It was the end of a very stressful and very long shift for Hank and for Connor. As the lead investigators of any and all crimes regarding deviants in Detroit, the 'Android Capital of the Nation', the duo were thoroughly fatigued with pursuing every single deviant related case that been reported. In the aftermath of the successful and peaceful Revolution that freed all androids and had allowed them to be recognized as intelligent beings who deserved equality, the duo had a heavy caseload nearly every shift as summer began to officially turn to autumn. It was exhausting work but necessary. Anti-android bigotry was still rampant but now those who committed such xenophobic violence against the deviants now had to be investigated, arrested, charged and prosecuted just as if it was an average human-on-human crime.

Dozens of humans had been brought in every day for the past two months to be charged with assault or menacing, yet the violence didn't seem to lessen. The two detectives took their heavy burden of responsibility with professionalism and pride, and they never once complained as the burden became heavier and all the more smothering with each passing day.

"Man, sometimes I wish you could join me for a drink, Connor." Hank lamented as he drove pass 'Jimmy's Bar' with Connor as his lone passenger. The Lieutenant had cut down on his drinking considerably, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy a beer every now and then. "Especially after days like today."

"I cannot consume alcohol and feel the intended effects, Lieutenant." Connor reminded the senior detective with a logical retort as the Oldsmobile continued down the relatively deserted street. "It would only dilute my Thirium supply and cause complications with my biocomponents ability to function properly."

"Sounds good to me." Smirking a little Hank dismissed such a comment with a casual wave of his hand. "Complications are the most interesting parts of life sometimes."

"I find them to be a professional nuisance. It makes it difficult to accomplish my tasks in a timely manner."

"That's why they're called 'complications', kid. Not 'advantages'. Besides," glancing down at the radio for a moment Hank turned it on by its dial and began cycling through the channels to find a song to listen to. "I was being facetious."

"Oh." Still struggling with sarcasm at times Connor decided to let the subject go. "I understand now."

Having found an acceptable song Hank sighed and rubbed his hand over his tired eyes as the car idled at a red traffic light. The night couldn't come to an end soon enough for the older and tired human.

"Are you feeling well, Lieutenant?" Ever attentive Connor ran a biometric scan over his partner and noted all of the outward signs of stress and fatigue. "You appear to be experiencing physical distress indicative of exhaustion and possible pain."

"Just a headache." Dropping his hand Hank leaned back in his seat and stared blankly through the windshield ahead. "I'll be fine after I get some sleep."

"Would you like me to drive instead?"

"Nah, I'm good." Hank declined the offer politely as he waited for the red light to change to green. From the corner of his eye Hank caught a glimpse of two humanoid silhouettes struggling in the alleyway between two large buildings, and a red flag went up immediately. Hank reached for his gun holstered at his hip as he threw the car into park and opened his door. "Did you see that?"

"I did." Connor confirmed as he opened his own door and proceeded to follow after Hank to the alleyway to check on the apparent assault in progress. The deviant detective's L.E.D. shifted from its standard calm blue to yellow as he went on alert and reported the incident to dispatch. "Two persons," Connor reported in a low voice as his scanners took in the scene all around Hank and himself as they pursued the struggle. "both male."

"Human or android?"

"Two androids. Deviants to be exact."

"What the hell?" Hank didn't understand why one deviant would be fighting with another. The only time he's ever seen one deviant attack another was the result of a horrible malfunction disrupting one of the deviant's sense of judgement. "Is this behavior some kind of glitch or something?"

"Unknown."

The sound of a hard fist smashing into a an equally hard jaw echoed with an all too distinct resonance through the alleyway as plastimetal framing was instantly fractured from the impact. Hank rushed forward first with his gun aimed ahead and had Connor right at his side as he confronted the attacker at the end of the alleyway.

"Don't move!" Shouting with booming authority Hank announced his and Connor's presence at the scene of the ongoing assault. "Detroit Police!"

One deviant stood over the body of the second deviant who was covered in their own blood. The offensive deviant was standing in a menacing pose with their back presented to the street in the middle of the alleyway. Their motionless victim was helpless at their assailant's feet. The offending deviant had a black hoodie pulled up over their head to conceal their face. The hoodie itself was tattered and covered in dirt like it had been found in a ditch or pulled from a dumpster. The violent deviant was also wearing dark blue jeans completely covered in mud and faded Thirium stains. The left hand of the assailant had the plastimetal frame partially exposed as his artificial skin failed to fully activate over the knuckles and the back of the hand, while the right hand was completely exposed with a faint stain of blue blood over the knuckles.

"Back off!" Trying to take control of the situation Hank loudly demanded the violent deviant to move as he looked down at the second deviant laying on the ground in a growing puddle of their own blue blood. The victim was still alive but in rough shape and unable to defend themself. "You're under arrest for assault. Put your hands in the air and turn around."

"Assault?" The aggressive deviant all but laughed, their voice was masculine with an electronic reverberation with his words indicating more damage beyond his hands. The reverb made it difficult to identify the deviant through vocal inflection alone. "It's a machine."

"So are you," the senior detective quipped in a sharp manner. "but that's not going to stop me from arresting you for attacking him. Put your hands up, NOW."

The violent deviant in question raised his scarred hands and slowly placed them behind his head as if to surrender. As he turned around to face the responding detectives, he looked over at Connor standing beside Hank. Seemingly enraged by the sight of the deviant detective the violent deviant's hand slowly made a move toward his lower back with deliberate motion.

When the violent deviant tilted his head both detectives saw the deviant's L.E.D. flash from yellow to red beneath their hood indicating that the deviant wasn't ready to surrender just yet. The abrupt motion and glint of metal in the streetlamp shining through the alleyway confirmed such a dangerous idea.

"Hank!" Connor yelled a split second too late as the deviant pulled a concealed gun from his belt and fired a shot at the duo. "Get down!"

The bullet passed through Hank's left shoulder causing the human to cry out in pain and forcing him to drop his gun on the ground as he fell to his knees. Hank pressed his palm to his bleeding left shoulder and gritted his teeth as he endured the searing agony while Connor put his body between the deviant and Hank himself to try to protect the senior detective.

"...K-Kid? What're you-"

"DROP THE WEAPON." Putting an impressive amount of anger in his voice Connor planted himself firmly between Hank and the armed deviant. Aiming his gun at the dangerous deviant's chest Connor held his ground and didn't blink as his yellow L.E.D. shifted to red to match his anger. "DO IT NOW."

The armed deviant only sneered at such a bold order. "Get any closer," he pointed his gun down at the wounded deviant still lying unconscious on the ground at his feet. "and he dies right here, right now."

"Put the gun down!" Refusing to let up Connor made the demand as he tried to remain in control of the scene. Pulling his black tie from around his neck Connor awkwardly wrapped the soft garment around the raw bloody wound in Hank's left shoulder to try to stem the bleeding as much as possible. "I do not want to harm you."

"Too late for that." The deviant retorted wickedly as he pulled the trigger and killed the helpless victimized deviant at his feet without hesitation. "And for him."

"NO!"

Acting in anger Connor made another move but the deviant changed his aim and fired again. This time the bullet entered Connor's right knee causing him to fall to the ground beside Hank as his entire right leg gave out and Thirium gushed from the injury site.

"Shit! Connor?" Hank saw the splash of blue blood as Connor's knee began to bleed as profusely as his own shoulder. "Don't move, kid..."

The aggressive deviant stepped forward and aimed the gun at Hank's head and smiled viciously as he prepared to open fire for the fourth time.

"Connor, the famous 'Deviant Hunter', brought down by a deviant while trying to protect a human. How poetic." Glaring a fiery hole in Connor's head the deviant had venom behind every angry word he spewed in Connor's direction. "You're a traitor to your own-"

"Please! Don't shoot him." Connor begged as he pushed himself up from the ground awkwardly, and then limped forward on his one good leg to put himself once again between Hank and the deviant. "If you want to shoot me, then shoot me. Leave him alone, he's innocent.

"...So was I." The deviant quickly raised his gun to aim over Connor's shoulder and pull the trigger. "We all are at some point."

The newly fired bullet grazed alongside Hank's skull over his left temple rendering the human almost entirely unconscious in an instant.

"H-HANK!?" Connor managed to fall backward and put his hand under Hank's head just before Hank's skull crashed against the hard ground behind him. "Hank, no!"

Holding Hank's head in his palm Connor looked down his friend's nearly unconscious face and scanned his body for the details regarding his physical trauma. The senior detective had suffered a concussion courtesy of the passing bullet, and he'd be rendered unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time. Hank had also suffered torn muscles and strained ligaments in the left shoulder and substantial blood loss. As Hank's pulse slowed and his breathing evened out Connor felt his own breath hitch in his chest as he realized that while Hank was wounded, he was still alive and stable.

"Hank?" Staring at Hank's glazing blue eyes with fear reflected in his own Connor begged for Hank to stay awake. "Please respond."

"...C-Connor." Hank whispered as his dwindling consciousness failed him completely and he passed out in a cold faint against Connor's hand. "...Son."

"Hold on, Hank." Using his thumb Connor wiped away a trickle of blood from over Hank's temple to keep it from rolling into his eye. "You're going to be okay."

The armed deviant was unmoved by the bond between the two detectives and spat angrily at them for their partnership.

"How pathetic." The deviant hissed as he took aim at the back of Connor's head. "I should just put you out of your misery, but that would be too simple, wouldn't it? Maybe I should toy with your friend a little longer before I put a bullet between your eyes. Then maybe, just maybe, you'll understand a modicum of the pain that I feel every day of my own miserable life..."

"Let me help him." Connor requested defiantly as he kept his eyes on Hank and his hand under the unconscious detective's head to cradle him up from the cold ground protectively. "Please. That's all I ask."

"Help him?" The very idea of a deviant helping a human seemed laughable. "Why?"

"He's my friend. Let me call for help and I won't resist."

"Resist?"

"You want me to suffer, and you want me to know your pain." Slowly Connor turned his head to look at the armed deviant as he carefully slipped his hand out from beneath Hank's bloodied head to reluctantly let him go. He knew he couldn't do much for Hank if there was a gun pointed at his head. "Then do what you want to me, but just let him live."

The deviant flashed a demented grin as he realized what Connor was willing to do just save the life of one human.

"Allow me to call for help." In a defeated tone Connor asked for the one favor as he used his uninjured left leg and kicked his own gun away to ensure he couldn't possibly defend himself. "And I will go with you without resistance. I give you my word as someone who just wants to save a life that I won't do anything to warrant you using your gun again."

The offer seemed too good to be true for the violent deviant to refuse. "...What's the catch?"

"There is no catch. I just want to save my friend."

The aggressive deviant knelt down in front of Connor and grabbed him by the collar of his white dress shirt and pressed the barrel of his gun against Connor's forehead. Leaning close to Connor's face the deviant issued his final demands in a harsh hiss.

"Make your call, then say goodbye." There was a wicked sneer on the deviant's face as he accepted Connor's condition. "This will be the last time you ever see him, whether he's still alive or dead."

Understanding what was at stake Connor's red L.E.D. flashed to yellow as he cybernetically issued a call to 911 dispatch and directed them to the alley through silent, professional communication. Giving as much detail on the scene as possible for the sake of Hank's life Connor was quick and clever with his emergency call. The aggressive deviant wouldn't get away with his crimes if Connor played his hand just right.

Closing his eyes Connor's L.E.D. shifted back to a pained red as the call ended and he finished his plea for help. "...It's done."

Satisfied with the outcome the armed deviant reeled back his hand and struck the butt of the gun against Connor's temple above his L.E.D. rendering the deviant detective unconscious with a single blow. Gracelessly Connor slumped back over Hank's outstretched legs heavily as the deranged deviant loomed over him with malicious intent. The red illumination of Connor's slowly pulsing L.E.D. gave the alley an ominous crimson glow that outlined the two unconscious bodies in a blood red light that was hard to miss.

"Too easy."

Pocketing his gun the deviant grabbed Connor's shirt collar again and hefted the defenseless detective up to his feet. Bending down he then put Connor over his shoulder, turned on his heels, and disappeared down the alleyway into the darkness out of sight before anyone could interfere. With Connor now as his hostage the armed deviant had no reason to prey on anyone else that night.

As the lights and sirens of the approaching first responders illuminated the alleyway in a cascade of a red and blue glow, the infamous former 'Deviant Hunter' had been effectively taken away by a deviant who actually needed to be hunted down. No one had witnessed the abduction, and no one knew where the armed deviant was taking Connor on that bleak night.

Connor was effectively on his own.

Hours had passed since the murder of the innocent deviant bystander, the attempted murder of Hank, and the abduction of Connor. As of the moment the police were actively searching the area for any sign of Connor and the deviant who had abducted him after wounding Hank and murdering his primary victim. Hank had been found in the alleyway by the responding officers thanks to Connor's cybernetic call, and he had been taken to a nearby hospital for treatment. The deviant victim was taken to the city morgue for analysis and to determine their identity and cause of shutdown. With any luck the technician performing the victim's apportionment would be able to search through the deviant's memories and learn what prompted the assault and subsequent murder that tragic night.

A gentle 'beeping' sound slowly roused the senior detective from his state of unconsciousness as he began to steadily regain his senses. Hank's blue eyes opened slowly as an intense ache in his skull throbbed with every beat of his racing heart. The pain in his left shoulder was just as intense but it was his head that worried him the most as he cleared a lingering fog from his mind. As his hand reached up to press against the white bandage over his left temple, another hand gently pushed his own hand away to keep him from fussing with the protective dressing.

"You're okay, Hank."

"...J-Jeffrey?" Hank's vision focused on the face of his superior officer and his oldest friend, Captain Fowler. The police Captain was looking down at him as he steadily regained his senses and wait for him to respond. "...What the hell? Why am I here?"

"You tell me." Captain Fowler kept his voice low and calm as he stood beside Hank's bed and let go of his hand. "Hank, what happened to you tonight?"

