“I at least need a computer terminal if I am going to play an effective role in this investigation. If that’s the only equipment I’m permitted, so be it.”
Fritz’s LED blinked as he was led into McCree’s private quarters, perhaps the lieutenant misunderstood his request. Like the car, his sensors indicated the smell of hazelnut and bourbon again.
CONNECTING, SYNC IN PROGRESS, SYNC DONE, COLLECTING DATA, PROCESSING DATA…
WEAPON LOCKERS: Revolver, pulse rifle, shotgun. Revolver most frequently accessed
FOOD WRAPPERS: Lt. McCree eats alone more than in the cafeteria
CLOTHES: Unwashed, each worn 1-3 times
FUTON: Overwatch standard issue, 4 years old
POSTERS: 3 years old, Lt. McCree likes cowboys
TENSION: Lt. McCree doesn’t fully relax even in his own quarters
The android waited as Jesse swiped the tablet and talked through his options aloud, and Fritz turned his gaze toward the closed door at the offer. McCree’s room, while big enough to house him, still only possessed one terminal. It wouldn’t be useful if they both needed it at the same time. His analysis also indicated that tension would only increase, perhaps to the point of hindering their investigation.
“Cyberlife wouldn’t have spent a small fortune on a unit that needed a babysitter. Goodnight, lieutenant.”
The door slid open, and the RK500 disappeared from Jesse’s sight.
A brief scan of the fire emergency route on a nearby wall was all he needed to find room 46, although the door was still locked. The android’s LED flashed yellow as he scanned the number pad beside it.
CONNECTING, SYNC, COLLECTING DATA, PROCESSING DATA…
Room assignment: Agent Oliveros, retired
Fetching fingerprint data… OK
Fingerprints: Index: 1, 7 | Middle: 8 | Ring: 3
Highest probability passcode: 1-7-3-8
Fritz pressed 1738 on the number pad, and the door immediately opened. As promised, the room was vacant, save for a dual-monitor computer terminal with an office chair, and a bed that was still folded into the wall. Out of the public eye, he was free to remove the military jacket with the cyan arm band and triangle that identified him as an android, and it was hung carefully in the empty closet.
It would have taken more than a simple scan to guess Oliveros’ terminal password, but luckily, one of the authentication options was voice input. The LED spun yellow as he recalled his conversations over the past hour. It was preferable to asking for his own account at this hour, and he straightened as the headquarters’ AI spoke.
“State your name for authorization.”
Fritz’s voice was virtually identical to the lieutenant’s growling drawl, and the AI processed it immediately.
“Authorization accepted. Welcome home, cowboy.”
The RK500 spent time combing through all of Blackwatch’s files on omnics, Null Sector and androids, though he’d learned all he needed to within ten minutes. Only one file seemed corrupted, that of Agent Bernadette Biltz. Yet she was human, and therefore not part of his investigation.
Fritz pulled the bed from the wall, and found it had a pillow but no sheets. That hardly mattered to the android, and he methodically removed his shoes before lying down on his side. Within moments, his eyes slid shut and the LED light muted to a dim glow in the darkness.
“SIMULATION COMPLETED AT THREE MINUTES, TWENTY-SIX SECONDS. REPEAT?”
6:30 AM is not the time one expects a man like him to be up, but Jesse always did consider himself to be both a night owl and a morning person. When this man ever gets proper sleep is still a mystery to most on the base, but it’s clear he knows how to function in this state regardless.
Training Square B is all his at this hour, and he has a bounce to his step, forcing bright energy and keeping himself on his toes as the fourth round begins to set up. Combat boots, simple pants and a tank top frame him, topped with ankle weights and a weighted vest. He adjusts the wireless headphones in his ears, shaking his head as walls around him shift and rearrange to create new maze-like structures and obstacles. Training bots hover about, placing themselves strategically.
A screen floats in front of him for a moment, showing him the performance on his arm, and his blood pressure and pulse. He dismisses it quickly, opting to reload his revolver and adjusts himself.
Jesse in this state would hardly notice if anyone were to enter. The entrance to the Training Square has a screen showing his physical stats, the time reaction of his prosthetic, how long this round has lasted, and even the song that was currently blasting in his headphones. “Who Do You Love - George Thorogood & The Destroyers”. In swift motions, he fires at two bots, and decimates another with his prosthetic, its expensive skull crushed and thrown uselessly against another bot as he moves onto the next target. It’s not long before the bots are destroyed effortlessly, and as he rolls behind one of the walls and fires once more, there’s a ping, and the walls rise up, seemingly to his dismay.
“SIMULATION COMPLETED AT TWO MINUTES, FORTY-TWO SECONDS. REPEAT?”
He examines his prosthetic with an amused smirk, then plucks out a headphone. “Didn’t even finish the s--” He glances up at the entrance, and halts a moment. “Uh, no. Coffee break, thanks Athena. Gimme a sec.”
His attention would be wherever the android had found himself. “Fritz, right? Here to fetch me or ya damn lost? I need a sec to come up with an excuse to say no to whatever the day wants to kill me with.”
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