𝓓𝓔𝓣𝓡𝓞𝓘𝓣: 𝓑𝓔𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓔 𝓗𝓤𝓜𝓐𝓝

Chapter 6

"It's good to see you back, kid." Hank nods at me before picking up his car keys off the corner desk. "How are you holding up?"

I smiled, hoping to be at least a little convincing. "I'm good. It's such a shame what happened to Connor."

Hank shakes his head. "About that, there's something I should tell you—"

"Hello, Inara."

It can't be.

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife." There he stood. That goofy, lanky looking android in his too perfect tailored suit. "My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but Cyberlife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it."

The blood drains from my face, nausea threatening to expel the contents of my stomach. "You died."

"Easy there, Gibson." The Lieutenant squeezes my shoulder. "I know it's a fucking spinout, but it's back."

I ball my fists, digging my short nails into my palm. Don't let them see you crumble. They'll send you straight back home.

"There's not enough coffee to deal with this kind of bullshit," I whisper, honestly a little pissed at Hank for not letting me know sooner.

"I'll get you one," Connor pipes up, heading for the little break room by the entrance. "We'll discuss the details of the suspect on the drive to Zlatko's."

I nod. Still woozy from the recent revelation. "I'm, a ..." Shit! What was I saying? I place the small tablet containing the case file onto my adjacent desk. Just breathe. Ah yes, that's it. "Just gonna look through this."

Hank's eyes shift, but he doesn't probe. He sits at his desk, twirling the archaic, metal keys around his index finger.

As I place my thumb on the base of the tablet, the screen illuminates, showing me the suspect's case file.

The mug shot looking back at me rings alarm bells. On the contrary, his generic appearance should've put me at ease. But there was something about that smile. Despite being caught, he was grinning from ear to ear, making me believe that he's up to something other than the fraud and embezzlement that he'd been convicted for.

His name has come up several times when questioning owner's of missing androids. "He likes to mess with them," one of his neighbours had said. "Like some sort of Frankenstein."

Well, this'll be fun.

"So what are we questioning Mr. Andronikov about exactly?" I ask Hank, breaking him out of his little key trance.

"Just asking a few 'casual' questions about the missing androids in his neighbourhood." He rubs at his eyes, sitting back in his wheely chair. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

"Hey, asshole! I'm talkin' to you!" Gavin's sandpaper tones fill the entire office. "Bring me a coffee, dipshit."

I spin my chair, just in time to see weasel dick shoving Connor. Who does he think he is?

"Is this guy for real?" I say, heading towards the break room.

"Don't bother." Hank holds his hand out, shooing me. "You get involved in that, it'll look like ten pounds of shit shoved in a five-pound bag."

"Well, I owe him."

Hank shakes his head. "That's not even the same plastic prick that came in—"

"Whatever." I shake my head and continue on to the break room.

Everyone in the office averts their eyes. Detective Reed screeches in Connor's unflinching face. No one wants to get involved.

"Detective Reed?" I yell, causing the entire precinct's eyes to dart to me.