Hello everyone!

I start a first fic in English. Please, be indulgent, this is not my original language, it will surely feel in the translation, but I do my best! This story is a little dark fic, centered on Hank and Connor. Happy reading to you, and feel free to tell me what you think of it in comments!

Disclaimer: The characters are from the game "Detroit: become human" and are the exclusive property of Quantic Dream

***

A starry night.

There was not even a detonation. It didn't even make any noise. A people that disappears in a lead silence. A silent genocide. Just a bright flash, and then, nothing. Bodies falling as if in slow motion. Theirs lights go out, one by one, such as the garlands of a fir in a day after Christmas. The party ends. The dream too.

And Perkins smiled.

With a calm and determined step, he advanced among the sleeping bodies. Women, children, men, with their humans or robotic appearances, prostrate forever in a last position of protection. On some faces, tears end up rolling on plastic jowls. A drone flew over the area and took some shots. He was looking for Markus. He was looking for an RK200.

Humans were still progressing by pushing the inanimate statues. They trampled on this sacred land nourished by the blood, the tears and the hopes of those soulless beings who had believed the time of a heartbeat that they were alive. Now, in this dilapidated place where they had dared to want, one day, to be free, there remained only puppets disarticulated. Perkins had pressed the switch, and all hopes had been swept by an electromagnetic blast.

A victorious grin appeared on his lips. Honestely, they could really believe for a moment that the humans were going to give them Detroit? That they share with its a planet that does not have enough resources to support themselves? That they would question their economic and social model, a model established since immemorial time, for some pieces of plastic and scrap screaming "We are alive"? Idealistic nonsense of sick minds! Perkins knew the realities of this world better than anyone. No deviant could have escape. The furniture must learn to stay in their place. He knew from the beginning that it would end like that. And he also knew very well how things will evolve after that.

Maginal people fed on humanism and sentimentalism will protest against this massacre. It'll last days, or weeks, then they will get tired. Others'll be indifferent or take refuge behind their good morals by clearing themselves of their act. It was the government that did that! They had nothing to do with it, neither in one sense nor in another. Then, they will get tired. Finally, there will be those who'll smile, the satisfied, the "well done for them, fucking androids ..." they'll celebrate this moment ... then, they will get tired. Everyone gets tired, in the end. Even the press. In three months, at most, they'll only talk about the new model of androids that Cyberlife will come out, always more powerful, ever more reliable, without deviance, and at a competitive price to regain a suspicious market. Hallelujah, life w'll resume its normal course, its tranquility now being disturbed only by the executions of the handful of deviants survivors who'll bury themselves waiting for death.

National security will no longer be threatened. End of the story.

The president recognized that deviants were a intelligent life form... but she also concluded that it was an unprecedented economic and social threat in History. Politics had been debating for weeks. Then, on January 5, 2039, at 9:02 pm, they had detonated this bomb. Markus' dream had lasted only fifty-four days, nine hours and eighteen minutes. Humanity didn't give them one more second. Did not mess around either, they had things to do!

"Agent Perkins, you should come, we've located it. "

The man in the raincoat turned around and smiled at his officer. His hour of glory. The end of his hunt. Perkins was an exceptional hunting dog. A real beast of blood. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath in the fresh air of that night. To Breath. One more thing these fucking machines didn't know how to do...

Without a word, he moved in the direction indicated. Behind him, he saw in the distance a white shadow that followed him, obediently. A new grin appeared on his satisfied face. The last deviants would have no chance. The United States would be purged of all this shit. And may God protect America.

Four drones hovered around an extended silhouette, arms and legs in cross, as a last sacrificial gesture. Perkins stepped forward, a cigarette in his mouth. He knelt beside the corpse, before bursting out laughting and raising his thumb to congratulate his men. There followed a kind of jubilation in which everyone congratulated themselves with restraint, where smiles were exchanged, and where some men even allowed themselves to laugh or take some shots. There is so much fun on the graves of enemies.

Perkins had stopped laughing. He did not show it, but he had a certain respect for the dead man before him. He would never admit it, even to himself. He could not afford it. The FBI does not laugh with honor and patriotism. This guy, under his pacifist air, was the fucking beginning of a world crisis of unprecedented magnitude. It was the face of a future that humans didn't want.

Androids never get tired. They don't complain. They don't fail. What future would there have been for beings as fallible as men in a world where they should have lived together? What would androids have done to their creators, in the end? Relics they would have fed while waiting for the last human to die? They would have killed them one by one? Coexistence between the two species was unthinkable for the political class and for the special agent. There can not be coexistence when the balance of power is so unbalanced. Humans were not reasonable creatures. They would never have understood. So, they had to destroy. A thought crossed his mind ...

This time, the machines would not even have time to sing.

"Welcome to reality, Markus ..."

He said in a voice borrowed from joy and melancholy. He gave a tired little smile. Perkins was a bastard. A bastard of the worst kind. But in spite of that, deep inside him, he would have liked to believe that peace was possible. He would have liked to have a heart so pure that he could trust that kind of bullshit, and lower his weapon. A child's soul, in a way, still new in this world. But no. He had seen too much. His soul was already worn out. He had too much frequented the human darkness to think for a moment that this revolt had the slightest chance.

