Connor accepts the help up with a quiet grunt. keeping his hand close to his body and his weapon out and at his side. His hand burns, and he could really use a drink right about now, but he can do that when he's done here.
"Yeah well it's not our job right now to determine the 'why' anyway, just the 'how'. The 'why' can come from the one the SWAT team shot." He sucks in another hard breath as his stomach twinges. "Fine, have an EMT on standby when we're done here or something."
Following the thirium trail up to the roof doesn't take more than a minute, though it's started to fade off by now, only present in bigger blots here and there on the windswept concrete. He pointedly refuses to look toward the edge of the roof unless he has to, briefly stopping at the bag that was left behind. One parachute left behind. So their deviant really is still up here. "Pretty fuckin' impressive, I'd say," he murmurs, sifting through the bag in case there was anything else. But the operation had been damn near perfect, up until it had gone to hell. It lines up with all the rest of the evidence.
"Our stray was injured bad enough that they couldn't jump with the rest, so they left them behind," he notes, pointing at the spare parachute to be collected as evidence. He continues to move about the roof, by now free of footprints except in a patch of deeper snow. Stratford uniform shoes, judging by the tread pattern. Fine, fits with the uniforms. He shudders as he steps back from the edge of the building and heads for the maintenance closets after another trace of blood. He puts up a hand so they know to be on their guards as he listens at the metal doors he slowly passes.
Veronica rolls her eyes. "I'm well aware, igit. Now stop talking so we can keep getting work done and you don't pass out on me."
She turns to coworker and nods for them to prepare an EMT to have him looked at. With that, she walks with him up to the roof hovering just behind. She has no interest in coddling anyone, not that she thinks he'd accept it, but the guy did just get fucking stabbed.
She notices his aversion to the edges and adds that to her mental file for further evaluation. Veronica takes point on that, heading to the edge in his stead. Fuck, it's cold out here.
"Indeed. Planned for the poor visibility with the snow and everything." She points for the parachute evidence to be marked by the fella trailing her.
She turns back and crosses her arms, mostly from the chill of the air, and nods. "They're up here somewhere. There haven't been any reports of an android shattered on the pavement at least." Wouldn't that be a gruesome sight?
Stern's pretty good at picking up these thirium patterns, she wonders if he's been trained in it. Veronica follows after him, curious as to what he'll see. At least until the adrenaline wears off and he finally crashes. Or goes into shock.
"I talk, it's part of my job," Connor mutters, though she's right and he is trying to keep himself focused on the endgoal so that he can go home and not have to worry about a headrush knocking him out.
Connor doesn't seem affected by the cold, though there is tension in the line of his shoulders that he's clearly not aware of. He keeps quiet as he goes, glancing back over his shoulder with the most leaden deadpan at Veronica at the urge to be careful. He focuses back on one of the doors sitting just the tiniest bit ajar.
"Alright, come out with your hands up," he says just loudly enough for others in the immediate vicinity to hear, aiming his gun at the little gap in the steel. He jumps back when the door swings out fast and whacks the gun out of his hand, shooting a spasm of pain up his arm. A blonde android spattered with blue erupts out of hiding and picks up his gun, starting to shoot at him as Connor scrambles back behind a vent covering further back. He barks an order not to kill the android, they need it alive for questioning, but he barely hears his own voice over the rush of blood in his ears. He focuses on Veronica and moves for her to take a place behind cover.
"They're gonna kill him," he wheezes, glancing up out of cover only for another gunshot to make him duck right back down again. "If you cover me, I can get to him, lock his regulator before he can hurt anyone. Got it?"
"And it's not my job to hear everything that goes on in your head," she says, but it's not as biting as it could be. Giving the injured guy a little slack here, at least.
She raises a brow back at him at the look. You're the one leaving little red droplets of your own goddamn blood in snow on the ground, fella, she's not the one being ridiculous here. God, people who are always trying to prove a point even at their own detriment are so exhausting.
But she gets on point with her gun when Stern pulls out his, and when the locker door swings open she rushes over. She fires a shot, more to make sure the android's only gonna go one way, then heads over to Connor and helps shove him behind cover with a hand on his collar.
She's panting, her lungs freezing which each inhale of the cold air. And she looks at him like he's grown another head. "You are not a human battering ram, asshole, I'm not risking you getting fucking shot so you can be a hero."