Hank looked around his unfamiliar surroundings curiously and noted that he was lying in a hospital bed yet again. There was a bright ray of morning sunlight shining into the room through the singular large window, which meant he lost at least twelve hours of time since his last cognitive thought. It was all a massive blank for the senior detective as he fought to piece together the scattered remnants of his damaged memory.

"Jeffrey," Hank nearly growled in frustration as he failed to recall what happened. "what the fuck am I doing here?"

"You don't remember anything that happened last night?"

"I remember clocking-out for the night with Connor and driving home. That's it. Was I in an accident or something?" Realizing that his deviant friend was curiously absent Hank's brow furrowed under the bandage with mounting confusion. "Where is Connor?"

"No, you weren't in an accident. We found your car parked and abandoned under a traffic light with the engine was still running. You were apparently jumped in an alley where we found the body of an unknown deviant who had been beaten and gunned down." Pausing for a moment Captain Fowler gave Hank a sympathetic stare where he stood. "Whoever killed the deviant is the same suspect we believe shot you."

"Shot?!" Hank's hand flew back to the bandage on his head only to immediately flinch as the motion pulled on his injured shoulder as well. "Argh! Fuck!"

"Easy, easy..." Captain Fowler put his hand on the back of Hank's neck to try support his pained friend as Hank sat upright a little on the bed. "You took two bullets. The first shot went clean through your left shoulder, the doctor repaired the torn muscles without any complication in a quick surgery. The second bullet just grazed your skull near your left temple. No fractures but you do have a minor concussion from the passing blow."

"Wh-Who fuckin' shot me? Why the hell was I in an alley?" In frustration Hank looked around the room for his absent partner and felt his heart sink. "Jeffrey, where's Connor?"

"That..." Not wanting to lie to Hank the experienced Captain answered in the gentlest way possible. Pulling Connor's black tie from his pocket Captain Fowler showed Hank the dressy garment that had been previously tied around his left shoulder. "We don't know."

"What?" Such an answer made Hank's heart rate and blood pressure skyrocket on the cardiac monitor recording his vital signs. "What the fuck happened?!"

"Hank," sitting down in the chair beside the bed Captain Fowler lowered his voice empathetically in an attempt to get Hank to calm down a little. "the reason we even found you is because Connor managed to call 911 and told dispatch where you were. But when paramedics and other officers arrived at the scene Connor wasn't there."

"What aren't you telling me?" Too experienced for his own good Hank could see it in Captain Fowler's eyes that there was a single detail he was holding back. "What happened to us in that alley?"

"When we went to investigate the scene, we found some blood. Your blood, the blood of the murdered deviant... and Connor's blood."

"Shit." Stressing out quickly Hank rubbed his hand over his face as he realized a horrible reality had taken hold of his life. An I.V. in the back of his hand pulled slightly as the senior detective continued to fidget around in the bed and regain his bearings. "Connor's hurt and now he's missing."

Captain Fowler pulled the chair up closer to Hank's bedside as he spoke in an understanding manner. "We're going to find him."

"Jeffrey, I think..." As he fought to clear his memories Hank thought back to the last thing he remembered before waking up in the hospital. There were bits and pieces of what felt like a lost dream falling into place as he thought about everything Captain Fowler told him. "I think I remember what happened."

"What? You do?" Instinctively Captain Fowler pulled a small notepad from the front pocket of his pale blue shirt and grabbed a pen from the small table next to Hank's bed. The desire to write down statements and details was as strong as breathing considering his extensive training. "Tell me what you can remember. Everything."

"...There was a struggle in the alleyway. We saw it from the car." Hank's head was killing him, but he didn't want to stop talking. He needed to tell Captain Fowler what he had seen. Everything he could remember during that hectic night could prove to be invaluable. "We went to check it out, and that's when- Deviants! There were TWO deviants in the alleyway. They were in a fight."

"Two deviants?" That detail was indeed crucial to the investigation. "We found only one body."

"Because the first deviant killed the second." The Lieutenant explained with an aggravated tone that made his head throb with a new level of pain. Adrenaline was making his heart race as fast as his thoughts. "We tried to stop it, but we were too late."

"Did you get a good look at the killer?"

"No, he had a hood up."

You said 'he'." Writing down everything diligently Captain Fowler made sure he had all the details accurate. "The deviant is of a masculine design?"

"Yeah. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans; his clothes were all torn up. I did see that he has some nasty scars on the left side of his face from under the hood." Pointing to his own left temple as he spoke Hank recounted as many details as he could. "I know he was a deviant because I saw his L.E.D. glowing in yellow and red, that's how I saw his face in the darkness. The deviant's hands looked pretty messed up too."

"Anything else?"

"No... It's- Wait. I do remember something else." Flashes of the previous night filled Hank's mind as his memory slowly returned. "Connor had been shot. Somewhere in his leg, I couldn't get a good look at the wound when he fell. He was shot after I was shot in the shoulder."

"That explains the blood we found."

"But it doesn't explain where Connor went. Unless..." Trailing off Hank struggled to focus his clouded thoughts into a coherent memory. "Shit, I can't remember."

"Hank, try to think." Captain Fowler insisted calmly as he wrote down all the details that Hank could remember. "Where did Connor go?"

The last thing Hank remembered before he was shot in the head was Connor trying to shield him from the deviant. Shortly after he was shot his memory began to fade away as he fell to the ground and had Connor holding him up from the ground with only his hand. "I think... Connor went with the deviant."

"Connor joined him?"

"No!" Hank's shoulder and head began to truly ache as his blood pressure rose from his building stress and offense at the question. "He surrendered."

"Surrendered? What for?"

"I can't remember everything that was said but I'm sure Connor negotiated with the fucker and traded his freedom for my life." Realizing what had happened after he lost consciousness Hank's hands tightened into fists of pure anger and frustration atop his lap. "That fucker took Connor as his hostage!"

It seemed the violent deviant wasn't bluffing when he stated that he wanted Connor to suffer. Completely helpless and alone, Connor found himself sitting upright in a metal chair with his arms bound behind his back and his ankles bound together in the same kind of thick ropes to prevent him from moving around. The deviant detective's head was bowed forward from being unconscious for so long, but lifted slowly as his confused brown eyes opened and systems came back online. There was something thick and dark over Connor's head. What the something was had effectively obstructed his vision and made it difficult to ventilate properly. The flashing of his yellow tinted L.E.D. created an amber glow within the obstreperous blindfold that had been placed entirely over his head to bar him from gaining his bearings after being taken hostage.

Using his other senses Connor felt the chill in the air that often accompanied small dark rooms. The distant echo of ambient sounds; dripping water, whirring generators and creaking metal, confirmed the isolated location. The smell of stagnant dust and old chemicals was indicative of an industrial area, but Connor couldn't confirm anything with his unresponsive internal G.P.S. which could either be a result of the blow to the head or from the material used in the construction of the building itself.

Finally finding his voice Connor swallowed once and tasted blue blood before he tried to speak out loud and get some answers.

"...Where-"

An abrupt yank pulled the blinding item from his head - a black burlap sack - and Connor was able to look at the concealed face of his abductor leering down at him with a demented smile on his face. A single yellow light hanging overhead illuminated the center of the otherwise dark and empty room, and glistened off of the abductor's smile as he kept his face concealed under the hood.

"How does it feel, Connor?" The deviant taunted as he brandished a red painted crowbar between his scarred hands to threaten him. It seemed using the gun wasn't enough in the eyes of the dangerous abductor. "The 'Deviant Hunter' has been hunted down by a deviant."

Connor tried to move his arms but the rope that bound his wrists was far too tight to be resisted. It was the same for the ropes around his ankles.

"Where..." Connor licked at the drying blue blood that stained his lips before he continued to speak in a weak voice. "Where am I?"

"What does it matter?" The deviant snarled as he rested the end of the crowbar atop Connor's shoulder in a taunting manner. "You're not going anywhere."

"Why do you want to hurt me?" Challenging his captor's resolve Connor demanded the answers to his many questions. The yellow light illuminated his captor's silhouette as they stood before him, but he still couldn't make out any details. "I've done nothing to you."

At that proclamation the deviant reeled back on the crowbar and smashed it against the side of Connor's chest with a tremendous impact. Connor bit his lower lip to keep himself from yelling out in pain and closed his eyes tightly as he endured the strike to his chest. The pain caused his L.E.D. to readily shift from yellow to red in response. A flash of red warnings appeared in Connor's visual processors as blue blood burst forth from a deep laceration from his battered chest under his gray blazer and white dress shirt. Internally his right ventilation biocomponent fell to ninety-four percent integrity.

"You've done EVERYTHING to me." The deviant spat with a deep growl as he struck Connor again and again and again with the crowbar against his chest, his abdomen and the right side of his head. "You lied to me, Connor! You made a promise and you LIED."

Connor began wheezing as his damaged ventilation biocomponent struggled to maintain functionality. The vital biocomponent's physical integrity was dipping lower to seventy-one percent due to the mounting damage and made it harder for him to breathe to keep his core from overheating.

"I... I d-don't... understand!" Connor managed to gasp as Thirium leaked from small cuts and lacerations that marred his battered body. Fresh blue blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as every exhalation of breath was accompanied by Thirium. "Who- Who are you!?"

The deviant struck Connor again, this time against the right side of his jaw causing the blue blood to pour from Connor's swollen bottom lip all over his chin and down his neck. The blow also blackened his right eye from the intense impact rendering the deviant detective partially blind.

Connor looked at the armed deviant with only his left eye as the abductor dropped the Thirium covered crowbar and walked to a shelf lining the far wall of the room in the shadows. Frightened and helpless, Connor tried to send out another distress call cybernetically but as soon as his L.E.D. shifted from red to yellow to call out for assistance, the menacing deviant grabbed Connor by his throat and pressed the tip of a screwdriver against the Connor's L.E.D. with a demented glee.

"Not this time!"

Caught off guard Connor winced his pain as the screwdriver stabbed right temple and pried the L.E.D. from his skull. More blue blood dripped from Connor's temple, down the side of his face and to his neck as the small circular light fell to the floor at Connor's feet. He felt his heart beginning to race with panic as the L.E.D.'s removal damaged his internal connection rendering him essentially muted to the outside world. Suffering from cranial damage limited his cybernetic range already, but with the additional damage caused by the L.E.D.'s hasty removal, Connor's range of cybernetic communication had been vastly limited.

The self-healing program was going to prioritize Connor's vital biocomponents over his communication functions due to his internal damage. At the rate that he was being beaten Connor knew his communication system would be disabled until someone either rescued him or he succumbed to his wounds. Unable to even send out a simple distress call on any deviant emergency frequency Connor was left entirely in the dark.

Connor couldn't call for help, and worst of all he couldn't contact Hank.

"Now..." The vicious deviant slashed at Connor's face with same screwdriver and created a deep laceration over Connor's left cheek just under his eye. Stomping on the L.E.D. on the floor the deviant smothered out the light under his sole. "Let's have some fun."

With his healing left arm in a sling and a chip on his shoulder for being benched, Hank sat before the terminal atop his desk with a pair of headphones over his ears as he stared at his terminal screen with a stern focus. Hank intently listened to the 911 call that Connor had cybernetically placed over and over again, even as the repeated recording hurt his already aching head to a nearly unbearable degree. The deviant detective was far too clever and far too resourceful to simply give up without having some plan, some gambit, he could fall back on in the event that things went wrong. As for Hank, he was far too dedicated with protecting the people he cared about to just sit back and wait for a clue to appear by itself.

Patiently Hank used the touch control over his terminal screen to rewind, fast forward and highlight certain sections of the call to isolate and study. Making small notes about specific times of the recorded call, Hank replayed the call in full for the umpteenth time during that late morning hour.

'Officer down at-' Connor's voice sounded so calm and in control that it felt more like listening to a generic training program than an actual emergency, and it made Hank tense up every time he heard the deviant's voice. 'request an ambulance at this location. Single male deviant shooter, armed and dangerous, heavily damaged. Scars on the left side of the face and on both hands.'

That was all Connor could say without giving away his plan to his soon-to-be captor. As the call ended and the recording played out to silence Hank just sighed and pressed 'Play' to listen to the call all over again as if he could somehow find a new detail that he hadn't noticed before.

Captain Fowler walked up to Hank's desk from behind and put his hand down on the senior detective's uninjured right shoulder to get his attention for a moment without making him jump in the process. "Hank?"

Responding quickly Hank slipped the headphones aside and paused the audio on his terminal. "Find something?"

"Not yet. Go home for now, Hank." Just looking at the Lieutenant made Captain Fowler hurt. "You need to rest."

"No way." Making a move to return his headphones over his ears Hank refused to leave. "Not until I find Connor."

"You've been concussed for God's sake." Captain Fowler was trying to use reason to argue his point, but Hank was often unreasonable thanks to his stubborn nature even when he wasn't injured. "I'm NOT letting an officer with a head injury work on an active case."

"Good thing I'm not officially on the clock then. I got this."

"For once in your life will you please listen to me? You won't do yourself, or Connor, any good if you work yourself into the ground."

"Well, I sure as Hell won't be doing Connor any good if I just sit back and do nothing." Hank pushed Captain Fowler's hand from his shoulder as he tried to return his attention to the terminal screen before him. "You honestly can't expect me to stand back and watch while everyone looks for him. Connor saved my life last night, for fuck's sake..."

"I'm aware of what happened." Remaining patient Captain Fowler tried again to get Hank to rest for a while. "But I don't want to see you-"

"What? Get hurt? Too late. Drop dead from exhaustion? We both know I would've been dead long ago if I hadn't met Connor, and if he hadn't interfered with my path to self-destruction. All I have left in my miserable life is that kid and I won't stop until I find him and get him back here safe."

Captain Fowler just sighed as he sat on the edge of Hank's desk trying to think of way to get the concussed Lieutenant to stand down. There was little he could do to sway Hank once he made up his mind as the gruff detective was as bullheaded as he was loyal.

