Chapter Text
April 4th, 2039 - 0934 am
As the sun hid behind grey clouds, the pouring rain soaked the few pedestrians brave enough to step outside. You hadn’t seen the city in a long time, and it felt strange to be back. The quiet streets, the construction sites on hold for an undetermined time, sale signs jabbed in front yards and ‘for sale’ signs plastered on shop windows; Detroit seemed emptier than when you left. The city was calm. Oddly calming.
The aftermath of the Android Revolution still lingered on the city that desperately tried to get back on its feet. Pro-Android thinkers had flocked to Detroit, but it was drops in the bucket against the flood of people fleeing the technology metropolis.
The American Androids Act was modified, allowing androids to wear any clothes they wanted even if they worked with the public, but they were still required to wear an LED at all times. All existing androids who had removed theirs had to get a new one, and in exchange, they had the right to work, to own properties, and access to all public places. They were finally equal to humans.
They had the choice to keep executing the functions they were doing before becoming deviant, or they could pursue a different career. Cyberlife continued to provide androids for the public services and any fields that were lacking personnel, but it was now illegal to buy an android for yourself.
Nervousness and excitement overwhelmed you when you received the news from the captain of the LAPD that you were being relocated back to Detroit after your investigation. You were ecstatic but anxious to see the state the city was in and to reunite with your friends and coworkers.
The autonomous taxi you were sitting in smoothly drove to Central Station, your old workplace. It stopped in front of the tall, prominent building and the doors opened in a swift motion. You grabbed your bag and the cardboard box containing your personal belongings and stepped into the drizzle. You shivered as the cold made your teeth chatter. The light coat you wore wasn’t warm enough for the chilling air of Detroit.
You made your way into the precinct, stopping by the reception desk to receive your pass to enter the offices. A female android greeted you, her LED spinning blue at the sight of you. A smile spread on her lips.
“Detective,” she said your last name with enthusiasm. “It’s been a while, welcome back!” She slid your pass on the counter. You nodded in gratitude and took the pass.
You were taken aback by the lack of police officers in the precinct. The atmosphere felt cold and different from what you were used to. You made your way between the desks to Hank’s. Your eyes scanned the wall with the articles praising him on his excellent work as a soft smile spread on your lips. Your stare traveled down to the framed picture of the Red Ice Task Force team of the precinct. There were words scribbled on it by each face, in Hank’s handwriting. His comment on you, ‘not that annoying,’ made you chuckle.
His desk was still a mess, not surprising. You turned to the office in front of his, lowering your cardboard box on the white surface when something caught your attention. A nameplate read “ Detective Connor .” You stood still in front of the empty desk looking for some hints it could belong to someone, but nothing there was nothing. Your eyebrows knitted together. Who in the hell had the patience to sit in front of Hank? As far as you knew, you had been the only one who could put up with him and his grumpiness. You looked around for another spot, but they were too far from your old partner. An empty desk was next to Detective Connor, and you shrugged before you swung your bag onto it along with your box. It was now yours.
You pinned up pictures of you and the friends you had made in L.A. - most of them being coworkers - on the board in front of the desk along with a picture of yourself standing proudly beside a teacher of the Police Academy on the day of your graduation. You had a small plastic plant, rather than a real one because you were terrible at taking care of anything living. At that thought, you glanced over at Hank’s desk to see his little plant, withered. It stood sadly next to his terminal, waiting to be thrown away. You chuckled and shook your head. You remembered the day he had brought in the plant; you hadn’t been able to contain your laughter as he put it on his desk. You finished by setting up your nameplate and discarded the box under your desk.
You met Hank when you joined the DPD. The desk in front of him was the only one available, and you were assigned your first case with him. He hated to have a partner, and he made sure you knew it, but with your hot-headed temper, you made sure he knew it wouldn’t get to you, which gained you some respect in Hank’s book. The partnership turned into a friendship, and soon the old man refused to work with anyone else.
