A/N: Thank you so much for your patience and love and care for this series. Life goes on outside of Tumblr, but I love writing and it makes for a nice escape. Especially since others can enjoy it with me. So enjoy this story, more soon!
Summary: You are an ecstatic new detective in the Detroit Police Department. It has been three years since the Android revolution, and now that they are a freed people, they are making decisions for themselves and their careers. One of these Androids is now your partner. The newest RK model, the RK900. He’s cold, distant, calculating... and oddly alluring. And with your first case on the line, you have to learn how to cope with a partner that holds you at arm’s length while fulfilling a desire that has been burning in your belly since you were a child. Revenge.
Word Count: 1,473
__________________________________________
–– November 4, 2041 ––
You keep your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as a chill runs deep through your young body. It’s as if you’re watching a movie, seeing everything play out all over again, although you don’t really have control over your body. You are forced to simply sit back and watch.
All over again, you’re in your childhood home, the wooden steps rough and worn beneath your bare feet as you sneak down into the basement. Your parents are away for the weekend, you recall, some sort of business trip. Your big brother has locked himself in the basement again, and this time, you’re going to find out why.
But a second voice stops you in your tracks, and you hold your breath to catch what they’re talking about.
“You know you’re going to get killed doing this…” a voice whispers. You couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl, just a soft voice. Empty, void. Cold. You shiver again.
“This little side biz is just for us, okay? No need to tell Anthony, okay? Just calm down. If I can work this equation out, I could make us millions!” That was your brother talking. His voice was soft but masculine, much like your father’s. Warm and kind.
“Jazz, mixing human blood and thirium? Seriously? I took you under my wing when you joined us ‘cause I know how Tony can be, but seriously, this is too risky. You’re the smartest Mixer we’ve ever seen, but this is just plain stupid. What are you even wanting to achieve here?” The second voice was rising in panic. You peek between the cracks of the door. It was a woman, much taller than your brother but slender and elegant. Her back was to you, but you could see Jazz’s face.
He reaches forward and grabs onto the woman’s arms, rubbing them up and down like he does with you when you’re upset. Was she crying? Is this his girlfriend?
“Jenna, I’m going to make us rich. Ever since I got in with Cyberlife, I’ve learned so much. This is inevitable. Once they create the perfect android, it’s only a matter of time before they start to merge us with them. First, create the perfect life form. Then, merge the perfect with the imperfect and- boom! You have the biggest industry in the history of the world! All people want is more time. I can give them that!”
“Sorry, Jazz. It’s just too much right now. I truly am sorry. You’re out. You’ve brought too much attention to us,” the woman shakes her head, stepping away from Jazz.
“Jenna?”
Just then, a hand grabs the back of your neck, and with a scream, you jerk awake.
It was a memory you hated to recall, but your sleeping mind seemed set on reliving it, over and over again. That night was the night your brother was murdered. You can’t really remember in full detail what happened. You were only six or seven at the time. And yet, your mother saw it right to blame you.
‘Why did you call the police?’ ‘Why did you let him bleed out in front of you?’ ‘How could you run?’ ‘You’re a terrible sister, you let your brother die, you were supposed to look out for each other.’
You don’t know what was worse, your mothers new hatred of you, or the hundred and hundreds of police interviews, press conferences, and shrink visits that followed the murder. But all that came from it was that Jason “Jazz” (Y/L/N) was found as a criminal drug manufacturer and distributor for the newly spreading narcotic ‘red ice’. His lab was in the basement of your home, which had been his man cave since he’d turned 20-years-old.
But your brother had always been the favorite. He was the first-born, after all. Despite the fact that your parents were both only 18 when they had Jazz, they loved him more than anything. Your mother was told she wouldn’t be able to have another child, which was heart-breaking at first, but then came as a blessing. More time to spend with Jazz and each other, right?
And then you came along. A miracle, the doctors called it. But your mother had only cried that day, Jazz told you. Your mother always had something better to do than watch over you. Work, meetings, yacht club, ladie’s nights. It had pretty much just always been you and Jazz.
