvement with Jericho, and this was what they decided to do? "Lieutenant, you can't possibly be serious with this-"

"He wanted to do it," Richards interrupted with a shrug.

She was sick and tired of the Detroit police. Glaring up at him, she argued, "It's a machine. It doesn't have wants or feelings or-"

A wail broke out from the lobby and cut off the rest of Carnegie's rant. It was a cry that traveled through the entirety of the station and echoed off its walls. People in the bullpen stopped what they were doing and turned toward the sound, even if for just a moment. Some returned to their work to immerse themselves in something else, but others watched on with a newer, more open kind of sympathy. Android or no, heartbreak was heartbreak.

Marie Wallace was no longer supporting herself. Her knees had collapsed in and let her crumple to the ground. Connor lurched to catch her by the arms and he held onto her sideways as she cried. Her purse had fallen to the side, forgotten, and she hid her grief-stricken face behind shaking fingers. John Fraye's dog tags dangled from Connor's hands.

Danielle Carnegie respectfully averted her gaze, and said nothing more.


Andy and Connor sat beside one another on a bench near the front entrance of the department. They hadn't said a word since they helped Marie Wallace into a taxi and sent her home. No one in the lobby had said a word, and one by one, people were beginning to file out for the night.

"Today sucked," Andy spoke. She leaned her back against the wall, hands stuffed together between her knees. Her eyes were closed, and her brows were in a tight scrunch.

Connor felt about as badly as she looked, but he smiled anyway. "It could have been worse." Her eyes opened with skepticism, but he ignored it. "She took Keith in when she didn't have to, and when he became deviant, he stayed. They both chose to be a family," He explained, looking over his shoulder at her. "It's proof that humans and androids can do this."

She huffed at him, but her expression was softer. "You gonna make every case an after-school special or are you just in that kind of mood?"

He rolled his eyes, and it pulled a smirk from her. "It would be nice to see more of it, though."

"If Hank can change his mind, I think it's safe to say most of the world can," He mused.

Humming, she agreed, "Very true." When a new thought occurred to her, she nudged him with her elbow. "Hey-" Sitting up straight so that she was at eye level with him, she said, "You did good with the notification. It's not easy."

It definitely wasn't that, Connor thought. He would dwell over it for a long time, wondering about the family. He would wonder about that second android, too, and if there was anyone to notify for her. That alone was almost overwhelming. "I doubt that changes?" He asked. It was a question to which he was sure he knew the answer.

"Some days it's harder," She answered, the joking tone meant to lighten the heavy burden. Her smile widened, became more genuine, and she told him, "Welcome to the club."

High heels on tiled floor caught their attention, and they stood to greet Carnegie as she came into the lobby. "Connor. Detective," She greeted. Rather than leave, she stopped in front of them. She looked relatively calm, as if her problems had been resolved, and it sent up red flags with Connor and Andy, who was now trying to remember every word of the solution Vick crafted for them.

Instead of immediate and obvious doom, however, Carnegie gave a long sigh. "I spoke with CyberLife, and we've decided we're willing to let you stay here with the DPD until President Warren makes her decision regarding android rights," She explained. Their shared their surprise as she went on to say, "If the law continues to declare you property of CyberLife, we'll work with Captain Fowler on arrangements to help close his task force's case as quickly as possible before sending you in for deactivation."

"And if the law makes the right decision?" Andy jabbed.

Carnegie delivered a pointed stare her way. She appeared to be swallowing her words before she answered, "Then CyberLife will have to reevaluate its purpose in a new world." Nodding to each of them, she ended the conversation. "Good evening, Detective."

"Yeah, evening."

They watched her leave the department. Connor turned toward Andy, who was quiet and still fixated on the doors. That had been so easy, so smooth, that she half expected Carnegie to run back in and declare it a joke. She was waiting for the sucker punch. When none came, the remainder of the day's tension finally left her.

"I need a drink," She scoffed.

Hank and Richards were walking up behind them, and they grouped together in an almost empty lobby. Hank's hand came down on Connor's shoulder and he squeezed while shooting Andy a small grin. "Funny you mention that. We're going to Jimmy's. You in?"

"Definitely."

"Hank's buyin'," Richards commented, jutting his thumb toward the lieutenant at his left.

Hank took immediate offense, exclaiming, "What? The hell I am!"

Richards shrugged and told him, "You're the one with PTO, not us."

"He's got a point."

"Oh for- Fine, beers on me. You comin', Connor?"