Hank tried everything. He could feel the raw, open wounds on his wrists and forearms from struggling against the thick rope, feel the slicker spots where he was probably bleeding, but even the added movement wasn't enough to reach wherever the knot was. Fucking androids... Connor's screams, if they could even be called screams at this point, with the crackling, electronic undertone... They hurt. They hurt his soul. Tears burned the sides of his eyes as he wriggled, listening to Connor's labored breathing and Lucien's giggles,

"There, look at that,"

Hank looked over, his stomach rolling angrily as Lucien held up Connor's left foot, shoe still attached with the severed, slim strip of pant leg draped loosely over the shoe. The ankle's synth-skin had retreated from the jagged cut, exposed wires pitifully frayed, blue blood soaking the entire foot and hand holding it. It looked horrible. Bile burned in the back of his throat as he struggled to get a better look at Connor.

"Tell me. How did that feel?"

Connor's LED was cycling rapidly between blinking red and a madly spinning yellow. He reminded Hank of the android they'd found some months ago at the Ortiz's place... eyes darting everywhere, twitching, flinching at every move Lucien made; his chest heaved with the effort of breathing, and Hank's gut sank. Shirt torn open, Hank had a full view of Connor's blue soaked synth-skin swirled, peeling back from the white skin beneath and growing back – like watching the innards of a lava lamp. Blue blood was dripping from his ankle, mostly covered by the pant leg but the puddle of blue underneath him wasn't a welcoming sight. None of it was.

"... Fire," The crackling barely sounded human anymore.

"Connor..." still useless on the floor, Hank couldn't stop the half plea.

Lucien turned half way toward him, but when Connor continued, Lucien's attention returned to the distressed android.

"It felt... like wires were crossing. When they shouldn't. It..." Connor shuddered and stiffened, gasping a few times before slumping in his restraints again, and Lucien, the bastard, stood there; taking in every second of the boy's struggle. "It was... burning. I'm... still burning."

His voice shorted out twice as he spoke slowly, and Hank wondered in the back of his mind if Connor wasn't trying to buy time for himself to recover. In any other situation, Hank would have been proud. Right now, all he felt was a deep sorrow and a growing hatred in his chest.

"Would you rather,"

Lucien tossed Connor's foot carelessly to the side, where it splattered and rolled along the floor as the vehicle swayed, leaving a trail of blue in its wake. Hank watched Connor go completely still – that unnatural mannequin look only androids were capable of – his face frozen in a look of muted terror as his LED flashed between red and yellow before spinning violently red. His only movements were his eyes, tracking the foot before snapping back to Lucien, and the constant heaving of his chest as he all but gasped for air. … burning? Was Connor overheating?

"I cut off the detective's whole leg, or. I cut off –"

"Dammit, Lucien, STOP!"

Finally Lucien backed away from Connor, the full force of his rage bringing him to where Hank seethed and struggled in two steps. He was hoisted upward as Lucien hissed through gritted teeth,

"I thought I told you to –"

"My –" the electronic tone crackled louder, Lucien's words halting as both eyebrows rose slowly, eyes still deadlocked on Hank's own look of shock. "… Mine."

"Connor, NO."

Hank had almost managed to plant his feet when a fist caught him between his nose and cheekbone, a painful crack accompanying his unsteady fall back to the floor of the truck. His eyes spun as his head knocked the ground again, and things seemed to just... blur together. There was a figure above him, and disoriented, Hank kicked out, hitting nothing. Then there was a weight on his stomach and he was being pinned onto his creaking arms. A glint of metal, and then –

"LUCIEN!"

Connor's static filled tone rose to a roar and in that moment the weight on him twisted unbearably, a crack from his wrist echoing the sharp, mechanical gasp. Desperately, Hank twisted and tried to throw the weight off, his left arm straining in a direction it wasn't supposed to be in.

"Never," The malice was thick in Lucien's words, "Say that name again."

Hank bit back a groan, lifting his pounding head, trying to see Connor around the body on top of him. His only reward was a jab from the knee in his side and a fist out of nowhere, landing squarely on his jaw and forcing his head to the side. Dazed, struggling for breath, Hank barely felt Lucien rise off him. His strength felt sapped, his vision swaying along with the vehicle. A gentle turn, (compared to the earlier, high speed chase they'd been involved in,) helped Hank finally roll off his aching arms, onto his stomach, but for several precious seconds, he really couldn't do more than just lay there.

He heard Lucien whisper something, but he could only make out the fact it was Lucien's voice; none of the words actually sounded like words. A few more seconds of silence, and Hank mustered up the will to squirm slightly, trying to angle his head to see anything, but he was turned more toward the doors on the back. His shoulder gave out and he collapsed where he was, out of breath and head pounding like a next-level hangover. He felt the vehicle slow down further, and another gentle turn accompanied the most hair raising scream he'd ever heard.

