A massive illegal lab producing 'red ice' had been uncovered by an anonymous tip to the police, which meant a huge drug bust was underway. Housed in what was supposed to be an abandoned chemical factory downtown in the industrial district, the massive lab was shut down by the police and just over a dozen suppliers had been arrested en mass. Since Hank had once been part of a respectable task force in the narcotics division that had busted an enormous 'red ice' ring several years prior, he and Connor were assigned to lead the bust and to piece together the random bits of evidence to identify and track down the remaining members of the drug ring who had managed to elude the police kicking down their doors.

Passing by the arrested suppliers outside the factory Hank and Connor passed through the main entrance to begin their investigation while the other officers rounded up the arrested criminals outside. The interior of the factory was as massive as it looked, and it was set up specifically to take advantage of the equipment that had been left behind after the factory shut down due to poor business and lack of steady employment.

"Jeez, I haven't this much 'red ice' in one place in a long time." Hank observed as he walked between the giant cylindrical metal vats that held the highly volatile and combustible chemicals. Each vat helped create aisles of potential explosive metallic carnage if just one thing went wrong. "How many were arrested before we even arrived?"

"Fourteen." Chris confirmed as he looked at the report on the electronic clipboard in his hand. The young officer had been a part of the initial bust and had remained at the scene to assist Hank and Connor while taking notes. "And at least as many managed to escape out the back."

"Shit." The Lieutenant looked toward the back area of the plant and tried to imagine the excitement he had missed when everyone ran for the hills. "Any idea who they are or where they might run off too?"

"Captain Fowler has a team working on it right now, but he was hoping that you and Connor might be able to see something we may have overlooked during our initial sweep of the building."

"Right, sure." Casually Hank looked to his deviant partner behind him who was already meticulously scanning each vat and chronicling the contents within. Connor was walking slowly with a slight limp after enduring a serious injury to his spinal support column seven days prior, but he wasn't complaining about any pain and went about his job professionally. "See anything useful, Connor?"

Mindful of his still painful back Connor wandered at a leisurely pace between the towering vats a few feet behind Hank and noted the senior detective's question. His previous spinal injury had healed entirely four days prior, but his movement was temporarily stunted as his system finished recalibrating the repaired discs that lined his damaged spinal support column.

"It appears that the drug manufacturers had connections to various chemical factories throughout North America. I've been able to trace the shipping serial numbers to factories in Toronto, Chicago, Fort Wayne, Ann Arbor and Lansing." Finishing his cybernetic scan Connor gave Hank an update on what he had uncovered. "I suspect their connections have received word of the operation being discovered and have since severed all ties and gone into hiding to delay the police in tracking them down as well."

"Can you give us the exact addresses of the connected factories?"

Connor's L.E.D. flashed from blue to yellow as he cybernetically transmitted the requested data directly to the precinct. "Done."

"Good work. What else?"

Slowly Connor approached a wooden table at the far side of the room where a 'sample' of the drug had been laid out for inspection. Picking up a tiny crystal of the red tinted drug between his thumb and forefinger Connor scanned it quickly and traced it back to a single batch of 'red ice' that had been pulled off the street two nights prior by the Eastern Precinct.

"This particular supply had been sold outside the Hartford Station." Placing the crystal back down Connor resumed cybernetically scanning and chronicling the other chemicals in the area. "It's possible the manufacturers have a hideout in or nearby one of the numerous abandoned buildings."

Hank agreed with Connor's assessment and turned back to Chris who was waiting by the door leading outside. "Chris, get a team out to Hartford. Bring back-up just in case things go south, will ya'?"

"Will do, Lieutenant." Chris obeyed his superior and left the building to follow his new orders without question. "I'm on it."

Now following a trail Connor ignored the red crystal on the table and resumed his cybernetic scan of the vats along the walls. Near the center of the room was a long metal table lined with glass beakers, glass jars, metal pans and a Bunsen burner that still had a bright orange flame lit.

"They haven't been gone for too long." The deviant detective noted the flame and how much fuel was left inside the burner. The nearly full container confirmed recent activity and replenishment of the supplies needed to create the foul drug. "They must've fled as soon as the door was broken down by the responding police officers."

"Too bad we couldn't have caught them all. I hate to think how many people are still in danger because those drug dealers got away. Fuck, they might have some drugs on them that are ready to be sold."

Diligently Connor noted the various chemicals on the long table and scanned them to identify the dangerous substances: Sodium hydroxide, red phosphorus, anhydrous ammonia, lithium, hydrochloric acid and Freon.

