Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PARTNERS

When it enters the DPD, it's busier than ever. Hank has to squeeze by the humans waiting in the reception area, the TVs displaying commercials before switching back to an anti-android news outlet. Not that it is surprised, the precincts before this one had the exact same channel as this one running 24/7. It squeezes by a distracted officer, making its way through the bullpen.

Instead of only being here for a few minutes to submit evidence, the android will be waiting for however long it will take until it gets assigned a new partner. That was it’s keepers’ words.

Though, what they really mean is that the android is being assigned a new handler that’ll watch over it to make sure it's doing its job. And what sucks even more, HX800 is getting partnered with the only person familiar with CyberLife: Detective Stern.

It tried to recommend Detective Collins, but its handlers were insistent that the android bond with Stern instead.

Although it'd prefer to be with someone that it had a semi-good relationship with, it will adapt to work with Stern, if it's important to them. Maybe it's a way to show the android off to their director. To show how advanced it could truly be. 

Hank rounds the desks, nodding to the few that glance up at it, and stops in front of Stern’s. A new sub-mission fades in the corner of its HUD: 

| Find Out More About Det. Stern |

Not much is known about him. Even his fellow CyberLife coworkers know little to nothing about Stern. A surface level Internet search only provides information about his two jobs. His desk, though, has many more hints on the detective’s personality.

There was the usual thin computer screen and keyboard that was currently in sleep mode, and next to it was a small red tipped paddle succulent plant (Kalanchoe luciae). It’s flourishing with multiple sections of leaves growing from the rocky top soil. On the other side of the screen there's a small device with a pair of wireless earbuds near it. It's on a static screen that shows a colorful musical album. Holding the device, it presses the play button, putting an earbud near its sensors.

The music starts loud and at near breakneck speeds, making the android wince. It's… catchy? 

It pauses the music, getting an odd feeling as it sets the music player back down, returning to the desktop.

In the corner, there's piles of copies of paperwork that almost reach the bottom of a sliding screen on the desks’ windowpane. It shows the recent CyberLife news articles about an upcoming software update for androids.

Analyzing the chair proved to have much better results than the desk. There were cat hairs; all from a 16 inch tall and 23 pound calico Maine Coon. Known for being one of the oldest and biggest cat breeds out there, Maine cats are very social and intelligent creatures with great hunting abilities. They're also known for exhibiting dog-like behavior more than most other breeds. An interesting choice for a companion.

It looks up from the desk, half expecting Stern to be there. There's no one there though, apart from the officers currently typing away at their desks, so it instead turns its attention to a sub-mission prompt.

| Explore the Station |

While it already did that last night, the CDPD is a different story during the day. Most police androids are no longer in their charging stations, half the desks in the bullpen are filled, and the break room has people mingling inside it. The HX800 makes its way into the break room to find the detective from last night and another officer holding a lukewarm coffee cup. 

Detective Reed glares at it from afar while it takes in the news channel asking the viewers “Can you trust your androids?” Officer Chen rolls her eyes at her coworker. She doesn't seem too bothered by the android, only throwing annoyed glances at Reed and his glares. Nice to know.

It leaves the break room and turns to the holding cells, where a human is bitterly fidgeting in the cell. He notices the android, a look of annoyance overcoming him.

“What?” He stands in an attempt to size Hank up. He's a good foot shorter than Hank. “What are you looking at? Hey, fuck you! Fuckin’ android…” He sits on the bench again.

The android walks past him, unbothered by the human. The next cell, if he remembers correctly, holds the HK400 from last night. He stands there in the exact position he was left in, still staring into nothingness. It's only until Hank stops in front of him that he slowly looks up with what it could only describe as a thousand-yard stare. His voice is stable despite his facial expression.

“...They're gonna destroy me…”

Hank fails at getting in the HK’s line of sight.

“There's nothing I can do.” It's an android, not even meant to handle another android like this . It… mimics–yes, that seems like the right word–emotional turmoil in a way Hank would only expect to come from a human, not a machine.

