The Patrol

Standing in the rain in one of western Detroit's less-than-safe alleys, he rejected his fourth consecutive call, rerouting it to other patrol units. He could not accept the call, answer it, or even simply move from the spot. His sole directive was to wait. "Wait for further instructions"—the most disliked and difficult task to execute. A multifunctional machine like him could not and should not stand idle like a monument, but right now, he had no other choice. Richard raised his gaze to the black sky, from which a fine rain was pouring. The darkness was so dense that even his sensors drowned in it. Droplets settled on his optical lenses, blurring his perception of the world, but he did not care—nothing caused him physical discomfort. In any case, there was hardly anything to be seen in the night sky right now, unless one possessed the ability to look into the dark. The android blinked, clearing the raindrops from his optical lenses, and adjusted for a long shutter exposure, allowing the sensor to gather more information. Fifteen seconds—and hundreds of lights flared up in the bottomless blackness. The Milky Way revealed itself in all its grandeur. "Indescribable beauty," humans would say. Richard wouldn't argue with them; he knew as much about beauty as they did. And that knowledge was enough for him. While the SUV with its headlights blazing rocked almost imperceptibly somewhere behind his back, he could at least entertain himself by contemplating cosmic objects. This android disliked it when his processor cooled down from inaction, turning into a cold, useless object, but waiting was all he had left right now. Waiting and hoping that they would soon begin the assignment and leave this drab place. He just needed to wait a little longer.

***

47 minutes earlier... Somewhere by the curb of a filthy alleyway where a street sweeper's foot hadn't stepped in ages, a dark gray, almost black SUV was parked. Its engine purred rhythmically, its headlights shone, and inside sat two people in absolute silence. The air around them was so charged that if you were to bring a lit match close, the whole thing would blow sky-high. The face of the senior detective—both in age and rank—was covered in a three-day stubble, bags sagged heavily under his eyes, and an old scar sat permanently across his nose. His brown leather jacket, underneath which a dark blue turtleneck clung to a sturdy torso, was unzipped as usual. Detective Reed was visibly out of sorts today, trying to soothe his nerves with god knows what number cigarette it was by now. Resting his elbow on the rolled-down glass, Gavin held his hand out the window, but since there was no wind, the smoke still billowed back into the cabin in a thick cloud. So what? His car, his rules, and if anyone didn't like it, they could get out even while they were moving. He wasn't the least bit bothered by the rain, which soaked the sleeve of his jacket after each deep drag and nearly extinguished the cigarette completely. Blowing the smoke right in front of him, he made absolutely no effort to lessen the discomfort of the girl in the passenger seat. Everything was as it usually was with her: the dejected air, the resentful look. The detective, lower in rank and, predictably, in age—and concurrently Gavin's charge—sat staring straight ahead. Her mood was suppressed not because of the weather or the thick tobacco smoke stinging her eyes, but because of yet another argument with the man to her right. Then again, he frequently ruined her mood. Today proved to be no exception. Outside, right under the fine rain, leaning his backside against the hood of the SUV with his arms crossed over his chest, stood the RK900 series detective android. He was unfazed by the smoke, the rain, or the two arguing humans behind his back. The only thing that did not suit him was the inaction. Richard, as always, looked immaculate, as if he had just stepped off the assembly line. In this filthy alleyway lit by a lone streetlamp, the flawless android looked like something foreign. Their entire trio was like something foreign, fundamentally incompatible with one another. Feeling her jaw tighten from the silence, the junior detective decided to speak to the volatile man once more, testing either her luck or his fragile patience. Gavin still looked angry as he sat beside his inept partner. His gaze was fixed out the window, the cigarette rarely left his sourly pursed lips, and his heel tapped nervously against the floor of the car. He was clearly in no mood for idle chatter. About two hours ago, attempts to speak to him had ended poorly. "Gavin, I'm really sorry," her voice was raspy from the long silence and the constant inhalation of smoke. A solid hour of strenuous attempts to muster up even a little courage to open her mouth turned out to be in vain; no reaction followed from