Comfort Zone (Connor x Reader)

Fifty-Six

Elevators were clunky, unreliable and slow as hell, so Connor had no trouble using the stairs to get to the top floor. If anyone had tried to go with him, of course, they'd have passed out by the fourth story.

As he climbed, a phone call came in: Hank. Probably to tell him to keep his head on straight. "Hank, this isn't the best time," the android spat as soon as he answered.

"No, I think this is the best fucking time to tell you not to make a goddamn scene. Plus there was no way I'd be able to keep up with you, so stay on the damn call and talk me through everything." There was a pause. "You've got all three of us here, all right?"

At the top floor, the RK800 closed his eyes for a long second before making a beeline for his front door. The fact that he'd beaten any other officers there was a feat unto itself, but it was paid no mind.

What concerned him more was the fact that the door was open in the first place. Anger swelled and blinded him, leaning against the wall just outside the apartment, trying to sort out all the pop-up warnings; his internal fans were working overtime before his emotions made him overheat and shut down. "... Hank, there are broken edges along the door and frame both; someone broke in, using a crowbar or something similar," Connor finally spoke up. His voice module was likely to fail him soon.

"Forced entry, got it. Anything else on that door?" When there was no response, Hank sighed. "Connor. You and I both know she's fine. She won't just let herself be grabbed, she ain't stupid."

"If she put up a fight, she's left evidence," Cloud's voice came from nearby. He was right next to Hank, with a heavy dollop of concern in his tone. "She is in this field for good reason. Connor, follow her trail."

"Come on, man, don't just sit there; you're a detective for a fuckin' reason! Now tell us what you've got!!" Gavin sounded more aggravated than anything, but there was concern lacing his words, as well. He was just prone to anger first.

It still took another long moment to piece himself back together, but the android carefully scanned the door, frowning deep. "There is a footprint on the door near the handle; size eleven men's, quarter inch wider than standard. Well-made dress shoe, not enough to determine the brand."

"Okay, that's... oddly fucking specific," Hank replied. "What else?"

"Nothing; I have to enter." Despite knowing that no one was inside, the RK800 was finding it difficult to believe he wasn't about to discover your corpse. Fighting the urge to try and sob audibly, Connor pushed the door open wider and cautiously stepped into his apartment. "... Hank, exactly what time did the call come in?"

There was a low murmur before an answer: "Big guy says 10:28am. Why?"

[Her initial text came at 10:26, then the second one nearly a minute after. She was alerting me just before dialing emergency.]

"I received two texts from her at 10:26 and 10:27." As he spoke, your Roomba was scanning the living room and open kitchen area. "There are some wood splinters tracked from the forced entry, but they don't go any further than two feet from the door." Eyes narrowed he approached the hallway, examining the corner of the wall. "There's a chip removed from the corner of the hall; she left the couch and was chased. Whatever was used to open the door nicked the wall en route."

"How do you know she'd been on the couch, son?" The lieutenant had the call set up so the other two males could hear in their own headsets. Not that Cloud needed one.

"I had to assist her with walking before I left. She'd been sitting on the floor, and I didn't want to leave her in that state."

"Why the fuck couldn't she walk?" Gavin chimed in, more curious than the others. "She runs in heels."

Connor's dread and resulting forced state of calm was set aside momentarily. "... I would rather not say," he answered carefully.

There was a chuckle from the RK900. "Everyone had a productive night, then." Judging by the outburst, Hank had thrown his headset off and cursed left and right, while Reed had been reduced to a groaning lump of embarrassment.

"Focus on this fucking situation and help me find her before I add your names to the list of casualties!!" The RK800's sharp outburst was met with silence. And he didn't apologize for it, he simply headed for the bathroom after seeing nothing else in the hallway.

"Son, we know you're scared. And we know you're ready to kill whoever broke in. But we don't know everything yet; until we have a name, or names, no violence." The lieutenant's gruff voice had softened a good deal. "Sorry for the shit-talking. Okay? No more of it, we'll focus."

"...... thank you, Hank." With an intense gaze, your Roomba scanned the bathroom and found nothing. "The bathroom is empty. I'm headed for h--... my room." Going to yours felt too obvious. He didn't know who'd broken in, but letting them know valuable details like where you slept was a big no-no.

The android didn't need to scan; the moment he set foot into his bedroom, the blood was obvious on the pale wooden floorboards.

[Please... please...]

Kneeling down, Connor dipped his fingertips in the blood, wiping it on his tongue to analyze. "There's blood on the floor, the data from the analysis is being sent now," he spoke, frowning.

He had his answer at the same moment the rest did; there was a quiet and collective sigh of relief. "Well, it ain't hers," Hank muttered. "Just a few drops or is there a pattern?"

"There is a slight outward splash; the wound is minor, possibly from some sort of weapon in motion." Standing up, dark eyes frowned. "Hank, this doesn't add up."

"What do you mean? Someone broke in, chased her, she hit 'em."

"The DNA analysis shows that a male broke in. He is in the database, but the offenses are minor at best. Nothing that points to a connection here, unless my information is out of date. Which is unlikely." Connor ran a hand down his face. "The precinct does not let me have full access this far away; Hank, I will have to return after this."

"Hold on a fuckin' second, man, we're right here. We can help, don't just do everything yourself." Reed had a point. "All right, let's see... Hank, move your fuckin' hands.... ah. Matteo Ressa. I-- wait a sec." As Gavin spoke, the RK800 froze, clinging to every word in the hopes that there was something to go on. "..... this motherfucker. Jesus fuck, goddamnit."

"Gavin, what is it? Do you recognize the name?" Your Roomba would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified.

"I know this asshole, yeah. He's..." Reed sighed. "Shit. Connor, you're not gonna like this."

"Just tell me!"

"... he's a member of a pretty big family. Italian; shit, they always are. You know the type. Real close, real violent, real sneaky with their illegal shit."

"..... mob family."

"Yeah. Here's the kicker: Every one of these assholes are pretty careful hiding their trails, but they're not perfect. The crimes we charged 'em with were small, but they're not trying to hide shit. Big family, and their businesses or whatever stretch out across a few states."

Dark eyes slowly closed. "That includes New York, doesn't it?"

"Yup. Fuck."

[How did you anger them? Or how did they anger you, love?

..... businesses?]

"Gavin. Do they happen to run a casino?"

There was a pause. "I think they do, actually. Or if they don't own it, they sure as shit go there enough. Why?"

[21. Blackjack. She knew.]

"She did leave evidence. I need to get into that casino," the RK800 explained, finding no more evidence before he ran out of the apartment once more.