Danger Close

Neural

This is a short chapter in CONNOR'S perspective, and will be the last one for a long while! After this chapter, it will be back to you and will remain that way for the next big chunk of chapters and the next big part of the fic. 

To many – those being gamblers and reckless individuals – high risk often danced with the possibility of yielding a high reward.

Though the lack of solid intel on the opposition as well as the unpredictable – and extremely dangerous – possibilities that were not in favour of Detroit and it's Police, meant that any other unnecessary actions were strictly off the table and outright declined by Fowler.

Being told no was quite a regular occurrence in Connor's day, however this time it was being strongly enforced on him, as well as upon Hank as well.

'Desk duty', as it was humbly called by the others in the precinct.

Only different in the sense that Connor and Hank would still need to head out and investigate things in person. But only when there was sufficient evidence. And a warrant.

Quite a lot of trust had been put into Connor and Hank's hands – mostly Connor at this point as he was not giving the Detective much of a choice in his risky decisions. And while the initial risk had enticed the pair with the glimmer of hope for some kind of reward - multiple factors that they could not have even hoped to ever expect had shot them down at every turn.

It was unfortunate, but the Pilot – you – were to be considered like a Deviant.

Unpredictable.

Irrational.

While constantly producing Errors.

Each bargain that Connor had presented with Captain Fowler in the past few encounters had turned up with nothing more than failures; and one even resulting in a literal murder. Wrong decisions and lack of proof. More questions than answers as each step only grew more convoluted than the last.

Not only more complex, but increasingly dangerous.

Connor sat at his desk with one hand at his terminal, only occasionally glancing up at Hank while they both idled quietly. Silently, in fact.

It was almost uncomfortable, if the unsettled feeling was something to compare it to.

Hank reached for the box of donuts that was stacked between them, lid of the carton falling awkwardly as a large hand pulled a chocolate doughy ring covered in icing sugar. Crumbs and white dust fell as he shoved almost half of it into his mouth, holding it between his teeth and continuing to type at his terminal.

The box drew Connor's attention at first, though he couldn't help but to analyse the sugar content in the box – then each individual serving – giving nothing more than a tilt of his head upon the results of his scan. Giving Hank any sort of information on the food would prove wasteful given their last discussion about it, so he looked back at his terminal and continued to sort through his files.

"You able to eat?"

Connor stopped his scrolling and slowly turned his head, eyes gazing over to his partner that was chewing away at the pastry in his mouth.