The static wasn't just an undertone, anymore; it was like Connor's voice itself was glitching, rapidly switching between pitches that didn't always sound like his. It sent a chill down Hank's spine, and gave him the strength to twist his aching body further, struggling against the movement of the truck and his own disorientation. Precious minutes passed before Hank was able to twist his heavy head enough to catch sight of the two, just as Connor's scream abruptly cut out. Hank felt his stomach turn again as he looked up at his face, scrunched like he'd never seen, tears streaming freely down his cheeks, the red LED whirling madly before it just... stopped.

Hank held his breath as Connor's expression froze, and they both stilled. A small, metallic noise was heard clearly in those few heart racing moments. Then the LED blinked back, a dull red to a glowing, bright red before it was gone again, to repeat its cycle. Tears were catching the edges of Hank's own eyes now; he'd never seen Connor like this. A fresh stab wound leaked blue blood over his glitching chest and ripped clothing, his frozen, contorted expression lending a macabre look to those open, unseeing eyes... He hoped the boy was able to fight through this, whatever this was. Fuck, he wished he knew more about androids...

"Well would you look at that."

Lucien sounded... amused? Hank could barely tear his eyes away from Connor's frozen look of terror as Lucien stood, holding –

GOD, he was going to be sick. In the time it had taken Hank to turn around, Lucien had retrieved the knife from where it had embedded in... in Connor's chest, just to kneel in front of the kid's other leg and...

"Do you think he chose to clock out?"

Lucien turned to face Hank, his face covered in splotches of blue, grinning as he carelessly waved around Connor's leg by its ankle. Droplets and tiny sprays flew in every direction, dotting the inside of the truck that same, sickening blue. Hank couldn't speak; it felt like his throat was closing in on itself, but Lucien seemed more than happy at his silence. Instead, he looked back at Connor and crossed his arms, uncaring as the severed limb bounced against his thigh and stained his jeans a much darker blue.

"You know, 'cause he's deviant and all. Funny thing, actually; I've found most deviants hit their limit faster than regular old machine androids – defaults, I like to call them – even though my virus gives both of their processors the ability to... well. Feel." Every now and again, Lucien would look at him, but his gaze would always return to the poor kid's sickly, gargoyle-like appearance.

He could feel bile rising uncomfortably in his throat as the information sank in. He didn't care whether Lucien thought it was because of some programming, or what, but that was agony he'd seen on Connor's face. Any standard be damned, Lucien had hurt his partner. One way or another, Hank would see the man pay for his crimes. By his own hands, or by the hands of the law – if they got to him first.

"I'm not sure if it's because deviants have already simulated pain, along with the trauma and aversions that walk hand in hand with it, or if it's because the defaults just have a lesser understanding of what's happening to them, too caught up in trying to fix a code that can't be repaired." he said, unfolding his arms and dropping the leg without a care onto the floor.

Maybe not even then.

"Well... Only one way to find out."

"What are you doing now?"

He'd meant for it to come out more commanding. More... well, anything more than the wheezing plea it sounded like. Lucien didn't say anything, choosing instead to step toward the right seat, opening the cushion top to some hidden compartment. He wasn't well versed on ambulances, so if it was part of the customization or some perk that came with hijacking and tailoring an ambulance, Hank might never know. Or maybe he would. Surely he didn't trust the man after all this to just leave his partner be; then again, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be on the receiving end of Lucien's anger at the moment. Hank squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he had some way to mark a trail or give the DPD something to go on. Maybe Connor could have figured something out, if Hank had been able to keep him away, or keep Lucien's attention... something. But those were past regrets, now. As it stood, this entire situation gave him a worsening pain in the back of his skull, making it uncomfortable to even keep his eyes closed.

When he refocused his eyes, Lucien was bracing against the next turn as he pulled out several cords and what looked like a vintage laptop from the early 2000's. It looked like a damn brick... but he knew a bad feeling when it hit him, thanks to his years in the force. Almost immediately Hank was struggling, and just as quickly he was gasping and gulping the vocalizations down. Okay. No more moving. Lesson learned. Feeling very certain he was dying, or at least in the process of, Hank focused harder on what Lucien was up to now, but the more he focused, the less he saw and the more he thought about. They'd called backup; there had obviously been some sort of high speed chase, so chances were good they were on the news, right? After all, this entire thing screamed headline for weeks, right?