the man. Yet after a whole minute, during which even the sound of the rain seemed to quiet down, the attempts to smooth over the situation resumed aggressively. "I understand that this makes your job harder, and I'm truly sorry that you're forced to serve this punishment along with me," it would have been better if she hadn't turned toward him after those words, but it was already too late. Gavin, who until then hadn't taken his eyes off the window, snapped his head around so sharply that the girl could only flinch in response. His dark green eyes were filled with such hatred that if looks could kill, her body would already be cooling in the nearest dumpster. "Kira, as god is my witness, if you don't shut your fucking mouth right now..." he growled, insultingly blowing smoke right into her face. "One more word of apology, and I'll shove you into the goddamn trunk!" His voice—or rather, growl—was filled no longer with mere irritation, but with pure rage. The heat of his anger could be felt physically, and though the man leaned closer, the psychological distance between them grew vastly wider. The girl in the passenger seat stared like a deer in headlights, afraid to even twitch. "I am not going to listen to your excuses, you got it?!" Pressing her shoulder into the passenger door, it felt as though the entire left side of her body would merge with it completely. Despite her sincere attempts to apologize, the situation had only escalated. Now, with their night only just beginning, Kira realized she would have to find another way to defuse the tension. "Got it," she muttered. She had no choice left but to douse the raging fire with compliance, otherwise the prospect of ending up in the trunk might become dangerously real. What an absolute demon,she thought. Sensing the tension inside the car tightening even further, she decided to take a step back in her efforts to establish contact and simply leave her partner alone. Apparently, her mouth, which had so recently been shut down with choice expletives, had opened far too early. It's fine,she comforted herself as best she could.People make mistakes, and then they learn from them. Why react so violently? It's not like he was never a rookie himself.Everyone has the right to slip up, and yes, Kira had made a mistake. So what? The lessons had been learned. The girl pulled the handle and shoved the door open, leaving the fire-breathing "dragon" alone with his wrath and the distant sound of sirens. The night outside the vehicle was predictably cold and damp. The fine rain instantly plastered her choppy bangs to her forehead. The hostile, piss-stained alleyway with its scattered piles of garbage did not inspire confidence, and the "probationary detective," keeping her eyes glued to the ground, decided to quicken her pace. It was precisely in dark, deserted places like this that they most frequently found corpses. "Should I accompany you?" Richard reacted with melancholy, continuing to stand in the rain as he processed some calculations in his head. The area wasn't the safest, but the offered escort was declined. "No," the girl said, wrapping her arms around herself as she scanned the area, trying to recall where she had seen the nearest cafe. "I'm just going to grab some coffee, it's not far." Without waiting for a reply, she hurried toward the main street, accompanied only by the glare of the headlights and the piercing gaze of one of her partners. The pavement was littered with small puddles that splashed unpleasantly beneath her boots, but there was nothing to be done—she had to move fast. The last thing she needed was to run into trouble in this shithole. Reaching the nearest coffee shop, which she found only on her second attempt after walking a useless loop, Kira finally pushed the door open. A bell chimed to announce a new customer, and the bright indoor lighting bit painfully into her eyes. It wasn't much warmer inside the cafe, but it was cozy in its own way. A worn path stretched across the checkered tiles from the door to the counter, the bar itself was scuffed, and the chairs at the few scattered tables sported peeling leather upholstery. The establishment was easily fifty years old, if not more. "Good evening. What can I get for you? Today we have..." Ignoring the friendly but sluggish android, the detective took her time browsing the selection of packaged pastries by the display case before ordering two black Americanos. Watching the back of the archaic android as it fussed with the coffee machine, Kira pondered:It's been a long time since I've seen a model this ancient.The very first mass-produced ST200, released way back in 2022, was clearly a cheap configuration and long past its expiration date. Its movements were purely mechanical, and its actions were sluggish. The poor thing had probably already started succumbing to corrosion.