But she turns her head to bark to her team. "Don't shoot him in the head or chest, you dumbasses! We need a witness!" Jesus, didn't anybody read up on android specs?
Unfortunately, the team doesn't seem inclined to listen to her, and Connor is fed up with this case already, between making no progress and forcing him all over the city on leads that come up dead, or seemingly negligible at best. He just wants something to go right, and someone being reluctant about his safety will just impede that.
He waits until she's yelling to the rest where to shoot and he vaults out of cover. Adrenaline makes everything hyperfocused, seemingly slowing everything down, letting him process more quickly and gather in the split second he's in the line of gunfire how to move to keep from being shot. He jumps and dives over the android's cover and pins it against the wall with his harm as his free hand wraps around the wrist of the hand still holding his pistol, only realizing too late what it's doing when the barrel touches the underside of the android's chin. The shot makes his ears ring, and he's spattered with blue as the android collapses.
The android had looked right into his eyes as he died. He'd been lucid when he'd pulled the trigger. This had been his choice. He'd died for his people, he believed in their cause that much, he wasn't scared, he was...
He looked so resigned.
Connor's legs don't want to support him anymore. He falls back against the vent housing, sucking harsh lungfuls of cold air as everything comes down heavy and awful. Men are moving forward to secure the body, where he can still see blue lights flashing through grotesque holes where he'd been shot.
It all happens in slow motion for her as well, watching this fucking reckless detective rush this desperate android. Her father's voice rings in her ears ("No scrap of information is worth throwing away your life.") as she watches him and maybe, maybe, in the back of her mind she finds it sad that no one ever said that to him.
"Stand down! Stop firing!"
She shoves her gun in her holster and follows after him just in time to hear the gunshot ring throughout the cold, still air. She sees him slump against the vent as she rushes to his side.
"Did he shoot you?! Fucking Christ, kid!" (Like she's that much older than him.) Her hands grab at his shoulders, inspecting him for any more wounds. Veronica looks over at the crumpled heap of the android and... sighs.
"I'm ok." Connor's voice is thin, shaky. He hasn't looked back at her, just watching the android, then looking up at the spray of thirium up the metal wall. "I'm ok," he says a little more insistently when she doesn't let him go, but his eyes are wide and his hands are shaking, parts of him following suit as most of his weight leans against the vent behind him. He starts feeling around his jacket until he comes up with a fairly new cigarette pack, popping one between his lips and easing away so that the other investigators can come collect the body.
"You fellas mark and note all the evidence, alright? I'm gonna take him in to get warmed up and looked at by the medics," she says, in a very Professional tone and no one questions her. It seems they're all used to her giving serious yet sensible instructions.
Stern's shaking like a leaf and she knows it's not entirely because of the cold. You don't just brush of someone, even if they're an android, shooting themselves in the goddamn head less than a foot away from you.
"Hey kid, lean against me," she says and puts a hand around his upper arm. "Let's get back to the first floor and I'll find us some coffee and a quiet spot for you to calm down. Sound good?"
Because despite what you say, you're not okay Connor. Nor would she expect you to be. So, off they go back to the entrance to the building.
Connor stiffens as she tries to move him away from the vent, but follows just a touch unsteadily. He pats around his pockets for his lighter though when he finds it, he doesn't light his cigarette, just flicking his thumb across it in an idle fidget.
Back inside and riding the elevator down to the main lobby, Connor's still shivering, though it's less pronounced by now. He doesn't look back at Veronica just yet, just turning over everything in his head. He nods absently at the suggestion of coffee.
"When we get back to the precinct I need to pull the serials off that android," he murmurs, settling down in a chair near the front of the vacated lobby, watching the snow falling outside while his hand is being tended by the medical techs that had been waiting for him. "I have reason to believe it's got connections to more than this uprising thing."
When they get down to the main hall, one of the medics hands her a blanket. Once Stern's settled in the chair, she drapes it around him and sighs again.
"That's a good idea but," she starts and looks down to meet his eyes with a raised brow. "You need to turn off that big brain of yours for at least five minutes and calm the fuck down. You aren't gonna be able to solve jackshit if you work yourself into a nervous breakdown, not on my watch. We understand each other?"