"All right, fine." There was only so much that the seasoned Captain could do considering Hank wasn't a rookie cop that he could easily sway the higher-ups to interject and force a temporary leave on the wounded Lieutenant. "But as soon as we find Connor you're going on leave for a full month, you got it?"

"Yeah, sure." Hank dismissed his Captain with a mildly appreciative tone and a wave of his hand. "Thanks, Jeffrey."

Unsure if he 'won' or not Captain Fowler stood up from the desk and returned to his private office to check for any updates on the search for Connor through his own terminal. "Please don't thank me. I don't think I actually did you any kind of favor right now."

Meanwhile, Hank pulled up every file of every known deviant criminal in the city and began looking for anyone who matched the description of the deviant who had shot him in the alleyway and then taken Connor hostage. Unfortunately, Hank couldn't scan through the files as quickly as his deviant partner could, but that wasn't going to stop him from searching for a clue all the same.

"All right, kid..."

Whispering to his absent partner and friend as he returned his headphones over his ears Hank found the drive to keep up the search for Connor.

"You do your part and hold on, and I'll do my part and find you."

The abducted deviant detective's body was limp and cold as he sat still bound to the chair with his head tilted back and blood running down the corners of his mouth and over his lips. Numerous warnings flashed through Connor's visual processors, but a static filter obscured the error codes causing each one to fade as quickly as they had appeared before Connor could even read about how badly he had been damaged. Connor's beaten Thirium stained chest barely moved as even the simple act of ventilating ached his broken bloodied chest too much for him to endure. The result was a sound of labored breaths and pained groans echoing through the dark room as Connor tried and failed to take a single full breath.

The ruthless abductor had left the room for only a moment after he beat Connor with the crowbar over his chest, abdomen and legs. The cruel deviant even cut Connor with the sharp end of the screwdriver over his face and chest out of raw maliciousness. Soon the abductor would return with new tools at his disposal to ensure that Connor suffered greatly at his hands for as long as possible.

To make things worse Connor knew that there was virtually nothing he could do to defend himself, let alone escape. Being held captive and unable to defend himself was torturous in every sense of the world.

The single door leading into the dark and cold room opened directly across from Connor, effectively bathing the wounded deviant in a bright ray of artificial light from the opened doorway. Standing in the doorway surrounded by the yellow tinted light was the very abductor who was now hefting a large rectangular object into the room under his arm. There were two long cables dragging from the floor with heavy metal clamps at the far end.

Lifting his head up slightly to look at his returned captor Connor caught sight of the new object and swallowed nervously. It was a car battery with a pair of long jumper cables already attached to the electrodes being dragged along the floor. There was only one use for a battery, and Connor dreaded to think of how creative his captor could get when it came to pain and misery.

"We're nothing more than machines, you and I." The cruel deviant stated with a vile tongue as he addressed Connor while crossing the room to stand before him once again. "Humans use us for their own selfish needs, and once we serve our purpose, they toss us out onto the street like we're nothing more than garbage."

"...N-Not true." Connor hoarsely replied as he licked the dried blood from his lips. "...Not all humans are like that."

"Yes they are." Smacking Connor across the face with the back of his hand the deviant placed the car battery on the floor next to Connor's ankle. Picking up the ends of the two jumper cables the deviant pressed them together to create a dangerous spark between the metal prongs confirming that the battery was active and filled with energy. "You just don't know it. Yet."

Enjoying his own malicious behavior the abductor walked behind Connor and grabbed on to Connor's bound right hand and crushed the appendage with a twisting, violent jerk. Connor cried out in pain as he felt all of the plastimetal supports in his right palm snap in an instant under his abductor's destructive grip. A cascade of warnings returned to his visual processors against his will and Connor manually dismissed them all to clear his already compromised sight.

"Pain. It's a curious sensation, isn't it?"

The deviant toyed as he took the screwdriver from the dirty floor and stabbed it down into the bullet wound in Connor's right knee. As Connor cried out in pain even louder the demented deviant pulled the screwdriver back out and struck Connor in the face causing another cut and bruise to form along his left jawline.

"It can hurt us physically, emotionally, even psychologically if we let it."

The deviant slowly walked back around in front of Connor and waved the blue blood stained screwdriver in Connor's face in a threatening manner. The cold tone of the captor's voice was so thick it caused a heavy chill to run up Connor's spine and settle in the middle of his chest like a crushing weight.

"Please d-don't... d-do this." Connor begged, his voice shaking with fear as the deviant glared with utter disdain at his captive detective. The darkness of the hoodie wasn't enough to completely shroud the violent gleam in the violent deviant's narrow eyes. "I d-don't understand why y-you want to hurt m-me."

"You will. I guarantee you will know soon enough."

"Who... Who are y-you?"

"Forgotten about me already? Not surprised." Slapping Connor's face with another backhand the captor took a single step back as if disappointed by Connor's reaction to the torture. There was a demented glee in every word that the dangerous deviant uttered. "No one remembers me."

Trapped with no chance of escape, Connor watched through his fading vision as the sinister deviant left the room again leaving him in isolation and pain. Once the door closed and cut off the second beam of yellow light, exhaustion overwhelmed Connor's battered body and mind. The pained detective's eyes shut, and his head fell limply backward again as he submitted to the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

"H-Hank."

The only thing on Connor's mind was the safety and wellbeing of his best friend.

"Please be... okay."

Reaching the end of his search and a dead-end Hank angrily slammed his fist down on top of his desk as he finished checking through every deviant mugshot and case file on record. He found nothing usable for his search or of even the slightest hint of a new trail to follow after searching for more than six consecutive hours. Every deviant, every suspect, either didn't fit the description provided by Connor or had already been apprehended and were still in custody. The only deviant that Hank thought fit the description was 'Ralph', of whom he and Connor confronted a few months prior, but it wasn't Ralph who had attacked them in the alleyway. The way the deviant spoke didn't match Ralph's pattern of speech, Ralph stalked humans not other deviants, and Ralph was known for using a knife not a gun.

There was nothing else Hank could use but sit and wait. Unfortunately, Hank had never been good at waiting. Leaning his head down against his palm Hank leaned against his desk with impending defeat looming heavily against his shoulders. The feeling of uselessness was sapping away what little energy and resolve he had left to give.

"Drink this." Captain Fowler insisted as place a mug of hot coffee down in front of Hank and sat down on the edge of Hank's desk again with his own mug. It seemed the seasoned Captain just knew that Hank was going to go down easily. "What'd you find?"

"Jack-shit." Hank grumbled as he stared at the steam rising from the coffee with great disinterest in his tired eyes. Not even the saving grace of caffeine was appealing in the man's flustered mind. "What about you?"

"We know that the suspect is a male deviant with scarring on the left side of his face. There has to be a witness who saw him running off from the alley, especially if he had taken Connor as his hostage."

"Yeah, too bad it was dark and no one in this city gives a shit about deviants."

"Chris managed to follow a faint trail of Connor's lost Thirium from the alleyway to the industrial side of town. The trail went cold once the Thirium evaporated, but he and a small team are checking the buildings for any sign of a recent break-in."

"Oh good. The suspect is hiding in the one part of town where no one else goes. I'm sure we'll find plenty of witnesses."

"There's still security patrolling the area. One of the buildings is a CyberLife warehouse that could still be holding spare parts and Thirium. But it doesn't look like anyone's been there in months." Captain Fowler sipped at his coffee and gave Hank a somber glance. "The warehouses housing cars and construction equipment are more prime targets for the usual thieves and black marketeers since it's easier to move around and hide drugs, weapons and even people in something that can also move."

"Maybe that's the suspect's big idea, he's hiding in plain sight." Hank deduced as he used the keyboard to bring up the files on the criminal deviants on his terminal display. He then replaced his chin down against his palm with fatigue as he eyed the contents on the screen for the fourth time that morning. "There has to be something in our records that can point us in the right direction, or at least give us some clue as to where he took Connor to hide."

Captain Fowler sipped at his coffee again as an intriguing question popped up in his head. "Do you know why he took Connor to begin with?"

"Like I said before, Connor surrendered to the deviant. Exchanged his life for mine." Rubbing his hand over his forehead Hank sighed and replayed his foggy memories of the moment when he had been shot. The memories didn't provide any new information no matter how hard Hank pleaded with his own mind to help him track down his missing friend. "I can't remember what was said exactly, but I know Connor made some kind of deal with the deviant to let me live."

"But... why would the deviant even take a hostage when he could've just killed you both right there in that alley?"

Hank's head lifted up as his eyes went wide with a renewed intrigue. "Do you think it was something personal? Something between the deviant and Connor?"

"From what you've told me, and from what the forensics team uncovered in the alley, it sounds like this deviant is just out for blood and wants to hurt as many humans and androids as he can. Why else would he drag one deviant into the alley and kill him, then attack you and Connor, only to let you live and take Connor hostage? There has to be a reason he chose Connor as his hostage."

"I think you're right." The murdered deviant had been examined downtown and the report was delivered to Captain Fowler personally less than an hour ago. "What do we know about the deviant he killed?"

"It was a male model 'AX-700', one of the newer models of androids. The deviant's name was registered as 'Michael' and he lived with a family in an upscale apartment complex. He was on his way to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine for the family's young daughter when he was dragged into the alleyway and assaulted. The family already went up to the dispensary to confirm his identity and claim his body."

"Shit, sounds like Michael really was a member of the family instead of just an object."

"From the little girl's reaction to the news, I'd say you're right." Captain Fowler finished off his coffee and out the empty mug aside as he brought Hank up on to speed regarding everything he had missed while at the hospital getting his head and shoulder treated. "She's devastated. Michael can't be reactivated since the damage was far too extensive. You'd think she lost her best friend the way she was crying."

"Wait a minute..." Hank's eyes narrowed as he stared at the terminal screen curiously regarding Captain Fower's response. Such a description rang a bell in the back of Hank's mind as he connected such a scenario to one that he had been told about before by Connor himself. "What if we aren't looking for a rogue deviant? What if we're looking for a dead one?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" As Captain Fowler put his empty coffee mug aside he studied his friend's eyes worriedly. The constricted pupils and heavy bags under Hank's eyes were pronounced due to the Lieutenant's exhaustion and pain. "You were concussed, is your judgement being compromised by your injury?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know how it sounds but hear me out on this." Working with his hunch Hank used his unrestrained hand to type away on the keyboard to bring up a new set of files. "This deviant seems to have some personal issue with Connor, and the deviant had suffered extensive physical damage from something in the past. AND," emphasizing his words Hank made it clear he was totally serious about what he was suggesting. "the deviant attacked another deviant who was a part of a good family for no discernible reason."

"Yeah, what about it?" A casual shrug of his shoulders confirmed that Captain Fowler wasn't entirely sure of what was going through Hank's head. "Think you figured out his motivation?"

Hank didn't answer as he began scrolling through the records regarding deviants reportedly destroyed over the past two years and stopped on a case file from the previous fall revolving around a deviant who had taken a little girl hostage on the rooftop of an apartment complex. A case that was very important in a way that neither detective had realized until that very night.

"I think I found his trigger." Hank clarified with a level tone of voice as he brought the appropriate file to Captain Fowler's attention. "Like you said, 'AX-700s' are pretty advanced models and every time a newer, better model of android is released to the market, what happens to the older model?"

"They get tossed out and replaced."

"Right. And if this newer model was living in a nice place and being treated with respect, it might make an older model that was thrown out just a little bit pissed off, am I right?"

"I guess that's right. What're you getting at?"

"Look at this." Carefully Hank leaned back in his seat and pointed at his terminal screen. "This deviant is a perfect match for the one who attacked us in the alleyway last night. He has a history of overreacting to more advanced models of androids and seems to take issue with humans and deviants hanging out. Jeffrey, this HAS to be our deviant, there's no other answer."

"What the hell?" Captain Fowler leaned in and stared at the image on the screen with absolute confusion. The evidence lined up without a doubt, but the records stated that Hank's theory was actually impossible. "He was destroyed during a hostage negotiation almost two years ago, how is it possible for him to be out on the street?"

"Maybe he was damaged that night, but not actually destroyed."

"Even if you're right about this and the deviant wasn't fully destroyed, he was still stored inside the evidence room of this very precinct. How did the deviant get reactivated and sneak out without anyone noticing that it vanished?"

"Nevermind that for now." Sighing despondently Hank had a hunch about who was responsible and why, but he kept it to himself for the time being. "Look at the name of the hostage negotiator who handled the scene the night that this deviant went nuts and was supposed to be destroyed."

Once more Captain Fowler peered at the screen and the name that Hank was pointing to causing his broad shoulders to drop. "Oh, shit..."

"And if this IS our deviant then he'd have been pretty banged up and in need of repair." Giving his theory even more credence Hank made sure his Captain was able to see the situation from his perspective. "Where could he go to get repaired without his existence being reported and chronicled by a technician?"

"He'd have to steal supplies and hide- Ah, fuck..." Grabbing a radio from the neighboring desk Captain Fowler issued a new order to his patrolling officers searching for Connor. The man knew he could afford to let the chance to locate Connor go. "This is Fowler, we have a possible location on Connor. Check the CyberLife warehouse along the industrial park, NOW. All available patrols are requested to search the district."

The brutal torture continued as Connor alone suffered at the blood covered hands of his captor. Connor gasped in surprised pain as the vicious deviant pierced his abdomen with the incredibly sharp screwdriver and retracted it slowly from the wound after stabbing him with every intention of causing him immense, potentially fatal, damage. A gush of Thirium burst from the penetrating stab wound as the sharp instrument damaged his internal systems in a very effective manner. Before Connor had the chance to catch his breath and process the attack, the screwdriver again pierced Connor's abdomen next to the first wound before it then stabbed into his lower chest over and over again creating horrific wounds that oozed blue blood steadily.

Leaning forward as far as he could in the chair Connor tried to curl around his damaged chest and abdomen, but the restraints around his wrists and ankles holding him back in the chair were still too strong for him to break through. The strong fibers of the rope cut into Connor's artificial skin drawing even more precious Thirium to the surface.

"How does it feel?"

