Chaper 3
Friday, November 4th, 2038 &
Saturday, November 5th, 2038

❝ 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘵, 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘥 ❞

"Dexter?! Seriously?! I leave you alone for one night!" Lynnette's voice shrieked through the phone, several octaves higher than usual. Evangeline winced and pulled the phone away from her ear to escape the auditory assault.

"Can you chill out and get off my dick, it's seven in the morning and I'm hungover as fuck," Eva grumbled, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder while she pulled on her left Doc.

"Angie, are you serious? Do you remember what he did to you last time?" Lynnette's tone dropped from anger to concern, an almost maternal worry. Eva sighed because Lynnette wasn't wrong. Dexter Osbourne was like an addiction (comparing him to a vice seemed cliché, but it was spot-on): like all addictions, it was intoxicating at first, a high that felt like it could last forever until it all came crashing down. The cracks would start to show, but the rush was too good to quit. It wasn't just a relationship—it was an all-consuming obsession.

You'd think it was harmless at first, but then the isolation set in, because suddenly, nothing else mattered. Dexter could do no wrong, even when he threw things or lashed out because you'd convinced yourself that you needed him to survive. He'd turn possessive, making her doubt herself and her decisions. But even as things got ugly, she couldn't quit. By the time it nearly killed her, it was already too late; the damage was done. It wasn't just an emotional rollercoaster—it was a plunge off a cliff.

And maybe you'd eventually break free, cut the cord, and go back to something resembling normalcy. But deep down, there would always be that nagging itch, that unscratchable craving that told you to go back. And when she relapsed, it was back to square one. For Eva, the cycle was painfully predictable. She'd always tell herself it was the last time, swear she was done, but then she'd relapse. Dexter had that way about him, a seductive charm that was as dangerous as it was alluring.

"It's the last time, I swear," Eva would constantly retort. But was it really the last time? Lynnette knew her friend better than that, but she also knew when to back off. There was only so much you could do to protect someone from their own bad decisions. The rest was up to them.

"A lot of shit went down last time," Eva exhaled, her words heavy with the weight of untold stories. She paused in the middle of her frantic rush to get ready; she'd slept through her alarm and was running late. "I'd rather not talk about it right now."

"Wait-...he's not still there, is he?" Lynnette asked, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. Eva shook her head instinctively, even though Lynnette couldn't see it.

"No, he left about an hour ago," she replied, trying to sound convincing, but her voice had a hint of uncertainty.

"I'm just looking out for you, you know that, right?" Lynnette's tone was gentle, and soothing, the way a mother might calm a crying child. It was one of the things Eva appreciated about her friend—Lynnette knew how to calm her down without making her feel judged.

"I know, Lyn. It's the last time, I promise," Eva said with a soft smile, though it lacked conviction. She heard Lynnette sigh, a breath of relief that carried the same tone of disbelief she'd heard before. Eva glanced at her clock, realizing she was already late. She stood abruptly, nearly losing her balance from the sudden rush of blood to her head.

"Shit, I'm gonna be late. I'll call you later, love you, bye," she blurted out, her words slurring from a mix of last night's whiskey and haste. She ended the call quickly, gathering her things and hurrying out of her apartment, leaving behind a trail of chaos that matched the state of her mind.

The day had barely started, and she was already behind, not just in terms of time, but in the bigger picture—the one where her life seemed to be spiralling, one misstep at a time.

Eva gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, her eyes glazing over as she read the same license plate for what felt like the millionth time as if reading it might reveal some hidden wisdom. Traffic was a nightmare, as usual, but Eva never learned. She sighed and shook her head, cursing herself for not planning ahead. "Nice going, Eva," she muttered under her breath, her fingers drumming to the blaring music that filled the cramped space of her car. The same scenery, the same routine.

After a few minutes, reading the plate had lost its novelty, so she turned her attention to the world outside. Was it the pollution, or was it just her mood? The scenery seemed duller these days as if the colors had faded while she wasn't looking. The sky was a washed-out grey, the trees and grass lacking the vibrant green of her childhood memories, and the faces of people passing by felt colder, devoid of joy, they looked as if they'd forgotten how to smile. Eva wondered if it was part of the price of surviving a near-death experience. It was like everything had become a shade of grey, numb and devoid of the warmth that used to make life bearable.

Her melancholy daydream was shattered by the harsh blare of a horn behind her, jolting her back to reality. The blue Ford Mustang had moved on, and now she was the one holding up traffic. "Great," she thought, feeling a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. She hit the gas, her day off to a less-than-ideal start.

