Accident Prone - Becoming Human

Good Deed

After spending a week recovering from his assault at the hands of a crazed and violent deviant that nearly stole his life, Hank was declared healthy enough to return to work but was still restricted to desk duty as his fractured ribs still needed time to heal. Enduring mild pneumonia had only hindered his recovery time but Hank was in no rush to return to the snowy, icy, cold, unforgiving streets of Detroit just yet. Connor on the other hand was getting restless during the recovery period. Sitting behind his terminal all day sorting through various cold cases and deviant related crimes had become a dull monotonous routine for the always astute and energetic deviant detective.

Statuesque at his desk Connor began to rapidly fidget with his coin over his left fingers, then back and forth between his palms, much to Hank's chagrin. Unaware of Hank's blue eyes piercing daggers into his coin Connor stared at his screen and continued with his little tic to quell his pent up energy.

"Connor." The senior detective spoke up in a level tone to get his partner's attention. "Put the coin away or I'll put it in a vending machine."

"Sorry, Hank." Connor obeyed the request and slipped the quarter into his right blazer pocket. Letting out a surprisingly humanly sigh of discontent Connor clenched his now empty right hand into a tight fist atop his desk. "I'll leave the coin in my pocket."

Seeing the response from Connor made Hank's tone soften considerably. "Bored?"

"I believe this lack of activity constitutes as boredom, yes."

"Maybe Fowler has an assignment you can take care of instead of playing 'desk jockey' all day?"

"Unlikely. Besides, Captain Fowler doesn't trust anyone aside from yourself and Chris to act as my partner."

"And Chris is still gone for a few more days. He has a hell of a sense of timing, too."

"Are you referring to Julia going into labor during their vacation?"

"Yup. They were already all together and Fowler had his paternity leave ready to go." Hank leaned back in his chair casually as he tried to think of a solution for Connor's mounting restlessness. "You've already gone through all of the cold cases involving deviants, right?"

"Correct."

"And nothing of interest has popped up? Not even a very faint trail of interest to follow?"

"No. There has simply been a lack of-" Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed yellow and his soulful brown eyes went wide with fear. "...No."

"Connor?" Reading the worried expression like an open book Hank pressed for an answer. "What's up?"

"...I just received a report of a structure fire to a farmhouse at a private residence just outside the city."

"So? We're the police department, that kind of call is for the fire department, kid."

"Hank, the address is of the house of Mrs. Rose Chapman."

Instantly recognizing the name Hank leaned forward against his desk and was now fully alert. "Holy shit... Is she all right?"

"No reported casualties, but the fire itself has already been ruled as an arson." Connor's brow furrowed slightly as he sifted through the macabre details in the provided, and only partially completed, report. "There was anti-android hate speech and graffiti spray painted all over the property, which narrows down the suspect pool to anywhere between one and all of the bigots still roaming the county."

"Shit, sounds like it's in our jurisdiction after all." Hank all but jumped up to his feet and pulled the car keys from his left coat pocket, only to toss them to Connor who caught them gracefully in his right hand. "You drive. We have a long way to go and with my wrist still broken I don't have the reflexes to handle these shitty roads right now."