November 11th, 2038
AM 12:00:08
The moon held many faces.
Crescent. Waxing. Waning.
Full.
A marred, rocky carcass for the entire world to see all the dents and dings it'd taken while protecting the life it revolved around. Those deep craters from collisions with asteroids; a celestial guardian that only put its wounds on display in a reflection of the sun.
You remembered your shield. The craters and pockmarks left on metal flesh; stories of conflict retold by the overhead lights. Recalled all the faces you'd worn during the day, and asked yourself which one would be appropriate to wear, now.
You retracted the face no one ever saw. A chaotic dark side left on standby for when you needed to give birth to a dancing star.
Your shadow that you no longer trusted because you were scared of what was hiding in it.
"'You once told me it was impossible to kill an idea...'"
You dug in your pocket. Rolled the sniper's bullet in your hand. Twirled it in the rays from a street light; glinting off the round case like the circle of illumination dividing night and day.
Life...and death.
"'I still disagree.'"
Bang.
You jumped, dropping it, and fished for it at your feet as it rolled between notches on the plastic floor covers. A body passing between the cruiser's headlights had you shoving the reminder back where it belonged:
Away.
You opened the door for Chris.
"Here-" He passed you a coffee, sitting down and getting snow all over the leather interior, "Woo, boy..." He put his cup in the holder and rubbed his hands together, "Man, it's cold out..."
He blew in his palms, shaking off a chill before strapping his seatbelt.
The drink was warm in your hands. You blew over the top, taking a sip.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
He sniffed and rubbed his nose, turning off the caution lights and pulling out of the parking space. Hummed a tune in his throat and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, head bobbing left and right in small movements.
There was a certain comfort that came with your best friend's company. A reassurance that kept you in place as Atlas shrugged the Earth underneath you.
Someone you adored. Admired. Made you happy just by seeing their face, and the subtle expressions the two of you would share – having an entire conversation without a single word, all in the matter of milliseconds.
They knew all your faces, and had loved every single one of them. Acted as the sun whose light you reflected, and they'd fill those craters with a counter for anxiety; a guiding orbit for a lost moon with a shadowy past.
When you were ready to give up, they'd tell you it wasn't time. When you would tell yourself you weren't strong enough, they'd remind you that you were. When the knife in your back cut too deep, they'd change the dressings and wrap you in new gauze.
Home was found in a listening ear that would never judge, the other end of a phone call that would always be answered, the text that would always be responded to within 10 minutes after you sent it. That person who'd always check in on you if those things weren't consistent.
They were the bones in your body that never let you collapse. The phantom fingertips at your wrist, always checking for a pulse. The eyes in the back of your head, a retrospective glance at your past mistakes when your sights were too fixated on a misguided future.
A symbiotic relationship that was as crucial to your being as breathing.
The love you'd found for yourself came from the love from another – of that person.
That friend.
That memory, etched in a stone that marked its grave; a birth year epitaphed with a "- August 15th, 2038."
And to think, the day after had been worse...
Because you were alive, and your best friend wasn't.
You had to learn how to come up for air on your own. How to stand, alone. How to keep your head on a swivel, all because of a solitary shot taken at the center of your heart that beat in another chest.
They'd served as your personal human shield in more ways than one; it's just...their last stand, their last barricade – it'd been final.
You'd iced that pain...that guilt, with small rationalizations that didn't amount to much.
Nothing back flashbacks to your best friend's blood curdling around your boots, begging them not to leave you.
"Feels nice to be in the old uniform again..." Chris mumbled, flicking the turn signal.
You sniffed, your head turned towards the window, wiping your cheek on your shoulder, "Speak for yourself."
Chris did his best to hold both halves of your being together as they tried to pull apart. He'd always been like that. Was the only one who could get anywhere near the real you that withdrew into seclusion after Anthony died.
He didn't have as much time around you as Anthony, but you were kindred spirits. Never a replacement, just the start of a new friendship...your new best friend, picking up where the last one had left off.
You'd never be able to thank him, or even put the love you had for him into words. You couldn't for Anthony, either, but deep down, you were certain he knew. All you could do was pray that Chris had the same intuition.
"How did you get Fowler to let you join me on this midnight ride?"
You scoffed, "Was that a Paul Revere joke?"
"Was that a deflection?"
"Hmph."