When she finally reached the station, Eva was greeted by a voice as warm as a digital assistant could manage. "Detective Demuro, how nice to see you," the android receptionist said, its smile programmed to be perfectly pleasant, its voice laced with a cordiality that only a well-programmed machine could manage. It was the sort of polite warmth that didn't quite reach the eyes, because, well, androids didn't have genuine emotions.

Eva froze, caught in a moment of unexpected disorientation. This was the first android she'd encountered since she was shot by one, and she had no idea how she'd avoided them until now. The memory surged back, sharp and clear: the flash of metal, the cold precision of its movements, the sudden, searing pain. She quickly forced herself out of her stupor, reminding herself to stay composed and professional. Indifference had been her coping mechanism before, and she needed it now. It didn't matter if it was a human or an android that pulled the trigger; the bullet was all that really mattered. But that didn't stop the cold knot of fear that curled in her gut. She pushed it down, pretending to be indifferent, hoping no one noticed the hesitation in her eyes.

Eva mustered a faint smile—it was debatable whether it qualified as genuine. "Thank you," she replied with a small nod to the ST300 model. The receptionist didn't have a name, nor was she given one—just a model number—but Eva had secretly named it Bibi, a word that meant "full of light." It was a bit ironic, really, considering Bibi was a machine designed to mimic human warmth and friendliness. Still, its perfectly programmed smile and polite demeanour did offer some semblance of comfort.

Guess it was just built that way.

"You are 32 minutes and 29 seconds late," Bibi said, its LED display spinning yellow for a few seconds. "But Captain Fowler would still like to see you."

Eva nodded, muttering a quick "Thanks," before she headed toward the main area of the police department.

As she rounded the corner, she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. It wasn't the machine she was afraid of; it was what it represented, essentially—the cold logic, the impersonal accuracy. Bibi's calm, calculated demeanour was a stark reminder of that. Eva squared her shoulders, bracing herself for whatever came next. She couldn't afford to let the past get in the way of her work, no matter how much it haunted her.

The police station felt familiar to Evangeline. Everything was just as she'd left it two months ago—The early morning bustle, the distant chatter, the constant ringing of phones—it all brought back memories. It was a weird kind of comfort, like slipping into a well-worn pair of shoes. But she couldn't afford to be nostalgic; she was here to get back to work, to prove to herself and everyone else that she was okay.

She didn't waste time heading to Captain Jeffery Fowler's office, a sleek glass room that overlooked the busy station floor and offered no privacy from the bustling world outside. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever lecture or reprimand was coming her way. Being late was the least of her worries. The real challenge was going to be stepping back into a world that felt like it had moved on without her. As she reached for the door handle, she hoped that whatever conversation awaited her inside, wouldn't completely derail the fragile stability she was trying to rebuild.

"Evangeline," Fowler said, his voice resonating with a mix of relief and concern.

"In the flesh," she replied with a wry chuckle, settling awkwardly into the chair across from his desk. Her body language was stiff, her eyes darting around the office, anything to avoid direct eye contact. The last thing she wanted was a heart-to-heart.

"It's good to see you," Fowler continued, his tone tinged with sympathy. "How have you been holding up?"

"Great," Eva thought, barely restraining a cringed expression. She knew he meant well, she knew people were worried about her, but the constant outpouring of concern was grating on her nerves. It felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around her, like she was some fragile artefact that might shatter at any moment, like everyone was constantly watching, waiting for her to break.

"Look, we don't need to do this," Eva said, almost pleading. "I'm fine. I'm just ready to get back to work." She forced a smile, the kind that begged for validation. A please believe me smile. A smile that said, if you don't believe me, I might lose it.

Fowler nodded, though his eyes seemed to see right through her act. "I understand," Fowler replied, clasping his hands together on his desk. "Since this is your first day back, I want you to take it easy. You'll be on paperwork duty for the first couple of weeks, just to help you ease back in. After that, we'll reassess, and then we can talk about fieldwork," he explained.

"No," Eva thought, feeling her stomach drop. This was her worst-case scenario. This was exactly what she didn't want—to be coddled and treated like she was fragile. She didn't need to ease back in; she needed to dive headfirst into the work, to prove she was as capable as ever. Normalcy was her lifeline, and paperwork wasn't going to cut it.

Eva leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Jeffery's. "Please don't put me on paperwork," she said, her voice carrying a hint of desperation. "I know you're just looking out for me as my boss, but I promise I can handle a case." She tried to keep her voice steady, but the urgency in her tone was hard to hide, she hoped it didn't show. But she knew it probably did.

Fowler hesitated, his eyes searching hers for signs of strength or instability. "Eva, I know you're eager to get back, but it's important to take this slowly. You've been through a lot."