***

Gavin, sitting in the exact same posture, wasn't the least bit surprised when his personal pain in the ass returned with a cup of coffee, shoving it silently against his chest. "You think this changes anything?" His sullen gaze shifted from the girl's rain-dampened face to her outstretched hand. The little brown-noser did this often, knowing his weakness for caffeine and nicotine. For that very reason, the exact same half-empty pack of cigarettes had been sitting in her jacket pocket for months, even though she herself smoked extremely rarely. Kira had kicked that habit back in her freshman year, but working in the police force had made its own adjustments to her lifestyle. For years now, due to sudden coughing fits, her attempts to quit would either succeed or end in defeat. The crumpled red pack was meant more for her partner, who frequently forgot to buy his cigarettes on time. An angry Gavin combined with a lack of the nicotine he so desperately needed to calm down equaledrun for your lives. Grumbling a bit for the sake of appearances, the detective accepted the cup, but the expression on his face didn't soften in the slightest—it remained just as full of discontent. Despite her good intentions, Gavin was still not ready to forgive her. "Don't mention it," the sarcastic jab slipped out without a hint of fear of "catching it" again. She was no longer going to make excuses or prove anything. There was no point; as a miserable trainee, she stood no chance against him anyway. This scandal-monger knew how to argue his case and come out on top even with those older in age and higher in rank. It wasn't for nothing that the entire precinct hated him. “The only way to avoid clashes with Reed is to not buy into his provocations,”an officer of Asian descent had once told the rookie. Who knew that ignoring the insufferable detective would be this difficult? The bastard feared no one and showed mercy to no one, not even the late Lieutenant Anderson, who had lost his son and completely lost his spirit. Out of the darkness of the night street, a screech suddenly emerged—the rusty grind of severely worn brake pads—followed by the thumping low frequencies of a subwoofer that made it seem as though the passing bucket of bolts was about to fall apart. The three detectives, as one, tracked the moving chaos on wheels, then immersed themselves once more in their own respective business. Maybe I should suggest discussing the job?the thought flashed through the girl's head as the coffee cups ran empty and the detective's heel stopped tapping against the floor of the car. "Shut up, I said," was all Kira managed to hear before she could even properly open her mouth. Her pathetic attempts to patch things up with caffeine hadn't been appreciated. Then again, what else could she expect, being assigned to the most insufferable detective in the entire precinct? The only person who maintained anything resembling a friendly relationship with this unpleasant character was Tina Chen. The patrol officer frequently gossiped and traded jokes with Reed, who would laugh at them genuinely and without a shred of self-consciousness. Realizing the coffee had had no effect and failed to soften Gavin up, the girl decided that words were clearly useless right now. Actions were probably required. Shucking off her soaked jacket and tossing it into the back seat, she turned to her neighbor, who caught her movements out of the corner of his eye. "Got a smoke?" Gavin raised an eyebrow, turning slowly toward his beloved charge. After two seconds of hesitation, he let out a weary sigh and, without a word, tossed his cigarettes onto her lap like throwing a bone to a dog. The familiar item settled in her hands, the cherry aroma of the tobacco hitting her nose right through the sealed packaging. For the first time, she realized that she had quite literally grown up around the smell of tobacco. Once, having failed to find his red Marlboros, Gavin had unceremoniously snatched a pack he didn't recognize straight out of her jacket, and since then, it seemed he smoked only that brand. "I thought you quit," the man's voice sounded less aggressive than a minute ago, perhaps offering a chance to finally open a dialogue. Kira scanned the dashboard for the lighter and spotted it in the furthest corner, directly in front of the detective. It felt awkward to ask him again, so she decided to fetch the fire herself. "When I was about fifteen, my dad came home dead drunk," the girl began from afar, flicking the lighter. "That night only differed from the others because it was the first time he and my mom got into a physical fight right in front of my eyes." The scent of a blooming flower bed hit Gavin’s nose as her long, dark hair nearly whipped across his face. Snatching the lighter