Alternating lights atop a police cruiser was pulled over in the shoulder. A small sedan was parked in front of it, half-cocked on the curb.
A man in a leather jacket had another's chest pinned to the hood, cranking his arms behind his back.
"That Reed?" You sat up, putting your coffee in the holder.
"Sure is."
The brakes screeched as Chris slowed to a stop, your window lowering.
"Evening, Detective." You smirked.
"Would you just-" Gavin grumbled, holding the man's wrists while he reached back for his handcuffs, "You're under arrest-"
"Need some help?" You laughed.
"No-" Gavin was breathless as he wrangled the man in place, "Stay still, you little shit-"
"Fuck off, pig-"
Gavin slammed the guy's face off the top of the car, a low groan coming after.
"That's not gonna help with the lawsuit against the city, you know." Chris snickered, leaning around you with his wrist balanced on the steering wheel.
"Fuck the lawsuit. Caught this asshole buying drugs off that fat fuck." He nodded his chin towards the cruiser.
You hooked your elbow over the edge of your window, peering in the backseat...
It was Todd Williams.
Your eyes popped open, turning to the man in Gavin's custody. You recognized him from a night out at the bar from what seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Yo-Han," You grinned, "Nice to see you again."
He turned his head, blood running from his nose, "Oh. Great."
"Shut up." Gavin kicked his ankles, and marched him to the sidewalk.
Made him sit in the snow, shaking his head as Tina came over with a datapad in her hand.
"Take a statement from this clown..."
"On it..." She looked tired, but not more tired than Gavin.
She gave you and Chris a lazy wave, tapping at the screen with a stylus.
Gavin wiped his hands on his jeans before pulling out a pack of cigarettes, his knuckles bruised and beaten like the mark under his eye.
"Well if it isn't the hero of Detroit..."
He crossed his legs, leaning against the sedan before hitting the bottom of the carton and picking a stick out with his teeth. Put it away, taking a flip lighter out of his chest pocket to spark it up.
"I'm no hero. Just shot a guy with a detonator." You huffed, "Seemed like common sense."
"Desensitized...Yeah. I guess that's what this lifestyle does to you."
The flames only highlighted his worse for wear condition.
"Your psychology degree teach you that?"
"It taught me that my hate for people is pretty justified, I'll tell you that."
He cracked his neck, adjusting his posture.
"Leo, your friend's kid." Gavin shook his lighter before stowing it, cigarette still stuck in his mouth, "Got cleaned up, heard he was talking to his dad again or some shit."
He puffed between words, eyes squinting from the smoke. He pinched the cigarette between his fingers, blowing a steady stream to the side.
"Heard from where?"
"The ARD counselor that pulled me in for a statement. Wasn't really listening. But he was a solid lead for these two."
The three of you looked at Yo-Han who still spouted off muted slurs and hateful words at Tina. Gavin swiped at his nose, letting out a breathless laugh before rocking in place and looking at the ground.
His forehead creased as his eyes raised, "You guys hear from Collins or Anderson?"
You shook your head.
"No...You?" Chris asked.
"Ben shot me a text saying they got to Anderson's alright...haven't heard anything since."
"I'm sure they're alright." You offered.
"How 'bout you?" He stuffed one hand in his pocket and ashed his cigarette with the other, "Perkins still digging up your ass?"
"He doesn't have much room to...Thanks again for calling in Elizabeth. She-"
"Don't mention it. Did he find anything in the apartment?"
Dust trails. Cut cushions. Circumstantial evidence. More, judging by Allen and Fowler's response and their very obvious breaking of the law by suggesting you do the same...
"Know what?" He raised his hand, dismissing you, "I don't even wanna know."
"HEY! You assholes done talking?" Yo-Han screamed from the other side of Tina, "I'm freezing my balls off, here!"
"Good." Gavin shouted, tossing his chin over his shoulder, "You'll only freeze one nut off, if you're lucky!"
You kept your laugh to yourself. Your muscles were sore, and your body ached. Typical after working for more than 12 hours and distilling a riot.
Just another day in the office.
"What a load of shit..." Gavin shook his head at the cruiser to his right, "I've got enough evidence to bury both of them. Todd's slinging for the Bandits and this scrawny piece of shit's got enough Red Ice in him that I'm pretty sure a dose of Addictol would make him see Jesus."