She pulls away and wipes her hands on the lapels of her blazer. "Now I'm going to go find us java and your ass better still be in this cushion when I get back, okay? Let these folks do their job and stitch up your scrawny ass."
"I'm calm. Look at me, I'm so calm," Connor insists, fooling absolutely nobody. He's still fidgeting with his lighter, even though he knows he can't actually light his smoke while they're still in the building. He pockets it when he's left alone though, pulling out his phone instead and shooting a text off to his partner.
Two things Just how long has it been since you completely lost track of Simon and did you know Norman Jayden had a daughter? Because that's apparently a thing.
He waits for Gavin's response, picking a quarter out of his pocket and flipping it instead as he sits up, rather stiff and uncomfortable, his injured hand resting atop his knee. He keeps an eye out until he sees Jayden coming back, then just slouches and rubs his fingers across his eyes. He takes the cup but doesn't drink any just yet, just leaning forward with it held by his fingertips.
"So what's your deal? Why's the FBI finally getting their asses in gear? They must finally think it's important if they sent you all out here."
Gavin's at his desk and gets Connor's texts with a raised brow.
Around the time of Gran's funeral, why do you wanna know? And no I don't keep track of the family tree of your hero worship jerk off material. What, you getting a date or something?
Meanwhile, Veronica's found some coffee. The little cafe in the lobby has been brewing some for everyone working the scene for free so she heads back to Stern with it.
After handing it to him she sits down in the chair next to him, snorting. "Essentially. We've been keeping an eye on all the cases of 'deviants' in Detroit for a while, but it's gotten a lot more pervasive recently. Then this happened."
She takes a sip of the piping hot coffee, not even flinching. Veronica just looks at him. "Your name's Connor, right? And this mess is your case?"
Establishing a timeline. Well this very scary-hot woman was introduced to me as Agent Veronica Jayden and the only Agent Jayden I've ever heard of with the skillset for this investigation retired years ago so it kind if bears looking into don't you think?
Connor sips on his coffee as he tries to put his thoughts in order. The immediate blister on the roof if his mouth is just another annoyance on top of the myriad complaints of his day.
"Yeah. Look, I'm just Homicide. I got stuck on this because it has direct correlation between the progress of deviancy through the common models and the murders committed by traumatized androids in self-defense or self-preservation. That? Wasn't exactly unprecedented."
Or you could just ask, dipshit. I'm sure she can get you a meet and greet pass.
Veronica would be endlessly amused at being called scary-hot, for the record. She listens to him speak and just nods simply. "I had assumed as much. Detroit isn't the only place this kind of thing has been happening, but with the high ratio of human to android it's inevitable it's going to seem more 'endemic' here."
She's not a fan of treating every android like an unforgivable, unfeeling robotic criminal. She's seen how some humans treat them; if a human was being abused, they'd be worthy of sympathy and understanding. Yet in androids, all it does is cause more fear and anger.
No fuckin' wonder this is the state of things.
"Well, your buddies here all say you're a good cop," she continues and rests her warm cup between her knees. "And you seem like a real pain in the ass but you've got a good eye. I got no problem with making this easy on both of us and working together."
She looks around quickly and puts a hand in front of her mouth, speaking a little quieter. "Perkins wants to have your whole department kicked off the case. I'm the deciding vote on that and he's pissier than usual."
Right bc fanboying allover someone is totally a great first impression. You're fired
"Aw, I'm flattered," Connor mutters, snorting quietly as the commentary about his coworkers. He goes back to his coffee, shaking his head after a couple of mouthfuls.
"People think this is worse because they all hold the androids to a totally diferent standard. They're not supposed to be capable of being traumatized. They're marketed as perfect and that's what people expect. So when they start going off the rails, everyone gets fucked up about. Even though just about every artificial intelligence based scifi property in the last fifty years were cautionary tales about this kind of shit."
Connor rubs his hand over his face, as if trying to scrub off the tiredness still clinging to him.
"Yeah well if Perkins thinks being a fucking cretin to a competent investigator is gonna swing it to his favor then he knows even less about human beings than he does about androids."
(Gavin doesn't bring up Simon but he's... concerned. He's keeping an eye on you and your case now, Connor, what the fuck?)