"They were well supplied and seemed to be preparing to remain her for an extended period of time."

Connor added as he picked up the glass jar containing the sodium hydroxide, also known as 'lye', and held it in his hands. An unseen, thin crack in the glass caused the lye to seep through the compromised container and on to Connor's palm as soon as the deviant applied any pressure to the container. Surprised by the chemical leaking through the crack Connor let out a yelp of pain as the lye began to quickly eat through his artificial skin down to his white plastimetal frame beneath.

"Damn it!"

"Connor?!" Hank turned quickly to see the pained deviant detective drop the glass jar as his hand suddenly let it go out of pained reflex. "What's going-"

The chemical spilled all over the table and the jar shattered over the table as it dropped from Connor's grip. The shattered glass and jostling of the table caused the ammonia to topple over toward the lit Bunsen burner and splash all over the surface of the table the front of Connor. The moment the ammonia had hit the burner the chemical instantly ignited as it splashed over the orange flame and caused a flash of light and a small fireball.

"Sh-Shit!"

Flames jumped from the table and on to the front of Connor's doused shirt causing the now chemically burned deviant to step backward and try to smother out the fire with his hands. Hank was at Connor's side in a matter of seconds as he fought to aid his distressed partner and put out the flames. Removing his own coat Hank used it to effectively smother out the fire on Connor's shirt as he pushed the burned deviant further back from the blazing table. Once the flames on Connor's shirt were out, Hank turned and looked at the still burning table behind him.

"Fuck! We need to put this fire out, NOW."

Continuing to use his coat Hank extinguished the flames on the table and disabled the burner in the process by beating out and patting out the flames. Making sure only smoke and bits of glass remained on the table Hank backed away from the smoldering furniture and proceeded to check on Connor again.

"Damn it, that was close. We need to get outta' here before the smoke makes us sick..." Hank shook out his ruined coat as acrid smoke filled the air, and he led Connor toward the exit. "Are you all right, kid?"

"...N-No." Connor pressed his damaged hands to his chest as his L.E.D. continuously flashed red in pain and embarrassment. "I-I was clumsy and stupid. I should've extinguished the flame first and I should've checked the container for any flaws before I even touched it!"

Hank didn't care that Connor was momentarily clumsy, accidents happen all the time. But he did care that deviant was genuinely shaken up by the experience.

"There's an emergency chemical wash kit in the trunk of the car." The senior detective stated as put his hand on Connor's shoulder to guide his burned partner back outside and away from the dangerous substances now hanging in the air. "I'll get you patched up in no time."

"...I h-have to make a report a-about this." Connor stated as his L.E.D. flashed from red to yellow after a few seconds of calming down. The pain was still persistent but not nearly as intense as it had been. "I have to let Captain Fowler know what has happened."

"Don't worry about Fowler right now. Worry about yourself." Guiding Connor over to the car parked outside the building Hank popped the trunk and pulled out the emergency kit tucked away in the back. With the kit secured under his arm Hank walked over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door as he motioned for Connor to take a seat. "Let me see your hands."

As if ashamed Connor extended his hands outward, palm up, for Hank to see in a sluggish manner. The lye had destroyed a disturbing portion of his artificial skin on his right palm and caused the white plastimetal to slightly warp with disfigurement courtesy of the intense heat. The deviant's incredible self-healing program would repair the warped plastimetal in time, but it would take longer than his artificial skin to full mend.

The deviant's left palm had first and second degree burns from Connor batting out the flames on his chest. In comparison to the right hand, Connor's left hand fared much better than its counterpart.

"Aw, fuck. If this is what happens to artificial skin and plastimetal, I'd hate to see what it can do to the organic kind of skin, bones and lung tissue whenever its smoked."

Professionally Hank slipped a a pair of white latex gloves over his hands to protect himself before he opened the one-liter rectangular bottle of saline solution. Bottle in hand Hank poured the sterilized contents over Connor's hands to rinse away the residual lye, ammonia and soothe the painful burns. There were times when Hank's emergency training really came in handy, yet that didn't make it any easier to deal with a friend being injured.

"Turn your hands over and spread your fingers apart so I can get all that shit off of your palms."