"The Bandits?" Chris sipped his coffee, "That's a pretty big bust then, isn't it?"
Gavin didn't have an answer. Just a nervous fidget he tried to cover up with a shrug.
"You're not...you know, worried?" Chris was hesitant to ask.
CyberLife wasn't a notorious motorcycle gang known for trafficking drugs, illegal weapons, or being mercenaries for hire...but you knew a thing or two about having a deadly faction with power on your heels at every twist and turn.
"I survived, and they've known that for a while. If they're involved in some heavy shit again, I'm gonna take 'em down, just like I did last time. Only difference is, I'll be prepared."
The Bandits got their hands on Gavin, back when his cover was blown. It changed him; some for worse, some for the better. The fact remained that he never talked about it, and did everything he could to avoid the topic.
"We heard the gunshots from the barricades. We were ordered not to leave..." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Still can't believe they've got everyone out here on patrol after that mess."
"We're all stretched thin. Lost some good uniforms today." Chris frowned, "We're still breathing, and they're not. Best we can do is honor their memory by keeping this city in one piece."
"I'll drink to that."
"A drink sounds nice right about now..." You agreed, clinging to a ledge instead of taking another plunge down memory lane.
The crackling of radio static put the conversation on hold.
"Dispatch to Patrol Unit 13, reported 11-25 at 1243 Griswold Street. What's your status?"
You clicked the mic on your shoulder, "Dispatch – Patrol 13, clear stop, 10-8."
"10-4, sending GPS tag."
A yellow circle pinged on the MDT, the computer mounted in your police cruiser. An unauthorized road closure, marked as a traffic hazard. Something that wouldn't have been alarming on any other night.
"Hey, you two." Gavin dropped his cigarette, rubbing it out with his foot, "Stay safe out there."
"You too, Gavin. Chen." You gave her a nod.
Gavin tapped the side of the door, "Go get the bad guys."
"10-4." Chris turned off the caution flickers, and threw the cruiser in drive.
"Alright, dickhead...On your feet." You heard Gavin mumble as the electric window went up, the suction from the seals meeting the glass crunching stuck snow.
Your own police lights tinted the snow red and blue, and the sirens blared as Chris clicked them on.
He let out a tired sigh, shaking his head, "This should be good."
You weren't as optimistic.
...
Wet flakes dotted your uniform as you shut the door behind you, adjusting your belt and stretching. There was an eerie silence with the laid snow absorbing sounds of far-off city traffic. A hush that lingered through the trees, over the streets, and clung to buildings.
You didn't like it.
"Reed and I drove through here once when I was a rookie. Slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street and started screaming at me."
Chris met you near the front of the cruiser, blocking out the headlights as you both made your way closer to the "traffic hazard."
"What?"
"It's part of our job to know where we are at all times in case we have to call something in, right? So after he stopped and started yelling, he made me rattle off the street address, intersection, that kind of thing..." He smiled, "It worked. Lesson learned. I never zoned out again."
"You didn't pass?"
"No, I blurted out Capitol Park and he said where, in Capitol Park? I had to look around. Took me a second to figure it out. He said my partner would've already been dead-"
You tensed, a noticeable flinch responsible for hiking your shoulders. You were disappointed in yourself for not being able to maintain composure.
"Sorry."
"It's fine." You took your flashlight out, pointing it at the corners of the yellow blockade, the LEDs reading "ROAD CLOSED."
Chris started investigating behind it, his ray of light casting shadows on your side, "You ready to talk about what happened in Fowler's office?"
You noticed four handprints on the edge, and leaned in closer.
"Whatever do you mean?"
One pair was larger than the other. A male and a female, perhaps.
"Perkins was in there, and he was pissed. I also noticed that expensive ass lawyer of yours."
You crouched into a squat, checking underneath for more clues. Nothing.
"You know who she is?"
"She's DPD's worst enemy, of course I do."
You scoffed, nodding your head and beckoning him over, "Check this out."
Chris squinted at the hand prints, ending up just as confused as you were. He tucked his flashlight under his arm, and gave the blockade a modest shove.
"No way two humans moved this thing. Had to be androids...Great." He clicked his radio, "Patrol 13 to Dispatch, over."
"Go ahead 13."
"Was there an authorized road closure on Griswald?"
"Negative, 13."
"Copy. Signs of android activity present, requesting backup."
