November 8th, 2038
PM 03:42:27
The locker room was empty, save for an Officer you'd only passed in the halls. You didn't know her name, and didn't care to learn it. So, you sat there on a bench and kept staring at your opened locker.
An aluminum rectangle standing at your height with vents in the door, your last name sprawled across its face. The responsibility that came with the uniform within it brought a comfortable weight.
It was more than a branded set of clothing. It was part of your identity, now. Your suspension had that stripped away, leaving you to figure out how to find comfort without a second home to escape to.
It felt good to be here again, in Central Station. Things made sense most of the time, and even when they didn't – there was always a way to figure them out.
If you were missing a set of prints, you knew where to find them. If you had a question about a file, a person down in PICS knew what was going on. There were laws to follow; laws that you enforced.
There were no laws written on how one should handle the situation you were in. No one to enforce a code that dictated what was right and wrong. That in itself was a scenario you'd gotten used to being a constant in your life outside of work. It was familiar.
Just like the officer in the room with you – you may not have known who she was, but she, too, was familiar.
Everyone in the DPD was. Here, they were forced to act a certain way, maintain a certain distance.
You'd hoped that any fear of the unknown would do the same...
A faceless familiarity, but one you didn't care to identify with, either.
As it were, it was starting to creep up on you.
You pulled your hoodie over your head, the vinyl DPD brand white on black cloth. The clothes you'd worn before were stowed in a similarly-marked duffle bag, slung over your shoulder. You stood, closed your locker, and left for the main hub. The room filled with desks where yours sat untouched with a slew of "Get Well" cards and other trinkets sat around a terminal that'd been left alone for far too long.
You'd go through them later.
"Come over here for a sec." Hank beckoned you over with a nod.
You adjusted the strap on your shoulder and sighed.
Truth was, you came back to the station to get the weight of life off your chest. You didn't expect helping anyone else do the same in the process – Gavin, Chris, or otherwise.
After your name came as a bark from Hank, you'd guessed it wasn't over yet.
The desk connected to his that was supposed to be bare was also covered in a plethora of new decorations.
You turned your head to the side, "Connor's redecorating?"
"People have been chipping in. Started saying it wasn't 'normal' to not have shit all over the place."
A plant in a small pot was behind his monitor.
"You gave him your bonsai tree?"
"He liked it."
A mouse pad with a dog's face on it rested next to his keyboard.
"And you totally bought that for him."
"So what?"
You raised a brow, "When you say 'people,' have been chipping in..."
"Chris gave him the calendar and picture frame. So yeah, people."
The calendar was from a charity drive for kids the department had hosted. The empty frame had a stock photo in it – a blue outline of DPD's crest with the measurements etched underneath.
You'd make a note to fill it later.
"I told Connor about Cole, you know, just to find some common ground...things got real shitty after that." Hank mumbled, "Thought I'd do something nice for a change."
You smiled, "Having a partner isn't turning out to be so bad, is it?"
"Whatever."
A push-pinned note on the board next to the calendar drew you in.
"'Fuck you. – GR'..." You read it aloud, "Why did he keep this?"
"Keep what?"
Hank leaned over the divider between the desks, his neck bending to read the message.
"For fuck's sake..." He yanked it free, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it in a wastebasket.
He crossed his arms, rolling back in his seat, "Take a load off."
He pointed his chin at the chair on the opposite side of his desk, and you dropped your duffle before plopping in the under-budget cushion.
"What did I do now?" You clasped your hands over your stomach, balancing your ankle on a knee.
He leaned in on his elbows, "You hit your head or something?"
"Not that I recall. Took a nice blow to the abdomen, though."
"Oh, get the fuck over it." He pursed his lips, giving you one of his legendary, unsympathetic glares, "I'm worried about what you've got yourself wrapped up in, kid."
He adopted a different expression, then. One of caring and concern hiding under a grizzled exterior.
