Chapter One: Beginnings

The beginning is the most important part of the work.

Plato

Chris

A small part of Chris yearned for adventure beyond the ones from books. This small part of her wished she would leave Detroit and see the world. This small part of her hungered for adventure. It wanted Chris to be confident and brave. However, the more dominant and logical part of Chris reminded her that she would most likely live the inconsequential life of a librarian. The dominant part of Chris reminded her that she wasn't brave or confident. It told Chris she would never live an exciting life outside of her small bubble. Some days it didn't bother her. Some days it did. Chris had plenty of books to read and when she didn't feel like reading (which was rare) she had Jasper to talk to. Jasper was an android who was liberated during Markus' last march for freedom. Chris had to admit, it had taken some time to get used to the look of awareness in Jaspers eyes. Now, months later, Chris would consider Jasper one of her closest friends. Or her only friend.

"Christine, did you inform Emma Strout of her $5.25 book fine?" Jasper inquired, sitting at his computer.

Pushing up her glasses, Chris thought for a moment. "Yeah, she said she would pay it the next time she came in." Of course, Emma Strout used a more colorful language but Jasper didn't need to know that. "Also, I thought I told you to call me Chris. Christine is too formal," Chris added, looking pointedly at the android. Not to mention Chris was named after her mother and...well Chris didn't really get along with her mother. Going by Chris was a small form of rebellion.

"Sorry Chris, I guess old habits die hard," he apologized. Chris found the sheepish look her friend was sporting amusing. She liked to imagine a blush darkening his ebony skin. It was another reminder that androids had human capabilities. Still, the use of her full name even before Jasper had deviated had made her uncomfortable.

Shutting down her computer, Chris stretched. "So any plans for the weekend?"

Jasper looked up once again from his work, his brown eyes focusing on her green ones. "A couple friends and I are going to a party tomorrow night. What about you?"

Chris grinned, "Oh you know, just the usual."

Jasper raised a dark eyebrow, "So you're going to watch an old TV show and wish for a deeper meaning in life?"

"You bet," Chris winked and shot Jasper the ever-so-cringy finger-guns. The action immediately filled Chris with regret.

"You should come with us tomorrow," he offered, thankfully paying no mind to Chris' actions.

Chris wrinkled her nose, "You know I don't like parties; besides I'll probably stand out amongst your friends-being human and all."

Jasper rolled his eyes, "You aren't the only human I'm friends with." Chris winced.

"I thought what we had was special," she said, false hurt shining in her eyes. Jasper snorted.

"What we have is mediocre at best. Now, how about that party?"

"I don't know, I probably won't know anyone other than you," she said. Chris definitely wouldn't know anyone else at the party. She was not a social butterfly. Chris hated parties and meeting new people. It was always an awkward experience for her.

"Please come, my friends are great. I promise you'll have a good time," Jasper begged.

Chris doubted she would have fun, it must have shown on her face because Jasper leaned forward and gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. It was then that Chris knew she was in trouble. In her 27-years of life, Chris had never seen more convincing puppy-dog eyes. Chris quickly covered her eyes. "Please stop with the look! You know I can't resist your puppy-dog eyes! Who knew an android could be so expressive? I always knew mankind made a mistake when they created androids," she cried. Chris heard Jasper laugh.

Chris felt hands pull her own hands from her eyes and she was once again trapped under Jaspers adorable gaze. "I won't stop until you agree to go," Jasper promised.

"Fine! I'll go with you! Just make it stop," Chris begged. Jasper triumphantly let her go.

"That wasn't so hard was it?"

Chris glared at him, "You won this round, but I don't want to hear you complain when I'm glued to your side tomorrow." Or when she decided to sit as far away from the crowd as possible.

Jasper smirked, "Wouldn't dream of it, I'll pick you up at nine. Now, if you're done with your work you can head home."

Huffing, Chris stood and began stuffing her things into her bag. Just as she began to reach for her phone it started to ring. She picked it up, frowning at the screen.

"Who is it?" Jasper asked.

"Unknown number." Chris hit answer and held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?" She received no response. Chris waited a moment before hanging up, "No one was there."

Jasper frowned, "That's odd, maybe it was an accident?"

Chris shrugged, "Maybe. Anyway, I guess I'll get going. Are you sure you don't want me to wait for you?"

"I still have to reshelve some books. I'll see you tomorrow," Jasper said. He pointed to a small stack of books on his desk.

Chris waved goodbye and made her way out of the library, the strange phone call forgotten.