After you turned 18 and went off to college, they had cut off all contact. Just a year ago, your father had died of a heart-attack. Your mother told you don’t bother coming home. You had been removed from the will. Allegedly.
But that didn’t matter. You had a purpose, a goal, a mission. The past 18 years had been to accomplish this goal. To find your brother's killer, to take down the Red Ice operations, and clear his name. You couldn’t believe he was just some drug dealer. He was so much more than that, and you were going to prove it.
As you prepare yourself for the morning, you check your phone. Eight missed calls from the same unknown number. Probably someone at the department. You hit the call button and pour yourself a coffee, checking the clock. It read 5:22 A.M.
“(Y/N), finally. I’ve been trying to reach you.” It took a minute to register the smooth voice on the other end of the line.
“Nines,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “You do realize humans need sleep? Especially since this human stayed at the precinct until midnight.”
“I apologize for the disturbance, but I have found some information that I think you’d be interested in. And it has something to do with you.” His tone was even and monotonous, but soothing. It was a nice voice to hear at the ass-crack of dawn.
But even his gentle voice couldn’t help the skip in your heart rate. “What do you mean?”
“Just come to the precinct. I’ll present my file to you then.” And with that, he ends the call. Not one for formalities, you have learned.
__________________________________________
Pulling your coat around yourself tighter, you try to warm yourself with your third coffee for the day, but there’s something that is just nagging at you. A cold sinking feeling in your stomach. Dread? No amount of coffee has been able to relieve it, and it’s got you on edge.
“Good morning Nines,” you grumble as you sink into your adjacent chair. He swivels around in his own, with a pad screen in his hands.
“Greetings, (Y/N). Did you not sleep well?” Maybe you didn’t, because you swear you can see a small crease of worry between his brows, but in an instant, it’s gone.
“Same as usual. What have you got? Did you look into Hanna Tjones’s background?”
“That’s what I’ve found so interesting. There’s virtually nothing on her. She appears to be very good at avoiding identification. The only mention of her name is in a few articles from local investigations.”
“That’s odd,” you mumble to yourself, taking the pad from his hands and flipping through the articles. It seemed like she was a witness to a murder, but wasn’t considered a suspect.
“I saw a connection between the names Nathan Jones and Hanna Tonjes. I believe it’s an anagram,” he leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. A stray hair falls across his forehead, and you want to reach out and tuck it away again. You look back down to the articles.
“I believe they’re anagrams of Nathan Jones. I came up with a list of all the anagrams that come from that name. I found 19 in total, and one of those names was linked to an article. An article that you’re also in.”
A cold sweat breaks out across your spine, and a hot sensation burns in the back of your throat as you look down at the black-and-white photo that was the head image in newspapers for months after that awful night.
You, holding a police officer’s hand, covered in blood as he carefully guides into the back of his car. You were looking over your shoulder, directly into the camera, your eyes wet with tears, the whites of your eyes shining under the flash of the camera.
But that wasn’t what you couldn’t stop staring at. No, your gaze was focused on the unmistakable face of two people. Obviously twins. One, the officer holding your hand, noted as Officer Nathan Jones under the grainy photo. But next to him, in the distance, almost blending into the background, was the distinct face of his twin sister, her feminine physique exactly as you remembered. Tall, slender, and a cold gaze observing the chaos. Her name was marked as Jenna Ashton.
A/N: I just want to apologize because I’ve been gone so long, but now I’m in a place in life where I feel like I’m creative and I really have a lot of ideas coming out, so please be patient with me. Enjoy! This one is going to be a bumpy ride, lol
Summary: You are an ecstatic new detective in the Detroit Police Department. It has been three years since the Android revolution, and now that they are a freed people, they are making decisions for themselves and their careers. One of these Androids is now your partner. The newest RK model, the RK900. He’s cold, distant, calculating... and oddly alluring. And with your first case on the line, you have to learn how to cope with a partner that holds you at arm’s length while fulfilling a desire that has been burning in your belly since you were a child. Revenge.
