Unsurprisingly, Reed stormed into the precinct, barely keeping his tears in check. But he'd also brought Biscuit with him, not wanting to leave the dog at home if he didn't know when he'd return.

Both Connor and Hank looked up when the two rushed in, all of the case details laid out once more, but now including everything the RK800 could glean from your messages. When Gavin came to a stop beside them, his face tried to break again, but the prototype gripped his shoulder, taking the canine's lead out of his owner's grasp. "We will find her," Connor murmured. "Captain Fowler has six patrol vehicles out already, all on the lookout for an ARC van."

"I'll fucking slaughter every last one of them," he gasped, both hands on the desk and leaning heavily on them. A large paw rose and scratched at Reed's leg; instead of brushing Biscuit away, the detective leaned over and gave the good boy some attention.

"Where the fuck are we starting?" Hank broke the uneasy silence. "I've never heard of ARC, and I've lived here all my damn life."

"A recycling center certainly seems benign enough to hide in the open," his partner added, gazing down at a map of Detroit he'd also grabbed.

ARC. Recycling. New.

Clues. Bad for Miss Nove.

Businesses good for the city, like the shelter.

.... FLYERS.

Gavin stood straight up so quickly that the lieutenant flinched. "Flyers. They fucking left flyers all over the goddamn city. A new recycling center, I even saw one at the shelter when she found Biscuit." A hand ran through his hair, his stomach churning in his anxiety. "I'm dead sure there were some flyers on the walls of the alleyway, where we found the last victim."

"Then they left a calling card, but did those flyers have any clues?" The android's LED seemed to be stuck on yellow, but then again he was your "father".

Gavin's phone began to ring, but his heart sank to find it wasn't you. He answered anyways. "Yeah?"

"What the hell is going on? What's this ARC she messaged us about?" Elijah was pacing in his office, back in CyberLife. "Do you have anything to go on?"

"It's some new kind of recycling center, but I don't fucking know what they're doing with androids," Reed bemoaned. "They've got flyers everywhere, but... I just......"

"Okay, okay," the taller brother replied quietly. "Let me look into them. I'll get whatever information I can find and send it to you. Are you at the precinct?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Good. Give me ten minutes and I'll call the conference room. I'll do the research; YOU try to figure out where she might be."

Struggling not to last out, Reed succeeded for the most part. "How the fuck am I supposed to do that when we don't--"

"What language do they speak?"

Thrown way off course, the detective frowned. "What the fuck does that mean? How would I know?!"

"Better find out," Eli said before simply hanging up.

_____

In the conference room, Gavin was pacing around the large table while the RK800 was setting up the screen for Kamski's call in several minutes.

Language. What the fuck does......

He fumbled but pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that if he messaged you, the bastards wouldn't intercept it. But it finally hit him: Language. [Puoi dirmi dove sei?]

[Non ne ho idea, mi dispiace.]

[Va bene! Ti troverò. Ti amo. Hai un localizzatore?]

A short pause. [SÌ. Lo accendo adesso. Chiedi a mio padre di collegarsi.]

Gavin allowed himself a sigh of relief, however small. [Mio fratello sta esaminando l'ARC. Aspetta, stiamo arrivando.]

I swear to fucking God if they do anything to you...

"Connor," the detective suddenly spat out, making the android whip his head to find the human. "Nove said she turned on her tracker. Can you connect to it?"

"Of course," the RK800 replied, one hand at the side of his head but giving Reed an odd expression. "How were you able to communicate? If they get into her database they will discover the conversation immediately."

"Might take 'em a little longer when it's all in Italian."

A knowing smile began to spread on the prototype's face just as the conference phone line began to ring.

Seeing Elijah Kamski in his old office in CyberLife felt uneasy: it was dejá vu mixed with anxiety. "Good morning. I--"

"Eli, cut your formality shit." Reed frowned deep.

Kamski winced a bit. "Right, right. Old habits and all." Clearing his throat, he laced his hands together on the desk he sat at. "Okay, so... I did some digging on this ARC group." His face fell, but in stages, clearly hesitant. "... you're not going to like this."

Groping wildly for a chair, your boyfriend sank into it, barely registering Biscuit's head in his lap.