"Fucking plastic shits. "

He spat, before crushing his cigarette on the forehead of the RK200, between the two wall eyes that untiringly staring at the starry night. Perkins followed that look for a brief moment, and the beauty of the December sky suddenly hit him. In Detroit, we never see the stars as well, usually. The gray that surrounds the city hides from its veil the faint gleams of heaven, and the aggressive lights of streetlights mask the purity of the stars with their artificial halo. But that night, the electromagnetic bomb had extinguished the streetlamps and the illuminated signs in a large area. That night, the stars twinkled strangely, faintly, like thousands of little yellow LED's circling incessantly, wondering "why? ".

For a moment, Perkins looked down. Markus had been an idiot. He shouldn't have believed in humanity. He should have just destroyed her. You do not reach out to a mad dog.

"Agent Perkins? I am the android send by Cyberlife to assist you in the resolution of this crisis. "

The white shadow has reached its height. The special agent straightened up. He stretched and turned to his interlocutor. He had been waiting for a while already.

" Here you are at last. We have a lot of work. You have a name, I suppose? "

The human had spoken with annoyance. He didn't like the idea of teaming up with one of these machines, but he knew it was the most efficient way to advance. And Cyberlife had guaranteed him that this time, it would never be deviant. Its predecessor had to rebel in order to understand deviance, study it, and track down faulty models. Somehow, a deviance statistically programmed. They had not expected their bloodhound escapes them. But the android that was with him ... it was something else. It was an executioner. Not a negotiator.

Perkins looked at the machine with a sigh. It was very similar to the model loaned to the Detroit Police by the multinational. Almost the same face, maybe a little more angular. A size a little taller too, a hairstyle also stricter, and greyish blue ice eyes. And above all, the FBI agent did not discern any trace of emotion on this face with perfect features. Nothing. Just a kind of cold beauty. A plastic statue. Basically, despite the obvious similarities, it was a totally different prototype than its predecessor.

"All the better, I find ridiculous this mania of giving names to your fellow-creatures. "

But it was necessary to be able to designate it. Oh damn ... So, without more ceremony, the officer looked down at the number of the white jacket.

"Nine hundred. Analyze what you can and make me a list of all disabled androids in this perimeter. Compare it with the police file on deviants. "

The android made an affirmative nod and obeyed without showing any trace of empathy or sadness in front of the thousands of corpses piling up on the ground. Perkins smiled. With a tool like that, nothing would escape him. The streets of Detroit and the rest of the USA would soon become quiet again. Two hundred thousand units of this jewel of technology had been ordered by the police department ... The face of the agent grew dark. How long before one of them puts it back?

"Perkins, you bastard !!!! "

The face of the FBI agent turned to the origin of the shout. Fighting like a devil, Hank Anderson tried to join him, held by three of his men. Perkins was staring at him with a smile. Then, overcome by alcohol and sadness, the old man crumpled on his knees, stunned, staring at the ground to stop seeing all these lifeless bodies ... and, above all, to avoid that his eyes fall on one of them in particular. Perkins knew it all too well. That old imbecile had been attached to his artificial partner. One thing that would not happen to him! He was not stupid. It's been a long time since he had a heart. You couldn't afford it when you did his job, after all. He had picked up too many corpses in his life to still know how to cry.

"Calm down Inspector Anderson. I just took out the trash ... "

He threw with an ironic tone at a completely defeated Hank. He stared at him for a moment, then he laughed slightly, before turning away from the police officer. He looked so pathetic that he did not even want to take revenge for the punch he had given him a few weeks earlier. A waste more. Too bad that this one, he can't take it out with the others, direction the discharge. He turned to the machine. 900 was peacefully continuing his work of analysis, not at all disturbed by the intervention of the police lieutenant.

"900, what did you find? "

Perkins asked, coming closer to the android. The latter turned and stood straight in front of his superior. Then, in a cold voice, he listed a list of names ...

« RK200 : « Markus », WR400 : « North », PJ500 : « Josh ».... »

«And The RK800 ? »

The FBI agent interrupted his mechanical partner impatiently. But this last did not take offense. He just replied in a tone devoid of emotion:

"Sorry, agent Perkins. No trace of it for now. I continue my quest. "

Perkins clenched his fists in frustration. They had the most of the leaders of Jericho, but there were still some missing from the call. And after Markus, Connor was the one he needed to find quickly. Cyberlife's Android was one of the most advanced models currently in circulation, and it had infiltrated and destroyed the Cyberlife tower alone. It was the perfect example of the traitor who bites the hand of his creator. The deviant hunter that became a deviant. A whole symbol. And from a personal point of view, as he would have wanted to see Anderson's face when he would have see his favorite toy being loaded into a dumpster.

"Inspector Perkins? Some words about the situation, please? "

The detonation had started to bring people to the scene ... The old inspector, a few journalists, and one or two politicians seeking to appear on the first shots for a future campaign. All the scraping of the world, according to him. It was time to leave.

He slowly moved away from the mass grave as more and more drones bestired themselves and press helicopters flew over the area. He passed in front of a screen near the provisional headquarters supposed to manage the crisis zone. For a moment, his eyes lingered on the live broadcast of the bomb's impact location. The bodies of the androids were scattered on the ground in a disparate way. Markus's silhouette, arms spread, came apart from the rest of the group. Once again, Perkins looked up at the stars. And for a moment, it seemed to him that seen from above, the thousands of corpses were actually the exact reflection of the constellations in the sky.

Thousands of stars, forever extinct.

He smiled.

The revolt of the androids had ended.

His mission had been accomplished.

***

Thank you for reading me, and don't hesitate to tell me in comment if there are too much mistakes! I'll try to correct them.  see you soon for the next chapter.