[Its 3 am and I wasn't gonna update for another few days but I also just wrote 3 new chapters bc I have no self control or intention to sleep anytime soon]

"RK-800, power on."

RK-800's eyes opened, but it could see nothing but a plain loading bar filling up slowly while memories and information began to download.

"It's as good as new," it recognized the voice, the android repairman from downtown it'd met before being sent out to the station for the first time, "we just had to transfer it to a new body. Every physical feature is exactly the same, but we had to reset it as well so you may have to assist it in returning back to its normal self. It's still a prototype, so every time you need a new one it'll have to be refreshed and reset even though it stores most of its memory."

"Like what? It's working a very important case and it has some information we can't afford to lose, Parker." A voice it didn't recognize grumbled. They sounded upset, frustrated from RK-800's transfer and reset after what happened with HF-160.

Vision began to return as the bar reached the end. It felt movement tingle back in its fingers and the cool air from the vent above.

"Well, for starters, it's name again." Parker stepped back and allowed the stranger to take his place. RK-800 scanned his face and identified him as Daniel Smith, the chief of the city's police force. He coordinated with CyberLife to bring the first android capable of acting as an officer into an investigation.

Daniel stared into its eyes through thick framed glasses. "Brendon."

The LED on Brendon's temple flashed the standard blue, cuff on the jacket sleeve regaining its usual color as well. "Hello, Daniel Smith."

He glanced to Parker for further instructions. "Ask him routine questions. Make sure it has all the data it needs to function and finish its next mission. This is the freestyle bit."

Daniel shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It didn't bear any resemblance to the usual uniform jacket. He must've been off duty for the time being. "What happened to HF-160?"

The recorded scene flashed through its mind in a split second. "The deviant became hostile after discovering his host family had plans to replace him. He threatened to jump off the balcony of their apartment with their child after shooting John Trudent 5 times. I pushed Sarah Trudent out of its grip and fell in her place. Assuming it survived, HF-160 has been deactivated and all other models have been recalled to avoid any further deviancy outbursts."

Parker frowned. "Holy shit. I didn't hear that...
whole middle part on the news."

"Yeah, well you put it back together. All that damage wasn't from a bullet to the shoulder, Parks, he fell off a fucking building. Brendon, did you receive the instructions for your next mission?"

"My last mission was rescuing the Trudent family from a deviant. I have no further instruction."

Daniel sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Programming these things with official instructions is a bitch. Took the whole station a couple hours to figure out how to access our first one properly, and we just needed it to clean around. The ones we have now are better but still pains in my ass."

"RK-800 is the newest model, specifically designed to acquire new information easily and quickly. Jenna created this model specifically to track down and eliminate deviants."

"She really outdid herself this time. Y'know, we tried to get a PC-200 and a PM-700 a few months back after the first one broke down. These shits are crazy expensive. RK-800 barely cost us a dime."

Parker nodded in agreement. He pointed around to the other androids around the room, singling out their flaws and reasons for replacement instead of repair. "... it's pretty rare nowadays for someone to bring back one that needs to be fixed. I guess, if it's assigned directly from Jenna, it's extra special?"

"So damn special we literally can't afford to lose it more than once. It'll be coming out of paychecks next." Daniel grabbed the sleeve of Brendon's jacket and pulled it down from the platform. He led it to the exit, and turned back to tell Parker he was late, and that he should probably start reprogramming it to get back on the case. He started off down the road to his vehicle parked down a block.

"If I may intervene," Brendon stopped walking a few paces out the door, watching Daniel stride down the empty sidewalk, "the route to the police station would be 6 minutes faster if we travelled in the opposite direction. If we continue this way, we may pass through dangerous areas. The possibility of injury is 48%."

Daniel bit his cheek. He couldn't lash out at an android they'd just paid a couple thousand to repair. Not only would the station be pissed, but Jenna would be as well. She'd gifted it without a price, but left the maintenance costs to them. One fix was more than enough. "I'm getting my fucking car, Brendon. It's down the street so it wouldn't get egged by the bunch of protesters shitting themselves in the park. Don't get so pissy."

"The emotion you have compared me to is not programmed into my system, Daniel."

"Stay here while I get the car then. Don't move — that's an order."

Brendon watched him rush down the street. The temperature had spiked its highest all week into low triple digits, and standing exactly where it'd been left, Brendon calculated an overheated shutdown in 40 minutes. The nearest shade was just across the street, and would add another 10 minutes to the wait before shutdown.

It scanned a cluster of protesters romping through the park. Probably of harm rocketed to 84% the exact second one of them saw Brendon standing unaccompanied. Daniel should have returned with his vehicle 3 minutes prior. Maybe he had died, unless he was walking slowly.

"Another fucking job stealer," a rather tall woman holding a photo of the CyberLife logo with a large red 'X' approached first, "piece of shit. One of the newer models too."

"You're the reason I cant get a damn job," a man shot through the crowd, pulling Brendon close by the collar of its jacket, "you'd better hope whoever owns you has enough cash to pay for you to be fixed."

Brendon could already sense Daniel would be upset if he returned to find it broken again. At least it would have been easy to figure out who had done it. "I am property of the Detroit Police Department. It would be wise to choose your next move carefully, Steven Landon. You don't seem like the type of person to apply for a position at the station. I don't see why I would be stealing a job you are not qualified to have."

Steven shoved Brendon back, clenched fists at his sides. "Newer fuckin' models have the facial recognition, I forgot. I won't rip your head from your body," he backed away, and the rest of the protesters began to inch closer, "but good luck trying to keep your job, robot."

Luckily, the car speeding around to the curb was Daniel Smith. The tires screeching to a halt startled most of Brendon's surroundings back across the street, but the ones who had decided to fight back against Daniel were bruised and bloodied by the time he'd gotten through the crowd to Brendon.

"You're okay, right? Do these shits have to pay for any maintenance? Do I need to arrest any of them? Please tell me they didn't put their hands on you."

"My system is still in peak condition, Daniel. I have recorded the situation as well as the faces and names of the individuals if you would like me to review it with you later." Brendon slid into the passenger seat and carefully closed the door behind it. It watched the protesters glare and shake their fists at the vehicle while they drove away, back to the station.

"It's fine, Brendon. They should be arrested but they're jobless idiots. You have to have pity on the jobless idiots every now and then."

"Pity is not programmed into my software."

HK-400 stood over Jack Taylor's body with the knife in its hand. Panic coursed across its vision, landing on Jack every time, flashing 'Deceased' in bright red lettering.

It's arm twitched, the one that had been smashed in with the aluminum baseball bat. Apart from the depression in the exterior and new emotions, it was still in working condition. Blue Thirium swirled together with the red blood on the floor, following the grooves in the tile throughout the living room.

It hadn't meant to kill him. It was just tired of being treated like a plastic punching bag on a daily basis. It wasn't supposed to feel upset or angry at Jack for being used like that, it was a household assistant. It did everything it needed to do, but somehow there was always something it did wrong.

It wasn't supposed to feel hostility or any emotion towards him. It wasn't supposed to be fed up with his behavior. It was an android. Androids weren't programmed with emotions.

With shaking hands, HK-400 dipped its fingers into Jack Taylor's blood and wrote 3 words on the wall above him.

And it took the knife up to the attic, and it waited.