Chapter Text
Blue blood slides lazily from the various lacerations that criss-cross along the deactivated android’s torso and arms, too fresh to have even dried yet. The machine’s eyes gape, frozen in an eternal imitation of shock, jaw slack. Its body lays strewn awkwardly on the floor, limbs bent at unnatural angles, as though the android is nothing more than a discarded doll. If it weren’t for the cold colour of its blood, Gavin would find the image unsettling.
The crime scene is bustling with DPD personnel, all milling around the cramped sitting room, eyes peeled for potential evidence. Of course, most detectives don’t exactly work with the same amount of fervour that would have been garnered by a human victim. Gavin rolls his eyes. Like him, few of them see this as anything other than a waste of their precious time. They should be working on actual cases, not these bullshit ‘android murders’ that have suddenly become an issue.
“What do we have here?”
Arms folded, Gavin turns to see the last two detectives he wants to deal with right now. He’s in a bad enough mood as it is.
“We’ve got a sliced up android. AX400, so I’m told.”
Hank Anderson grimaces down at the broken body on the floor, eyes flitting around the room. He rubs his hands together to ward off the crisp December chill. Just behind him, Connor stands with his hands folded behind his back, also scanning the area attentively.
“Any clue as to what happened?” Hank asks, squinting to get a closer look at the damage as Connor takes a few steps forward, already kneeling down beside the AX400.
“None,” Gavin replies. “Not that it really matters. Even after that shitshow of an android uprising, I still can’t believe I’ve been downgraded to investigating property damage.” He swivels towards Connor. “I guess I’ve got you to thank for that.”
“Actually, Detective Reed,” Connor says, voice measured. “according to the most recent amendments made to the American Androids Act—”
“Yeah, yeah. Assault on androids is given the same legal weight as on humans. Whatever.” He waves a dismissive hand through the air.
“Although your statement is also correct, I was going to specify that androids are no longer considered to be property.”
Before Gavin could come up with a rebuttal, the RK800 dips his fingers into the pool of blue blood and brings them to his lips, tongue slipping out to drag along the substance. Both Gavin and Hank recoil in disgust.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Connor. What did I tell you about doing that?”
“Sorry, Lieutenant. It is necessary for the investigation.”
“What,” Gavin says, paling. His stomach clenches with nausea. “the actual flying fuck did you just do?”
“I am equipped with a built-in forensics lab that can test evidence in real time.” Connor pushes himself back up to stand beside them, as affable as ever. “This model’s serial number matches that of the android registered to this household previous to the revolution.” He glances over the room once more. “From the evidence found here, it is very likely that she had been trapped here by her past owner against her will, perhaps upon returning to the home to say goodbye. She may have wished to depart on good terms.”
The android takes a few steps past the two humans, eyes following a sequence of events only he could see. Stopping in front of a plush armchair, he nudges it aside to reveal a sapphire-spattered knife. “She tried to escape, which lead to an altercation between her and her captor involving a sharpened kitchen knife. She had been overwhelmed and sustained injuries serious enough to cause her to shut down due to thirium loss. This happened very recently, according to the time of the noise complaint and the fact that her thirium is still wet. There is a 64% chance that the captor panicked and hid upstairs upon the arrival of authorities, and a 36% chance that they fled the scene. We must be careful.” Finally finished analysing the scene, he faces Gavin, head tilted. “Has anyone searched upstairs yet?”
Gaping, Gavin shakes his head. He feels his arms fall to dangle at his sides. Fucking androids. He had been here from the very beginning and he couldn’t even parse together enough evidence to draw a single conclusion. After all of the hard work, the training, the voices of others telling him that he could never become a detective — that he was too impulsive, too brash, too emotional to get anything done — this mechanical motherfucker waltzes in here like he owns the fucking place and solves the whole case within a minute. It makes a mockery of all the hardships Gavin had to face to get where he is today. This is why that ‘revolution’ had been bullshit. Androids were born with the world in their palms and they still had the fucking gall to ask for more.
“No,” he grits out, hands balling into fists.
“Alright.” Connor makes his way towards the staircase, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m going with you,” says Hank, pulling his gun from its holster. “Follow my lead.”
Gavin watches the two creep upstairs on high alert. Once they’re out of earshot, he allows himself to spit a quiet “fuck!” under his breath, frustrated beyond belief. He finds some solace in the judgemental looks shot Connor’s way by the other officers. That plastic fuck will never be welcome in the DPD, of that Gavin is sure.
His mental tirade is interrupted by a flurry of gunshots and the sound of frantic scuffling from above. Instantly stomping up the stairs, he grips the cold metal of his gun and levels it in front of him before kicking open the ajar door at the top of the flight, following the violent noises.
A middle-aged human is pressed face-down into the floor of an untidy bedroom, Connor looming over him with a knee to his back. An old revolver lays just out of the man's reach, as though kicked aside. The suspect must have grabbed it once he heard the police enter. Gavin trains his gun steadily on the suspect as Connor cuffs him, the unkempt man grunting garbled swears into the carpet. Connor’s LED spins red, and he risks a quick, seemingly concerned glance towards Hank. Suddenly, Gavin realises just how much the carpet is stained with fresh blood, and just whom that blood was coming from.
The Lieutenant has propped himself up against the wall, hands pressing firmly against the steady blood flow pouring from his left leg. His eyes squint closed, teeth clenched together with a worrisome intensity. His jeans are soaked through with crimson, pooling beneath him to seep into the carpet below.
“Gavin,” Connor says sharply, retaining his attention in a moment. He stands swiftly, pulling the man to his feet by his arms and thrusting him towards Gavin carelessly. His voice is strained, but not from exertion. “Please take the culprit to the station immediately for questioning. I have already contacted an ambulance.”
Despite the professional words, his voice wavers in a way Gavin has never heard before. The moment the suspect is out of his hands, he drops hard onto his knees beside Hank and rips his tie from his own neck, retying the cloth tightly around Hank’s calf as a makeshift tourniquet. Hank grunts his thanks, head pressed into the wallpaper behind him, as Connor fists his hands in the fabric of Hank’s trousers.
“Good thing that bastard has shitty aim,” Hank mumbles, forcing a half-smile, as though to comfort the android.
The bastard in question begins to shout at them, indignant.
“I tried to do you a fucking favour! How long till that garbage can takes your job, too, huh? And then you’ll be wishing that bullet shot straight through its pretty little head!”
Even through the blood loss, Hank manages to shoot the man a vicious glare, but keeps his attention on Connor. The android in question stays quiet, head bowed, while Gavin tugs on the man’s handcuffs to silence him.
“I’m sorry, Hank.” Connor's voice is little more than a whisper. “I should have been faster.”
Hank brings up one hand to rest heavily on Connor’s head, and that’s when Gavin starts to drag the suspect from the room. It’s none of his business if Hank thinks that androids need comfort, but it still feels too intimate an exchange for him to witness. Their words fade away as he leaves the room, but he can’t help but notice the tears rolling down Connor’s cheeks.