Chapter Nine: Inferno

Business was shockingly slow at Jimmy's Bar for it being six o'clock in the evening.

Then again, it was a Wednesday.

Natalie served a few drinks every once in a while, though the customers that approached her bar were few and far between. She found herself leaning against the counter more often than not, occasionally sweeping the hair out of her eyes as she watched the football game that was currently playing above the counter.

She smirked as her grandmother's voice seemed to haunt her from the past.

"If you have time to lean, you have time to clean!"

Alright, Grandma, you win. She thought to herself as she gathered the various shot glasses from where they were strewn upon the counter. Taking them into the back, she had just begun to wash them when she heard the bell of the front door ring. She stopped for a moment, then resumed her washing.

Ben's got it, she thought to herself.

She vaguely heard what sounded like a gruff voice, saying "Where is she?".

Ah, great, someone else's lost their wife to the booze, she snickered to herself.

"Who are you talking about?" Ben answered.

A laugh.

"Wrong answer."

BANG!

A gunshot pierced the air, followed by a loud thud. Screams followed soon after.

Natalie dropped the shot glass she was holding, hurrying out to the front of the bar as the small glass shattered on the floor.

The first thing she saw when she walked out was Ben, sprawled upon the floor, a bullet hole between his eyes.

She felt sick.

She saw the gun next.

Her eyes followed from the tip of the gun to the face of the man holding the weapon. The lower half of his face was obscured by a scraggly, unkempt beard, and his face was mottled with pit marks and scarring.

The eyes, though.

She would never have forgotten those eyes.

"Tom?"

Her voice was strong, despite the fact that her knees were shaking.

Tom smiled.

"Hello, Natalie. It's been a long time."

"We don't want any trouble, Tom."

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Tom asked her, laughing. It was only then that Natalie noticed that he was flanked by two men with identical appearances and small LEDs circling in red.

Androids.

"Heard what?" she asked as she reached for the drawer in front of her, where she kept her phone. The movements were slight and slow.

Hopefully Tom wouldn't notice as she discreetly typed out a text in what felt like slow motion.

"Your daddy confessed, sweetheart. You know what happens when a leader confesses?"

She didn't answer.

Tom only grinned. His smile was filled with gaps. The teeth he still had were cracked and yellowed.

"He done us wrong, honey."

Message sent.

The precinct was filled only with the sounds of typing and ruffling papers. There was very little chatter amongst the officers - quite frankly, everyone was far too tired to converse anyway.

Connor leaned back against his seat, closing his eyes. He and Hank had been searching these files relentlessly for days, hoping that they would find something hidden in the files if only they would look hard enough.

Hank's phone vibrated on the surface of his desk.

He went pale as he read the message.

"What's wrong, Hank?"

Hank looked at him with wide eyes.

He never had the chance to say anything before the tones dropped.

A loud, piercing tone broke the silence of the DPD, followed by a series of numbers.

Fowler tore open the door of his office, already zipping up his jacket.

"Let's go, people! Arson resulting in a structure fire, they're requesting police backup! Address sent to your phones!" He was already out of the door.

Hank shot out of his seat, hardly remembering to grab his firearm as he rushed to the door with Connor close behind.

Hank hardly waited for Connor to close the door of the car before he peeled out of the parking lot.

"Hank, what is it?" Connor asked.

"It's Natalie, she texted me. I told her if she ever needed me, if it were an emergency, she just had to text me '911' and I would be there. She's at Jimmy's."

Connor's eyes widened.

That was where the structure fire was.

The entire building was entirely engulfed in flames by the time Hank threw the car into park.

"Who's still inside?!" He shouted above the chaos. Sirens pierced the air, alongside the panicked chatter of civilians and officers alike. Firefighters fought to battle the flames that seemed to lick the sky.

"There's one person trapped inside, she got everyone else out before the fire even star-"

That was all the officer got out before Connor was sprinting away.

Hank reached out to grab his jacket.

"Connor, no! Get back here, damn it!"

Connor wasn't listening, of course.

He broke through the barrier that had been set up by the firefighters as they attempted to control the blaze.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" a shout followed him as he forced himself through the barrier.

The front door to the bar had already burned away entirely. The heat inside was incredibly intense.

WARNING: Systems Overheating. Remove yourself from the environment immediately.

No shit, he thought to himself.

"Natalie!" he called over the sound of the blaze.

A few moments passed.

"Connor?!" a voice called back from behind the bar counter.

Connor rushed to the entryway of the counter. Natalie was lying prone on the floor near the doorway to the back room. Her hands had been secured to the base of the counter with -

Oh, God, Connor thought to himself.

Her hands were tied with barbed wire, her wrists circled with blood.

"Connor, get out of here!" Natalie shouted. She didn't appear to be externally burned, but she was coughing profusely.

Connor retracted the skin from his hands as he grabbed ahold of the barbed wire and pulled.

The wire snapped easily between his fingers.

He grabbed onto her shoulders as he helped her off of the ground. He didn't feel the need to say anything in order to get her to move.

The ceiling above the bar had begun to collapse inward as the building toppled in on itself.

The two managed to exit the building just as the final supports of the building gave way. Dust and rubble scattered in every direction with a force that nearly knocked the two of them off of their feet.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You trying to get yourself fucking killed?!"

Even as Connor assured Hank there was no lasting damage, Hank's voice only seemed to rise in volume.

"You trying to give me a fucking heart attack?!"

"Hank, please, I'm fine," Connor said as he brushed the remaining rubble from his jacket.

Hank looked as though he wanted to say something else, before he shook his head and walked over to where Natalie was.

She sat at the back door of an ambulance as a paramedic checked her vitals and her airway. Her skin was covered with soot and ash, and she was still coughing through the nonrebreather mask strapped to her face. Her wrists were wrapped with thick gauze.

"How is she?" Hank asked, blatantly ignoring Connor as he stood next to him.

"She inhaled a lot of smoke, Lieutenant, but other than that, she's basically unharmed. Her wrists are going to take a few days to heal."

Here, the paramedic turned to face Connor with a look of appreciation.

"She probably wouldn't have made it if you didn't get her out when you did."

Connor only vaguely heard what he was saying as he continued to look over Natalie.

She was smiling, even through the coughing.

There's that smile again, Connor thought fondly.

He glanced at Hank, and was surprised to see that the Lieutenant was already looking at him.

"I'm still pissed at you."

Connor smiled.

"I know."

Natalie was cleared to leave about an hour later, once the paramedic was satisfied that her condition was improving.

"I wouldn't recommend you stay anywhere alone for the next few days. Respiratory problems can develop without any warning, and if you're alone, you might not be able to get help."

"She's staying with us for the next few days," Hank said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The decision had been unanimous.

As they were walking away from the scene of the blaze, they stopped to look at the rubble.

"Do you need to grab anything from your house, Nat?" Hank asked her. She laughed.

"I can't exactly do that, Hank."

"Where do you live, anyways?"

She swept one of her arms to gesture to the remains of the bar.

"You're looking at it."