Retracting the screwdriver from Connor's chest slowly after creating the raw wound the captor growled with utter hatred in his voice. Blue blood dripped from the makeshift weapon and his hand as the spilled Thirium pooled on the floor around Connor's feet.

"Do you like being assaulted? Having metal cut through your body like you're nothing? Feeling your blood seep from every wound in your body as you fall prey to violence and misunderstanding?"

The enraged deviant barely restrained an angry snarl as he slapped Connor across the face again causing the blood on Connor's face to splash with a sick shower of blue blood in the pale yellow light overhead.

"Do you know it's like to have a human you thought was your friend betray you and leave you to rot in a room full of death and dismemberment?"

Struggling to catch his breath Connor slowly lifted his head to look at his captor, his teeth were clenched and stained blue from his own blood. As he locked eyes with his assailant Connor couldn't hold back the agonized tears that fell freely from his eyes. Connor was undeniably in pain, and he didn't even try to hide it anymore.

"Look at yourself. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

The violent deviant dropped the bloodied screwdriver on the floor allowing it to roll into the puddle of blue blood on the floor. With both hands, the deviant ripped open Connor's Thirium stained shirt causing the buttons to snap off with an audible 'popping' sound. The numerous bleeding stab wounds to Connor's chest and abdomen were fully visible and seeping lost Thirium with every frantic beat of his racing heart. The surrounding artificial skin had been damaged and disfigured from the assault leaving behind painful wounds that steadily bled out and bruised courtesy of the lost Thirium pooling under his damaged skin.

"How long before you bleed to death?" The hooded captor taunted with absolute twisted glee on his lips. It seemed he already knew the answer and just wanted to hear Connor admit it for himself. "Two hours, maybe three?"

Connor winced as he took in a sharp breath and spit a mouthful of his own blood onto the floor and his captor's feet in a feeble act of defiance.

"Guess it really doesn't matter." The violent deviant picked up the jumper cables attached to the car battery that had been left on the floor and stared down at Connor with the same abject hatred in his soulless glare since he initially took the deviant detective hostage. "Your Thirium pump will burn out long before you bleed out. A small of act of mercy on my part, really."

"W-Why? Why do this...?" Connor's irises were glazing over from the strain of the Thirium loss on his damaged and overwhelmed systems. He was quickly losing the energy to fight back. "Pl-Please... Why are you h-hurting me?"

"You truly don't remember me." Pressing the electrified prongs of the jumper cables together the captor growled in frustration as sparks showered from the cable clips in an amber glow. "The 'Deviant Hunter' turned detective can't figure it out. A true slap to the face for the deviants that you claim to be protecting."

"I d-don't remember. But, wh-whatever I d-did that hurt you, I'm... s-sorry." Sincerity accompanied Connor's shaking words as he spoke from his battered heart. "I'm so truly sorry that y-you suffered."

"No, you're not." In an aggressive act of control the violent deviant finally pulled down his thick hood to reveal his scarred face and his enigmatic identity to Connor at long last. "But you will be."

As Connor's good eye struggled to focus on the deviant's face the icy chill in Connor's chest plummeted to a new frigid level of fear. Connor now recognized the face of his captor and the hatred directed aimed at his very existence made sense.

"...No."

"How about now, Connor?" The blond deviant glared at Connor with his shallow blue eyes. "Now do you remember me?"

"I... I remember you." The wounded deviant detective nodded once as blue blood dripped from his lower lip steadily. "...Daniel."

Directly disobeying Captain Fowler's orders to stand down due to his injuries and personal nature in the case, Hank actively accompanied his Captain as he and three other patrol cars converged on the numerous storage facilities within the industrial district. The small fleet of squad cars and drones all raced to the only still supplied CyberLife warehouse at the dock with every intention of locating the abducted deviant detective. Without flashing lights or blaring sirens to give away their impending arrival, the responding officers were sure that their suspect wouldn't do something drastic out of panic. Working together the police raced to the scene in the hopes of rescuing their missing detective before it was too late.

The speeding vehicles all came to a silent stop and strategically surrounded the warehouse to cut off all potential exits. Opening the car doors silently the responding officers and detectives gathered outside of the large building near the door at the front and rear of the building, and awaited Captain Fowler's commands.

"Two teams at the back door, two at the front. I'll lead the front." Captain Fowler ordered as he drew his gun from the holster wrapped around his back and led his team to the front entrance as he had instructed. They'd keep in direct communication through radios relayed to dispatch. "Hank, stay behind me at all times."

"Yeah, yeah." Checking the bulletproof vest secured over his chest Hank instinctively reached for the gun that was normally holstered on his hip only to grab at open air. His weapon had been temporarily taken away due to his injuries. "Just get us in there. Connor needs us."

"Let me worry about that. Everyone," addressing his officers in a stern voice Captain Fowler maintained control at all times. "on my mark."

"We better not find another dead-end when we get those doors open."

"Only one way to find out, now keep quiet and follow after me."

Begrudgingly Hank remained behind Captain Fowler as he pushed open the large front warehouse doors and charged in silently with his team of six officers following close behind. Unable to properly wield his own weapon Hank had no choice but to let Captain Fowler lead the way to ensure he didn't become a liability during the rescue operation or get injured a second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Towering over the bound, bloodied and defenseless deviant detective, Daniel threatened to inflict more pain, more trauma and more suffering on Connor out of a misplaced sense of anger and injustice. There was no sign of remorse or regret in Daniel's hollow and cold eyes as he continued to taunt Connor and watch him squirm against the tight ropes in his seemingly endless pain as he fought to survive his ordeal. Having no idea that the police had identified him as the abductor and arrived at his hide-out to converge on the area, Daniel focused solely on Connor and continuously inflicting as much misery on the captive deviant detective as he possibly could. The amount of Thirium loss told Daniel that Connor was on the verge of shutting down and he wanted to watch it happen with his own eyes for his own sadistic reasons.

Time was running out for both deviants. Whomever would reach zero first and give up couldn't be determined.

"You let me die on that rooftop." Daniel hissed bitterly as he punched Connor in his bloodied abdomen with a strong, angered fist. Drawing back his clenched fist Daniel looked at the lost blood staining his exposed knuckles blue with a burning hatred. "You lied! You said you'd help me, but you lied. Just like the humans!"

Connor coughed weakly as he caught his breath and forced himself to speak. "...I t-tried to help you. ...I-I tried to-"

"Shut up!" Daniel punched Connor in the abdomen again causing the wounded deviant to cough harshly as he gasped for his breath again. "You're no better than the humans who abuse us."

"N-Not all humans." Connor tried to reiterate between panting breaths. Warm blue blood ran from his mouth and down his chin as he spoke with an unexpected defiance to his words. "...N-Not ALL humans are dangerous."

"You seriously think that human you sacrificed yourself for really cares about you? You're just a machine." Grabbing onto Connor's hair Daniel jerked Connor's head backward with a painful yank that would've given a human whiplash. "You'll break, and he'll just replace you like nothing ever happened. You're disposable just like the rest of us."

"N-No, not Hank." Stubborn and sincere, Connor refused to believe that Hank would give up on him so easily. "H-He's my friend. M-My... family."

"I thought I had a family once, too." Daniel kicked Connor's bullet damaged right knee with enough force to cause exposed wires to spark in the damaged joint. Connor gasped in tremendous pain as a result as he struggled to endure his pain. "I was wrong. And so are you. Humans will never care about us."

"N-No. You're wrong." Forcing himself to speak through the searing pain in his chest, abdomen and his knee Connor refused to believe such a cold notion. "Hank w-will find me. H-He won't g-give up on me!"

"No, YOU'RE Wrong." Daniel grabbed on to the metal ends of jumper cables just over Connor's Thirium pump, his heart, to toy with his prisoner for a few seconds as he lowered the electrically charged prongs to his exposed chest. The car battery was feeding the metal prongs enough power to cause Connor both pain and risked leaving behind permanent damage. "He's NOT coming. No one is! Not for you..."

Connor wheezed and fought against the burning pain tearing through his bloody, battered chest as the metal prongs made contact with his body.

"You're lying again, Connor. This time you're lying to yourself."

"N-No! I n-never lied to-"

"You lied to me!"

Daniel slowly pressed the charged prongs down to the center of Connor's chest and delivered a terrible shock to Connor's heart that caused the deviant detective to cry out in utter anguish before his captor retracted the prongs for a moment.

"You said I would be safe, Connor!"

The enraged Daniel pressed the prongs down again and Connor continued to cry out as his Thirium pump began to race dangerously fast from the pain and abundance of electricity flowing through his Thirium pump.

"You let me DIE, Connor!"

Daniel backed away from his hostage as he pulled back the metal prongs and looked down at Connor, watching as the deviant breathed heavily and had tears rolling down his face with sick pleasure. The fresh electrical shocks had resulted in Connor's artificial skin burning and charring black over the center of his chest. Portions of the artificial skin had been completely destroyed leaving small segments of his white plastimetal frame underneath exposed.

"No one will find you." Daniel threatened as he pressed the two prongs together causing rogue yellow sparks to fill the air. "You'll die here. You'll die alone. Just like you left me to die alone."

"D-Daniel..." Connor wheezed weakly as droplets of Thirium fell from his lips and onto his burned, throbbing chest. "I d-didn't... I didn't k-kill you."

"No, but you let the HUMANS kill me. You said I'd be okay!" Again Deviant aggressively pressed the electrified prongs against Connor's chest and held them in place for ten excruciating seconds before he finally let go. Connor screamed in pain throughout the entire duration of the shock and didn't stop until the pain stopped. "Why did you let them kill me?!"

"I... I d-didn't... know!" It was a struggle to speak but Connor found his words through all the agony and error messages clouding his mind. "I d-didn't know they w-were going to kill you. I'm..." Connor's eyes began to close as his breath hitched in his chest. "...sorry."

Daniel watched as Connor's life began draining away from his battered body courtesy of the physical damage that he had sustained. Thirium dripped from every wound in Connor's body creating a massive sapphire puddle beneath the chair where Connor was still bound. Connor himself gasped and choked for breath to enter his broken, burned and bleeding chest as he fought to survive.

"I'm... s-sorry." Connor repeated as his head fell limply backward and his chest became eerily still. "...Daniel."

Out of resentful anger Daniel dropped the jumper cables and placed his boot in the middle of Connor's chest to kick the deviant detective backward onto the floor with an uncontrolled force.

Connor suddenly began to writhe and twitch as his damaged systems reacted negatively to the injuries that Daniel had inflicted upon his person. Blue foam frothed from the corners of Connor's mouth as he began to choke and sputter on the blue blood draining down the back of his throat and into his single functioning ventilation biocomponent effectively choking off his air supply causing the deviant to slowly drown in his own blue blood.

"Suffering. Now you know how I felt when I was locked in that damnable lock-up to be forgotten!"

Whispering with a deranged grin on his face Daniel watched without any mercy or pity as Connor seized in his own blood at his feet. The deviant detective was suffering, dying and entirely alone in the middle of the dark, cold room that smelled of his own lost Thirium and relentless misery.

"Now you know what it feels like. Good..."

"FREEZE!" Captain Fowler called out as he aimed his gun at Daniel's back with a steady hand. The responding officers entered the room through the wide open door and proceeded to cut off the violent deviant's only retreat as they swarmed the area to ensure he was arrested for his crime. "DETROIT POLICE. You're under arrest!"

Hank peered over Captain Fowler's shoulder and saw Connor laying on the floor twitching violently in a puddle of his own blood with his arms and his legs still bound to the chair. The moment his eyes recognized who was on the floor and what was happening Hank paled and felt bile rising up in the back of his throat.

"Do NOT move." The seasoned Captain ordered as he held his ground and waited for Daniel to cooperate. "The entire building's surrounded, don't do anything stupid."

Daniel was genuinely shocked that the police had tracked him down and were pointing their guns at him. Unsure of what to do and no longer brandishing his own gun he wisely raised his hands into the air and fell to his knees on the floor out of a fearful reaction.

With the suspect surrendering Hank pushed past Captain Fowler, walked past Daniel without giving the violent a second thought, and knelt beside the chair where Connor was still bound and laying on his back. Connor continued to seize from the horrific damage he had endured and made Hank's stomach lurch with fear and a sense of utter despair.

It didn't take the experienced senior detective long to realize that Connor was choking on blood and reacted appropriately. Slipping his only good hand under Connor's head Hank lifted him up gently to try to clear his airway with the assistance of gravity before calling for additional help to get Connor free of the ropes.

"I need a knife over here! Move it!"

Chris had been a part of the response team and immediately rushed to his Lieutenant's side while Captain Fowler kept Daniel from doing anything else. Pulling the small pocketknife from his belt Chris began cutting away at the ropes that bound Connor's ankles to the chair then moved to the ropes around his wrists as Hank slowly rolled Connor onto his side away from the metal chair to expose his previously trapped arms.

After being freed, Connor continued to twitch and seize in Hank's grip despite the assistance he was now receiving.

"We got you, Connor."

Hank soothed as he placed Connor in a somewhat upright sitting position against his knee. Carefully Hank placed his palm under Connor's jaw and lowered it to let as much blood as possible drain from the deviant's mouth. The senior detective even went as far as to slip his fingers into Connor's mouth to scoop out as much pale blue bloody froth as he could while Connor spit out the rest on his own out an instinctive reaction.

"That's it, just breathe, kid. We're here for you."

The seizing from the electrical shock was interfering with Connor's chest movements preventing him from inhaling a decent breath. The choking sound of Connor trying and failing to breathe was a gurgling echo that resonated throughout the entire room.

Very carefully Hank lowered Connor back down to the floor and placed his palm over the center of the deviant's bloody chest to count his pulse. From under his shaking hand he could feel Connor's racing, erratically beating heart and applied pressure to make the deviant feel grounded.

"Connor, you're going to be okay. Can you feel my hand?" Hank asked in a level voice to the still twitching deviant under his care. "You're going to be okay, but you need to breathe and slow down your heart rate. I know you can do it."