Were there enough clues to lead anyone to where they were headed? No, Lucien was a smart one, even if he was... unstable. Fuck. There was movement again, and Hank's gaze fluttered to Lucien sitting down to the gentle sway of movement, laptop on his thighs, and began tapping away. A rainbow fed from Lucien's side into Connor's back and Hank was lost to his thoughts again. Connor's frozen look of horror flashed clearly before him, and Hank physically cringed, despite the pain. It made sense he would try to take the brunt of Lucien's anger, but those stupid, no-win games were just to stress and psyche them out. No matter which way you spun it, this was all Lucien's doing. This was all his fault.

The hate still burned just as strong, if not stronger, but the quickly encroaching darkness dampened the anger, making it a distant thought as Hank laid his cheek on the floor of the truck. The inconsistent ebb and flow of breath lulled him further, deeper, into –

"You falling asleep on me, Detective?"

The words were sharp in the relative silence that had fallen in the wake of Connor's agonized screams, and almost brought the lieutenant back to full awareness. As it was, he knew he could just ignore Lucien, but even in his exhaustion Hank needed answers. Maybe it was being constantly referred to as 'detective' again, but he needed... something.

"You write code?" The words were simple enough to say, but felt like rocks forcing themselves through his windpipe, made worse by the blood plugging his offset nose.

A few more seconds passed, Lucien tapping away before the sound stopped, and Hank shivered at the sound of a mirthless chuckle.

"Something like that. Did you know your buddy has a program that allows him to wirelessly connect to any, and I do mean any, electrical device that emits a signal?"

Lucien's tone was soft and awestruck, as if he'd run across gold. As soon as Hank started forming the thought in his head, Lucien continued like he was reading his mind,

"Don't worry, that capability would have been one of the first things shut down by this little baby." Whatever Lucien was showing off, Hank couldn't see, didn't want to see, didn't care.

Maybe he should care, but there was too much else to keep in mind right now. Back to more useful information. What was even useful right now? … Why was his head so sluggish?

"So what, you're gonna kidnap two Detroit cops, then go careening across the state with a blue and red escort, and think you can just –"

"Slip away quietly?"

Hank chewed on his lip as the vehicle slowed to a stop, almost as if on cue, before gently turning left and continuing, undisturbed, on down the road. Closing his eyes again, Hank felt his heart beating an unnatural rhythm, each pulse pounding painfully against his chest, moving what felt like his whole body in the process. He'd had nothing to eat, but the rolling in his stomach wasn't hunger, he knew that much.

"I think the evidence speaks for itself, in that regard."

Smug. The bastard was so fucking smug, and that constant clacking kept playing with his last nerve.

"Alright, fine, mister evil genius. What's the plan from here, then, huh?"

He didn't know what he expected. He half expected some rant about not giving away secrets; half expected Lucien to actually give him something he could use. He didn't know. He hurt, that's what he knew. He also knew he didn't expect what Lucien said next.

"The plan is to make lemonade, Detective."

"Wha...?"

The scoff and heavy sigh were quick to answer his immediate confusion, but then Hank found himself holding his breath as the typing stopped, and Lucien spoke.

"See, let me put it to you this way. I was working on a project I was pretty invested in seeing through to the end. Then a couple of spoil sports come and butt in and make things complicated." Lucien paused, typed something for a few seconds, and just as Hank was gearing up another question, he finally continued, "Thing is, one of those assholes just so happened to be the same fucking detective that tried to drag me in for questioning."

Hank heard a noise from where Connor hung, but twisting his head only made Hank more nauseous. The world spun as Lucien's calmly delivered, yet scathing words, invoked memories of his younger self's drive for justice.

"Who got a search warrant for my home just to tear it apart – who took my car as evidence. The very same detective who followed me everywhere I went for weeks – do you know how hard it is to get things done with people constantly watching over your shoulder? I swear, inspiration's fleeting enough as it is. …never mind. You wouldn't understand. But then – and this is the best part, see... you brought me an apology gift."

The clacking resumed without Hank realizing the relief of its absence, only the grating frustration of its return, and he ground his teeth together. He was losing it. He was too dizzy and too old for this shit anymore. Fighting off darkness with every last ounce of will he had, he struggled to follow Lucien's words.

"Deviants... they really are exceptionally human like. Right down to their facial expressions and conditioned responses. So I'm going to enjoy his pain as I rip him apart piece by piece, and then I'll get to enjoy making a grand masterpiece out of you."

His will was fading fast, but the words caught up to him eventually. He didn't know if it had been seconds or hours since Lucien's last words, but Hank slurred out anyway,

"You're a... sick fuck..."

The steady rumble of the road below threaded Lucien's chuckling reply, and Hank felt himself floating long before the words meant anything to him.

"You keep saying that, detective. Much more, and I might start to think you're trying to hurt my feelings. Don't worry, I'll wake you up when we're almost there. You won't miss a thing."