Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Stress Test

November 8th, 2038
PM 04:05:03

Evidence Server.

Two bright words on grey blast doors.  You knew where they emptied, and where the stairs behind them would lead.  You went down there more than twice a day – every day.  Most of the time it had been for productive reasons...but honestly, there were times where you'd venture into the depths of HQ because it was quiet.

The purring of electronics drowned out the echoes of ringing telephones.  The sputter of processing motherboards slowed your pulse.  The trance the servers' LEDs put you in as they bounced from one block to another.

On the other side of those doors was an escape route...

Used to be.

A peculiar lesson you'd learned as a kid popped in your head.  Demonstrations of how to check for a fire by placing the back of your hand on a doorknob to gauge the heat.  How to open it with your shoulder if it was cool enough, and how to slam it shut if you found flames and smoke, anyway.

How to protect yourself from a backdraft.

If only predicting backlash was as easy.

You placed your palm on the biometric scanner, fantasizing what an "All Clear," signal would look like.

Instead, you got an error that made your anxiety ebb and flow without restraint.

"Identity Confirmed: ID#5649.
Position: Police Officer.
Status: Suspended.
!ALERT! Permitted to be on premise under the supervision of Det. Gavin Reed.
Inquiry: Awaiting Det. Gavin Reed biometric input."

Gavin had checked you in at the front desk upon your arrival, but he'd offered.  Asking him for this would be a favor...and asking anyone else in front of him would be a headache.

"Override Sequence Complete: Serial#313 248 317 – 51.
Model: RK800.
Status: Active.
Incident Report Delivered to Cpt. Jeffery Fowler."

An electric-powered latch came undone, and one side of the door lazily drifted open.

You re-introduced oxygen to your stalled lungs, and swallowed the rich flashover.

Into the smoke you went.

...

Verdant lights led you down the staircase, each tap of your boots loud on the concrete.  You hesitated at the last turn.  Your hand pressed against the cold wall, fingertips tingling at the heat underneath an LED stripe.

He'd be on the other side, analyzing bits and pieces of crime scene that were locked away for further review.

You bit your lip, and rounded the corner.  Kept trotting until the overhang peeled away, revealing a glass barrier with transparent lettering.  The DPD's crest with "Central Station" on a banner.

You remembered learning about the construction of the layout and color scheme of the room – how it was meant to invoke stronger thought processes.  How the architect wanted to create a peaceful environment to allow officers to think clearly.

A walkway extended into a platform, framed with floor lights that matched the wall's running color.  Textured tiles spread out underneath, simulating a water effect.  One square-shaped overhead light blanketed an evidence terminal...

The terminal being used by an android whose model number shifted behind the cutout letters "Detroit Police."

His back was turned.  He was working diligently.  He knew you were here, he'd let you in.