"Please," she interrupted, her voice firm and controlled. "I need this. I need to feel like I'm doing something that matters. Sitting at a desk isn't going to help me." She knew she was on the edge, but she also knew that if she didn't fight for this, she'd be stuck in a cycle of pity and caution.

Fowler sighed, weighing his options. He was trying to be cautious, but he also knew Eva wasn't one to back down easily.

"You know, our deviant cases have skyrocketed by 93%," Captain Fowler said, his voice carrying a mix of concern and fatigue, leaning back in his chair. Eva was painfully aware of the rapid increase in deviant activity; she'd nearly become a statistic herself. "Cyberlife believes the best way to tackle this problem is to deploy a specialized android, a negotiator designed to tackle these cases in the field." He paused, his eyes meeting hers, gauging her reaction. "They're sending one out tomorrow, but I've already assigned the case to Lieutenant Anderson."

Eva had heard of Lieutenant Hank Anderson, though her knowledge was based on gossip and reputation rather than firsthand experience. He was a decorated officer who'd risen through the ranks with a mix of skill and dedication. However, in recent years, he'd fallen from grace, drowning in grief after a personal loss and seeking solace in a bottle. The stories about him ranged from sympathetic to downright cynical, but all Eva knew about him was from said rumours and whispers around the station; she hadn't had the chance to work with him herself.

"You know how Hank is, especially with androids," Fowler continued, implying that Anderson wasn't thrilled with the idea of working alongside machines, his tone suggesting that she should understand. Eva didn't, but she played along, letting him explain. "But I'm sure an extra set of hands on this investigation won't hurt," he added, implying she could join the investigation, like a kid tagging along with the grown-ups, unwanted but tolerated.

Eva was hesitant. Working on deviant cases felt too close to home. The receptionist android already made her skin crawl, and the thought of diving headfirst into a case that involved the same machines that nearly killed her was daunting. Plus, she'd be working alongside an android—a constant reminder of her trauma. Besides, what if her fear interfered with the investigation? Given the escalating mayhem in Detroit, this case could be crucial, and she didn't want to be the weak link.

Fowler sensed her hesitation. "Or there's always paperwork," he offered, his voice gentle but firm.

"I'll take it," Eva replied, trying to mask her nerves with a confident nod. She wanted normalcy, and this was the kind of case she would have jumped at before the incident. If she hadn't been on injury leave, she probably would've been assigned to it in the first place, before Anderson even came into the picture.

Fowler nodded, turning his attention to his computer. "You can take the rest of the day off. I'll email you the current case files. Make sure you read through them," he said, dismissing her with a small but genuine smile.

"Thank you, Captain," Eva replied, flashing him her most sincere smile before heading out of the office. It felt like a small victory, but the anxiety in her stomach reminded her that this was just the beginning.

Evangeline was about to leave the precinct when a voice echoed across the hallway.

"Wow, would you look at that, a dead girl walking."

She spun around to see Gavin Reed, her co-worker, former hookup, and the biggest pain in the ass in all of Detroit, a man whose sour attitude could curdle milk. He was the kind of guy who'd take a friendly conversation and twist it into a passive-aggressive insult without missing a beat. He stood there with his usual smirk, leaning against the wall like he owned the place.

"Eat a bag of dicks, Reed," Eva snapped, her patience wearing thin. She wasn't in the mood for his passive-aggressive jabs, not today. She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving him to his smug grin.

As she unlocked her car, the harsh light of day reflected off the windshield, making her squint. There was only one thing on her mind: a drink. The sting of whiskey or the cool burn of vodka—she didn't care, anything dull the edge, to wash away the lingering bitterness of the day. She knew it wasn't a healthy coping mechanism, but It was her crutch, her safety net, and right now, she needed it more than ever.

☆ ☆ ☆

The rain beat against Eva's apartment window like pebbles hitting glass, each drop heavier than the last. The relentless downpour filled the room with a steady rhythm, a backdrop to the soft hum of "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" playing on her record player. The clink of ice cubes in her glass and the low glow of a single yellow-hued lamp added a warm ambience to the scene. To anyone else, it might have seemed like a bleak night, but to Eva, it was almost comforting—a private world where she could shut out the chaos beyond her walls.

She rolled her wrist, swirling the caramel-coloured liquid in her glass, her eyes fixed on the case file spread out before her. It was just one of the many she'd been assigned to review—243 in total. Eva was about halfway through the stack, the cases ranging from petty theft and breaking and entering to more grim crimes like assault. It was becoming increasingly clear that the rise in deviant-related crimes was more severe than she had initially thought.