"Don't be." You bit the inside of your cheek, eyeing up the pair of week-old donut boxes cluttering his work space, "I've been at this for a while."
"Yeah, except now it's relevant. This could backfire in your face and you'd never see it coming."
You swallowed hard as the unknown Officer walked by, waiting for her to be out of earshot before continuing.
"It's not like I meant for this to get out...How was I supposed to know an android would scroll through WITSEC's files like an activity feed on Facebook?"
"Can you just be serious for a sec?" The angry Hank came back, "Have you even thought about what could happen to you if someone finds out you wrote the book on deviancy?"
"Let them fucking come," You stabbed the desk with your finger, "I didn't 'write the book' for anything except an ethical way to integrate androids."
"Is that all this is to you?" His rising temper matched yours, "Lemme ask you something – have you talked with Connor since our little spout with the Harbinger of Manic Manbuns?"
"Why the fuck are you so fixated on his hair?"
"Answer the goddamn question."
You mauled your lip, chewing on the tension in your throat.
"No."
"Well, I have. The kid's a fucking mess and he's trying to keep it together 'cause he doesn't want to let you down!"
"And just when the fuck were you gonna tell me that?"
"When I felt like it. Kind of like how you didn't feel like telling me you were romantically involved with-"
"Oh, come on." You rolled your eyes and held your arms out, "Are we really gonna do this right now?"
"Yeah, we are."
You didn't need this. Didn't want to deal with it. Just wanted to pack up, go home, and handle the clusterfuck of emotions later.
"It just happened. Alright?"
His forehead dove into his palm, and he dragged it down his face.
"Things are complicated for him enough without you running around making it worse."
Your mouth twisted, "Excuse me?"
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"You think I wanted this?" You jumped out of your seat, jabbing at him with another pointed finger, "You think I asked for any of this?"
"Sit down, people are staring-"
"I don't fucking care!" You pressed your hands on his desk, "If you think for a second that I don't drown myself in guilt every goddamn day-"
He stood, towering over you, "I said...Sit. Down."
His lips curled with each word – every syllable ending like if you didn't listen, they'd take form and he'd use them against you as lethal weapons.
Your hands balled into fists, and you did as you were told.
"That's not what I meant."
"Yeah, well that's what it sounded like."
He groaned under his breath, "Fuckin' feels like I'm talking to younger-me sometimes, you know that?"
"You were the youngest Lieutenant in DPD history. I'll take that chance."
His glare narrowed, and he shook his head as he looked away.
"You helped pull me from the brink after Cole died." His eyes switched back to you, "All I'm tryin' to do is make sure you don't go diving headfirst."
Your body relaxed, but you had a tough time hiding the shock that smoothed the features on your face.
"I won't, Hank. I'm good." A dark smile pinned your lips to the side, "I'm better than I have been in a long time."
His brows creased. He opened his mouth to speak. You cut him off.
"I became a cop because I got tired of watching my back. All day, all night – like I had footsteps in my shadow. Like if I stopped running to catch my breath for one second, they'd get me."
"'They,' being CyberLife?"
"Yeah, them...and all the other fuckheads who wanted me 'silenced,' permanently." You growled, "And now, I have more than just a few people watching my back. I found a family. Friends. But more importantly, I found a purpose."
He smirked, "To 'deliver your message,' right?"
"...Really? You're going to quote my ex-husband?"
"Nah," He waved you off, "You're more like a carrier pigeon than a raven."
"Yeah, well...When this bird spreads her wings," You laughed under your breath, "Whether or not they'll be soaring through friendly skies will be up to them."
"Hmph." His shoulders bounced in a grunt, the smile fading away, "All this android shit...Birds in their own fucking cage..." He frowned, "What if we're fighting against people who just wanna be free?"
"We are." You heaved a heavy sigh, "We just have to stop all this before it escalates into something we can't defuse."
"Yeah, well, if you write out any of those stupid cloud messages we're gonna have a real problem."