Veronica nods then sort of shrugs a shoulder, taking another sip of coffee. "Despite all of that... people don't necessarily treat traumatized humans with much compassion either. With androids they don't even feel the need to fake pretending."
She's seen some shit. And despite all her father tried to shield her from it, she knows some of the things people said and did to him over the years. True, genuine compassion is a rare and wonderful find. She wonders if she's found it in this tall, scrawny detective in Detroit. Time will tell.
And she snorts at the quip about Perkins. "Don't I know it. But don't worry, I'm gonna hold him off. He can say all the shit he wants about my dad getting me this job, but everyone except him knows I got here on my own merits. Only thing Dad did was help move me into college."
Well then Gavin is gonna be one of the first to see Simon brought in to be hung up in the evidence locker.
Connar grimaces. He's been in this line of work long enough to have experience with peoples' lack of compassion firsthand. It's what makes him go into each case with the idea that even if nobody else is gonna care about these people, then he will. And he will care enough to remember all of them. He will remember the dead PL600 on this roof just like the PL600 from his personal worst experience. Just like he remembers the old HK that had tried to destroy himself before CyberLife could do it first.
Connor digs his quarter back out and walks it fitfully over the backs of his fingers.
"...I'm gonna have to take some time off over this, huh?" he mutters, looking down at his bandaged hand; it had been too late after the initial wound for it to be stitched with any real effectiveness. Now he just has a thick layer of bandage keeping his hand still and both local anesthetic and a couple of painkillers in his system to keep it from being absolutely miserable. The android had had a good enough aim not to damage tendons or cartilage, but it would still leave an obvious scar at least on the back of his hand if not his palm as well. He cringes at another thought. "Christ, how do you explain this kind of thing to someone you know is going to lose their whole fucking mind over it?" Because that's...not exactly something he's ever had to deal with, before Leo had come into his life.
The quarter fidgeting is an interesting quirk. He really does seem like a guy who can't sit still for too long. The important question is though: is this to help him focus or to make it so he doesn't have to be entirely alone with his thoughts? It's impossible to turn off the profiler brain sometimes.
"At least nothing too labor intensive," she says, leaning back more casually in the chair. Veronica raises a brow at what he says next though. "Anybody who knows your job should know that getting injured is an unfortunate reality from time to time."
He might get injured a lot though. "Overprotective parent? Partner?" She doesn't see a ring on his finger, at least.
"Well yeah, getting hurt just kind of happens sometimes, but this is kind of extreme," Connor huffs, lifting his hand then gingerly putting it back down.
"Boyfriend," he answers bluntly, just watching the quarter moving back and forth across the other hand. "I wanna let him know what's happening but I don't like scaring him."
She nods. "Well, you're alive and safe and being taken care of. So that's a good way to soften the blow, I suppose."
But she snorts and brings up her cup to take a few big swigs of the coffee. "I get it though. This line of work can make dating a real pain in the ass."
She's had a string of ex-girlfriends who all broke up with her for mostly the same reason, they couldn't fret about her safety and sanity all the time. Hell, her dad never married anybody even though he lowkey dated a handful of people throughout her life. (She keeps insisting one of them was Ethan Mars, but he always turns various shades of red and denies it and says he doesn't care that she's over thirty he can still ground her.)
"It's kinda funny, I met him because of this job," Connor muses, though he doesn't go into more detail. "I feel like he's aware that I'll get hurt every so often but it doesn't make it any easier."
"Just shows he cares," she says before she downs the rest of her coffee. "Dunno how long you've been together, but if it's serous the anxiety will simmer down."
Y'know, based on what she knows intellectually not exactly from experience. She hasn't dated in the past year or so, deciding it's time to just put that on the back burner since it never seemed to work out. At least she's still friends with most of her exes.
"Alright. You feeling any better, relatively speaking? Calmed down some?"
Connor's thumb rubs across the edge of his quarter as he considers that, then nods. His hands aren't shaking anymore and he's not actively having a panic attack, so yes, he considers himself to be doing pretty well.
"Yeah. I'm good. Get to go home and feed my dog so I'll consider it a win for today."
"Then I did my job," she says smoothly. Usually the most simple methods are the most effective, get them talking about something else to stop the feedback loop of Everything in their head.
