SEQUENTIAL ━ Connor // RK800 ✔️

eleven ━ emergency exit

Connor was aware of what this case file was trying to do and he was not buying into it. "The documents have been forged," he retorted to Brady's panic, glancing at him before focusing once more on scanning everything in that file.

"How can you know that?"

"Because these documents claim to have been provided by CyberLife, whose databases I also have access to. Nothing in this file matched with the real company documents. Here," Connor pointed at a line on the evidence list, "she's listed as project coordinator on the research into deviancy, when in fact, she was a late addition to the team established for that research by Elijah Kamski." He opened his left palm and projected a holographic copy of the real document in order to present it to Brady. "And here's the proof that our trial here has been approved," he willed a new document onto the hologram before closing his hand into a fist and dropping it to the table. "Someone forged this whole case file to make it seem like she was responsible for the murder. I just don't understand why."

"Could an android have done it?" Brady offered the possibility, thus successfully getting Connor's attention to his theory — his LED has been constant since the accusations section was opened. "The one who ran away, maybe. Would it have a reason to not want to let her go so easily?"

Bobby barged into the office area of the station, making a beeline for the colleague seated just two desks away from them. "You won't believe who I just got off the phone with, Marty. The S.W.A.T.. They're on their way here from the city, can you believe it? Who the fuck do we got in our custody that they'd come to our town?"

"You think...?" As Brady looked over to Connor, he saw first how his LED blinked for a second in red before returning to yellow.

"We have five minutes before the S.W.A.T. team gets here," Connor informed. "They have orders to..." He paused, hesitating to accept the information he had just read.

"Shit," Brady paled, watching perplexed how Connor straightened up instead of finishing his sentence.

"Can you help me with a distraction?" Seeing from the corner of his eye how Brady stood up, Connor took that as an affirmative answer. "I am not authorised to get in there," he tilted his head in the direction of the interrogation room, "but I can hack my way in. I need to get her out."

"And go where?" Brady questioned, still speaking in whispers shushed between gritted teeth. "Do you have where to go? Does she have anyone who can help with this? Can you help her?"

Connor didn't know the answer to any of those questions and not knowing disturbed him deeply.

"This is not how I wanted to spend my day," Brady sighed, before nodding. He grasped his car keys off the table and shoved them into Connor's chest, forcing him to take them. "Take my car once you get her out. Get far away from here and figure this out, you hear me? I am expecting my car back in one piece once things are good. Got it?"

"Got it." Being given a good nudge towards a clearer plan, Connor's LED returned to a pulsing blue. "Thank you, officer," he pocketed the keys.

"Just don't scratch it," Brady dismissed his gratitude with a wave of his hand, looking towards his colleagues and seemingly trying to come up with the best distraction he could as he walked towards them. His months of working on that lonely chair in the hallway had taught him one thing about this bunch — they loved to hear about food being ordered in the station.