"What's wrong with skywriting?"
"You're...Jesus." He facepalmed, "If you got your head out of your ass, you'd see the point I'm trying to make."
You sucked your teeth, turning your head.
"You don't start fires and make smoke signals when you're trying to lay low, you hear me? You could be in real danger."
"I'm done running, Hank. I won't." Your teeth started to grind together, and you had to pry them apart, "Not this time."
The two of you sat in silence for a moment, taking in the phones that wouldn't stop ringing. The empty coffee cups that sat on everyone's desk, and the sleepless nights etched on their owners' faces. The vacant android racks that usually had units on standby.
The war on deviancy was taking a toll on everyone – and you were the one awaiting reactivation.
"I couldn't make changes from the other side of those doors." You pointed to the officer's entrance, "Here, I can help change things...because this isn't just about humans versus androids anymore. This is about uncovering the truth, and making sure everyone 'hears' it no matter what."
"Hey, sorry to interrupt." Chris gave a friendly wave, "Oh, hey." He nodded at you, "Either one of you seen Connor anywhere?"
You choked down the rest of your defense, and forced a friendly smile on your face.
"No, why?" Hank squinted.
"I was...uh, waiting on him to bring some evidence back up from the Evidence Room. He, uhm...hasn't come back yet."
Your brows laced, and you gave him a scrutinizing look. He was acting funny.
Something was up.
"Sounds like that's your cue."
Your neck snapped back to Hank, "To do what, exactly?"
"That's up to you, Lovebird."
"Pffft-" Chris coughed, holding back a laugh, "Ah-ahem-"
"You've gotta be fuckin-" Hank looked at you, then back at your partner, "You know about them, too?"
"Know what?" Gavin snuck up on you from behind, grabbing your chair and scaring the shit out of you.
"Jesus Christ..." You grabbed your bag, and forced him away by sliding on the wheels, "I'm outta here."
"Oh, Anderson-" Gavin ignored you, stumbling in place, "Did RoboCop get my message?"
"Yeah, I saw your fuckin' note. You do that shit again and I'll kick your ass."
"HAH!" He slapped his thigh, "I couldn't believe I got it taped to his screen without him noticing-"
"Wait, you taped it? It was pinned to..."
"Pinned to...?" Chris cocked his head.
"Nothing...Go handle business." Hank brushed your shoulder and nodded over to the doors leading to the Evidence Room, "I need to talk to Tweedledum and Tweedledee over here."
"Hear that, Miller?" Gavin put him in a headlock, and Chris struggled to fight him off, "Our time together earned you a cute nickname."
"God-Detective-" He pulled away, but Gavin just laughed and held him firm, "That was an insult-"
"Yeah, well...Wait," He let him go, "No it wasn't. You're definitely Tweedledum."
"Coming from the guy who bought an Xbox just to play Call of Duty every year..." Chris growled, pulling his uniform straight, "Jesus, man..."
You marched forward, leaving the two idiots to swarm around Hank's disturbed hive. You were all just a bunch of worker bees awaiting instruction, after all.
Brothers and sisters under one coat of arms. One motto.
"Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus."
"We hope for better things; it will arise from the ashes."
Those words resonated with you – they always had...because Elijah was right:
You had an irreplicable fire.
You'd faced your past, armed with struck matches and gallons of gasoline; setting every bridge going backwards ablaze to light the way for a brighter future.
Sometimes, there had to be a period of slash and burn in order for something new to grow.
All that was left to do was rise from the ashes, because you weren't a pigeon or a fucking raven.
You were a phoenix that would sing your song of fire and brimstone on burning wings, smoking out the liars that sought to keep the world in the dark.
Because sometimes, you had to fight fire with fire. A lesson that deviants had learned the hard way while you held the torch.
You'd do your best to guide Connor through the darkness while the flames of war were ignited.
And if you failed?
He was bound to get lost in the fallout.