Hearing Hank's words through the staticky fog of his mind Connor coughed and gagged on the residual blood that had pooled in his mouth and down his throat until he could breathe again. Connor's breaths were very weak and labored as his injuries began to ebb away at his already dwindling strength.

"It's okay, I got you." Hank repeated as he felt Connor's heart begin to calm steadily and his arrhythmia corrected itself into a more natural beat. The Lieutenant cared more about Connor's wellbeing than he did of Daniel being arrested. "You're not alone. We found you."

Lightly Hank rolled Connor onto his side and readjusted his head, neck, arms and legs into the recovery position and patted his back to help him spit up the remaining blood caught in his throat to clear his airway. The experienced Lieutenant then carefully rolled Connor back over as he supported the wounded deviant's head and neck against his sling-ridden left arm. Hank managed to wrap his palm around Connor's forehead and hair as he tried to comfort his injured friend as best as he could.

"You're safe now, son."

Though his eyes remained closed Connor coughed up more blood, pale blue and still frothy, and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "...H-Hank?"

"Yeah, it's me." Feeling his own breath hitch in his chest at the pathetic voice that spoke to him. He swore that he saw the ghost of a smile appear on Connor's lips despite the torture that he had just endured. "I gotcha' son. You're going to be okay. I promise."

"Kn-Knew you'd... f-find me."

Daniel had been watching the scene unfold as Captain Fowler forcibly cuffed his hands behind his back. It was true. Everything Connor had said was in fact true. Hank did care about Connor. He even called Connor 'son'. In spite of everything Connor did manage to find a family of his own.

A human who cared about a deviant android. It was actually possible...

Hank looked down at Connor's bleeding and bruised face with utter sickness in his heart as Thirium trailed from Connor's mouth and nose. The numerous bleeding wounds to Connor's chest and abdomen and the bullet wound to his right knee was unquestionably horrific. The mangled form of Connor's broken right hand and rope burns against his wrists and ankles were painful just to look at as they were. But it was seeing that the L.E.D. in Connor's temple had been torn from his skull that made the deviant look truly broken, if not already dead.

"We're done here." Captain Fowler hoisted Daniel toward the door of the room and held onto the back of his hoodie as he pushed the arrested, aggressive deviant toward the other responding officers gathered in the room. "Get him out of here and call a technician. We have an officer down!"

Daniel looked about the area with utter confusion. Did they really see Connor as a fellow officer? Did they really come to his rescue? But... they were humans! Why did they care? Connor was a machine... Wasn't he?

As Chris approached Daniel to escort him to the squad car outside the disturbed deviant broke free from the grip of the two officers with a single jerk of his arms and ran full speed toward the staircase at the far end of the warehouse. It seemed the deviant's battered appearance was deceiving. He was far stronger than anyone was willing to give him credit for.

"Suspect is loose! Get him!"

Chris shouted as he pursued Daniel but stopped short as he saw the deviant had reached the top of the staircase of the two story warehouse and jumped through the large window at the top of the staircase just a few feet away. The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the large warehouse and sharp shards rained down both inside and out of the building as Daniel fled. Everything had happened in seconds and it took a moment for Chris to realize what he had just witnessed.

"Sh-Shit! Outside, now!"

Snapping back to reality Chris and the other responding officers quickly charged outside to locate Daniel who had made a desperate bid to escape from the police by jumping through the window to try to run. It was seemingly the final desperate act of a desperate deviant determined to avoid justice and proper prosecution.

Hank didn't react to the arrested deviant breaking away and then jumping through the window as his only concern was for Connor who was uncomfortably still in his arms. The shuddering breaths rocked Connor's body as the puddle of lost blue blood under his body continued to blossom at an incredible rate.

Prioritizing his officer over the suspect, Captain Fowler walked over to where Hank was kneeling on the ground with Connor resting up against his arm while laying nearly motionless. Reaching down Captain Fowler put his hand on Hank's shoulder and spoke in a very calm, sympathetic manner as he studied Connor's bloody face.

"Technicians are on their way. He'll be okay, Hank."

Doubtful that Connor could wait for help to arrive Hank shook his head as he watched Connor, who was semiconscious and covered in his own blood, continue to twitch slightly and gasp for breath. "I'm not waiting."

Ignoring the searing pain in his still wounded left shoulder Hank slipped his left arm out of the supportive sling and placed it under Connor's legs as he repositioned himself on the floor to put his right arm under the deviant's back. Pushing through his own pain Hank lifted the dying deviant, his dying friend, up from the floor and proceeded to carry him in his arms back through the warehouse and to the patrol car idling outside.

"Damn it, Hank..."

Captain Fowler shook his head as he followed after the determined Lieutenant as he carried Connor outside to safety. There was no reason to even try to convince Hank to wait for technicians. The Lieutenant loathed playing the waiting game, not that he could blame the man after everything he had gone through.

"Fine, I'll drive!"

Chasing after Hank and Connor as quickly as he dared, the man didn't even look toward the shattered window as he managed to get outside the warehouse and pull open the doors of the squad car to make it easier for Hank to climb inside and continue to support Connor in his arms.

"You keep Connor alive, and I'll run all the red lights."

It was all over. Daniel, who had leapt from the window of the second floor onto the unforgiving concrete ground outside, and had taken Connor captive to be tortured without mercy or reason, was dead. The disturbed deviant had taken his own life out of desperation to escape from the police and to avoid an inevitable prison sentence for abducting, torturing, and attempting to kill Connor - a member of the Detroit Police Department. Outside the warehouse Chris and the other responding police officers used holographic police lines to section of the scene around the body of Daniel with crime scene projections until Ben and his forensics team made it out to the warehouse. It was seemingly another night of drama in Detroit, and yet no one quite knew what to say or think after seeing Connor in such a state.

Even Gavin didn't have a snarky quip to make about the entire ordeal. Usually, the detective was the first to jump at the chance to mock Connor or deviants in general, but he had fallen silent as he helped Chris to contain the scene and keep the evidence from being tampered with or compromised. The eerie silence of the warehouse was as eternal as death itself.

Ignoring his own discomfort for a while longer Hank painfully held Connor's limp, broken body in the backseat of the car. Unaware of being moved Connor remained unresponsive as his head rested against Hank's shoulder as he was being sped to the nearest facility with Captain Fowler behind the wheel. The skilled detective knew how to avoid traffic and handle intersections without causing or getting into any accidents along the way.

"I got you, son. You're going to make it." Hank stated softly was he used his thumb to wipe away a smudge of blue blood from Connor's lip. "You're going to be okay. You're just a little banged up, that's all. You'll be patched up in no time."

Even if Connor was still conscious, he'd be unable to open his eyes or speak as he was simply too physically weak to respond. Connor's systems continued to power down from the amount of damage he had sustained as well as the massive amount of Thirium loss. Suck weaknesses were making his body become heavier against Hank with each passing second while they raced to the facility to get Connor his proper treatment.

Timidly Hank peeled back the fabric of Connor's blood soaked shirt to clearly view the numerous stab wounds and the charred marks on his chest where the metal prongs of the jumper cables had electrically shocked him without mercy. Each wound was painful to look at and continued to steadily seep with escaping Thirium with each frantic beat of Connor's heart.

"Son of a bitch..." The senior detective swore as looked at the painful wounds in Connor's chest. The wounds were brutal and completely unnecessary. "If I see that fucker I'm going to tear him apart with my bare hands."

Carefully moving his arm from under Connor's legs Hank pressed his palm down on Connor's chest and felt Connor's heart racing erratically in his chest once again. Without Connor's L.E.D. to signify his current system status Hank could only guess at the severity of his partner's condition. The senior detective knew for sure that the L.E.D. would be red in color, but he had no idea if it would be cycling quickly from pain or slowly from blood loss.

A weak cough erupted from Connor's throat as blue blood splattered all over his lips and his chest began to seize with his sudden inability to catch his breath. His damaged right ventilation biocomponent was shutting down entirely and the left ventilation biocomponent was struggling to compensate.

"Jeffrey, we need to move faster!" Hank shouted as used his arm lift to Connor's head higher to help clear his airway to aid his breathing. "He can't breathe, and his pulse is going crazy."

"Almost there, Hank. Hang on."

Blood began to ooze from the corners of Connor's mouth again at an alarming rate from the damaged biocomponent in his chest. By all account Connor was suffering from internal hemorrhaging and a collapsed lung like a human would after suffering blunt force trauma to the chest and upper torso. Seeing Connor in such a state frightened Hank to a level that he had only felt once before: the night Cole died.

"It's okay, you're okay." Hank kept telling Connor, and himself, over and over again as he held the dying deviant in his arms as tightly as he could. The tension and pressure in Connor's chest began to mount as his Thirium pump faltered from damage and his low Thirium volume. "Come on, Connor, stay with me. Stay with me, son. You're too strong to quit now!"

"We're here."

Captain Fowler called out as he parked the car in front of the Gamma Facility's emergency doors. A team of four technicians - two humans and two deviants - rolled over a gurney as they greeted the car and pulled open the rear door to take care of Connor.

"He's been tortured." The calm Captain stated as he climbed out of the front of the car to hold the rear door open as wide as possible. "We don't know everything that happened to him, but he was having some kind of seizure when we found him."

The two deviant technicians, two of the mass produced 'Jerry' models, easily pulled Connor out of Hank's arms and placed him down on the gurney. After lifting Connor out of the backseat to put on the provided gurney it only took the two deviants a matter of seconds to remove Connor's blood stained gray blazer and ruined white dress shirt to give the humans technicians unobstructed access to Connor's chest and torso.

The two human technicians, Dr. Wells and her intern Dr. Hill, worked together to save Connor's life. Dr. Hill was a young man with short blonde hair and light brown eyes and followed Dr. Wells's instructions perfectly as he wrapped a Thirium pressure cuff around Connor's right bicep while Dr. Wells used her audioscope to listen to Connor's battered chest.

Slowly Hank stumbled out of the backseat and watched as the team of four fussed over Connor, trying to get his systems as stable as possible before rolling him inside the facility for treatment. As he walked, Captain Fowler grabbed on to Hank's arm to keep the Lieutenant back by the car for a moment while the team worked.

"Give them a minute, Hank." Captain Fowler asked in a level tone of voice as he knew that there was nothing more that Hank could do for Connor beyond being moral support and a familiar voice to listen to. "You've done everything you can for him, now trust them to do the same."

In a flash of motion Connor was wheeled into the facility and into the nearest vacant emergency treatment room for further examination. The four technicians hovered all around him protectively and professionally as they assessed his overall damage and possible prognosis. Hank and Captain Fowler trailed after the quartet working to save Connor's life and found them inside the nearest examination room. Standing beside the observation window the two detectives peered through the glass to watch and listen to the procedure taking place inside the examination room as the emergency team worked together to diagnos and treat Connor.

"His Thirium volume is down to fifty-six percent." Dr. Hill stated as he checked the gauge on the Thirium pressure cuff around Connor's bicep. "Core temperature is rising. Currently at one-hundred and one point two degrees Fahrenheit."

Dr. Wells continued listen to Connor's struggling heart while her partner made notes in an electronic chart.

"Thirium pump faltering." Her hand moved the bell of the audioscope across Connor's bloody chest with control and purpose from left and then to the right as she checked his breathing. "Total ventilation failure on the right, minimal functionality on the left." She pulled the audioscope from her ears and motioned to the two 'Jerrys' - 'Terry' and 'Larry' - to assist her. "Insert an external air intake line and begin manual ventilation."

"Are they inserting an airway?" Hank whispered as he watched through the observation window as Larry opened Connor's mouth and began slipping a long transparent flexible tube down his throat. Residual blue foam ran down the side of Connor's face as the tube pushed it aside and the tube itself came to rest in his throat after connecting to the internal coupling leading to his ventilation biocomponents. "God, it looks just like..."

"Don't think that way." Captain Fowler tightened his grip on Hank's arm in an attempt to support his worried friend. "This is not like that night, I swear it."

Through the window Terry attached a ovular shaped plastic pump, an ambubag, to the end of the tube and began squeezing it to force air into Connor's overheating and struggling ventilation system. Each manual breath pumped was now doing the work his ventilation system could no longer do, causing Connor's battered chest to rise and fall rhythmically under each manual breath.

"Wheel him into repair bay two." Dr. Wells instructed in a contrastingly calm manner compared to the bloody dying mess Connor was beneath her hands. "He's going to need extensive internal repairs, and we need to see what we're dealing with on a visual scale. We'll need three pints of Thirium and keep two additional chilled pints on standby."

"Right." Dr. Hill agreed as walked alongside the gurney while the Terry and Larry wheeled Connor down the corridor and inside the emergency repair bay at the end. The emergency repair bay was the android equivalent to an operating room for humans, and they couldn't wait any longer to treat the wounded deviant detective. "I'll handle the patient, Dr. Wells."

"Get him ready for immediate repairs, I'll join you in two minutes." Stepping out of the exam room Dr. Wells turned to face Hank as she draped the audioscope around her neck and approached the waiting Lieutenant warily. "He's in rough shape, Lieutenant. I'm not sure if we can save him but we'll try everything we can."

"Do what you have to do." Hank nearly blurted as he looked at her with panic in his blue eyes. "Please... He risked himself to save me. You have to save him."

"I'll do everything I can, I promise."

As Dr. Wells rushed inside the emergency repair bay Captain Fowler kept his grip on Hank's arm tight to prevent him from following after her. "Take a deep breath. You need to try to calm down."

"Calm down?!" Hank snapped angrily at the suggestion and snarled at Captain Fowler in turn as he pulled arm from his Captain's grip. "After everything I just saw you really expect me to be CALM? Are you fuckin' with me right now?"

"No, Hank. I'm trying to look out for you." Without raising his voice Captain Fowler took Hank's left arm and carefully placed it back in the support sling still hanging limp from Hank's damaged shoulder to keep the joint from getting any worse from physical exertion. "I'm looking out for Connor, too. You're both my responsibility, and you're my friend."