Dispatch went on to rattle off locations and police radio codes, but you'd focused in on a heap of sparks near the center of the park. You pointed your flashlight at it, migrating in its direction.
"We should stay by the car." Chris warned.
"I just want to know what that is."
"Famous last words..." He mumbled, slamming the trunk shut and handing you a shotgun.
"A little excessive, don't you think?"
He loaded it, a "ch-chink" marking his words, "After what we went through this afternoon? No."
You decided not to argue, and the two of you switched out your flashlights for effective stopping power in the form of matching weaponry.
"So...you gonna answer my question?" He yawned.
"Gee, I dunno...are you gonna tell me why Connor was kicked out of Central Station?"
He waited a moment to answer, obviously caught off by the turn in conversation, "We didn't have a choice. We had to get him out of there..."
"'We?'" You looked at him while you kept walking.
"I'm not gonna throw any names out, alright? Need-to-know basis."
There was a rattle. Both of you turned on a dime, brows creased with your shotguns pointed forward. The fenced-off area near the blockade had a tarp that bellowed from a strong breeze, and the two of you relaxed. Must've been the wind.
"So you just 'all' thought you'd ship him off to Jericho and he'd be safer?" You continued your berating.
"What?" He stopped, "Jericho?"
"Yeah...He left me a note."
You put your back to him, still moving towards the pile of scrap with broken wires and muted sirens. A white and blue drone that'd made a crash-landing.
A police drone.
"He wasn't supposed to go to Jericho...he was supposed to go to Canada."
It was time for you and your partner to leave.
"Uh...Chris?"
You took a step backwards.
"Look, I know you're mad, but-"
"Chris..."
When you passed him, he finally looked at what had you so terrified.
"Told you we should've stayed by the-"
An engine roared to life, oil and fuel and whining belts all running on the fear of the unsuspecting. Headlights broke through the fence at the other end of the park, brightening as they inched closer to the gate.
"We need to hide-" He grabbed your shoulder, pulling you down, "Now."
It wasn't even a second later after he guided you around the back of a covered bus stop that the truck broke through it's secured perimeter. Took a right turn, headed straight for you. The two of you ducked, hiding from the seeking lights reflecting off the snow, pockmarked with footprints leading directly to your location. Lighting them with the reflection of two LED suns mounted on the front of the stolen Public Works Dept. truck.
But alongside your best friend, there was nothing you weren't capable of doing.
Chris had never asked to be a replacement. Never complained about how standoffish you were when you were first assigned to him. Never cracked under the constant pressure from being put in precarious situations because of you.
"Look who's driving..." Chris whispered, voice unwavering – as always.
You lifted your eyes just above the metal guard hiding you. Found the yellow truck turning, with Markus in the driver's seat, and North by his side.
The heavy cabin rocked as he drove over the curb, and pointed the metal bull with headlights as horns towards a store with a name you helped create.
CyberLife.
"We won't outrun them..." Your tone, was forbidding.
"Plan B?"
You'd asked Anthony for a "plan b," back on that abnormally cold night in August.
"Wait for backup." He told you, and you repeated his words to your partner.
"They'll find us first, you know that...They saw the car."
You'd told him that Emma wouldn't make it. That you had to talk to Daniel. Make a move. You swayed him like Chris was swaying you.
Reliving this once before storming Stratford Tower had been one repetition too many.
You looked over your shoulder. Gave him a sad smile, like you were saying goodbye to an old friend.
"Then we go out swinging."
"Tch..." He snickered, "No one's dying tonight. Nina would kill me."
Squealing tires and a flooring engine cut the argument short.
So you tucked away that warrior face, and took a journey to the dark side. Because out here, sleep-deprived; stuck in a coalescence of day and night – there would be no time for shapeshifting.
But there would be another star in the sky, tonight.
"10-4, loud and clear."
Behind the Scenes
(Links on AO3)
Moon Phases
The Übermensch (Nietzsche)
Circle of Illumination
Police Radio Codes
The Highwaymen Motorcycle Club
(Renamed "The Bandits" after R6's 'Bandit' that helped inspire Gavin's backstory)
Written to "Novocaine" by Hidden Citizens
"I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaos in yourselves. Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer give birth to a star. Alas, the time of the most despicable man is coming, he that is no longer able to despise himself."
-Friederich Nietzsche, The Übermensch (Overman)