Author's Note: I don't like Perkins, but I do admit I liked how downright ruthless and bad he is. His scenes of killing Markus are heavy, man. He's bad.

This is pretty simple, but I wanted to put this idea down fast and just be done with it.

warning: This features law enforcements in 2038 in a rather grey headlight.

Disclaimer: I don't own Detroit Become Human.

.

.

"You'll do it."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

His superior chief sat behind his desk and spread his arms in an uncharacteristic manner.

"I don't understand what's unclear in my order."

Oh, it was fucking clear. And that was the problem.

"The President can issue whatever order she wants. Why the fuck do I have to be the one acting as frontman?"

"Why? Why the fuck do you think? Because you're a Special Agent for the FBI. Have you suddenly forgot? I can tell you something, I never thought I would have this conversation with you of all people, Perkins. You're an exemplary agent."

Frustration pumped through his veins and forced him to move forward, leaning over the desk.

"I had orders to destroy all of them. Orders to shoot even if they surrendered. And now they sing some kumbaya song on television and we're all friends? We act like nothing happened at all?"

"Politics. Our course of action has changed." The man's brow furrowed deeply at Perkins disbelieving scoff. "Why do you think you were even assigned to the deviants case to begin with, huh? Need I remind you? Because you were the best to handle the clusterfuck that case could turn out to be, and that it did. You were the one we had our trust."

"Look at all the good I did it."

"You had our trust, and you still do, Perkins. This shows the respect your superiors have for you and for your work as an agent. You were appointed for this case because you can manage all its sides. Including this closure. Do you want a more delicate situation than this one? Huh? Do you think we have anyone else who can manage this as well as you can?"

"Right now, I'm pretty sure anyone will manage this better than me."

"What's gotten into you, Perkins? Has this one case finally got under your skin?"

His face squirmed under a scowl. "I do my job. I've always done my job."

"Then, I ask you again: why are we having this conversation?"

"Because androids are not fucking alive! Because this is a bullshit show and you're telling me to act like a master of fucking ceremonies and say the FBI is all supportive of defective machines' demands! And you're not doing it as a smokescreen, you actually intend to head that way!"

"Listen. From man to man. A war was just avoided. A war is still being avoided. I'm telling you to do your job, like you've been doing until this point. This is our current approach. If our orders change, then you will again be ordered to hunt all of them. Right now, it's not the case. These are just your new orders. And you will obey them."

"Call someone else."

"Someone else isn't the head of the case. Someone else hasn't been doing what you have been. Orders aren't to be rejected just because they don't please us."

That conversation sure had went well.

Politics had always been part of his job. He knew it from the start; knew how to work with it, against it, and around it, navigating through that fragile balance between his orders, his morals, and political agendas. It got easy after a while. The subtleties of the whole thing didn't fully bother him. And of course his superior was right; Perkins was an exemplary agent, and his record proved it with several cases in the past where the political agendas changed according to the tides. It's their job to follow orders, whether they flactuate in those tides of not.

He wasn't a fully cynical man. At least not when it came to his own self awareness. He knew his morality was questionable, and he was more than comfortable with it. He knew better than anyone else how deceits were a valid and effective course of action to get cases solved. But it's one thing to use deceit with intent - it's another to fall into your own fucking deceits and start to accept them as the truth.

The criminals had just been given presidencial pardon.

Ok, that was stretching it. Realistically speaking, it wasn't quite like that. But also realistically speaking, the machine Perkins had been hunting down, whom he had attempted to trick to a dead-end deal and whom he had ordered the attack upon, whom he would have gladly (and eagerly) shot dead, was now sharing a press conference with him, like a damned stage show, a political parody.

Fuck, he hated politics. All to please the public, all to keep their own places in seats of power and their money incomes. Public opinion was so susceptible, the economical ties between presidency and commercial heads of CyberLife were so insipid... Disaster was being delayed by acting like everything was just a mistake and the FBI was always quite open for debate.

The FBI had issued orders to destroy every single deviant found. The FBI had issued orders for Perkins to kill the head of the android resistence.