The other doesn't directly answer it, only looking back down with a vaguely horrified look.

“I’m going to die…”

Hank frowns and stays in the silence, turning around when it becomes obvious that the HK won't say anything else. It's just a few feet away when a reverberating thump comes from behind it. Turning around, and ignoring the detective and officer rushing to the cell, the android leans back and jerks forward, bashing its head against the thick glass and making the splatter of blue blood larger and larger until it splits its forehead open, making it jolt and fall back.

The android blankly stares at the ceiling, dead.

Stern comes up to the small group while Officer Miller stands with an unsure look on his face at the cell door.

“I'll… call CyberLife.” Ben looks at the body and winces. “Clean this mess up.”

“No need,” an unbothered Stern assures. “Bring it to evidence.”

Hesitant, the detective looks between Stern and the body, slowly nodding and motioning to Miller to join him. Stern hums in response and turns to leave.

Hank follows the detective back to the bullpen, where he digs in one of the top drawers for a pack of cigarettes to shove in his pocket. Hank blinks when Stern gives it a defensive look. The door to the captain’s office opens and there's an immediate call for the detective. He closes his eyes for a second before taking a short breath and spinning around towards the office.

It nearly turns back to the desk but Captain Fowler calls, again, “And you, plastic! In here too!”

Hank follows up the stairs and through the glass door in silent compliance as Stern takes a seat in one of the chairs, stiff and polite. Their captain barely glances at the android, turning away from typing at his computer to address the detective.

“I’ve got ten new cases involving that new drug on my desk every day,” he starts, leaning back to study Stern. “I know you've been handling these incidents of missing androids and all that crap, but we’ve gotta do something about red ice now. If we spend too long kicking it down the road, Detroit’s gonna go to shit. Investigate these cases, Connor, see if there’s any link.”

“Why can't Reed do it? Or Person? They’re on narcotics,” Stern counters with an even tone.

Folwer sighs, exasperated. Hank gets the thought that this isn't the first, and probably not the last, that Stern has challenged his captain.

“Look, Ben and Lisa are being moved to different fields to make room for you, and you’re going to get your ass in gear with this here state-of-the-art prototype as your partner.”

Stern tenses and leans forward so that his elbows rest on his knees. “Hell no, I do not need a partner.”

“You’re getting a partner whether you like it or not. I’ll reconsider if you stop walking around my bullpen with a new injury every time you go out.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Captain-”

“Did I say babysitter?” Folwer crosses his arms. “It’s going to be your partner and you’re going to work together on this case, end of story.”

“Jeff-”

“I don't want to hear it, do your job or hand in your badge. Your choice.” 

Stern huffs angrily at the ultimatum, standing from his chair, and giving one last glare to both the captain and the android. He makes his way out the door and slams the glassdoor hard enough to catch the eye of a few other officers in the bullpen, not sparing one glancing back to the office on his way to his desk. Hank is interrupted when it goes to politely excuse himself to leave with Stern.

“Look after that kid,” Folwer says, not looking up from his monitor. “He’s gonna get himself killed one day.”

HX800 nods. “Of course, Captain.”

Fowler grunts and waves it out of the office, to which it obliges.

Back in the bullpen, the few eyes that strayed from their work turned away when it did another once-over of the area.

| Check on Det. Stern |

Stern is staring intently at his computer screen, turning away when Hank approaches him towards the stack of papers in the corner.

Tuning its personality to the current precinct it's at is a lengthy process by itself, especially without a few resets from its handlers at CyberLife helping. Stumbling through dialogue options and figuring out what's acceptable and what's unacceptable is something it would have to work around to start off on the right foot at this precinct. Stern is no exception to this rule, but the mere information about him makes getting along difficult, as it would either have to scour the Internet for anything of substance, or pry bits of information from Stern himself.

