Chapter 4:
The moment Hank stepped into the station, Gavin was on him.
"Nice of you to finally show up, old man," Gavin sneered, arms crossed, clearly looking for a fight.
Hank rolled his eyes. "Good morning to you too, Reed."
But just as quickly as Gavin had gone after him, his frustration shifted. His attention snapped to Connor—not that Connor was even here to defend himself—and suddenly, it was all about how that machine was useless, how they were wasting time, how nothing about this case made sense anymore.
Hank sighed, rubbing his temple. He knew this wasn't really about Connor. The insults were just a convenient way for Gavin to vent. Hank had seen it before—the way Gavin bristled when Nines got himself into trouble, the way his anger always covered up something else. Worry.
"Calm down, Gavin." Hank held up a hand before he could go on another tirade. "Connor's not even here. He's at my place, resting. He's got the day off." He met Gavin's glare with a pointed look. "Tomorrow, we're all working this case. Together."
Gavin made a face, clearly not liking the idea, but he didn't argue. He groaned in frustration and said, "Let's get started."
Hank and Gavin made their way to the holding cells, where Nines was being kept. The android was in rough shape—he'd had to be contained with eight sets of deviant cuffs, a testament to how much stronger Nines was compared to Connor. Apparently, Nines' strength was greater than Connor's by 200 pounds, and even with so many cuffs, he had almost broken free. The drug seemed to amplify his physical abilities, or rather remove his mental limits, forcing the department to go to extreme lengths to keep him restrained.
When Nines saw them, his eyes—still glowing red—flickered in their direction. Gavin instinctively took a step back. The eerie red was enough to make anyone second-guess their safety.
"Hey, Nines," Gavin said hesitantly. "You coming down yet?"
The android blinked slowly and then spoke in a calm, collected manner. "Yes. I'm still..." he paused, searching for the right word, "Anxious. But I don't intend to lash out again."
The moment of calm didn't last long. "Connor. Is he ok? I can't contact him." The android took a breath, his cooling system obviously working overtime based on the buzzing fan noises emanating from him. "Is this what nausea feels like? It sucks."
"Connor's fine," Hank reassured him. "He'll be back tomorrow, and we'll be working on this case together."
"Who?" Nines asked, still a little disoriented.
"The four of us- Connor and me; you and Gavin," Hank replied. "You will handle the drug ring side of things, and Connor and I will focus on individual deviant cases that may or may not be related. Do you have any idea when the effects of the drug will wear off?"
Nines thought for a moment, then responded, "My internal clock is off. How long has it been?"
Gavin checked his watch. "It's noon. So... seven hours."
"Let's see..." Nines trailed off. "If it's anything like... hmm... maybe... I'd estimate three more hours until I'm well enough to work. Two hours to reboot everything. Only one for motor functions to come back."
"What about your eyes?"
"My eyes?" Nines replied, genuinely puzzled. It made sense— there wasn't a mirror in sight. If deviants didn't know about their eye color, then maybe they wouldn't change it. Surprisingly clever for something so ridiculously on-the-nose.
Gavin scoffed. "Yeah, they're real subtle. Nothing says 'totally normal and not about to murder you in your sleep' like glowing red robot eyes. Who the hell designed that? A sci-fi villain with a twirly mustache and a cat in his lap?"
Before Nines—who still looked thoroughly confused—could respond, Hank cut in. "It's a built-in feature, he explained tiredly. "Something to mark an android as a deviant. Connor's got the same thing."
"Lovely."
Nines nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder if this is exclusive to Connor and I. If it isn't... that could mean deviancy was not as unexpected as CyberLife claims." He let the thought hang in the air before adding dryly, "I don't think it worked too well." A small amount of thirium leaked from his nose, dripping onto the floor into a faint preexisting puddle. "To answer your question, though, Gavin... I don't know when I'll stop looking like an evil robot. Maybe when I reboot my systems and then again, maybe not. You know me well enough by now to know I wouldn't attack you on purpose, though. Thank you, by the way."
Gavin looked away for a moment. "Don't mention it."
Hank frowned, his gaze shifting between them. "Wait—thank you?" His confusion deepened. "What the hell did I miss?"
Gavin let out a sharp exhale, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Don't hurt yourself thinking too hard, old man."
Nines didn't elaborate. He only glanced at Gavin before refocusing.
Hank opened his mouth like he was about to press the issue, then stopped. The whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth, but he let it slide—for now.
Gavin, sensing the shift in attention, cleared his throat. "Alright, so… what now?"
"If you need a place to start," Nines said, a hint of calm returning to his voice, "I've already sent the chemical analysis from the crime scene to the lab. They're double-checking everything, considering my reaction to the drug may have skewed the results. We're looking at modified red-ice mixed with a highly concentrated perfluorinated compound used in coolant systems. Lieutenant Anderson, I've sent the full report to your email. Best of luck with the investigation. I'll be ready in a couple of hours."
Hank nodded and glanced at Gavin, who was still trying to process everything. "Alright, let's get to work."
Gavin spoke curtly, rubbing his left arm. "Ok, I'm looking into the drug. Hank—you're reading the report to catch up. Compare the tin cans' findings to your own. Gavin—out." Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched off, leaving Hank alone with Nines.
"Something the matter, Lieutenant?" Nines asked, his voice eerily reminiscent of Connor's clinical tone.
"I'm worried about Connor," Hank admitted, exhaling heavily. "He probably told you some of this last night, but he's been having some trouble sleeping."
"Yes. He shared that concern with me as well."
"He came close to death last night." Hank's statement hung in the air.
Nines' LED began cycling erratically before settling on red. "What?"
Hank pressed both forearms against the glass, letting his head rest against them, exhaling slowly. "By the time we got to my house, his battery was almost out. If I'd known it was that bad, I would've taken him straight home instead of stopping by the department. But he didn't say a damn thing. It's like he was either trying to punish himself... or something in his head scares him so bad he'd rather die than face it. Either way, the kid needs help."
Nines stared, his expression unguarded—maybe the most expressive Hank had ever seen him.
"I don't know much about androids, but he got a warning that his battery's damaged."
"Shit. Shit!" Nines hissed, his LED flashing red, and he struggled against his shackles, dust crumbling off of the wall he'd been chained to. "I knew he was hiding something! Dammit! I should've slapped him back yesterday! When he drags his stubborn ass back here… What a reckless, prideful, idiotic—"
Nines caught himself mid-rant, visibly trying to rein in his emotions. "Thank you for telling me, Lieutenant. If he'd dropped to zero... there's no telling what might've happened. I'll contact someone in Jericho about this."
Hank took a step back, shocked at the outburst, but confident in his safety. "You know what he's scared of, don't you?"
The android hesitated, his expression a dead ringer for the way Connor looked when he was about to lie.
"You do," Hank said, leaning back slightly. "I won't press you, but I have to know. I overheard you two talking about a woman named Amanda—"
At the mention of the name, Nines' LED began blinking rapidly again. His eyes slammed shut, the red slightly penetrating his thin synthetic eyelids, and his body trembled as if he were suppressing something. When he reopened his eyes, they were filled with fear, an unnervingly human expression.
When Nines finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Don't bring her up to Connor. He's more afraid of her than I am and far more vulnerable."
"Are you going to be okay?" Hank asked, suddenly regretting his question. "I didn't mean—"
"No," Nines interrupted, his tone clipped. "You didn't anticipate this reaction. I understand. Just... I need to calm down. My stress level… too high."
"Got it," Hank said, nodding slowly. "Take care of yourself. And thanks for looking out for Connor."
"Likewise."