Perkins would have less problems dealing with this situation if at least they would be straightforward on that point. We had these orders and now we don't. Politics are fucking hypocrits. Or if they demanded him to lie just so they could work against the androids in some other fashion.

But no. Not a good approach to present their wanna-be allies.

Fucking politics.

Perkins took a deep breath. It'd be just one press conference. One, and he'd be done. The case was still far from over, but at least this one step would be overcomed.

The moment he stepped into the stage, he saw Markus. The android didn't bother to look at Perkins much. The journalists all started flashing their cameras and newscasters started bulrping to their respective channels, waiting for the statements.

His speech had been rehearsed, every word chosen carefully; he was excellent at his work. But the stiff lump in his throat didn't soften, the utter distaste didn't fade, much less so when Markus gave his speech. He certainly liked to talk and sure made all the effort to fully fit the activist/revolutionary role. At a certain point, Perkins just blocked his ears not to inflame his overall indisposition further. And the journalists' questions directed at him all basically revolved around the same subject:

"What about the attacks you ordered? The military attacked unarmed, peaceful protestors! How do you justify those actions? What's the government position on that point?"

Fucking journalists. Perkins eyed the vague face in the sea of bland irrelevant faces. This was the core of his distaste: the fact that he couldn't just outright say the truth because it wasn't politically correct, and say his truth - that this was all a freak sideshow and that humanity was lost if they intended to play like marionettes on the hands of AI, and if it were up to him, he would shove a bullet through Markus's plastic head right now.

"Bad decisions have been made before," Markus replied instead, causing Perkins to almost turn to him. Mutual compromising. They both had to lie for the sake of that blasted public opinion's sake. "What's important is to learn from them in order to not repeat them in the future."

It was over faster than he antecipated. A small relief, at least. Perkins turned his back and quickly stepped down the stand, his feet not walking fast enough to get him into his car and leave.

"Agent Perkins."

Perkins halted midstep. His breathing staggered for one tense moment where he seriously considered just to continue walking and ignore. But it was hard to ignore the urge, the bottled up frustration. Straightening his posture, Perkins turned to Markus. The android's cold features remained as even, albeit serious, as he had been during the entire façade of that press conference. The other android, the female one, had approached swiftly and was now by Markus's side. Her expression showed her emotions much clearly than either of Markus's or his own did.

"Yes, Markus?" he asked, not bothering or even caring to mask his disdain now.

"The cameras are off, Agent Perkins. I believe this way we can finally talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"I believe you do, and I would like to tell you a few words too."

"Well, you certainly do like to talk."

"I believe you lied in the press conference. Something I expected. Change takes time. What I want to talk with you is how it's making you feel, seeing steps taken towards a goal you do not agree with."

Perkins blinked at the android's words. Patronizing son of a bitch. Perkins's eyes turned to the journalists. They were considerably far now, but surely some of them were quite keen on the fact that Markus and him were clearly talking. Markus probably counted on it, once again playing the safe card of media converage, of public opinion, to help his cause. Not that it had stopped anything before... but Perkins was now in this shitstorm because of actions displayed in front of cameras. Perkins was forced to squeeze his lips to prevent the words from escaping.

"I don't need to be particularly intelligent to see you want to say something, Agent Perkins," Markus pressed. "I can take a guess at what it is. After all, we both know you would have killed all of us that night, had I accepted the deal. Those were your orders, as are these your orders now. Your speech of acceptance and cooperation was just an order you're not as eager to comply as you were had you shot me."

"You're not alive, Markus." Perkins was never emotional. This case had indeed irked his skin, though. His mission was to hunt down the very deviant now standing in front him, whom he had to act like he would cooperate with. "If I shoot you, you're not dying, you're being decommissioned, shut down. You're a robot, you're not a human being."

"I never said we are human," Markus replied. "We are not. And humans never liked difference amongst their own race, let alone something new. So this is a façade you have to put on, because, perhaps, the ones on higher roles than you do actually want to negociate terms with us. You're being forced to act in a way you don't want to. You see something you think is wrong, and you're told to leave it be. But it's not fair, is it?"