Eva took a long sip, letting the whiskey burn its way down her throat, her eyes skimming over the printed pages. She poured another glass without even looking up, her focus locked on the details, hoping to find something, anything, that would help her make sense of it all. When Eva got to work on a case, she had a hard time stopping. She would grind away, day after day, sacrificing sleep and sanity to get the job done. Yet no matter how much she poured into her work, she always felt like she fell short. Had she missed something crucial? Could she have done more?

The rain outside grew louder as if nature itself was demanding her attention. But Eva ignored it, her mind engrossed in the files. Each one was a thread, and she was trying to weave them into a coherent tapestry. The record player continued its slow rotation, the song fading into the next track.

Eva stopped reading when she heard a soft knock at the door. This was unusual—she wasn't expecting anyone tonight. Lynnette was out with her doting boyfriend, and she'd told Dexter to leave her alone until she'd had time to process what had happened a couple of nights before. But Dexter was notorious for ignoring her boundaries and showing up uninvited, especially when she least expected it.

Eva sighed, tossing the case file onto the coffee table. Drink in hand, she stepped over to the door, fully prepared to see her quasi-ex-boyfriend standing there with that smug grin of his. But when she opened the door and leaned against the frame, she was hit with a wave of shock.

An android stood before her, its expressionless face staring down at her. Its body was rigid, its movements precise and calculated. The eyes—dark as midnight—swept over her, analyzing every detail. It was as if it could see straight through her like it was dissecting her in real time. It felt like she was staring into the uncanny valley, that unsettling zone where the line between human and machine blurs uncomfortably.

Eva froze, her mouth falling open slightly. Her heart skipped a beat, then started racing like a runaway train. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in her brain, sending her straight into fight-or-flight mode. She had no idea why she was reacting this way. The android wasn't aggressive, or at least it wasn't acting aggressively; it was simply standing there. Yet her instincts screamed that she was in danger.

Her breaths grew shallow, each one catching in her throat. She could feel her body tensing, muscles coiling, ready to bolt. It was as if her encounter with the android receptionist yesterday had magnified tenfold, every nerve on high alert. Eva tried to swallow, but it felt like a rock was lodged in her throat, refusing to budge. She knew she needed to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come.

It seemed as though the android was just as startled as Eva was. It paused, its circular LED indicator on its temple flashing red for a brief moment before returning to its usual blue hue.

As Eva regained her composure, she focused on the model number etched into the android's jacket: RK800. She had a strange knack for remembering numbers and patterns, but this one didn't ring a bell. It was definitely new to her, which suggested this wasn't your regular old android—a prototype, perhaps.

In her moment of distraction, Eva didn't realize her grip on the glass had slackened until it was too late. It slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor, shards scattering across the hardwood, ice cubes skidding in all directions, and a dark stain of whiskey soaking into the rug. She glanced down at the mess and muttered a quick "shit" under her breath.

She turned back to the android, her voice sharp but not overtly rude. "Can I help you?" she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation, while she nudged the broken glass out of the doorway with her slipper-covered foot. She didn't want unexpected visitors, especially android ones, and her posture suggested that this intrusion was already testing her patience.

"Detective Demuro?" The android's voice was polite, but it seemed more like a formality than a genuine question. Eva knew it already had her name and likely a whole dossier on her.

She then remembered her conversation with Captain Fowler the previous day. This had to be the android Cyberlife specifically created to combat the growing deviant problem in Detroit. The one that was supposed to join Lieutenant Anderson on the new assignment.

"My name is Connor," it said with a slight nod. "I'm the android sent by Cyberlife."

Bingo, Eva thought. She exhaled slowly, her tension easing as she sized up Connor. It was unusual for Cyberlife to give Androids names—they typically let users assign them. It made her wonder what else was unique about this particular model.

"I was informed by your superior that you'll be accompanying Lieutenant Anderson and me in our investigation," Connor continued, its voice as monotone as any other android's. "A homicide case was assigned earlier this evening involving an android."

Eva leaned against the doorframe, trying to appear more relaxed as she looked up at the android. It was several inches taller than her, his posture impeccable. "Wow, giving up drinking to go look at a dead body. What a tempting offer," she said with a wry smile, her morbid sense of humour on full display. But all sarcasm was lost on Connor, who merely blinked at her in response. What Eva didn't know was that Connor had already dragged one DPD officer to the investigation and was more than willing to do it again.

Eva ran a hand through her tousled hair, exhaling heavily as she quickly tried to come up with an excuse to avoid heading out to the scene. But her mind was frustratingly blank, betraying her with nothing but silence. "Alright, fine. Just let me clean this up and get dressed," she said, glancing down at her not-so-professional attire of an old band tee and nothing much else.