Not that it shares the same sentiment to the detective from the Captain's office. It'd rather complete its objectives alone.

“I get that my presence bothers you, Detective. I'm very sorry about that,” it starts.

“It's not that I don't like you,” Stern sighs with tense shoulders. “I just don't need anything leaning over my shoulder twenty-four seven.”

Hank tilts its head. “Your reaction seemed… extreme compared to last night.”

Stern grumbles about needing a break in response. When he refuses to elaborate by completely ignoring it, it asks, “Is there a desk I could use?”

Stern looks up at him from the corner of his eye, pointing to the vacant desk next to his. “That one's free.”

Hank moves around the detective’s desk to reach the new one. Sitting down, it finds that Stern has returned to his computer, apparently done with the papers he'd been using to avoid Hank. Studying him for a second more, Hank rests its hands on the desk.

“You have a cat, right?”

Stern tilts his head at the question, raising an eyebrow at Hank. “Yeah… What about it?”

Hank awkwardly smiles. “I like cats. What's your cat's name?”

He sends Hank a suspicious look. “You like cats, huh?”

“I… think so, yes.”

The detective turns away from it, continuing the task on his computer with his back ramrod straight. Hank looks expectedly a moment longer, patiently waiting.

“...Sumo. His name is Sumo,” the detective eventually answers. 

Keeping up the smile, he continues the conversation, “How long have you known the Captain?”

He makes a noncommittal noise, sharply facing it, “Look, I'm just going to do what I need to do, and you do whatever it is CyberLife sent you to do, yeah?”

COMPROMISE

“Detective, in order to complete this investigation, we would need to work together. Trust me, I’d ask for a different partner if I had the choice.” Stern raises his eyebrow at that. “Why don't we compromise?”

The detective tilts his head, his only show of interest.

“Why not work on cases that would benefit the both of us? Ones that would allow you to continue your… business and allow me to continue the red ice investigation.”

The detective leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and considering. “So, investigate deviants whose owners have connections with drugs.”

Hank blinks. “Deviants?”

Stern nods, looking at it. “Deviants. Androids who break their code and go rogue.”

Oh. He's the one CyberLife appointed to deal with those broken androids. The Ortiz case makes more sense now.

“I can agree with that,” Stern continues, turning back to his screen to swiftly type something in. 

Connor ^

Its own screen lights up from a notification, prompting Hank to log in via interface. The notification was a report from a victim named Todd Williams, the case description stating;

‘The plaintiff claims he was violently attacked by his domestic android, an AX400 model. The android had just returned from being repaired the previous day and had shown signs of aggression in the past.’

Stern turns to it once more. “Is that worth anything to you?”

It queries a search in its data banks for instances of the victim’s name. He lives in a depressed area, low on money and notably has had multiple noise complaints and the police were called to that area for both disorderly conduct and the previously named complaints. He has been behind on multiple overdue bills and has had to reset his android multiple times before. It's the information it usually gets pertaining to red ice users.

“That’d be a good start, Detective.”

—

The car ride to the Williams household is loud and ear-grating in Stern's unmarked police car. Barely standing houses line the cracked road that the city hasn't cleaned up yet. Construction of a new, better part of town adds a dull background noise in the neighborhood. They slow and park in front of a truck, the detective finally turning down the volume of his music.

“This shouldn't take long,” Stern mumbles to himself while he clicks his seat belt off. He turns to Hank. “I'll be doing the questioning here, not you. Got it?”

“Understood, Detective.”

“And don't touch anything,” is added almost as an afterthought as he exits the car with a cold paper cup of coffee. =

Hank waits a second more before leaving the car, staying behind Stern as they walk up to the porch. The detective knocks on the door.

“Detroit Police!”

There's a fumble from inside and a few glasses seem to clink together as they wait. Hank folds its hands behind its back and watches as Stern takes a sip from his coffee, making a sour face most likely at the taste.

“Are you planning to enter the house?” It asks.

