Key: Y/G= Your Gender, Y/S= Your Size
Warning: Swearing And Violence
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[Connor's P.O.V.]
As soon as I see the intruder point the gun at my feet and pull the trigger I jump back and use that momentum to duck and roll out of range. With a loud bang, a bullet embeds itself into the floor right where my foot had been moments ago.
Taking their chance while I am down, the human and android flee off the front porch. The sounds of their feet slapping the hard pavement echoing as they head down the road. After regaining my balance, I bolt up and exit the house. Readying myself to pursue them, but as soon as I'm about to step off the porch I hear a grunt and pause to look at my partner who is now attempting to stand while holding a bloody spot on his jeans.
"Connor don't let them get away, chase after them!" He says through gritted teeth, and then after I continue to stare at him, "what are ya lookin' at? I'm fine! And they're getting away!" He nods in the direction of the street, bringing my attention back to the two intruders still sprinting into the distance. One of them, the human, turns their head to look back at us. I catch a glimpse of their face and the glint of something metal falling out of their pocket. A determined look in their eyes catches me off guard, nothing about what just happened shocked them in the slightest.
The decision to not risk further injuries overrides Hank's commands, it is very clear that they are not afraid to harm police officers after all.
I kneel down next to Hank, ignoring his angry yelling and gesturing as I check the knife wound on his leg. I remove his hand and take a look. The cut runs diagonally across the thigh above the knee on his right leg. Approximately two and a half inches in length and barely half an inch deep. While replacing his hand, I say, "Lt. Anderson, your injury will have to be seen by a medical professional, please keep applying pressure while I contact emergency services."
"Emergency services my ass, just go see if they have a first aid kit," he motions to the house. "It's not that bad. Oh, and do me a favor, ask them what the hell just happened." He stands straight and stiff before hobbling into the house, stepping over the newly made hole in the floor. I follow a step behind and get pushed away when attempting to help. I have to settle for just watching and waiting to catch him if he falls as he makes his way to the dining room and pulling out a chair for him at the table before he can attempt to do it himself. This earns me a glare as he sits down. I make sure he keeps applying pressure to the cut while I start checking around the house for the residents.
Upon reaching the stairwell, I notice a man standing at the top.
"Detroit police, it's safe to come out now," I call out. He nods and beckons for someone around the corner that I cannot see before beginning to come down the stairs. He gets halfway before a woman appears, following him while using a hand to wipe her eyes.
The man clears his throat, "My name is Steve and this is my wife Allie, We're the Righters. I'm the one that called...". He glances at Hank in the dining room and then back at me. Allie stands next to him, wringing her hands and keeping her gaze focused downward except to look at me for a split second. She makes the face I often see when people recognize what I am.
"My name is Connor, I am the android sent by Cyberlife. This is my partner Lt. Hank Anderson," I point at Hank who raises his hand halfway as a sort of wave-like gesture, "he was injured during the deviant's escape... do you happen to have a first aid kit?" Steve nods and taps his wife with his elbow, she looks up and after he leans close and whispers a few words I can't make out, she heads off past the living room and down a hallway, turning on lights as she goes. Her husband watches her; I notice his eye twitch.
"Steve," I say to get his full attention on me, "tell me everything you can about the events that occurred, the deviant, and the person who ran off with it. Any information you have is useful to our investigation."
He crosses his arms. "I'm not talking to an android after all the shit that happened. I'll talk to your partner," he says.
I look at Hank who seems annoyed by Steve's comment, "Alright, Connor go look around the house, tell me if you find anything. You," he points at Steve, "come sit down and let's have us a nice chat while I try not to bleed on your fancy rug."
Steve gives me a side glance, bumping my shoulder with his as he makes his way over to Hank. I'm sure if I were human I would roll my eyes.
I walk around, looking for any signs of a struggle or blue blood by examining the furniture and placement of objects in the room. The living room is a decent size and furnished with decorative pieces with the television as the center of attention. It's new and most likely expensive, perhaps that's what brought in the human. A thief that was caught in the middle of whatever mess the Righters were going through? Except, nothing appears to be out of place. The area is tidy save for a thin layer of dust coating surfaces like the bookshelf and various decorations. The items that would have fetched a nice price weren't touched at all by the supposed thief.