Word Count: 4587
–– November 4, 2041 ––
It was your first day on an actual case, and you couldn’t hide your excitement. Your leg bounced up and down rapidly, and Nines- your new android partner- looked at you quizzically.
“Are you alright, Miss (Y/L/N)?” His voice was a little deeper than Connor’s, but you still had to do a double take. Their similarity was uncanny.
“Perfectly, why do you ask?” You never removed your eyes from the road. Even though the car was on autopilot, you always kept your hands ghosted over the wheel, in case you needed to take over. Downtown Detroit whizzed by as the car steadily traveled towards your destination.
“Your heart rate is one-hundred and twenty beats per minute, suggesting that you are either distressed or anxious.” His tone is cold and factual.
“Um- not anxious,” you bit your lip, “just… excited? This is my first investigation. Nervous, maybe.”
“I must inform you that, even though you may have hope for this case, statistically speaking, the rate of solving classified ‘cold cases’ is at about forty percent.” He was still staring intently, making sweat gather at your hairline.
“Hey, that sounds good to me, that’s almost fifty- which means it's a half and half. I can handle solving half of my cases in my lifetime,” you shrug and smile.
“Miss (Y/L/N), allow me to clarify- that is forty percent out of five-hundred thousand cases since the year nineteen eighty-one.” You could already tell he was going to be a Debby Downer.
“(Y/L).” You simply state, changing the subject.
“That is your name.” He replies, and with a glance, you could see he wasn’t understanding.
“Yes but that’s what I want you to call me. (Y/N). We’re partners, not strangers,” with a little laugh, turn off the car as you pull up to where the crime scene used to be.
“Oh,” was all he said, LED still spinning yellow. “(Y/N).”
But as you leave the car, you sigh in disappointment. The buildings that had created the alley of the crime scene had been demolished, and now left a giant gaping hole in their places. A property management sign stood posted on each corner, telling you some new downtown restaurant was “Coming Soon!”
“It was unlikely we would find anything here, regardless if the buildings still stood.” Nines stood with his arms at his side, stiff, like he was expecting something bad to happen at any second.
“Nines, we’re going to have to work on your bedside manner,” you chuckle. He opened his mouth to say something and you hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t mean literally, I mean we have to work on your outlook of things. There’s always a bright side.”
“Just as there is always something hiding in the shadows.” You stop and look at him for a moment, but his chilled blue eyes hid nothing behind them.
“Let’s just see what we can find in here.” Crossing the street, he reaches forward to open the door for you.
O'Reilly's Tavern was where the victim used to work. She would bus during the night shift, from 5 P.M. to 2 A.M., although sometimes she would bartend even though she was under the age of 21. You walk up to the woman at the bar, and begin your interrogation.
“Look, that was… hell, I don’t even know how long ago,” the middle-aged woman sighed, wiping a glass clean with a towel.
“Exactly 22 years and 12 days have passed since the murder of Barbara O’Connell,” Nines stated, his LED circling yellow. The woman scoffed, unamused.
“What I’m trying to say is that I already told the cops everything I knew, 22 years ago,” she sneered the last part in a sarcastic tone, “all I know was she was shot and left to bleed out on the sidewalk in the alley.”
“Where was she headed?” You had asked, a tinge of hope sparking in your heart.
“She always took the alley between Parker and Third to get to her apartment. Shitty place- the Riverfront Complex- she lived there by herself. Sometimes her boyfriend would stay but he didn’t live there. Didn’t even claim her things when she passed. Didn’t attend the funeral, asshole.”
“But you did?” You cocked your side, pulling out a notebook. An ancient method of writing notes in your day, but you like the feel of the pen scratching on the paper.
“Yes. It was about a month after she died. Cremated. They had to hold the body for investigation before she could be released for her service. Poor girl, she had so much ahead of her,” the woman shakes her head, wiping her eyes for a second. Although her husky voice was rough, there was a gentle tone to it when she spoke of the girl.
“You were close to her?” The woman nods at your question, and you pat her hand. “I’m sorry to be bringing these things up. I know you’d probably prefer to put it all behind you. I just want to put her case to rest.”