"ARC is a legitimate business. Or... they used to be. They were called Detroit Sanitary Service & Waste Disposal for decades. But, of course, the city is pushing for a recycling program that's been expanded to include the components used for androids." Eli sighed, eyes closing for a moment. "The company shifted their focus to include recycling to reflect this. And recently, they've created a subdivision strictly for recycling. That is what's being labeled as ARC."

That had little connection to you, and while your human squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, unable to find the missing pieces, Connor spoke up instead. "When you say recently, do you have a more specific date?"

The smile on his creator was rueful. "Yes. About a week and a half before I returned to CyberLife."

The alarm was palpable, but Gavin wasn't 100% sold, still leery. "So, what, some garbage company has a bunch of employees to do only recycling, and they fucking kidnapped the woman I love? Sure, that makes a lot of fucking sense!"

"Gavin. The subdivision started small, maybe a dozen people. Two weeks later they had nearly a hundred all at once." The siblings stared at one another. "... every single one of them was an employee I'd just fired from CyberLife. From the Stepford Program."

Stomach churning, his hazel eyes squeezed shut. "Where the fuck are these cocksucking assholes? I swear to fuck I'll tear every last one of them apart..."

Elijah sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes. "There's more. I did as much as I could to get every piece of information available on this group. I got some background info, what I've told you. But... I also dove into the dark web." Everyone in the room seemed to straighten up. "ARC stands for Auction and Restoration Center. They've been kidnapping androids and holding online live auctions, selling the android to the highest bidder. If a person wins the auction, they can request alterations or demonstrations to be done on camera. The more rare the model, the more money the auction generates." Voice strained, the creator pushed on. "Not every android survives the auction. Self-destruction is common and often requested, especially if the android is not willing to cooperate. These people use the slogan Reboot. Reuse. Recycle because they believe androids are built to serve. That it is all they're good for. So they steal a deviant, alter the appearance to the highest bidder's tastes, then break them. Their programming is removed and replaced with that of another android. Leftover parts; recycled ones, if you will. To remind them that they were made to be used."

Hank was closest: he leapt from his chair to stop Reed from throwing one in his rage. "Gav, you gotta fucking keep your head. She ain't stupid, you know that; we're gonna get her back!"

"If they fucking touch her--"

"Her location is still on the move," Connor spoke up, also approaching. "I am in contact with her, as well. I am keeping the language to Italian as a precaution. She is not harmed aside from being locked up." Petting the whining Cane Corso, the RK800 added, "Once her tracker comes to a full stop, we will rescue her."

"You can't yet," Kamski interrupted, already hating himself for what he had to say. "From what I've found out, their base of operations- the auctionhouse- is located in a large recycling warehouse on the edge of Detroit. The area is mostly used as a dumping ground. But it's also guarded and rigged most of the time, to protect the "auction items", so to speak. The only time the bombs aren't set to go off is during a live auction."

"And I'm gonna go ahead and guess there's one happening soon?" Hank asked, salty and worried at the same time.

"Yes. Tonight. Their site doesn't give details, but it does say that the item being auctioned is one of a kind and worth more than most viewers can afford." Frowning, Kamski gazed at his brother, who was trying his best not to have a nervous breakdown. "Get there tonight. I'll come with you and get my way into their auction on my laptop. It costs money just to get in, but in case something happens, God forbid, at least I can ensure Nove doesn't fall into cruel hands."

"Why didn't we fucking arrest these bastards in the first place?!" Your human cried out, too agitated to be still.

"Because they destroyed the evidence," the lieutenant answered, sullen. "When she used her exit, the program deleted itself. Right? Soon as Kamski publicly announced his return to the company, every single Stepford android was forced to use their exit. So every goddamn trace of that program deleted itself at once." Gesturing to Eli with a vague hand, Hank sighed. "So... sounds like they're taking it ten steps further. Instead of sneaking in programming that makes the android keep their mission, they're just stealing the android and breaking them to send a message." He frowned deep. "They know how much that girl is worth. She's probably their golden goose. We gotta get her out of there, cause they're gonna put her through hell to get back at you."