As I get closer to the sliding glass door, spots on the floor catch my attention, I crouch down to look at muddy footprints that overlap each other leading further into the living room and then dividing into two sets. One heading up the stairs and the other to the front door. Immediately I know which ones are mine and which belong to the intruder. Judging by the shape and size they're most likely [Y/G] and wearing sneakers size [Y/S].
Steve begins relaying his story to Hank, "Well it all started when Allie and I were um going to have some...alone time..." a pause as Allie walks up to Hank, first aid kit in hand. She says something in a hushed tone before checking his cut and cleaning it. Her husband watches and continues, "When our piece-of-junk android, Tom, burst in the room with a kitchen knife. It pushed me away, I hit my head pretty hard actually, and then it grabbed her, held the damn knife to her side and started for the window. It went psycho, tried to kill us," he scoffs and rubs the back of his neck.
He's not telling the whole story. I stand up and walk over to the glass door. While checking for fingerprints I ask, "When you say 'alone time' I assume you mean sex?" Hank chokes and starts coughing in the dining room. I glance at him and a red-faced Allie still tending to his leg.
"Yeah, I guess it's safe to assume that tinman," Steve replies harshly. The insult is meaningless to me, I have no feelings to hurt. He continues to tell Hank what happened but I turn my attention back to examining the house. No fingerprints on the door means they were probably wearing gloves. Their break-in was definitely planned.
I decide to follow the footprints upstairs where most of the action happened according to Steve. I go slow and take it one step at a time, avoiding stepping on any of the prints and scanning the area for anything important. Near the top they fade and end, all the mud was knocked off the intruder's shoes by the time they got here. I enter a hallway after exiting the stairwell and see pictures lining both walls, each one showing Allie and Steve. Their smiles slowly diminishing as time passes and they get older.
Other than pictures, all that is in the hall are doors, and they are all closed except one. I go through it and enter a bedroom. It must be the one Steve said him and his wife were in at the time of the attack. The bed is messy with the brown, floral designed blankets hanging off one side and the pillows in disarray near the top. To the left sits a black nightstand, water from a knocked over cup is pooling around an alarm clock and dripping off the side for the carpet to absorb. On the adjacent wall, a wide open window with no screen. I look out of it, onto the street below. A slight wind shuffles a few leaves on the sidewalk and crickets chirp from hiding places in the grass. The deviant and human are long gone by now and with no footprints or witnesses, there's no hope of tracking them.
Unless...
I remember the object that fell out of the intruders pocket and scan the area where I saw it happen. Sure enough, it's still there. Too far away for me to make out what it is. I should go retrieve it before something or someone else gets to it.
A soft knock behind me makes me turn around to see Allie standing in the doorway. Our eyes meet and she glances over her shoulder before moving farther into the room and carefully shutting the door. Taking extra precaution to ensure it makes no sound as she lets go of the handle. Hands shaking and brought up to her chest as she begins to explain herself, "Sorry if I scared you, I just want to talk without my husband hearing."
I stay silent but nod to let her know to continue. What she has to say will give me a better idea of the events that took place than what Steve had to say.
She takes a deep breath, "It's my fault. You see Tom, my— our android, was dear to me. I know that sounds weird but he was there for me when I really needed it, and well one thing lead to another which lead to Steve finding out and he got mad. Very mad. He, he..." tears spill out of her already red and puffy eyes. She wipes at them with the back of her hand, her manicured silver nails reflecting the ceiling light and catching on her russet colored hair.
I wait patiently with my own hands at my sides for her to collect herself. Debating whether or not it would be appropriate to place a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. After careful consideration, I decide against it and instead grab a box of tissues on the dresser across from the bed. I hand them to her and she thanks me while taking one out. I speak up, "It's not your fault Mrs. Righter, the android malfunctioned and deviated from its designed purpose. I apologize for this inconvenience on behalf of Cyberlife."