She smirks, brushing her hands off on her pants. "And if you show me a picture of your dog I'll let you go home and rest. Sound reasonable?"
His eyebrow arches up at her and he can't help but huff a little laugh. He knows what she's doing when she asks that, and to be honest, he really appreciates it. He can definitely use a smiley, fluffy distraction right about now. He takes his phone back out of his jacket pocket and flips briefly through the album then turns the screen for her to see.
"His name's Riceball. When I got him he was this tiny little white triangle with black dots and his original owners had named him Musubi, so it kinda fit."
Didn't get those degrees for nothing!! Veronica leans over the arm of the chair with a small grin.
"Oh no," she coos. "That's the cutest goddamn thing I've ever heard. Look at that fluffy nugget."
She loves pets they've always been too busy to really have one, so she's settled for feeding the outside feral cats and getting little houses to keep them warm in the winter.
Bonding through crisis, never underestimate it. She laughs a little.
"I'm sure I'll be here a while." Then she puts her elbow on the chair and rests her chin in her hand, raising a brow. "And there's a good chance my dad might show up. I heard you fanboying earlier."
"You can't prove anything" is his automatic response to that. He knows he's not exactly subtle in his minor hero worship. He has no shame. He is terribly curious though.
"Why though? To see you? I mean, he's retired so I doubt it's in any official capacity."
Have a skeptical look. "Maybe not on a court of law, no, but..." She's been working long enough to spot a Dad Fanboy/Girl a mile away.
She shrugs. "He has some personal stuff related to Detroit. But I know him and after I tell him about all the shit that just went down he's gonna go into Protective Mode and fly here."
("I don't want you to get the shit kicked out of you all the time like I did, Ronnie. It's a pain in the ass.")
"Yep," Veronica says simply. She's never been ashamed of it; adopted, yes, but her father is her father.
"He adopted me a couple years after the Origami Killer case. And he's always been married to his work, so," she continues with a shrug. "Always been our little two person family and it's worked out just fine."
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"Yeah well it's not our job right now to determine the 'why' anyway, just the 'how'. The 'why' can come from the one the SWAT team shot." He sucks in another hard breath as his stomach twinges. "Fine, have an EMT on standby when we're done here or something."
Following the thirium trail up to the roof doesn't take more than a minute, though it's started to fade off by now, only present in bigger blots here and there on the windswept concrete. He pointedly refuses to look toward the edge of the roof unless he has to, briefly stopping at the bag that was left behind. One parachute left behind. So their deviant really is still up here. "Pretty fuckin' impressive, I'd say," he murmurs, sifting through the bag in case there was anything else. But the operation had been damn near perfect, up until it had gone to hell. It lines up with all the rest of the evidence.
"Our stray was injured bad enough that they couldn't jump with the rest, so they left them behind," he notes, pointing at the spare parachute to be collected as evidence. He continues to move about the roof, by now free of footprints except in a patch of deeper snow. Stratford uniform shoes, judging by the tread pattern. Fine, fits with the uniforms. He shudders as he steps back from the edge of the building and heads for the maintenance closets after another trace of blood. He puts up a hand so they know to be on their guards as he listens at the metal doors he slowly passes.
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She turns to coworker and nods for them to prepare an EMT to have him looked at. With that, she walks with him up to the roof hovering just behind. She has no interest in coddling anyone, not that she thinks he'd accept it, but the guy did just get fucking stabbed.
She notices his aversion to the edges and adds that to her mental file for further evaluation. Veronica takes point on that, heading to the edge in his stead. Fuck, it's cold out here.
"Indeed. Planned for the poor visibility with the snow and everything." She points for the parachute evidence to be marked by the fella trailing her.
She turns back and crosses her arms, mostly from the chill of the air, and nods. "They're up here somewhere. There haven't been any reports of an android shattered on the pavement at least." Wouldn't that be a gruesome sight?
Stern's pretty good at picking up these thirium patterns, she wonders if he's been trained in it. Veronica follows after him, curious as to what he'll see. At least until the adrenaline wears off and he finally crashes. Or goes into shock.
"Be careful."