Connor

The victim's name was Adam Black. He had brown hair and eyes, an average height for a white male, and 27 years of age. Adam worked at Cyberlife before the uprising and has since been unemployed. His cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. An officer had discovered a bloodied trophy matching the marks on the victim in a bush outside. After further examination, Connor discovered that the trophy had come from the mantle above the fireplace in the living room.

Connor crouched down to inspect the body. He noticed defensive wounds on the victims' arms. "You fought back," he murmured. He stood up and scanned the room. He was in the victims living room. The victim was sprawled between the couch and front door.

The victim had tried to escape.

"Hey Connor, take a look at this," Lieutenant Hank Anderson called.

Connor followed his friend into the kitchen. Immediately something caught his eye.

"The table was set for two people," Connor observed. "Adam was expecting someone."

"Which explains why there was no sign of forced entry," Hank said.

Rubbing his hands together, Connor walked around the table. His LED flashed yellow as he took in the new information. Connor noticed that the chair furthest from the kitchen's entrance was pulled out. He also noted that the food the victim had prepared was still on the counter; spaghetti and half-cut bread. Where was the knife? Connor crouched down and spotted the knife along with a few drops of blood on the floor. The victim had shown no stab wounds.

The killer had been wounded.

Connor had enough information to reconstruct the killing.

The killer had been seated, waiting for the victim to turn his back. Once the victim had turned to cut the bread the killer attacked. The two struggled, resulting in the killer being wounded. With the killer temporarily distracted, the victim dropped the knife and ran into the living room.

Connor followed the reconstruction into the living room.

The killer followed the victim into the livingroom, grabbing the trophy off the mantle. The killer struck the victim in the back of the head causing the victim to fall to the ground. The killer moved to strike the victim again, but the victim fought back. The two fought for control until the killer managed to get the upper hand. The killer struck the killing blow. The killer opened the door and left, tossing the trophy into a bush.

Satisfied with the reconstruction, Connor reentered the kitchen to test the blood. He crouched down and dipped two of his fingers into the blood and brought the sample into his mouth. His LED flashed yellow.

"Christ! How many times do I have to tell you to warn me before you do that gross shit?" Hank exclaimed.

Connor sent Hank an apologetic look. "I'm sorry Hank, I'll try to remember that next time," he said earnestly.

Hank shook his head. "Well? Is it our victims' blood?"

"The victims' blood type was AB positive, this blood is O positive," Connor answered.

Hank raised a brow, "So who does the blood belong too?" Connor stood back up.

"Samuel Long, age 30. Street cameras place him leaving here approximately an hour ago and entering Edens Club. He's still there," Connor said. Hank waved over an officer.

"I need you to send a couple guys over to Edens club and pick up a Samuel Long for questioning," Hank ordered.

"I've sent his picture and information to your devices," Connor added.

The officer nodded and spoke into his radio. Once he was done he looked at the duo. "Thanks for the help. You guys are free to go."

"I can help with the interrogation," Connor offered.

The cop shook his head, "Thanks to you guys we closed this case sooner than expected. We can handle it from here. Go enjoy your Friday night."

Connor was about to protest but Hank had already begun to drag Connor out the door. As they made their way to the car, Connor shrugged out of Hanks grip.

"I could have been helpful in the interrogation Hank. It's what I was programmed for," Connor said, fixing his tie. Ever since androids had earned their freedom-as precarious as it was-Connor had found himself wishing for more excitement. The cases he and Hank worked on were quick for the two to solve and Connor was bored. We closed this case sooner than expected repeated itself in Connors' head. That was precisely the problem. Thanks to Connors programming cases like this were too easy. While Connor understood he was saving lives, he couldn't help but wish for a more challenging case. With his deviancy came the need for excitement, for cases that took longer than a few hours to solve.

"You heard the officer, they have it under control. Now its time I showed you how to enjoy a Friday night," Hank said, getting into the drivers' side. Connor entered the passengers' side.

"I enjoy spending my time in the precinct or out solving cases," Connor protested.

Hank snorted, "Of fucking course you do. Now listen, this is our first Friday night off in a while and I plan on enjoying every damn minute of it. I need to teach you how to properly enjoy a night off."

Connor assumed Hank meant drinking, something Connor couldn't do. Even if he could Connor doubted he would enjoy it. However, Connor didn't tell Hank that. He enjoyed spending time with Hank just as much as he enjoyed solving cases. Connor decided he was going to spend his Friday night off making sure Hank didn't get into any trouble.

Alright well, that's the first chapter, I'm sorry if the first few chapters seem a little slow. I don't want to rush things. I hope to update weekly. Please follow and favorite if you want to know what happens next!