“I appreciate that. I just want the asshole who did this to get locked up. Who knows who else he’s killed and gotten away with?” Her rhetorical question went unanswered. “We were close. I practically raised her. Her Daddy bounced soon after she was born, and her Mama and I had been girlfriends since we were three. I took them both in, and when Jeana- her Mama- died from cancer when Barbs was ten, I took her on as my own daughter.”
“Was there a legal adoption in place?” Nines speaks up again, and the woman shoots him a glare.
“I was her godmother, but I didn’t want her to lose her mother’s name, so I never legally adopted her. She was never the same after that,” she pours a drink for a customer at the end of the bar, before returning. Business was slow at 12 in the afternoon. “Although, there was something odd the week before she was killed.”
“How so?”
“That whole week she started getting really paranoid. Like she was being watched or followed. She begged her boyfriend to stay with her that whole week but he was out of town ‘on business’ as he said. He didn’t come back until three days after her death.”
“So he had a solid alibi?” You frown. Normally the partners were first on the suspect list, but if he had a solid alibi, then there was nothing further they could look into.
“Yeah, apparently he flew to Las Vegas for something. Never knew what his job was, I never even met him, but he had a lot of money. I was too afraid to pester Barbs on it.”
“What was his name?” She told you it was Nathan Jones. “Do you think you can run through the database of flights from 2019 and check for his name?”
“You… ‘read my mind’,” although you knew this was his attempt at humor, he made no motion to smile or even grin, which only made it more awkward to hear. You huff through your nose before returning to the lady.
“He always bought her nice things. He offered to get her a new apartment but she liked it at the Riverfront. Cheap, nobody asked questions, nobody was nosy,” she comes around the corner and sits next to you on a stool. “Listen, if I were you, I’d try to get in contact with him. I never met the man, so I have no idea what to expect from him. Maybe- if you can- find her father. Not that he’ll care, but maybe he might know something.”
“Thank you for all of your help,” you smile, patting her hand, before placing your business card in her open palm. “Call me if anything comes to mind, or if anyone else talks to you.”
“Just… watch out. There’s a lot of mystery around her. Once Barb turned sixteen, something changed. I never asked because a girl needs her space, you know, but I think she may have gotten involved in the wrong crowd. It’s easy to do, when you’re young and gullible.” She warned, and you nod your head.
“Thank you, Miss…?”
“Just call me Lonnie.”
You take your leave, with Nines at your side. You both stayed silent for a moment. Nines was the first to break it.
“There is a ticket in the boyfriend’s name that arrived on October 11, 2019 at 10 A.M., and departed October 21, 2019 at 2 A.M.” He recounts. “The credit card registered in his name was used to take a taxi back to his apartment at the Golden Peaks. Although, I can’t find a record of his face through the camera feed that was uploaded.”
“What do you mean?” You cock your head to the side.
“As in, at some point he should have shown his face in the airport, either during his departure or his arrival, but his face is nowhere on record. I checked all the footage in our databases and it is nowhere to be found.”
“So he somehow managed to sneak in, approve and check his ticket, and then leave without any cameras seeing him?” That was bizarre, and as you buckle up you couldn't quite wrap your head around it. "But that's also a lot of faces to filter through, it's probably easy to get lost in a crowd."
“Perhaps to the human mind, but I am equipped with advanced technology and would be able to recognize him instantly. I have a possible theory,” he never breaks eye contact with you as he mimics your gesture, lacing the seatbelt across his chest. “Perhaps he was able to fake his identity. Or, more accurately, he managed to send someone in his place. If I could interrogate him myself, I would be able to scan him to see if he lies about his whereabouts on that day."
"I think it's a little early for interrogations. How about we just go speak to him at his apartment?" You turn on the car, glancing at him.
"Perhaps you're right." He states and then begins to blink rapidly, before a new address appears on the screen of the GPS. "Shall we?"
"I don't think I'll get used to that." You mutter, before switching the controls, allowing the car to steer itself towards your destination.