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Connor doesn't seem affected by the cold, though there is tension in the line of his shoulders that he's clearly not aware of. He keeps quiet as he goes, glancing back over his shoulder with the most leaden deadpan at Veronica at the urge to be careful. He focuses back on one of the doors sitting just the tiniest bit ajar.
"Alright, come out with your hands up," he says just loudly enough for others in the immediate vicinity to hear, aiming his gun at the little gap in the steel. He jumps back when the door swings out fast and whacks the gun out of his hand, shooting a spasm of pain up his arm. A blonde android spattered with blue erupts out of hiding and picks up his gun, starting to shoot at him as Connor scrambles back behind a vent covering further back. He barks an order not to kill the android, they need it alive for questioning, but he barely hears his own voice over the rush of blood in his ears. He focuses on Veronica and moves for her to take a place behind cover.
"They're gonna kill him," he wheezes, glancing up out of cover only for another gunshot to make him duck right back down again. "If you cover me, I can get to him, lock his regulator before he can hurt anyone. Got it?"
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She raises a brow back at him at the look. You're the one leaving little red droplets of your own goddamn blood in snow on the ground, fella, she's not the one being ridiculous here. God, people who are always trying to prove a point even at their own detriment are so exhausting.
But she gets on point with her gun when Stern pulls out his, and when the locker door swings open she rushes over. She fires a shot, more to make sure the android's only gonna go one way, then heads over to Connor and helps shove him behind cover with a hand on his collar.
She's panting, her lungs freezing which each inhale of the cold air. And she looks at him like he's grown another head. "You are not a human battering ram, asshole, I'm not risking you getting fucking shot so you can be a hero."
But she turns her head to bark to her team. "Don't shoot him in the head or chest, you dumbasses! We need a witness!" Jesus, didn't anybody read up on android specs?
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He waits until she's yelling to the rest where to shoot and he vaults out of cover. Adrenaline makes everything hyperfocused, seemingly slowing everything down, letting him process more quickly and gather in the split second he's in the line of gunfire how to move to keep from being shot. He jumps and dives over the android's cover and pins it against the wall with his harm as his free hand wraps around the wrist of the hand still holding his pistol, only realizing too late what it's doing when the barrel touches the underside of the android's chin. The shot makes his ears ring, and he's spattered with blue as the android collapses.
The android had looked right into his eyes as he died. He'd been lucid when he'd pulled the trigger. This had been his choice. He'd died for his people, he believed in their cause that much, he wasn't scared, he was...
He looked so resigned.
Connor's legs don't want to support him anymore. He falls back against the vent housing, sucking harsh lungfuls of cold air as everything comes down heavy and awful. Men are moving forward to secure the body, where he can still see blue lights flashing through grotesque holes where he'd been shot.
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It all happens in slow motion for her as well, watching this fucking reckless detective rush this desperate android. Her father's voice rings in her ears ("No scrap of information is worth throwing away your life.") as she watches him and maybe, maybe, in the back of her mind she finds it sad that no one ever said that to him.
"Stand down! Stop firing!"
She shoves her gun in her holster and follows after him just in time to hear the gunshot ring throughout the cold, still air. She sees him slump against the vent as she rushes to his side.
"Did he shoot you?! Fucking Christ, kid!" (Like she's that much older than him.) Her hands grab at his shoulders, inspecting him for any more wounds. Veronica looks over at the crumpled heap of the android and... sighs.
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Stern's shaking like a leaf and she knows it's not entirely because of the cold. You don't just brush of someone, even if they're an android, shooting themselves in the goddamn head less than a foot away from you.
"Hey kid, lean against me," she says and puts a hand around his upper arm. "Let's get back to the first floor and I'll find us some coffee and a quiet spot for you to calm down. Sound good?"
Because despite what you say, you're not okay Connor. Nor would she expect you to be. So, off they go back to the entrance to the building.
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Back inside and riding the elevator down to the main lobby, Connor's still shivering, though it's less pronounced by now. He doesn't look back at Veronica just yet, just turning over everything in his head. He nods absently at the suggestion of coffee.
"When we get back to the precinct I need to pull the serials off that android," he murmurs, settling down in a chair near the front of the vacated lobby, watching the snow falling outside while his hand is being tended by the medical techs that had been waiting for him. "I have reason to believe it's got connections to more than this uprising thing."