Two years ago, you were relocated to Los Angeles for a big Red Ice bust, and you had to leave him behind. You had finally arrested the heads of the cartel after a long and tedious investigation that had left you with some scars - physically and emotionally - but it was one of the most exceptional experiences of your career. Hank had been offered a post on the Task Force as the leader due to his record, but he had declined. He proposed you go to Captain Fowler instead. You tried to talk him out of it, to go back to his decision and accept the investigation, but he’d refused every time. He couldn’t be bothered to go to L.A., that’s what he kept telling you, but he always thought you deserved it more than him. He had proven himself many times during his career; it was your time now.
Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized someone was standing beside you. You were absentmindedly spinning on your chair from left to right. You were only aware of the presence to your side when you hit something. You jumped as your head snapped in the direction of the man hovering over you. The LED on his temple slowly spun a pale blue.
“Hi, my name is Connor. I believe you are Detective,” The android spoke hesitantly, his eyes shifting to your nameplate to get it right. He extended his hand to you. You were taken aback by his human approach. You slowly brought your hand to his and shook it, surprised to feel the warmth of his smooth skin on your palm. “I’ve heard great things about you.” The android continued.
“Oh, did you?” You scoffed and turned to your terminal to log into the system.
“Yes,” The android replied, sitting down at his desk. “Lieutenant Anderson told me about you when we got the news that you were joining the Detroit Police force again.” You shook your head in disbelief. How could an android be sitting in front of Hank all day? The man had such a hatred for these robots; you couldn’t imagine a day in the poor android’s shoes. But what was the most surprising was that this Connor android had conversations with Hank.
“You’re friendly with Hank? You got him to talk?” You asked, raising an eyebrow to Connor.
“Yes, Detective. It was not an easy task to accomplish, but I am confident to say that we are friends. Familiar to each other, to say the least.” He smiled, and you hummed, amused. You missed quite a lot these past two years.
“How did you get him to like you? It took me a lot of drinks at Jimmy’s to get him to look at me.”
“He was worse than you,” A voice you knew too well spoke behind you. “Took months, but this bastard managed to win me over, I guess.” Hank stood behind you. You spun on your chair and let out a small joyous yelp and embraced him. He reciprocated the hug, tightening his grip around your shoulders. “How are you doing, kid?”
Despite his grumpy attitude and his constant swearing, you missed the old man. He was the best partner you had the chance to work with. During your investigation in L.A., you often found yourself calling him late at night when you didn’t know how to proceed next. After the hurricane of insults, he would help you until you had an idea of what to do. He was the father figure in your life, a figure that was not present in your childhood. It wasn’t always easy to work with Hank, but he still had your back, no matter what. You were partners, friends, even family . You could count on him, and he could count on you.
You sat back on your chair and pointed to Connor. “You got yourself an android?” Hank rolled his eyes and made his way to his desk. As he passed the android, he patted him on the shoulder.
“They shipped him to me, and I lost the receipt.” He smirked. You saw a faint smile forming on Connor’s lips as his hands start to get busy fixing his tie. Hank sat down at his desk with a sigh.
You and Hank briefly caught up with each other. Many things changed in the precinct, but he spared the details for your well being. Gavin’s suspension was the only highlight worth mentioning.
Captain Fowler made his entrance and called you to his office. You rose from your chair and entered his glass cube. “Glad to have you back in the precinct, Detective,” he shook your hand before he took place behind his desk, resting his laced fingers on top of a case file.
“I’m happy to be back,” you replied as you took a seat in front of him. “I will have to upgrade my wardrobe with warmer clothes, but I’m glad I could come back to Detroit.” A chuckle escaped your Captain’s throat, and he shifted his attention to you, his eyes locked on yours, his wrinkles more pronounced. Just like that, his intense gaze shifted the mood inside the office.
“I know we discussed it through the phone a month ago,” he sighs. “But you’re welcome to delay your start date, if not two weeks, at least one.” You purse your lips; you didn’t like where this was going. He shook his head and held his hands up. “Listen,” he said your name, concern in his voice. “I know your last bust was a strenuous investigation, I’ll acknowledge it, especially for what’s up there,” His fingers tapped his temple, “You’re a good cop, and I want the best for you-”
“I’m alright, Captain,” You cut him off. “I’m ready to work, and I don’t need any breaks.” Fowler nodded slowly. It was useless to argue; you wouldn’t change your mind.