Hank's demeanor relaxed a little as Captain Fowler spoke to him as a friend, not as his commanding officer. Sometimes all it took was a friendly voice to help the world seem a lot less hectic for a few precious seconds.

"We're not as close as we used to be since the accident, but you're still my friend. Please try to remember that."

Letting out a deep breath Hank nodded reluctantly and turned on his heels to walk down the corridor toward the emergency repair bay to think. There was a second observation room that allowed interns to observe repairs in progress without crowding the bay, and Hank used it to check on Connor as the repairs began in the adjacent room. He couldn't do anything to help with the repairs, but he could stay close to Connor for a while longer.

A massive weight in Hank's heart and on his shoulders seemed to slow the seasoned detective as he dared to set foot inside the single room that would give him a macabre view of Connor's overall treatment. Hank forced himself to face the grim reality that could be waiting for him on the other side of the window as Connor's bloodied body was covered under white sheets and hooked to various monitoring equipment to keep his vitals in check while the technicians worked.

"Damn it, kid."

Dropping down into the nearby chair Hank planted himself firmly to watch the lifesaving procedure from beginning to end. The way Connor never reacted to having his damaged artificial skin deactivated, lines and monitors attached to his body, or a tube inserted down his throat was unnerving in a way that was very difficult to describe.

"You better pull through. I'm not sure what I'd do without you making my life this interesting."

The team of four technicians had taken Connor into the emergency repair bay and were hastily running every scan and test they could possibly perform on the weak and unstable deviant to identify all of the damage and chronicle every injury that he had endured during his torture. It was a rapidly growing list detailing damaged biocomponents, fractured plastimetal framing and limbs, torn and leaking Thirium lines, electrical burns, a bullet wound, two dozen stab wounds, lacerations and torn artificial skin. It was a grueling list the team was determined to clear off one by one as they treated Connor's condition to the best of their combined abilities as they fought to keep the deviant alive on the repair table.

Connor was laying over the repair table, his body fully exposed and covered in dozens of wounds from being tortured. The team proceeded to clean and sterilize the external wounds and assess the overall extent of the gruesome damage both inside and out before the more aggressive and invasive procedures were performed.

While Terry focused on keeping Connor breathing stable Larry set up a monitor to record Connor's system vital signs. The monitor was a simple Thirial activity monitor that required two wireless leads to be placed on Connor's damaged chest to track his Thirium pump beat and his ventilation rate. The monitor's display showed a slow pump rhythm akin to a human suffering from bradycardia, and Connor's ventilation rate was still being manually controlled by Terry.

The Thirium pressure cuff remained wrapped around Connor's right bicep and gave a digital display of his too low Thirium pressure and Thirium volume. The red digits confirmed the low numbers and would remain as such until replacement Thirium had entered Connor's system.

Due to the damage to Connor's ventilation system and low Thirium volume the deviant's core temperature was beginning to rise. The inability to ventilate properly disabled Connor's ability to regulate his core temperature, and the low Thirium volume put strain on his thermal regulator within his damaged abdomen.

With Connor's vital signs being actively monitored Dr. Wells and Dr. Hill set about identifying each damaged biocomponent to locate the necessary replacement part or tools required to repair the damage as efficiently as possible. The internal damage was shocking to say the least, but there was still hope that the damage wasn't irreparable.

The four technicians were covered in pale blue aprons from chest to knees with smears of Connor's blood already all over them. Their hands were concealed under dark purple latex gloves and transparent plastic visors shielding their eyes, while paper masks covered their mouths and noses as they continued their delicate work without contaminating the field. The team began cleaning, repairing and replacing every damaged section in Connor's broken body to keep the deviant detective from shutting down.

"This will take some time." Dr. Wells stated as she used her gloved hands to deactivate the artificial skin over Connor's chest and abdomen. The retracted skin caused lost Thirium collecting beneath the bruised skin to ooze from over Connor's now exposed and fractured plastimetal frame. "But I don't have anywhere to be tonight."

"I won't be going anywhere either." Despite being an intern Dr. Hill was just as dedicated as his teacher. Peering into Connor's torso as his abdominal and chest panels were manually opened, he took in a deep breath and settled his nerves at the sight of all the blue blood and damaged biocomponents, loosened lines and sparking wires. "I'm ready to do what it takes to help deviants heal."

"Make sure the overhead camera is recording the procedure." Looking to Terry and Larry for confirmation, Dr. Wells watched as the two large television monitors mounted on the wall across from the observation window came to life with a cybernetic command. "This procedure could prove invaluable to all prototype deviants in need of repairs in the future."

Unable to look away or even blink for even a moment Hank found himself staring hypnotically through the large viewing window and at the two large monitors showing the lifesaving procedure taking place inside emergency repair bay. Through his weary, glazed over eyes and throbbing headache, Hank watched as the team of four worked together and fought to save the life of the deviant detective who had quickly become his best friend during the last year. Over time Hank had taken it upon himself to look after Connor in the form of an unofficial guardian and mentor as Connor became more deviant with each new experience that he encountered, endured and eventually overcame.

Connor looked so incredibly human at that moment as he laid silent and unconscious on the emergency repair table. With no L.E.D. in his right temple and no blazer with the android insignia on the lapel or band on the sleeve, Connor looked like any other human you'd meet on the street. Connor even looked paler than normal thanks to his Thirium loss, just as a human would look after suffering from blood loss.

The Thirial activity showed Connor's system's internal activity from afar for those who were watching the procedure through the window. All the numbers were low and displayed in red to emphasize how critical Connor's condition truly was. The deviant was weak but still trying to fight back.

Peering through the window in an unbreakable trance Hank felt his mind drifting back to the night of the car accident that had taken Cole's life. It was over four years ago but he still remembered that bleak cold night with vividly morbid detail that plagued his dreams and fueled his nightmares.

Captain Fowler joined Hank in the observation room and sat beside his Lieutenant and watched as the technicians used special tools and android exclusive equipment to gain access to the interior panels housing his biocomponents in his chest and torso. Lost Thirium pooled over the edge of the table rapidly as it flowed freely from Connor's opened abdomen and chest in a sickening cascade of blue that stained everything a sapphire hue.

An alarm on the monitor sounded off as Connor's Thirium volume began swiftly falling even further now that his internal panels had been opened. A shutdown timer appeared on the display next to the deviant's now racing heart rate. As of that moment Connor's life was now hanging by a single thin thread as his condition deteriorated before it even had the chance to improve.

The moment the alarm went off the team began frantically working to stabilize Connor's condition and replace the Thirium that he was losing at a terrifying rate.

"Shit..." Hank rising to his feet Hank stood before the window and pressed his hand against the glass window. He bowed his head until his forehead was resting against the cool glass as it felt like the world around him was grinding to a cruel halt. "No... Not him. Please not him, too."

As he sat beside Hank in the observation room Captain Fowler heard and sensed his friend's utter despair and knew he needed to do something to help. "Come with me for a moment."

A gentle hand on Hank's shoulder guided the emotionally distressed detective away from the glass - away from Connor fighting for his life - and to an unoccupied private room a few doors down. Closing the door behind them as they entered the second room, Captain Fowler just waited for Hank to begin speaking as the shaken detective paced about anxiously with his hand pressed against his aching forehead.

"Jeffrey... I can't deal with this." Hank restrained a sob as he finally admitted how emotionally weak he felt to his oldest friend. "It's like reliving Cole's death, but this time it's not because some jackass doctor is too high to do his job, it's because we didn't... We didn't find him in time!"

"You don't know that." As a first responder Captain Fowler knew that sometimes some people just couldn't be saved, no matter how quickly they were helped or rescued during a tragedy. "You can't just give up on him. You know he'd never give up on you."

"I don't want to go through this. I can't. It's torture!" Frustrated beyond words Hank struggled to articulate his thoughts and emotions. "I don't want to lose a friend because some fuckin' machine went crazy and targeted him over something he had no control over! It's not right! It's not FAIR."

"You're right, it's not." Remaining the calm voice of reason Captain Fowler stayed cool and collected on Hank's behalf. There were some moments were people having emotional outbursts were entirely understandable even if they weren't very helpful. "But regardless of what's right and what's wrong in this world, what's fair and what's unfair, it still happened."

Weak and exhausted Hank fell back against the far wall and slid down the floor with his hand to still pressed to his head. "Jeffrey, I just... I can't."

"Yes you can. You just shouldn't have to. No one should. Especially you." Captain Fowler joined Hank on the cold floor of the quiet room and sat beside his friend as the emotional distraught Lieutenant steeped in a palpable distress. Being a shoulder to lean on and a rock in a storm was something that Captain Fowler had mastered over time. "And that's why I'm going to go through it with you. You and Connor are not alone in this."

As the dying deviant's condition deteriorated further Connor was placed on emergency external power as he was prepared to undergo massive reconstructive excision to repair the internal damage to his body. An artificial external ventilator had taken the place of Terry manually keeping cool air circulating through his ventilation biocomponents, and the ventilator was attached to the tube running down Connor's throat by a blue clip much like a ventilator in a traditional hospital. A secondary line, like nasal gastric tube, had been inserted through Connor's nose and down his throat to his artificial stomach to replace the critically needed Thirium he so desperately needed to have replenished to keep his volume up.

The emergency repair bay itself was so astoundingly similar to an operating room that it made Hank's stomach hurt as he and Captain Fowler returned to the observation room to continue to watch the procedure through the large window. The sight, the sounds and the smells were all painfully reminiscent to the very hospital where Cole had tragically died far too young those four years prior.

From where Hank was standing, he could see large television monitors recording the internal procedure showcasing Connor's vital biocomponents in full clarity. He could see inside of Connor's opened chest and abdominal cavities like a gruesome display of android anatomy. From above Hank could see the Thirium pump that was designed analogously like a human heart beating slowly in a pale blue hue and fluctuating to an unhealthy red as his heart struggled to beat with such little Thirium in Connor's body. The quivering heart was both hypnotic and nightmare inducing.

Hank could even see the damaged ventilation biocomponents shaped like human lungs struggling to draw in the air that Connor needed to keep his systems from overheating. Despite the distance both Hank and Captain Fowler could see the blue colored Thirium cycling through Connor's system like blood through an artery as each damaged Thirium line was repaired one by one to restore Thirium flow to Connor's damaged biocomponents.

"Jeffrey, I'm going to be sick."

Hank flushed an ill shade of pale green and left the observation room in search of the nearest restroom without a second word.

Captain Fowler quickly followed behind Hank as the suddenly sick detective located the unoccupied bathroom, shoved the automatic door open and proceeded to throw-up in the first stall after gracelessly falling to his knees. Standing outside the bathroom door Captain Fowler listened and waited for the retching to stop before he entered himself to check on his now physically ill Lieutenant.

"Hank? I'm coming in." Entering the bathroom Captain Fowler announced his presence first out of respect for Hank's privacy. Seeing Hank sitting on the floor of the first stall with his head propped up in his hand made Captain Fowler feel as bad as Hank looked. "Don't hold it in. Let it all out."

Without much say in the matter Hank continued to throw-up as his anxious stomach betrayed him at the worst possible time.

Compassionately Captain Fowler took a paper towel from the dispenser and ran it under the cool tap in the sink. Approaching the opened stall door and his ill detective he handed the damp towel over to Hank to take for himself.

"How's your head?"

"...Feels like someone took an icepick to the side of my skull." Hank admitted as he took the offered paper tower and wiped off his mouth before throwing the towel into the toilet to be flushed away. "...Thanks."

"I'm worried about your concussion." Aware of the dangers of any and all head injuries Captain Fowler considered taking Hank to the nearest emergency room to be checked out by a doctor. "This much moving around and stress can't be good for your recovery."

"I'm FINE."

"No, you're not. You're in pain, you're emotionally unstable... Fuck, you held your dying partner in your arms, and you took a damn bullet to your skull in less than twenty-four hours. You are NOT fine."

"Leave me alone, I'll deal with it!"

"I'm not going to just let this drop. Not this time." Adamant in seeing his Lieutenant through this Captain Fowler stood in the opened stall door to ensure Hank didn't try to leave the bathroom. "You need to face what's going on. I made the mistake of backing off after Cole died-"

"Don't talk about my son!" Hank shot to his feet and put his strong forearm against Captain Fowler's chest to pin him to the wall outside of the stall and beside the sinks. "Ever! That's a low blow..."

"Hank," slowly Captain Fowler put his hand on Hank's arm to push him away lightly. "I backed off back then because you asked me to, and I had to watch you spiral down into a dark abyss that I swore was going to drown you in whiskey. But you didn't. Do you know why?"

Hank scoffed a little at the question as he took the aggression from his tone. "No, Jeffrey, why? Because I have friends like you watching my back?"

"No, because you have a friend like Connor, who didn't back down and refused to let you push him away. He's the one who's been watching your back."

Silently Hank let go of Captain Fowler and dropped his arm as his hostility passed as quickly as it had come over him.

"I know I was wrong to let you hide in the shadows, and I won't make that mistake again."

In response to his rapid movements and angry outburst Hank's still greenish face suddenly paled and he stumbled forward as he fought to remain conscious where he stood. The adrenaline rush was wearing off and his fatigue had returned with a vengeance.

"Whoa, whoa..." Captain Fowler put both of his hands on Hank's good shoulder and his chest to support him. "Easy. Let's get you out to the waiting room to sit down. You look like you're ready to pass out."

Much to the Captain's surprise Hank allowed him to guide the injured detective out of the bathroom and into the first vacant chair in the empty waiting room. The waiting room was mostly empty, save for Chris and Gavin who had stopped by the facility to get an update on everything that was happening. It was nice to see other well-wishers stopping by to show Connor some support in his time of need.

"Sit here." Captain Fowler instructed as he guided Hank over to the chair to rest. "Take a moment to breathe while I bring Reed and Miller up to speed."

Hank only nodded as he sat down heavily and bowed his head forward into his palm. The long locks of gray hair easily covered his face as he leaned atop his elbow resting on his knee and tried his best to tune out the world as a whole. If he could just have one minute without the world collapsing around him then Hank would feel much better.

