Don't talk to me ~A Reed900 fan fiction ~

^Chapter 3^

Gavin's POV

I walked into the precinct and received many unwanted stares. I flipped off a few in particular. I gave Hank two. The android bitch trailed behind me, being all head-high duchebagy. How can he stand to just hold his hands behind his back, shoulders all squared and shit? Jesus. Looks hella uncomfortable.

I walked right up to my desk, sitting down and slouching. I get a couple dirty looks, as always. But what weirded me out, was the curious looks others gave me. That's when I realized that the prick was breathing down my fucking neck.

"Phck!" I almost fell out of my chair, trying to get away from him, "What the fuck are you doing?" I almost yelled, heads turning.

"Awaiting instructions," he said simply.

"Goddamnit," I muttered, "Ugh, just sit over there, then," I gestured to the desk across from mine, designed for a partner. The last time I actually had one was when Hank was still a detective, about 7 years ago. He was my partner when I first joined the force. I was only an officer. The partnership lasted a few years before I fought my way up to detective. That ended up pushing Hank to Lieutenant. The job I want. My goal. I've never asked for a partner since, trying to show Fowler that I'm good enough to be a Lieutenant. But now I have this plastic bitch weighing me down. I wanna shove him off a cliff after stabbing him in the face and digging the wires out of his fucking body. I smiled a bit at my morbid thoughts, then shook it off, opening my terminal. I opened my e-mail and began to delete the shit I didn't need. My eyes scanned the people's names and titles of the e-mails. Nope, don't fucking care, eh whatever, need to keep that, fuck that, fuck that as well... I stopped on the words: Jeffery Fowler. It was a stupid announcement thing. I don't feel like reading his shit words. Although it's better than him yelling them into my face. I scan the first paragraph. Ugh. This bitch, talking about celebrations n' shit.

"Reed!" speak of the fucking devil, "RK900!" the fuck?

I stood up and sulked my way to the captain's office, it's glass walls showing him sitting down at his desk. There was almost nothing on it, only a terminal and a folder. Tina, or Officer Chen, smiled at me as I passed her. She was leaning on the wall. I began to feel jealous of the coffee steaming in her hand. Even though it was cheap precinct coffee, I relied on that shit to live. I shot her a nasty look and she didn't flinch. Typical Chen.

The plastic asshole followed me through the door of Fowler's office. I disregarded his disapproving look and slumped down in a seat across from his desk. I would say some shit to him, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I got my ass fired. So, I just sat until he started talking. But he remained silent until the metal-ass had parked himself in the corner.

He finally spoke, "You can sit down, RK900," he gestured to the chair next to me. I turned to watch him sit down in the chair, stiff as a board. Asshat.

"What's that?" I asked, changing the topic to something I didn't even want to talk about.

"Your next case,"

Never mind, "Why's it in a folder instead of on the terminal?"

"This is the only way we could receive the information. Have fun working the old-fashioned way, bitch," he slid it across the desk and into my hands. I opened it.

A picture at the top. Really small, face almost hidden. A red hoodie and dark jeans. A bloody knife in her small hand. The part of her face I could see was painted by a grin. I feel goosebumps on my arms as I read the following information.

Name: Clara Blue

Age: 9 years, 4 months

Sex: Female

Health: Unknown

Home: Unknown

Education: Unknown

Social Security Number: 01001100 01100101 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01001101 01100101 00100000 01000001 01101100 01101111 01101110 01100101

Family: Mother [deceased], Sophie Blue; Father [deceased], Nicholas Blue; Brother [missing, age: 5 years, 8 months], Jhon Blue.

Criminal Record: Arson, Assault, Domestic Violence, Forgery, Fraud, Harassment, Homicide, Manslaughter, Murder: First Degree, Murder: Second Degree, Robbery, Shoplifting, Stalking, Vandalism.

I close it, shook.

"You okay, Reed?" Fowler asks uncertainly, "I didn't actually read it. Is it bad?"

"What," I choke out after a moment, "the actual FUCK."

AN

Man, that was fun to write! I'll be using binary code (01010100 01101000 01101001 01110011) a lot in this story, just a heads-up. Ugh, I set the bar low for myself, a week. And here I am, over a week later. I have zero self-discipline. I'm working on it though! Anyway, I love writing and I will defiantly start doing it more often (once my goddamn computer is fixed). Anyway, I'll see you, beautiful people, later! Thanks to the few of you who stand my writing.