Allie shakes her head, "When Steve got mad that day something snapped. Not just in him but in both of them." Her voice quivers and she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, setting the box of tissues next to her. She hangs her head a bit, staring at the floor beneath her feet. I can't help but think what she's saying is intriguing but it doesn't help explain why the deviant attacked both of them with a knife.
Her head perks up a little when she hears Steve raise his voice downstairs. From what I can make out, he and Lt. Anderson are arguing about whether or not we could have caught the deviant. Hank is on defense, pointing out how he was injured and that I'm the "idiot" who should have chased down the two escapees.
Hank eventually snaps at him, making him give up and letting an uncomfortable silence hang in the air.
I look at Allie and move a step closer to talk in a hushed tone, "Mrs. Righter... did your husband attack the android?" She casts an empty gaze my way with more tears. Her chin tilts up and then down in a confirming nod.
"I- I tried to stop them, but they were just so angry. After that night I was scared, that's why Tom and I decided—" she is interrupted by the door swinging open. I watch her stand and place a hand on the bedpost to steady herself as she shrinks under Steves cold, analytical glare.
His eyes move from hers to lock onto mine and remain there. The tension of him daring me to say one wrong word making the atmosphere heavy.
"You know you should really get your buddy to a real medical professional," he says crossing his arms and side-stepping out of the doorway, leaving room for me to walk through.
"Yes, I agree. Unless there's anything else either of you would like to tell me?" " I go to the open door but pause and turn while resting a hand on the wood frame. Looking at the Righters, but also taking one last look around the room. I need to go get whatever is out in the road but I don't want to miss any evidence in here.
Allie subconsciously begins twisting a ring on her left hand and shaking her head after sneaking a glance at Steve who is standing a foot away from where I wait. His steel grey eyes now fixed on his wife.
"Alright," I say, "call Lt. Anderson if anything comes up or if the android makes its way back. Have a nice night... and again, my deepest apologies for this incident." I direct the last part more towards Allie.
I walk down the stairs and over to Lt. Anderson who is still at the dining room table with a bored expression as he looks at a few paintings on the wall. "I am done investigating. Would you like me to call for an ambulance or would you rather I drive you to the hospital?"
He doesn't look at me as he responds, "Neither, Allie is a nurse so it's taken care of, and there's no way in hell I'm letting you drive." He uses his hand on the table to stand and then he limps to the front door. "You sure you got everything? I don't want to have come back here so you better not have done a half-assed job." He says looking back at me while holding the door handle.
"I am sure there is more to this story but I have done all I can do for now. Also, your wound needs to be looked at and it's not sensible for you to drive with this," I gesture to the now bandaged area on his leg.
"I can drive, just watch me." He opens the front door starts walking to the car. I follow but stray a bit to the object laying on the ground that had been on my mind since I looked out the window. It's a set of keys. I pick them up by the ring and inspect them. There's a small charm in the shape of a pitbull and two keys.
"What's that?" Hank asks. He has one hand on top of the car while he watches me.
"A house and car key. I saw the intruder drop them while running away. This could help us find them." I say then walk over to show it to him.
"Yeah, whatever. Just get in already," he climbs into the driver's side and I go around to the passenger seat. The smell of stale fast food lingers in the air as I fasten my seat-belt, he digs around in his pockets for his own keys, cursing each time he comes up empty. I fake a cough to get his attention and point to where they sit, still in the ignition. He mutters, "huh, I must be getting old," and starts the car.
"Lt. Anderson, we need to find out where that deviant went and who was with it. They might know vital information about deviants such as where they all go after running away. Perhaps you could drive down the street and search for any signs they might've left behind? It's important to our case," I say as he pulls out of the Righter's driveway and in the opposite direction of where the deviant ran.
"Uh huh," he says, "that sounds like a good idea but I'm going home, having a drink or two, and taking a damn break. I fucking got stabbed for Christ sake. I'll have the station send someone else out to do it."
I sit back instead of trying to reason with him and take another look at the dog key-chain.
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This story is being re-posted since I started it on a different account that I decided to delete. The first three chapters I wrote about two years ago and now I'm continuing with a freshly written chapter four.