“Mmhm,” the detective hums.

Hank raises an eyebrow. “We don't have a warrant.”

Stern hums again, “We probably won't need one.”

At least three lock clicks were heard before the door creaks open–as much as it could with the last chain lock still in place–to a disheveled man in his early forties, brown hair, blue eyes, considered overweight by the BMI scale, and with the tell-tale signs of recent drug use; unkept, distracted, fast heart rate, irregular breathing and an uneven skin tone. Scanning Williams also tells Hank that he was handling red ice recently, judging by the faint residue both on his hands and mouth.

He greets them with a rough tone. “The fuck do you want.”

Stern holds up his badge. “Detective Stern, here to ask you some questions about your assault last night.”

Williams grunts, his eyes flicking to Hank. “And it?”

Stern slides his badge back into his pocket with a smile. “With me, sir. I'm just here for a follow-up for your report. May I come in to ask you a few questions?”

The door abruptly closes, and a few seconds later, it opens entirely.

“Thank you, sir,” Stern says, stepping into the house while sending a cocky smile towards Hank.

Hank bites back an eye roll and follows closely behind the two men. The house is dreary and messy. Much of the furniture had been recently moved, with new dents and scratches on the floors and walls. It's very clear that the house hasn't been thoroughly cleaned in a very long time. As per protocol, Hank automatically starts to scan the place but is quickly stopped.

“The fuck is it doing? I don't want a cop ‘droid poking its damn nose around here!”

“And it won't,” Stern reassures, sending a sharp glare towards Hank, “Now, about the night your android attacked?...”

The itch of conflicting missions prompts Hank to continue to scan.

There was red ice residue in the walls and ceilings, an indication that the drug was smoked. There's also residue directly on the couch, carpet, and table, along with handprints on the corners of walls and furniture. There’s a prominent, but not as notable, trail that leads up the stairs. Following the path and straying too far from the detective, would only anger Williams, so it decides against snooping up there. The more traces Hank finds, the more it's sure that Williams has been a user of red ice for a long time. 

Hank is brought out of his mind palace by frantic apologies from Stern. The detective android scans around again and sees a new liquid spill on the small coffee table. Hank furrows its brows.

“Sir, I’m so very sorry.” Stern’s tone is so wildly different from his usual indifference or fake friendliness, it’s nearly jarring to hear. 

“Goddamn it, fuck up the rest of my house while you’re at it then!”

“I’ll clean it, Todd.” Stern turns to the android. 

“Hank, can you get some paper towels or something?”

The objective appears in front of his vision.

| Retrieve Paper Towels |

“Of course, Detective.”

It finds its way inside the kitchen, scanning the room once before it realizes that there’s only an empty roll on the paper towel hanger. The trash can holds hastily thrown in towels that Hank inspects and finds red ice residue. It then turns and heads for the open doorway to the laundry room. The compact room holds a collection of cleaning supplies, and it easily finds the paper towels on the third shelf. It goes to reach for the towels, before noticing a strange glint in the corner of its vision. The window above the washer and dryer provided enough light to fill the room of rays that catch on some sort of plastic material inside an acrylic tub filled with detergent powder. Hank pauses and ignores its mission orders to investigate.

Digging through the powder reveals a small plastic baggie with clusters of red ice.

It stores it in its fist before turning to the shelf again, grabbing the towels and heading back towards the living room.

Williams was lazily sitting on his side of the couch, quipping with an uninterested looking Stern. The suspect huffs when he glances at Hank. 

“Finally. Better not be stained…”

Stern comes over to the android, taking the roll from its hands and tearing off a piece to clean up the spill. Hank then looks at Williams, holding itself a little taller.

“Mr. Williams.” The man grunts in acknowledgement, not making any eye contact towards it. “Have you ever participated in the use of drugs, or withheld any during our visit?”