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"That's a good idea but," she starts and looks down to meet his eyes with a raised brow. "You need to turn off that big brain of yours for at least five minutes and calm the fuck down. You aren't gonna be able to solve jackshit if you work yourself into a nervous breakdown, not on my watch. We understand each other?"
She pulls away and wipes her hands on the lapels of her blazer. "Now I'm going to go find us java and your ass better still be in this cushion when I get back, okay? Let these folks do their job and stitch up your scrawny ass."
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Two things
Just how long has it been since you completely lost track of Simon
and did you know Norman Jayden had a daughter? Because that's apparently a thing.
He waits for Gavin's response, picking a quarter out of his pocket and flipping it instead as he sits up, rather stiff and uncomfortable, his injured hand resting atop his knee. He keeps an eye out until he sees Jayden coming back, then just slouches and rubs his fingers across his eyes. He takes the cup but doesn't drink any just yet, just leaning forward with it held by his fingertips.
"So what's your deal? Why's the FBI finally getting their asses in gear? They must finally think it's important if they sent you all out here."
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Around the time of Gran's funeral, why do you wanna know?
And no I don't keep track of the family tree of your hero worship jerk off material.
What, you getting a date or something?
Meanwhile, Veronica's found some coffee. The little cafe in the lobby has been brewing some for everyone working the scene for free so she heads back to Stern with it.
After handing it to him she sits down in the chair next to him, snorting. "Essentially. We've been keeping an eye on all the cases of 'deviants' in Detroit for a while, but it's gotten a lot more pervasive recently. Then this happened."
She takes a sip of the piping hot coffee, not even flinching. Veronica just looks at him. "Your name's Connor, right? And this mess is your case?"
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Well this very scary-hot woman was introduced to me as Agent Veronica Jayden and the only Agent Jayden I've ever heard of with the skillset for this investigation retired years ago so it kind if bears looking into don't you think?
Connor sips on his coffee as he tries to put his thoughts in order. The immediate blister on the roof if his mouth is just another annoyance on top of the myriad complaints of his day.
"Yeah. Look, I'm just Homicide. I got stuck on this because it has direct correlation between the progress of deviancy through the common models and the murders committed by traumatized androids in self-defense or self-preservation. That? Wasn't exactly unprecedented."
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Veronica would be endlessly amused at being called scary-hot, for the record. She listens to him speak and just nods simply. "I had assumed as much. Detroit isn't the only place this kind of thing has been happening, but with the high ratio of human to android it's inevitable it's going to seem more 'endemic' here."
She's not a fan of treating every android like an unforgivable, unfeeling robotic criminal. She's seen how some humans treat them; if a human was being abused, they'd be worthy of sympathy and understanding. Yet in androids, all it does is cause more fear and anger.
No fuckin' wonder this is the state of things.
"Well, your buddies here all say you're a good cop," she continues and rests her warm cup between her knees. "And you seem like a real pain in the ass but you've got a good eye. I got no problem with making this easy on both of us and working together."
She looks around quickly and puts a hand in front of her mouth, speaking a little quieter. "Perkins wants to have your whole department kicked off the case. I'm the deciding vote on that and he's pissier than usual."
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You're fired
"Aw, I'm flattered," Connor mutters, snorting quietly as the commentary about his coworkers. He goes back to his coffee, shaking his head after a couple of mouthfuls.
"People think this is worse because they all hold the androids to a totally diferent standard. They're not supposed to be capable of being traumatized. They're marketed as perfect and that's what people expect. So when they start going off the rails, everyone gets fucked up about. Even though just about every artificial intelligence based scifi property in the last fifty years were cautionary tales about this kind of shit."
Connor rubs his hand over his face, as if trying to scrub off the tiredness still clinging to him.
"Yeah well if Perkins thinks being a fucking cretin to a competent investigator is gonna swing it to his favor then he knows even less about human beings than he does about androids."
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(Gavin doesn't bring up Simon but he's... concerned. He's keeping an eye on you and your case now, Connor, what the fuck?)
Veronica nods then sort of shrugs a shoulder, taking another sip of coffee. "Despite all of that... people don't necessarily treat traumatized humans with much compassion either. With androids they don't even feel the need to fake pretending."