__________________________________________
The Golden Peaks Apartments were far from how they sounded. Settled on the other end of Downtown Detroit, the apartments were barely hanging on by a thread. The outside bricks were crumbling, most of the windows were busted out, and worst or all, the place was obviously condemned.
“I recognize this place. I think I read about a huge Android slave ring that was busted here,” you note, slamming the car door shut.
“I recall that as well. Twenty-three androids were released, although several of them were too badly damaged due to the harvesting of their Thirium.” Nines recites, as if he were reading the article right then. And he just actually might be.
“How long ago was that?” You shield your eyes from the harsh sunlight, the waning orange glow setting the world on fire all around you. A distant flap of wings caught your attention to your left.
“Two years ago. I apologize that it did not register in my system earlier. It appears we came all this way for nothing.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have actually caught a hint of disappointment in his voice.
You hold up a hand to stop him as he opens his car door. “If the building is condemned and uninhabited, we can enter the premises for our investigation. Let’s go,” glancing both ways, you jog across the street, with Nines slowly gliding behind you.
“I cannot seem to find this claim in any legal document or mandated law. I would hate for you to get in trouble-” again, you stop him with a hand.
“Listen, sometimes you just gotta kind of… look at the rules at a new angle. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m finding a new angle,” you shrug, trying to open the door and sighing when you find it’s locked.
You walk around the side of the building, looking for any other doors. There was a window that wasn’t boarded up, but it was covered in shards of broken glass.
“I’m beginning to figure out that you have a habit of ignoring advice, so instead I shall simply inform you that I don’t think this is a wise route to take. You should find another space to enter the building.”
“Nine’s, I appreciate your concern, but I just want to see if this guys apartment is empty or if it has any evidence.”
“Evidence of what, may I ask?” He calls, his voice echoing off the alley walls.
You grunt, carefully swinging one leg over the window sill, holding onto the sides of the frame, sliding across. Suddenly his hands press down on the sides of your waist, giving you enough lift that you didn’t risk cutting yourself on the glass. “I’m hoping that I can find-- oh, uh, thank you-- find out why he is still registered at this address. There’s no other record of his residence, and if he hasn’t changed his address yet then maybe we could bring him in based off of that. Lying on government documents, or something.”
“But what exactly are you looking for?” Nines easily stretches his legs up and over the ledge, gracefully crawling through the space until he was standing beside you. The air was thick and dusty.
“Look, you said that he could have possibly faked his ticket, right? Which means he’s got to have fake I.D.’s? So I’m thinking we can either possibly find some of those I.D.’s-- which I know is just hopeful thinking-- or we can find the place where he used to hide them. Who knows, maybe he still uses this place as a hideout? It’s condemned, empty, and was a major crime scene. It would be the last place a cop would look for a guy who's hiding, right? Now what was his apartment number?”
“Somehow you are only making me more concerned for your well being in this environment.” Nines sighs, scanning the area with his icy gaze, before his eyes land on you once again. “His residence was on the fifth floor, at room 527.”
“Thank you, Nines,” you place your hand on his arm for a second, before pulling out your gun, holding it in both hands, but keeping it pointed at the floor. Just a precaution.
You both remained silent, carefully creeping through the floors, scanning each one before trudging on through all of the dust and debris, slowly climbing the winding stairs. Bits of old police tape fluttered in the light breeze that came through the windows, and the air chilled all around you, causing a shiver to shake throughout your body.
Once you finally reach room 527, you take a minute to listen in. The door was cracked, and you nudged it open with your foot, swinging your gun out to point in front of you. You sweep the area but find that it has obviously been vacated for a while. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and you ran your finger over the table surface. Although it was old, most of the things were in good condition. Un-looted.
“Odd, you’d think that after two years of vacancy, someone would have busted in here by now to take the furniture, if anything,” you think out loud, glancing out the corner of your eye as Nines glides past. His eyes were set on the floor.
“There’s dried thirium on the floor by your foot. Just droplets, like they spilled from a container.” He examines, and then squats down to lean in close. “It’s too old for me to get a sample, so I can’t tell if it holds the data of an android or if it was pure and unused.”