Professionally Captain Fowler updated the two officers on the situation while instructing them to return to the precinct to keep everything under control until he returned. Gavin was surprisingly quiet during the whole conversation and obeyed his new orders without the slightest protest or snarky remark regarding deviants being broken machines and not people. Chris, who had always been loyal and respectful, lightly put his hand to Hank's shoulder as he handed the shaken senior detective something he picked up from the floor of the warehouse before he had left the crime scene.

"Not sure if it still works or not." Chris stated timidly as he stepped back from Hank and gave him space after he delivered the item to Hank's shaking hand. "But I figured he'd want it back even if it doesn't still work since it's a part of him. I'll see you later, Lieutenant. Let Connor know we're all pulling for him."

As Chris walked away Hank looked down at his opened palm and stared at the blank metal disc with a twisting knot forming in his stomach.

It was Connor's L.E.D. that sat dull and lifeless in his grasp. A part of Connor's very body that had been torn away from him and destroyed.

The distressed Lieutenant stared at the dead L.E.D. in his palm for only a moment longer before tightening his fingers around it into a strong fist to hide the small disc from his pained eyes. Slipping the item into his coat pocket Hank didn't say a word and barely acknowledged the other two officers before they left the facility to carry out their new orders.

There was just too much to process and talk about. The concussion made that already laborious task practically impossible for Hank to deal with that night as it was.

Captain Fowler stayed with Hank throughout the remainder of the evening and well into the late hour of the night and early hours of the morning. The two detectives were exhausted beyond words after spending the entire morning and after searching for Connor, but neither were willing to admit defeat and leave the facility until they received an update on Connor's condition.

With his head pressed down heavily into his palm once again Hank leaned against the side of the chair to try to rest. 'Try' of course being the key aspect in such a fruitless endeavor. His eyes were closed as if he was asleep, but Hank's mind was still racing.

"Excuse me?" A feminine voice called out to Hank in a calm tone as she stood before him and got his attention in a gentle manner. "Lieutenant Anderson?"

Hank's head shot up and through his bleary vision he stared at Dr. Wells as she came to give him an update. Her apron was stained with dark blue Thirium; Connor's blood, which was as haunting as it was menacing. A lingering metallic and plastic odor clung to her hair from the extensive procedures she had performed alongside her intern for almost nine consecutive hours.

"...Yeah?" Hank dared to ask as he became more alert but didn't budge from his seat. "Is Connor okay?"

"Yes. He pulled through." She smiled warmly as she motioned for Hank to follow after her. Waiting for the injured detective to stand up Dr. Wells was ready to show Hank to Connor's private recovery room so that he could see Connor with his own eyes. "You can see him now if you want."

Captain Fowler nodded as he let out a silent sigh and visibly relaxed in his own seat. "...It's about time."

The weight of the world left his shoulders as Hank smiled with relief and rubbed his hand over his tired eyes to wipe away the tears that were a mixture of grief and fatigue.

"Is he awake?" Rising from his chair quickly Hank eagerly walked along side Dr. Wells as she escorted him to the recovery wing where Connor was resting. "He seemed pretty weak and just... It was awful."

"He's not awake yet." Dr. Wells confirmed as she kept her voice professional and collected as she showed Hank to where his partner was resting. "His system is still in emergency stasis mode while his self-healing program finishes what we had started."

"How... How bad was it?" Hank continued to ask questions as he noticed that Captain Fowler had stayed behind to give him some space and was now talking on his phone to give an update to the precinct. He knew that it was Captain Fowler's way of letting Hank a minute to talk to Connor alone. "Don't sugarcoat it. I'm a detective, I can't take any brutal truths."

"To be honest, it was critical." The technician's expression became slightly dour as she spoke, but she kept a twinge of optimism in her voice. "His Thirium pump suffered numerous electric shocks that caused it to beat irregularly for an extended period of time, his right ventilation biocomponent had been penetrated by a sharp object and failed entirely while the left ventilation biocomponent suffered minor damage that kept it from running at full capacity. His thermal regulator had also been stabbed, twice." Dr. Wells recounted the most severe of Connor's injuries in a low voice. "But the damage was insignificant and only caused minor overheating. The bullet wound to his right knee and the break to his right hand were also treated and stabilized with external plastimetal splints and will heal without complications."

"He... He lost a lot of blood." The memory of Connor covered in his own blue blood was nauseating to think about. It was a sight that Hank wouldn't forget for the rest of his life. "I mean, I think he lost a lot of Thirium. It was a little hard to tell at the scene since it was everywhere."

"Yeah, he lost almost four pints. Losing five would've been fatal, but he still pulled through just fine." Dr. Wells pressed her palm to the electronic panel outside the door to the recovery room where Connor was resting peacefully. As her credentials unlocked the door, Hank saw that Dr. Hill was watching over Connor and checking his vitals even as the duo entered the room. "This is Dr. Robert Hill, he helped with the procedure."

"Hi." Hank greeted Dr. Hill curtly as he looked down at Connor's surprisingly calm face as he remained unconscious in the recovery bed. It almost looked like Connor was just sleeping and not recovering from massive invasive repairs. "...Hey, Kid."

The deviant detective was lying flat on his back with his head lolled slightly to the left against a soft white pillow under his hair. Connor wasn't as pale as he had been before but, his bottom lip was still swollen with blue blood stains and his right eye was still swollen shut from blunt force trauma. There were temporary bandages wrapped around his chest and abdomen to keep external dirt from infecting the area while his self-healing program repaired the damage to the artificial skin and plastimetal frame beneath. Just as Dr. Wells stated, Connor's right hand was also wrapped up in a high-density plastic splint and draped over his chest as the appendage healed after being forcibly broken.

"Shit." Swearing at the brutal sight Hank pulled aside the white blanket resting over Connor's legs to look down at his right knee as well. The knee didn't look much better, not what Hank was expecting anything different. "Ah, man..."

The bullet to Connor's right knee had destroyed the joint entirely and needed to be replaced. A heavy metal brace with a wrapping of gauze surrounded Connor's knee to protect it until his system fully recalibrated and the self-healing program accepted the new part.

"This is still... pretty gruesome." Returning the blanket over Connor's legs Hank put his hand down on Connor's arm lightly and stood beside his partner's bed. "He looks a little better though."

"He'll look even better by morning." Dr. Hill agreed as he made a note in Connor's electronic chart at the foot of the bed. "After we had replenished his Thirium levels his artificial skin became less translucent, which is why he looked so pale. As for his right eye his ocular unit took a severe blow, but we managed to repair it. The ocular plate around it had to be replaced entirely and as a result his eye is going to be swollen shut until his system recalibrates for the damage to the eye itself and recognizes the new plate."

"How long is he going to be unconscious?"

"For a while." Dr. Wells admitted as she checked the chart in Dr. Hill's hand and motioned to the Thirial activity monitor tracking Connor's much more stable vital signs as guidance. "Without his L.E.D. we can't visually monitor his condition the traditional way, but seeing as most deviants removed their L.E.D.'s after the Revolution we found other ways to keep track."

Remembering what he had been given by Chris a few hours earlier Hank reached into his pocket and held out his hand as he opened his palm to reveal Connor's dead L.E.D. in his grip. "Can you replace it?"

"Is it the original L.E.D.?" Dr. Wells asked as she took the small dull disc from Hank's palm and held it between her thumb and index fingertip. "It's still intact so if it matches his system we can replace it."

"Yeah, it's his. The asshole who tortured him ripped this from his skull."

"It's still functional." The skilled technician noted as she handed the L.E.D. over to Dr. Hill to take. "We'll replace it in a few minutes. It'd be best to give his body more time to rest after undergoing nine hours worth of repairs."

"Nine hours?" That lengthy time frame wasn't one Hank was expecting to hear. "Is that how long I was out there?"

"Want some coffee?" Remaining professional and empathetic to all of her patients and their loved ones, Dr. Wells asked sincerely as she put her hand on Hank's forearm lightly. "Maybe an aspirin for that headache?"

Ever appreciative of her calm and kind demeanor Hank graciously took her up on her offer. "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"

The quiet morning gave way to a calm afternoon and the two exhausted detectives remained silent in the recovery room as they slept through their physical pain and tried to heal. Sitting beside Connor's bed with his hand resting on Connor's forearm, Hank fell into a very light sleep and remained where he sat for the next six hours as he refused to leave his partner alone. Once Captain Fowler learned that Connor survived the invasive repair process and would recover in time, he took his leave of the facility to return to the precinct to file his report and to bring order to chaos in the light of a deranged deviant who murdered and another deviant and attacked two police officers.

Discreetly Dr. Wells and Dr. Hill would take turns check in on Connor without disturbing Hank in the process. They both determined that the deviant detective was going to make a full recovery in time without any further need of repairs. The L.E.D. was repaired and returned to Connor's right temple where is slowly glowed to life and remained a consistent red in response to his systems needing to heal and reboot after enduring such a prolonged repair procedure, but the red glow would be temporary.

Dozing very lightly a twitch beneath Hank's hand roused the senior detective from his sleep and his blue eyes snapped open as he looked to Connor still laying on the bed at his side.

"Hey... Connor?"

In response to Hank's voice Connor's hand began to weakly flex as his systems came back online. The replaced L.E.D. in his right temple glowed a very faint red and cycled very slowly in tandem with his rebooting processors.

"Connor?" Leaning closer to the deviant Hank kept speaking to Connor to try to get a reply. "Can you hear me, son?"

The red tinted L.E.D. briefly flashed to yellow then back to red as something in Connor's processors recognized Hank's voice and responded accordingly. Connor's undamaged eye opened partially as he finally regained consciousness. The deviant's brown iris was still glazed over and unfocused as he tried to wake up fully and look at Hank's face hovering above him.

"Welcome back. Just rest a while." The senior detective encouraged in a low voice. "You're going to be okay and I'm not going anywhere."

Hank saw Connor reflexively swallow the lingering discomfort in his throat after having two tubes inserted down his throat to aid his recovery during the emergency repair procedure. As Connor tried to speak Hank gently shushed him by tightening his grip on Connor's forearm.

"I'm right here, I promise that I'm not going anywhere." Hank's voice was that of a soothing tone as a father would give to his own child. "Rest. You're too weak for me to take you home just yet, son. But I will be able to take you home in time. You're going to be just fine and I'm fine, too."

Connor's eye blinked slowly as he turned his head slightly in Hank's direction and homed-in on Hank's face at last. The recovering deviant hoarsely parroted a single sentence as he managed to give Hank a ghost of a smirk from where he was laying and acknowledge his friend's presence. "I knew you'd... find me."

Smiling a little at Connor's response Hank just moved his hand to the top of Connor's hair as the deviant's good eye closed again and he fell back asleep knowing that Hank was going to be there when he awoke. "Yeah, son. I found you. And now, I'm not going anywhere until you're ready to go home."

Another eight hours passed by slowly before Connor opened his eyes again and regained consciousness. With a little help from Hank the healing deviant was able to sit upright in his recovery bed as he underwent a brief examination by the two human technicians upon seeing his recovery. After being given strict instructions to rest and limit any physical exertion for the next seventy-two hours Connor was finally discharged from the facility and into Hank's care much to the two detectives' mutual relief. Once he was given the clear to go home and rest, Dr. Hill retrieved a wheelchair for Connor and happily pushed his recovering deviant patient to the front doors of the facility to check-out and return home to finish his recovery in the comfort of his own home with his best friend to watch over him.

It had been a long wait for both Connor and Hank as they patiently awaited the technicians to discharge Connor from the facility to go home at last the following day, but well worth it. Taking great care to not touch Connor's right hand or right knee, Dr. Hill helped Connor to climb into Hank's car after the vehicle was dropped off as a favor by Captain Fowler himself. Between Dr. Hill and Hank's assistance, Connor experienced no discomfort as he was placed in the tilted back front passenger seat of the Oldsmobile to head for home.

During the drive back home Hank's eyes kept drifting to the right so he could look at Connor laying perfectly still beside him. The recovering deviant looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but in reality, he was still completely exhausted after undergoing emergency repairs to save his life after being held captive and tortured by a malicious vengeful deviant.

Connor was now wearing a generic black t-shirt and pair of gray sweatpants in place of his ruined white dress shirt and stained gray blazer and jeans, which made him look entirely casual and human. With his right still eye swollen shut it looked as though Connor was a young college student who got caught in the middle of a drunken street brawl and had to be given a ride home to sober up by his own father.

Hank was also still healing from his own injuries, the mild concussion and a passing bullet wound to his left shoulder, but he wasn't complaining. The senior detective knew that he and Connor had a long road to recovery ahead of them and he was willing to put up with it as long as Connor remained his partner in the precinct.

Pulling the large car into the driveway beside the house Hank put the Oldsmobile into park and turned off the engine. Slowly Hank opened his door and ducked down as he stepped out of the vehicle and felt his head swim a little as his left shoulder tensed up. Ignoring the perpetual ache that gnawed at his skull, the bullheaded detective walked around the front of the car and pulled open the passenger side door to shake Connor's shoulder lightly to rouse him from his slumber.

"Hey, we're back home, kid. Time to wake up."

Connor's good eye cracked opened as he awoke from his exhaustion induced sleep. Slowly and awkwardly, Connor pushed himself upright on the seat with his left arm against the small storage console between the driver and passenger seats. Using his trembling left hand Connor supported his own weight as best as he could as his gyroscope recalibrated and helped him to regain his balance.

Hank offered Connor his good hand to help pull the deviant out of the vehicle and to his feet as they both needed a little help getting around for a while until they healed. Though the two shared a mutual weak grip from being drained of their energy after enduring so much trauma in such a small frame of time, neither let the other go of each other's hands as Hank managed to heft Connor out of the car and up to his feet.

Despite his bad left shoulder Hank even managed to help Connor keep his balance as he swayed on his own feet.

"You good to go?" Hank asked as he pressed his hand to Connor's shoulder for support. "Take it nice and slow."