Connor obeyed and felt immediate relief as the saline removed the caustic chemical from his sore hands and took the lingering heat away from his burns. The lye pooled on the pavement of the parking lot and bubbled up in a foamy layer as it left the air lingering with an unsettling stench courtesy of the burned skin and plastimetal. As the fresh stench mixed with the smell of ammonia in the air the two detectives realized how dangerous the interior of the factory truly had been.

"That... feels better." The wounded deviant admitted as his hands were cleansed by the saline. The artificial skin was already trying to regenerate in very thin, mostly translucent layers over the exposed plastimetal. "It feels much better."

"Yeah, I bet." Hank's eyes went darted over to the black scorch marks on Connor's previously white shirt after he took care of his partner's hands. He pointed at the imperfection against Connor's chest and cleared his throat before speaking. "Let me see that, too."

"Huh?" Connor looked up from his hands and followed Hank's gaze back down to the front of his own shirt. "Oh... Right."

Using the very tips of his exposed fingers Connor flipped his damaged black tie aside over his shoulder and pulled open the buttons surrounding the burn to reveal his damaged artificial skin beneath. It wasn't as bad as the chemical burns on his hands, but it still needed to be cleaned-up nonetheless.

"You're lucky." Hank stated as he poured the saline against a clean pad of gauze that he had pulled out of the emergency kit and used it to lightly wipe down the burned skin. Connor winced and wanted to shift away from the painful contact but knew better than to move about as relief would soon follow. "Most people who get caught in a chemical fire don't get to walk away with such little damage. Most drug dealers have disfiguring burn scars along their face, neck, hands and arms from getting too close to their own product."

"I doubt this type of incident truly fits under the definition of 'lucky'." Connor quipped as Hank finished wiping down the burn on his chest. As the pain subsided the burned deviant felt a little better in spite of his lingering embarrassment. "Unless you and I simply have our own unique definitions of the word, that is."

"I know your healing program thing is going to take care of the damage on its own, but I'm going to wrap up your hands up in bandages just because it hurts me to look at them."

"I'm sorry." Humiliated Connor tried to look away from Hank in needless shame over the stupid accident. "I will be more careful in the future."

"I hope so, but hey, shit happens." The senior detective commented as he took a roll of white gauze from the kit and wrapped the bandages carefully around Connor's fingers, then his palms, and worked down to his wrists and partially up his forearms to cover both hands properly. "I'm going to make sure Fowler keeps you on the homicide division and away from narcotics. You'd melt into a puddle your first day on the job!"

"...That's not possible, but I understand your metaphor."

Appreciative of Connor understanding that what he said wasn't meant to be taken literally Hank kept his focus on Connor's demeanor. "Does your chest hurt?"

"Not any longer. I currently have less pain sensors developed in my chest and abdomen than I do inside my hands. I suspect that'll change over time as my deviancy develops with additional physical and sensory adaptations."

"Oh. Good, I guess." After he rebuttoned Connor's shirt on the deviant's behalf Hank let out a sigh and studied his partner's flashing L.E.D. for a moment as it cycled from a distressed yellow and back to a healthy shade of blue. "You're seriously going to develop more pain receptors as you stay deviant?"

"Correct. It'll happen either through elective upgrades or inevitable software updates. I was programmed to adapt to human unpredictability, which also means tactile sensations; actual feeling."

The notion of experiencing more pain was evidently unsettling as the young deviant had only recently begun to truly feel emotions, let alone physical pain. Losing the use of his arms and legs just a week prior had given him a new appreciation for his sense of touch, and yet the concept of pain still upset him.

"I suppose it's safe to say that my sensitivity will increase on a physical level, as well as emotional as I continue to grow as a deviant."

"Shit. I can't imagine becoming more sensitive to pain or cold or to the heat. I can honestly say that I don't envy you." Straightening up Connor's black tie as a professional courtesy Hank sighed and eyed the bandaged-up deviant warily. Connor looked miserable and embarrassed like a teenager who made a mistake during the high school science fair. "Are you sure that you're okay? I mean, you can't exactly hold a weapon to defend yourself right now."

"Yes, I'm okay." Flexing his bandaged hands weakly Connor let out a mildly pained sigh in response. He could still move his hands and that's all he really cared about. "I will heal entirely in two days. Until then I can continue my work through cybernetic contact, and I still have you to watch my back."

"All right." With a friendly pat to Connor's shoulder Hank encouraged his deviant partner to continue the investigation within the airing-out factory as the smoke poured through the opened door. There was no reason to stop the investigation because of one obnoxious mishap. "Let's solve this case and bust some sorry asses while we're at it."

-next chapter-