He slid a datapad across his desk, and you grabbed it, quickly skimming the document on the screen before your eyes went back to your Captain.
“A Red Ice Bust?” You scoffed.
“It was for Reed, but due to the recent events...” he laid back in his chair with his arms crossed on his chest. “You were my best plan B.” A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “Show me what you got,” he continued with your last name.
“I won’t let you down, Captain.”
∆
Fingers drummed nervously on your desk as you read in depth the file Captain Fowler gave you. Your eyes scanned the papers, your brain collected the information, and your other hand was scribbling the names of suspects and other important info on a notepad. Your feet started tapping in an irregular rhythm on the back wall under your desk. Hank dropped his datapad in a dramatic matter. He cursed your last name, catching your attention.
“Stop that with your foot, or I swear I’ll break it!” You rolled your eyes and uncrossed your legs to put your fidgeting foot on the ground.
“Calm down, Grandpa,” you muttered under your breath. Hank resumed his work and so did you, still drumming your fingers on the surface of your desk.
You had the feeling someone was staring at you. You stole a glance at Connor who was looking at you. You caught each other’s eyes, and you averted your gaze to your file, but the android kept staring. A faint rush of blood spread on your cheeks. You looked back at him. “Is there anything I can help you with, Connor?”
“Your level of nicotine is getting low. I can sense you’re starting to get nervous,” His eyes went to your fidgeting hand. “Smoking isn’t good for humans. It’s harmful to your lungs and-”
“I know.” You cut him off. You closed your file and stood up abruptly, Hank’s head snapped in your direction. You rummaged through your bag to find your pack of cigarettes and your lighter.
“Smoking is bad for you, Detective,” Connor continued.
“ I know ,” You grabbed your coat and slipped your arms into the sleeves. “I have enough of Miles telling me about it,” You mumbled as you made your way to the hallway, but Hank called out your name, stopping you in your tracks. You spun on your heels, facing the old man.
“Since when are you talking to that guy?” He asked, crossing his arms on his chest. You sighed and resumed your walk toward the exit.
“It’s been a while… Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You waved the pack of cigarettes in the air.
A sharp wind swept your hair mercilessly as you opened the door of the precinct’s roof. You absentmindedly kicked the door closed as your hands busied themselves to light up your cigarette, one desperately trying to flick the lighter and the other shielding the flame from the wind.
You took one long drag of the toxic substance, fully aware it was terrible for you, but damn it felt good. The throbbing forming at the back of your head disappeared as soon as the smoke filled your lungs. It was still drizzling, but you needed your fix of nicotine. That lousy habit you started in Los Angeles would catch up to you, and you knew that but it was a quick stress reliever, and it was an effective one. One simple cigarette could help melt the stress hoarding on your shoulders.
Moving back to your home town was stressful. The news were experts in making things more prominent than they were, and from what you heard about the Android Revolution, you wouldn’t have been surprised to come back to a city reduced to smoke and ash, chaos still roaming the streets of Detroit. Luckily, that wasn’t the case.
You leaned your elbows on the ledge of the roof, the ash of your cigarette scattering to the wind. Detroit wasn’t what you used to know. You gazed at the skyscrapers, their tips disappearing in the grey clouds. Your eyes traveled down to the quiet streets below; you were used to car horns and shouting of busy roads. But, there was nothing . Detroit was different. It felt colder , emptier.
You crushed the remainder of your cigarette on the ledged and headed back inside. You shook the water off your coat and draped it over your chair. Hank greeted you with a scowl. “Don’t you dare to give me that look,” You pointed an accusing finger at him. “You can lecture me once you give up drinking.”
“I didn’t say anythin’,” Hank said in his defense, his hands held up. “But I can still disapprove.”
You muttered an insult under your breath to which Hank answered with a menacing ‘ I heard you.’ You ignored him, a small smile spreading on your lips. You dove back into your investigation.
Welcome back .