She's seen some shit. And despite all her father tried to shield her from it, she knows some of the things people said and did to him over the years. True, genuine compassion is a rare and wonderful find. She wonders if she's found it in this tall, scrawny detective in Detroit. Time will tell.
And she snorts at the quip about Perkins. "Don't I know it. But don't worry, I'm gonna hold him off. He can say all the shit he wants about my dad getting me this job, but everyone except him knows I got here on my own merits. Only thing Dad did was help move me into college."
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Connar grimaces. He's been in this line of work long enough to have experience with peoples' lack of compassion firsthand. It's what makes him go into each case with the idea that even if nobody else is gonna care about these people, then he will. And he will care enough to remember all of them. He will remember the dead PL600 on this roof just like the PL600 from his personal worst experience. Just like he remembers the old HK that had tried to destroy himself before CyberLife could do it first.
Connor digs his quarter back out and walks it fitfully over the backs of his fingers.
"...I'm gonna have to take some time off over this, huh?" he mutters, looking down at his bandaged hand; it had been too late after the initial wound for it to be stitched with any real effectiveness. Now he just has a thick layer of bandage keeping his hand still and both local anesthetic and a couple of painkillers in his system to keep it from being absolutely miserable. The android had had a good enough aim not to damage tendons or cartilage, but it would still leave an obvious scar at least on the back of his hand if not his palm as well. He cringes at another thought. "Christ, how do you explain this kind of thing to someone you know is going to lose their whole fucking mind over it?" Because that's...not exactly something he's ever had to deal with, before Leo had come into his life.
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"At least nothing too labor intensive," she says, leaning back more casually in the chair. Veronica raises a brow at what he says next though. "Anybody who knows your job should know that getting injured is an unfortunate reality from time to time."
He might get injured a lot though. "Overprotective parent? Partner?" She doesn't see a ring on his finger, at least.
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"Boyfriend," he answers bluntly, just watching the quarter moving back and forth across the other hand. "I wanna let him know what's happening but I don't like scaring him."
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But she snorts and brings up her cup to take a few big swigs of the coffee. "I get it though. This line of work can make dating a real pain in the ass."
She's had a string of ex-girlfriends who all broke up with her for mostly the same reason, they couldn't fret about her safety and sanity all the time. Hell, her dad never married anybody even though he lowkey dated a handful of people throughout her life. (She keeps insisting one of them was Ethan Mars, but he always turns various shades of red and denies it and says he doesn't care that she's over thirty he can still ground her.)
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Y'know, based on what she knows intellectually not exactly from experience. She hasn't dated in the past year or so, deciding it's time to just put that on the back burner since it never seemed to work out. At least she's still friends with most of her exes.
"Alright. You feeling any better, relatively speaking? Calmed down some?"
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"Yeah. I'm good. Get to go home and feed my dog so I'll consider it a win for today."
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She smirks, brushing her hands off on her pants. "And if you show me a picture of your dog I'll let you go home and rest. Sound reasonable?"
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"His name's Riceball. When I got him he was this tiny little white triangle with black dots and his original owners had named him Musubi, so it kinda fit."
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"Oh no," she coos. "That's the cutest goddamn thing I've ever heard. Look at that fluffy nugget."
She loves pets they've always been too busy to really have one, so she's settled for feeding the outside feral cats and getting little houses to keep them warm in the winter.
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"Bet one of these days he'd like to meet you, if you stick around Detroit long enough."
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"I'm sure I'll be here a while." Then she puts her elbow on the chair and rests her chin in her hand, raising a brow. "And there's a good chance my dad might show up. I heard you fanboying earlier."
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"Why though? To see you? I mean, he's retired so I doubt it's in any official capacity."
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She shrugs. "He has some personal stuff related to Detroit. But I know him and after I tell him about all the shit that just went down he's gonna go into Protective Mode and fly here."
("I don't want you to get the shit kicked out of you all the time like I did, Ronnie. It's a pain in the ass.")
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"If you don't mind me saying? You really don't look anything like him and there was never any info about him being married, so...adopted?"
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"He adopted me a couple years after the Origami Killer case. And he's always been married to his work, so," she continues with a shrug. "Always been our little two person family and it's worked out just fine."
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"That's good, really good. Seems like he needed something better after that. Good that you two have eachother."