The android watched her, its head tilting slightly to the left as if it were trying to make sense of her response.

Eva met its gaze and quirked an eyebrow, her eye slightly twitching. "Well, you can either stand outside my door and be weird, or come in," she said, her voice flat with a hint of impatience. She nodded toward the room, silently inviting it to step inside.

"And no funny business, I'm armed" Eva warned, half playful, half serious, pointing between her eyes then to Connor.

"I have no intention of harming you, detective" Connor stated, tilting its head slightly to the left.

Connor took a small step forward, cautiously entering the apartment, its eyes scanning the space with robotic precision. Eva knelt down to start picking up the shards of broken glass from her earlier mishap, watching the android from the corner of her eye. Its movements were smooth and calculated, as if he was analyzing every object in the room, filing it away in some digital database.

Eva felt a twinge of unease at the thought of it scrutinizing her personal space, even if it was only its programming doing the work.

"Connor," Eva murmured to herself, testing the name on her tongue. It felt strange, like trying on a piece of clothing that didn't quite fit. "Ironic, don't you think?" she added with a small, stale laugh. "It means 'hunter,' and you're basically programmed to hunt androids." She was speaking her thoughts aloud, not really expecting a response, more intrigued by the irony than interested in conversation.

It was the first time she'd seen an android appear confused. Connor blinked back at her, the LED light on its temple cycling through its colours as if he was processing what she'd just said, sifting through its database for the appropriate response.

"Although I do not know the origin of the name Cyberlife gave me, your theory makes sense," Connor eventually replied, its tone perfectly neutral as he watched Eva tidy up the broken glass.

"I didn't mean to startle you," it added, its voice not completely devoid of any real feeling, it was flat, like it was trying to mimic emotion but only got halfway there. "I apologize if my presence frightened you." It was the kind of apology that felt more like a procedural statement than genuine remorse.

Eva waved it off with a flick of her hand, dismissing its concern. "Don't sweat it. I just wasn't expecting anyone, let alone an android," she said, her voice louder as she disappeared into her bedroom to change.

It was strange having an android in her apartment, a machine with eyes that seemed to record every detail, every movement.

"You better not be snooping through my shit!" Eva yelled as she pulled on a hoodie in her bedroom. Connor didn't respond.

Now dressed in something a little more appropriate, Eva stepped out into the living room and came face-to-face with Connor, who was standing at attention, its posture as rigid as ever. She waved a hand eccentrically toward the door. "Lead the way," she said, her voice still tinged with a hint of disinterest. If Connor could experience relief, it would be thankful that Detective Demuro hadn't put up as much of a fight as Lieutenant Anderson had when they met.

As they left the apartment complex, Eva shielded her eyes against the torrent of rain that greeted them. The downpour was relentless, soaking her completely within seconds. She had expected a sleek, self-driven cab to be waiting at the curb for them, but instead, she saw Connor walking toward an old, beat-up car that looked like it had seen better days.

Eva followed the silhouette becoming clearer as she approached. It was Lieutenant Hank Anderson, a familiar face at the precinct, though she'd rarely seen him in person, and even then, only when he bothered to show up. She slipped into the front passenger seat and slammed the door behind her, sending a gust of cold air through the car.

Anderson glanced at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to place her face. Eva could almost hear his inner gears turning, flipping through the memory banks to find out who she was.

Evangeline figured that politeness was her best option. After all, being on bad terms with the people you were working with during an ongoing investigation could cause all sorts of trouble. "Evangeline," she said, giving him a brief nod and a quirky wave instead of extending a hand. Hank Anderson didn't seem like a handshake type of guy.

"I know who you are," he replied with a low grumble, his voice carrying the weariness of someone who had better things to do. He made it clear this was not how he wanted to spend his night, but then again, Hank's entire demeanour screamed reluctance.

Eva raised an eyebrow at his response. You could have fooled me, she thought. When she was in the hospital after the incident, Hank's name was notably missing from the "get well soon" card that the whole precinct had signed. They'd never worked together in the five years she'd been a detective, and she doubted he even knew her by name.

She decided to keep quiet for the rest of the car ride, letting the obscenely loud music that Hank insisted on playing drown out her thoughts. The blaring rock ballads and guitar solos seemed to be his way of avoiding any conversation, and Eva was more than happy to oblige. As they drove through the rain-slicked streets, she wondered what sort of man she was dealing with and whether he'd be an ally or just another hurdle in her path. Whatever the case, this wasn't going to be a smooth ride.

— 𝗩𝗮𝗹