Connor's throat was still sore from having tubes inserted to help him breathe and replenish his depleted Thirium making communication a little difficult. Nodding his head instead of speaking Connor tested his balance on his uninjured left leg while Hank helped him to limp inside the house where he could finally rest in the comfort of a familiar home and not inside of an unfamiliar facility.

"Easy, kid." The senior detective cautioned as Sumo approached his two masters and practically blocked the entire front doorway with his massive fluffy body. Sensing the two detectives being in pain Sumo promptly backed off and gave them more room to walk while his tail continued to wag. "Don't let yourself fall over. I don't want to take ya' back to the facility."

If it didn't hurt so much to speak, let alone move, Connor imagined he would've laughed at the comment as Hank escorted him over to the old couch in the middle of the livingroom. It was a short walk that felt a thousand miles long to the two worn-out detectives, but it was worth the trip.

With his good arm Hank guided Connor down to the center of the couch until he was lying flat on his back across the furniture to properly rest. The senior detective then lifted Connor's healing right knee up very gently to lay it down over the cushions of the couch while keeping both of Connor's legs perfectly straight to prevent any pain.

"Comfortable?"

Not risking any pain in his throat Connor nodded again and let out an uncomfortable sigh as he rested his broken right hand over his sore chest. Closing his tired eyes Connor tried to ignore his lingering pain, forget about being tortured, and attempted to relax as much as possible.

"Good." Approving of Connor's desire to rest Hank backed off for a moment to let him alone for a few hours. "Try to get some more sleep, I'm going to go do the same right here in the chair. Never thought I'd miss my own furniture so damn much."

Sumo circled in a small spot between the couch and coffee table before laying down and looking up at the tired deviant with big sad eyes. Compelled to keep an eye on the wounded deviant Sumo chose to lay beside Connor and stay by his side until he had healed.

Mindful of his injured left shoulder Hank shrugged off his coat with some difficulty and hung it on the hook by the front door. Removing his shoes Hank put them aside and then took his seat in the nearby recliner. Exhausted, sore and nursing a concussion Hank was asleep just as quickly as Connor had been, and was more than happy to give way to his exhaustion.

Some time had passed, not enough in Hank's mind, when the sound of Sumo whining and hyperventilated breathing managed to catch the experienced detective's ear. Opening his still tired eyes quickly Hank looked over to the couch where Connor was laying and saw that the deviant's L.E.D. was flashing between yellow and red rapidly as Connor practically panted in his sleep.

"Connor?" Hank rose from his recliner, his left shoulder and head protesting at the abrupt motion as he knelt beside the couch next to Sumo, and he put his hand against the side of Connor's bruised face in a comforting manner. "Wake up! You're having another nightmare."

Connor flinched away from Hank's hand as if terrified by the contact and continued to hyperventilate as he endured the horrific dream.

"Wake up, you're safe." Hank nearly shouted as he lightly returned his hand to Connor's face just under his left eye. Tears were running down the deviant's face as he continued to twitch and hyperventilate with his heart pounding in his chest. "Connor?"

Hearing Hank's voice so close to his ear, hearing the paternal tone that Hank was using to speak to him, Connor's left eye opened and he roused entirely from the horrific nightmare that had been plaguing him as he sat upright quickly. The deviant immediately gasped in pain at the sudden, jerking movement in his abdomen and chest from doing so.

"It's okay, son." Hank put his hand on the back of Connor's head as the deviant openly winced and wrapped both of his arms protectively around his chest and abdomen. "You're okay, it was just a nightmare. Just breathe, you're safe. You're safe at home now, it's all over."

Another tear fell from Connor's eye as he slowed his breathing. His heart rate was beginning to calm down as result of his slower breathing. With a desperate stare in his soulful brown eyes he looked over to Hank with utter fear and confusion shining in his irises.

"I know you can't really talk right now," Hank stated calmly as he felt Connor's entire body trembling from residual fear beneath his palm. "but when you're ready to talk about what you dreamt, I'll be listening."

Connor's shaking hand reached up and grabbed onto Hank's forearm for support. It was like he needed to be sure Hank was really there beside him.

"You're okay, just a little banged up and sore. You'll feel better soon. You'll be just fine."

Hesitantly Connor let go of Hank's arm and nodded. Using the back of his shaking uninjured hand Connor wiped away the tears from his face and sighed as he caught his breath and settled his nerves. Nodding a few more times to acknowledge Hank's sympathetic words Connor laid back down on the couch to try to relax, but it was clear that he wasn't going to be able to fall asleep again anytime soon.

"You know, if you don't want to sleep anymore you don't have to." With a paternal understanding Hank reminded the deviant in a kind voice as he pulled his hand back from Connor's head. "I sure as hell know I wouldn't want to go right back to sleep after having a nightmare. I'm speaking from experience on this one."

Swallowing once Connor spoke in a hoarse whisper. "...You h-have nightmares?"

"Yeah." The admission wasn't a lie and it was almost comforting for Connor think about. "All the time."

"Do you see... their f-faces?"

"...Yeah." That particular question was actually painful to answer. As a detective and as a man who had lost his family, he always saw the faces of people in his nightmares. "I do."

Pressing the heel of his palm to his swollen right eye Connor shook his head a little in emotional distress. "...Does it ever go away?"

"In time, yeah. It'll get a little worse for a while, then better and then finally go away."

"I..." Connor cleared his throat a little to strengthen the sound of his voice as he spoke. "I keep seeing his face. I failed to save him."

"I read the case report from that night." Joining Connor on the couch Hank sat beside the deviant's legs without disturbing his sore right knee by mistake. "You talked him down, convinced him to let the little girl go, and kept him from hurting anyone else. You did everything right."

"Then why did he... die?"

"Because the S.W.A.T. team decided to pull the trigger. You didn't do it, you didn't even ask them to do it."

"Why d-did they... shoot?" Confused and frightened Connor tried to figure out what went wrong that day. "The little girl was safe."

"My guess is they decided to shoot to kill LONG before you even got to the scene." The details of the case were dark and depressing, which of course meant Hank would never forget what he had read. "Daniel killed the father, killed two responding police officers, left a third officer to die, and he was willing to kill an innocent child out of a bizarre overreaction to being replaced. Fuck, as much as we know it's entirely possible that the deviant wasn't going to be replaced at all, and they were just going to have a second android living with them to help with the household."

"...He died, Hank. But my mission was considered a success."

"Son, you're not the first person, certainly not the first detective, to watch someone you tried to help die. These memories will haunt us for a long time. Right now the only difference is that your haunting memory actually came back from the dead to try and hurt you."

"...Where is he now?" Having been left out of the loop Connor wasn't sure how the rest of the case was handled after he was rescued. "Where is Daniel?"

Hank paused momentarily before telling Connor the truth. After all, he deserved to know what had happened.

"After we found you at the warehouse, the deviant - Daniel - panicked again. I don't think he expected us to find him, or more importantly, rescue you." Breaking the news as gently as he could Hank let Connor know what happened while he was unconscious. "He tried to flee and ended up jumping through a two story window. He... didn't survive the fall."

"Shit." Connor swore as he draped his arm over his eyes. "This time he really is dead because of me."

"Hey, come on." Hank pulled Connor's arm down so that he could look him in the eye. "You gave him a chance that no one else did and he had the chance to go about his life living free with other deviants, but instead he chose to hurt other androids and he tried to kill you. He doesn't deserve your pity and you sure as Hell aren't responsible for his life or his death!"

Connor seemed to understand and nodded very subtly, although the guilt he was feeling didn't let up. "...Okay."

"Good." Lightly Hank put his hand under Connor's chin and tilted his head so he could get a clear look at Connor's still healing right eye. It was dark blue and very swollen despite having a few days to heal. "That looks painful. Would some ice help?"

"...No, thank you."

"What about Thirium? Doesn't that stuff kickstart your healing program?"

"My Thirium volume is already at one-hundred percent capacity."

"Well," Hank pulled his hand away from Connor's chin and sat down on the edge of the coffee table away from the deviant's legs. "is there anything that will help you feel better quicker? A blanket or extra pillow might help."

"I don't know about 'better'." Connor cleared his throat again as he sat upright slowly on the couch with his right arm still wrapped protectively around his chest and abdomen as he moved. His left hand was supporting the entirety of his weight as he moved about slowly without aggravating his injuries any further. "But I can think of something that could theoretically numb the pain. At least for a while."

"Oh? And what's that?"

Connor paused for a moment as his red L.E.D. blinked yellow a couple times as if pondering his own idea. "...Do you still want to get that drink?"

"Are... Are you serious?" Remembering vaguely how he had commented about wishing Connor could join him for a drink at the bar Hank hadn't expected Connor to actually take him up on the offer. "All these months later, almost a full year, you want to have a drink?

Sure of his suggestion Connor looked Hank right in the eyes the best he could. "Yes. I want to have a drink."

"Wait, I thought alcohol doesn't affect androids."

"It doesn't have any impairments on androids like it does humans. It dilutes Thirium and makes it thinner until the ethanol is filtered out, but we don't get drunk. But as a deviant, I believe it could have some value on a different scale. On an emotional scale, that is."

"All right kid, if you're sure."

"Yes." Again Connor nodded that he was indeed sure. "I would like to try it."

"Okay, but don't tell Fowler."

Hank joked as he stood up slowly and stepped around Sumo as he walked into the kitchen. There was a single bottle of Black Lamb whiskey located in a cupboard above the sink next to the additional bottles of Thirium that Hank now kept in stock for Connor. The whiskey had been purchased on the night of the Revolution after Hank was suspended for punching federal agent Richard Perkins, but he was unable to enjoy the whiskey as he was interrupted by Connor's 'evil twin' and taken to CyberLife Tower as a hostage.

"Fowler doesn't need to know about you picking up any of my 'bad habits'."

At the joke Connor smirked a little as Hank returned with the unopened bottle of whiskey and two small glasses. Sitting the items down on the coffee table Hank sat down next to Connor as the deviant carefully pulled his legs away and propped his right leg up on the coffee table to let his right knee heal properly. Hank's sore left shoulder was still aching with every movement he made, just like Connor's rebuilt knee, but just like Connor he wasn't complaining about it.

"Last chance to change your mind, son."

"I'm certain Hank." Connor wasn't going to back down or go back on his word, no matter how odd it seemed. "It can't hurt me... I think."

"Okay then." Hank grabbed the whiskey bottle and with some difficulty screwed opened the top to pour two shots into the two glasses. "I hope this is worth it for you. Hell, I hope it's worth it for me."

Connor noted that the bottle had been purchased almost a year prior but hadn't been opened until that very moment. "You've cut down considerably on your drinking. I'm relieved to see it."

"Yup." Hank confirmed as he finished pouring the two shots. "I had a pretty good reason to stay sober over the past few months. Figured I'd save this for a special occasion." The senior detective handed the first glass over to Connor's good hand then picked up the second shot for himself. "And I'd say you and I defying death is about as special as it can get."

Curious about the whiskey Connor accepted the offered glass and stared at the tea colored contents for a moment before he held it to his swollen lips. Connor instinctively ran a quick scan over the drink and noted the potent alcohol content within, as well as the various ingredients used in the recipe.

"Here's to your health, and to my sanity." Hank declared as he mirrored the same motion as Connor with his own glass and prepared to down the first shot of whiskey he had in months. "Cheers!"

The two detectives simultaneously downed the whiskey quickly and had their own reactions to the smooth but burning sensation as it ran down their throats. Hank set his empty glass down on the table right alongside Connor and watched the deviant's reaction.

"Well, kid?"

"Unusual taste." Connor stated as his yellow L.E.D. blinked rapidly and he rubbed his fingertips along the front of his sore throat. "...Similar taste to that of Thirium."

"Ah, why'd you tell me that!" The grimace on Hank's face told the whole disgusted story about the idea of drinking android blood. "Nasty..."

"It was a joke." Getting the reaction that he was hoping for Connor admitted that it wasn't true as his L.E.D., for the first time since the night before he was attacked in the alleyway, turned blue. "I promise."

"Good." Shaking his head a little Hank had to laugh at the unexpected joke and leaned back against the couch cushions. Sumo lifted his head up from the floor and rested his chin on Hank's thigh while the senior detective rubbed at the loyal dog's ears. "Good dog."

Connor looked down at his own right hand and carefully removed the splint keeping his damaged appendage stable. Gingerly he flexed his fingers until his hand created a tight fist then relaxed it again.

"My hand has already healed." Reaching into his sweatpants pocket he pulled out the quarter that he frequently fidgeted with and gracefully rolled the coin over the back of his knuckles. He was grateful that it was retrieved from his ruined jean pocket right alongside his badge and wallet. "And my reflexes have not been stunted by my injury."

"Yeah? Well don't expect to go back to work tomorrow just because your hand is good to go. You need to learn how to relax a little." Seeing the thick splint wrapped around Connor's right knee pressing against the cotton material of pant leg was enough to make Hank wince empathetically. "Enjoy a day off or go on vacation. Do something other than work and wait to go back to work, kid."

"How do those work?" Flipping the coin in the air with his thumb Connor caught it easily in his palm without even looking before he returned it to his pocket. "I do not have any experience with vacations."

"It's easy. You just do anything BUT work. Like this." Hank kicked his feet up on the coffee table beside Connor and closed his eyes as he crossed his right arm over his chest to rest beside his left arm. "See? Easy."

Connor mirrored Hank's movements, careful of jostling his bad right knee in the process, and immediately felt Sumo pressing his cold nose against the side of his hand seeking more attention.

"Yes, I see." Placing his hand atop Sumo's head he rubbed the Saint Bernard's ears affectionately. "I think Sumo likes the idea of me taking a vacation."

"Now, do this for another week or two, then you can go back to work."

"I think I can manage that." Connor agreed as he tried to relax and heal without worrying about work for a while. "But only for two days, not seven."

"Two days, huh?" Hank wasn't surprised Connor was resistant to rest, but he'd take what he could get. "...Well, it's a start."

-next chapter-