“But there's nothing around here that shows he could have been making Red Ice. Surely there would be wear on the table from the set up it would take.” You mutter, placing your gun back in its holster.
“Agreed. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t holding it for transfer to an actual lab. Something that couldn’t be so easily infiltrated-” he opened his mouth to say something, but his head suddenly jerks to the side. “Someone’s approaching, on the stairwell.”
“We can’t hide, the dust trails will give us away,” you whisper yell, stepping back to close the door, turning the deadbolt into its lock.
He stands perfectly still for a moment, eyes slowly checking over the room. "There are two routes of escape. Either we risk our safety on the fire escape and climb down, or I can help you climb to the air vent and hide while I face whoever is approaching. The ladder is the safest option for you."
"But what about you? I say the fire escape," and just as you make your way to the window, a cool, solid hand snatches your wrist.
"I am not one to tolerate blatant ignorance. Your safety is my priority and you are going to do as I say for now. This way." Nines' burning gaze made your blood run cold, but his words spiked a fire inside of you. You naturally wanted to resist, but something in his stern gaze told you that now was not the time to test him. You simply nod and allow him to pull you along.
He guides you down the hall and into a bedroom, where on the roof there was a small grated vent. Large enough for you to get through, but you knew that- even if he could reach up there on his own- his shoulders wouldn’t even make it in.
“I’ll lift you up, and you’ll need to pull the grate off, hand it to me, and then put it back in place once you’re inside.” He instructs, getting down onto one knee, gesturing for you to straddle him.
Just as you wrap one leg around his neck, wedging yourself onto his shoulders so you are supported enough to reach the grate and tug it out of its place, you hear the front door jiggle. A bang follows, and then a loud slam as something rams into the door-- it didn’t break, but you knew it was only a matter of seconds.
You grab the edges of the vent and pull as hard as you can, thankful for the hours you spent training your strength. Nines’ hands push your bottom up as he shoves you further into the vent, and you accidentally kicked him on your way up.
“Detroit Police! Come out where I can see you with your hands up!” You hear a man shout, and you both freeze. Nines looks up at you just as you twist around and reach for the grate.
“(Y/N), there are no police officers set to patrol this area, and no calls have been made for this location.” His voice was low enough for you to hear, over the sound of the creeping steps as the man draws nearer.
“Then how do you explain him?” You whisper back, and just as you pull the grate up, the bedroom door slams open.
The next series of events sort of went in slow motion. You had slid too far forward, and your body easily slipped out of the vent, slamming into the ground-- which sent a huge poof of dust all around you-- and Nines had accidentally smacked you on your way down as he put his hands in the air.
The officer had his gun out, and it was pointed at Nines. Your lungs were screaming for air, and your head throbbed from the beating it took, but you managed to dust yourself off and slowly rise to your feet.
“My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’m a Detective with DPD-- this is my partner. We were only following a lead on our investigation,” you begin, reaching for your badge slowly.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” the man’s voice was harsh and deep, and he kept his eyes trained on Nines, who wasn’t quite facing the officer.
“You-” he gestures towards your android partner, “what led you here?”
“I was simply following the lead of my partner. She insisted that this building would have a connection to a murder case that we are reworking.”
“Why this room, specifically? What do you know about the person who lived here?” The officer questions, slowly circling them, never taking his gun off of Nines.
“What do you know about him?” You break in, and he glares.
“Twenty-two years ago, a young woman was murdered. This was the home of her boyfriend. We were hoping to find him here to ask him a few questions,” Nines was talking slowly, and though his head was towards you, you could see that he was tracking the officer out the corner of his eyes.
“I don’t know anything about a boyfriend, but this was my sister’s apartment before she went missing two years ago, before the android ring was found.” The officer states, stopping where he could face Nines.
“Why is an officer patrolling an area that he is not assigned to?” Nines raises an eyebrow, his LED circling yellow as he processes the situation. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but you were burning to ask another question. You bite your lip to keep quiet.
“What was your sister’s name?”