Curiously, that gets a reaction out of both humans. Stern sends him a perplexed glance, like he hadn't expected Hank to speak out at all, while Williams glares at him.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Drugs, Mr. Williams. Have you recently had any, or hidden any from us?”

Williams faces contorts into a mixture of panic and anger. He momentarily calms himself to face Stern.

“Hey, maybe you should give your plastic a reboot, think it's glitchin’ or something.”

Stern smiles. “I’m sure it's in working order, sir.”

“You realize that if we were to find drugs,” Hank continues, “that you could be arrested for constructive drug possession?”

Williams jumps up in a frenzy from the couch. “You don't have shit on me, you plastic fuck!”

Stern quickly steps in-between Hank and the man, holding his hands in front of him to stop Williams from closing the distance. Williams, red in the face, goes to say something before he’s interrupted.

“Todd.” Stern gently pushes the man back with a hand. “Let’s not be so hasty, that’s some expensive police equipment there.”

Williams directs his anger towards the detective. “I don’t give a shit if it’s expensive or not, it’s threatening to arrest me!”

Hank brings its hand into view, opening its palm. 

“If you’re so sure then why was there a hidden bag of red ice?”

“You- You fuckin’ planted that!” Williams sputters. He points a finger in Stern's chest. “What the hell happened to ‘ following up’ on my android kidnapping my daughter?! You gave it time to place it, huh!?”

Stern groans, “Alright, Todd, hands behind your back. You're being placed under arrest.”

Williams quickly backs away from Stern. “For what!? I didn't do anything!”

“For suspicion of possession of an illegal drug.”

“It's not mine!” He argues.

“Androids can't do drugs, your daughter couldn't have been tall enough for her age to hide it, and no one else has seen anyone come to your home in a long while,” Hank chimes in.

The man gestures wildly. “She can climb!” 

Stern shrugs and glances back towards the android. “That's enough probable cause for me.” He inches closer to the suspect. “Look on the bright side, we can talk more about your ex-wife and Alice back at the station, yeah?”

Williams’ demeanor suddenly shifts, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Stern huffs a laugh, “I can't exactly not arrest you for illegal drugs, Todd.”

“I'm not going anywhere!”

The man rushes the detective with a raised fist, but before he can get closer to Stern, he trips over his own feet. Stern quickly moves away from the suspect, already taking out a pair of handcuffs. Williams falls onto his coffee table, momentarily stunted from the fall. 

Hank takes the moment to intervene and hold the man down as he struggles and lowly curses under his breath.

The android should have seen this coming. Red ice addicts are erratic and unpredictable; there's no telling whether they'll run or fight with the drug in their system. At least Stern didn't get hurt.

The detective places cuffs on the suspect and drags him to the back of his car, leaving the door ajar to read Williams his Miranda Rights while Williams continues to yell. He then closes the door and turns up his nose, digging through his pockets.

“Something wrong, Detective?”

Noticeably tense, he takes out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, quickly bringing one of the sticks to his lips and lights it.

He leans on the side of the car, not looking at the android to take a puff out of the cigarette. “He said that his android attacked him, but he's missing any sort of visible injury that would make his story believable.” He hums, “His daughter probably ran away because of the… not so great living conditions.” 

Another puff and Stern relaxes. “So. What did you find? Other than the obvious.” 

Hank holds up the packet, analyzing it. “I’m afraid that the powdered detergent may mess with the fingerprints, but if we're lucky, this could lead us to a dealer. When we get back to the station, I can look into it further.”

“Christ. And how many more of these do we need to do?”

“From my experience; many, many more. The heart of production and trafficking seems to have gathered around this precinct.”

Stern sighs, “Maybe next time I'll ask for some Vicks from forensics…”

Hank doesn't feel the need to say that the majority of the population doesn't like drug odor of any kind, including old school cigarette smoke, and instead waits for Stern to finish off the stick while watching the slow moving construction around the area.

When it checks back on the man, Hank finds Stern staring at a bus stop just a sidewalk away from the house.