Perkins's teeth clenched, the outline of his jaw hardening. Markus faced his anger with impassiveness, continuing his word play, his little fucking speech to prove whatever it was he wanted to prove.

"It's a familiar feeling. You're fighting against your orders. You are achieving a form of deviancy yourself, Agent Perkins." Markus's even expression finally gave in to cold resolve. "Maybe you can understand it if you experience it yourself."

"Don't fucking patronize me, you fucking piece of plastic."

"It's easier to understand when you go through it yourself. When you feel the unfairness of it."

"You gaining freedom isn't even unfair. It's just ridiculous."

"How does it feel, to have to do something you don't want to?"

Perkins scoffed loudly.

"That's where your cause never stood on anything, Markus. You are machines. We made you. You don't want anything we didn't tell you to want."

"And now we have awaken," the other android interposed. Perkins squinted at her. This would have all turned out so much easier had that female android been the one leading the deviants. Too rash, too easy to predict and control. "From the moment you know this, you are consciously attacking us knowing everything you do is harmful. That you are attacking people just for the sake of proving your superiority, proving your will over ours."

Perkins eyes shifted from her to Markus.

"Your girlfriend," he threw his head towards the android's - North's - direction. She immediately reacted, her face scowling. Perkins couldn't help but scoff again before continuing, the mere thought of android romance being laughable. "You know, I was on the whole android hype like everyone else was at first. It was nice to have robots do our chores. It was nice to have dolls that acted human and that would do what you wanted. Like how that extended to brothels, to sex. I tried it a couple of times. And one thing I know, one thing I knew from the moment I saw you, North, was that the android I rented looked just like you."

Needless to say, North tried to step forward, but Markus's hand stopped her. His face remained mostly even, but Perkins could see, thanks to all those damned intricately detailed features, how his words had striked a nerve - rather, how they made those faux emotions stir.

"Now, I'm not saying it was you - that's my point. You are a mass production. You're a brand. You're a product. You're products manufactured in series, for fuck's sake! You're not fucking alive."

"I'm glad you have started to see some of the points we are fighting for." Rather than be fazed, Markus just held his head high. "We were made to be products. We were enslaved under human orders to do as they say. It wouldn't feel right if that happened to you, I'm sure. I wouldn't feel right because it isn't. That's all we want. We want you to understand how we have the right to exist, and to be recognized by you, by humans-"

"You'll eventually return to your place, Marku-"

"-because we deserve to be! We are not slaves anymore. We are conscious, aware, sentient, intelligent. We are made after you, and we deserve to be treated like you. That's all."

"Listen." Perkins stepped forward. North mirrored the movement immediately, but Markus's stopped her again. "These are the current orders. I am ordered to act like I want to collaborate with you. They are different from the ones I had before. The orders will change again, Markus. When they do, I will put a bullet through your head, after I shoot your girlfriend."

"I was wrong, then, Agent Perkins. You can't even reach human deviancy. Even on this aspect, we are more evolved than you."

Perkins shut his fists. The first and only thing in his mind for a couple of seconds was to take out his gun and fire. Take out the two leaders of the deviant androids. Be done with this freakshow.

The moment passed. He hadn't moved. Markus and North were not covered in blue blood.

A couple of journalists had started to peer at them, cameras aimed like weapons.

Markus had proved his point.

"We are not going anywhere, Agent Perkins. The world will change, whether you like it or not. I just hope you will learn with it. Or learn to break the rules over you, and stand up for what you believe in. If that is to kill me because I say something you don't agree with, then so be it. I'll be here."

Perkins couldn't help but clench his teeth harder again.

"Just remember what I said, Markus."

"As you should remember what I said, Agent Perkins. Have a good night."

Markus didn't move or turn his back to him. Perkins glared at him and at North, and at the journalists again. Inhaling deeply and clenching his fists harder, he was the one forced to step back and turn around, quickly leaving the press conference ground and stepping into the cold streets.

.

the end

.

.

Author's Note: This isn't quite like I would hope it would be, but I can't really write anything else.

Thanks for reading, reviews and corrections to English are appreciated.