“She was Nathan Jones before she became Hanna Tonjes. My twin,” it was then that he put his gun away and you got to take a good look at his face. Definitely older, but he looked almost identical to the photo that was on the license plate that Nine’s had shown you for the man once named Nathan Jones.
“We apologize for invading, we had no idea that someone could still be living here,” you speak softly, Nines reaches out a hand to help you stand as you wipe off as much dust as you can manage.
“Well, one can only hope she’ll be found. But how did a dead woman lead you to my sister, exactly?” The officer crosses his arms. His badge read Jones.
“A young woman named Barbara O’Connell was shot to death in an alley close to where she worked in the south of downtown. Her boyfriend was the only suspect, a man named Nathan Jones. Back in 2019, and the license was registered to this address.” You explain, pulling out your phone so you could show him the picture of the driver’s license that you had saved in your messages.
“That’s my face. Hanna changed her name in 2016, and by then she had been on hormones long enough that she looked, well... like the woman she is. Before she transitioned, she hadn’t gotten her license because she wanted to change her name first. She didn’t want a lot of records on her that showed the person she wasn’t born to be. That face on that I.D. is mine, just with her old name on it.” He states, looking over the photo. Now that you had the photo in front of your for comparison, you could see the extreme similarities. “She was my twin, but even still, she never had her photo taken before she transitioned.”
“So… Do you know where she was in 2019? There is a plane ticket that had this I.D. registered to it, but there was no facial recognition from any of the cameras in either airport. Did you know she flew to Las Vegas?” A million thoughts and theories ran through your mind.
“No. She was never one to travel. She never even left the state. I never heard of her having a girlfriend either. When we got older she ran into a bad crowd, got involved in drugs, but she got clean in our late twenties. We didn’t speak often, but we’ve always had this connection… it’s why I keep an eye on this place when I can. I know she’s out there, somewhere. 2019 was the year she went off the rails.”
“Was a case ever opened on her?” Officer Jones had begun to walk out the door, but he turned to look at you.
“Yes, but not many police officers wanted to take the time to look into a missing 38-year-old ex-druggie. If you’re stuck on cold cases, you'll probably find her file in your records. Hanna Tonjes.” With that, the man walks away, leaving you and Nines to stop and stare at each other.
“Well that was… interesting,” you break the silence, and Nines actually huffed out of his nose. His first laugh. You crack a smile. “I told you we would find something.”
“All we found were more questions. How do Barbara O’Connell and Hanna Tonjes-- previously Nathan Jones-- share a connection?” He thinks out loud, and you rub your head.
“I don’t know, let's just go back to the precinct and write our reports for the day. I’m ready for a nap,” you sigh, walking out the door. “And don’t go scan-”
“I have already scanned you. It appears you may have a mild concussion from your fall. I would suggest that you not take a nap until midnight tonight, to give your body enough time to heal without there being any risk to your health.” You sigh as Nines interrupts you.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
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When you arrive back at the precinct, Hank and Connor are just gathering up their things to leave. Connor looks you over, before giving you his trademark smile.
“When you said you were ready to get your hands dirty, I didn’t take you literally,” he laughs, and you couldn’t help but return it.
“It’s a long story-” just as you were about to pat his arm- like you always do- a cool familiar hand wraps around your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you in the direction of your desk.
“I’m afraid she also suffered a minor head injury and needs to file her report for the day so she may quickly return home and rest.” Nines cuts you off, and you narrow your eyes at him.
“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you tomorrow,” you wave with your free hand, and Hank stares for a minute, looking confused, before shaking his head and following his partner out the door.
You also use that free hand to smack at Nines. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my desk. I’m not that injured,” you gripe. He released his grip on your wrist, only to place his hand at the small of your back, steadily pushing you where he wanted you to go.
“While you work on the report, I’m going to run those names through the terminal.” He ignores you, planting himself in his chair, placing his hand on the terminal, allowing the skin to fade away so his android palm could sync to the screen.
Your head hurt too much to argue, and you simply placed yourself in your chair, typing away as quickly as you could so you could go home and shower off the layer of dust and grime. Maybe having a partner wasn’t the best thing in the world like you thought.
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