off the dashboard, his partner pulled back so quickly that she left behind only a breeze carrying the scent of her perfume. His charge always smelled enticingly good, forcing the man—who had a weakness for women's perfume—to involuntarily take a deeper breath around her. "It was that exact night that I stole a cigarette from my old man for the first time. I wanted to find some sort of comfort, to escape reality," taking a deep drag, she blew the smoke out the cracked driver's window. Her lungs stung from the long hiatus, and a sharp rasp formed in her throat. "That's when I started smoking. Now I quit, then I start again. And it's been going in circles like that for about ten years now." This personal information was likely of no consequence to the detective, but Kira shared it simply due to a sudden wave of nostalgia. This man barely knew her and clearly had no desire to, so why on earth would he be interested in hearing about her childhood? After listening to the brief revelation, Gavin let out a grunt, scratched his stubble, and fell into thought for a moment. He had suspected that something was off with this easily spooked girl, and it turned out he was right. Alcoholic parents had evidently broken her personality, leaving her to piece herself back together from scratch. He let out a weary sigh, retrieved his pack from her lap, and lit up as well. "We all have our reasons for doing the things we do," he muttered, deeply lost in thought as his brow furrowed, pulling the nicotine deep into his lungs. For a brief moment, Gavin even forgot about his anger as memories of the past surfaced. "I've had my share of rough times, too." Whether it was the talk of childhood or the shared smoke break taking effect, the tension between the partners eased slightly. At least one of them hoped so, as the distant wail of an ambulance siren echoed from afar. Someone in the alleys had likely been stabbed again. "You're not the only one who's tried to cope with that kind of shit," the detective added after a long pause, turning his unshaven, tired face toward her. Right now, he looked less aggressive and even a bit intrigued. For the most part, the deadly boredom and the wretched weather had played their part in this. "Now it's your turn to tell me something about your childhood. An open heart for an open heart," the nicotine brought on a slight dizziness, making the girl sway just a bit. The odds were slim, but perhaps she could get the secretive detective to open up and learn a little more about him. The alternative scenario—he would simply tell her where to shove it again. The man hesitated briefly, looking at her with a mix of mild bewilderment and a touch of intrigue sparked by the implication that he "owed" her a story. Nevertheless, a shadow of memory crossed his eyes, and after a few minutes of silent puffing, he finally spoke. "It was a total shitshow," he said, drawing out his words slowly as he too began from afar. Letting his gaze drift across the windshield and the streaks of rain, Gavin seemed to be searching for the right words, or perhaps just weighing whether it was worth sharing what he was about to. "I grew up in a difficult household where every single morning was a struggle," the detective continued, flipping the lighter between his fingers. "My old man was a rare bastard too, and I didn't want to repeat his mistakes, although... sometimes that proved to be pretty damn hard." The last sentence was practically spat out with bitterness and a hint of frustration, like something that had been festering for a very long time. The cigarette between the girl's fingers had already burned down to the filter, beginning to scorch her skin, but the fear of making a sudden move paralyzed her body. Moments like this didn't happen often, and Kira didn't want to interrupt a moment of vulnerability from the most belligerent and hostile detective in the precinct. "I looked for comfort in anything: work, friends, sex—but never in a bottle," Gavin threw the cigarette butt out the window with a sudden flash of anger, effectively putting a period at the end of his statement. Now she understood why her mentor targeted Lieutenant Anderson—who struggled with alcohol addiction—with such particular aggression. Gavin likely couldn't stand drunk people, seeing his own hated father in them. This fact about her partner shed some light on his behavior. It also made sense why she had never seen him wasted. Detective Reed was certainly no teetotaler and would have a drink for the company on special occasions, but he never got drunk. "Of course, I've had my share of slip-ups, too," he added after a brief pause, lighting another one. The lighter flew back onto the dashboard, and the cabin once again filled with smoke. A silence fell between them, broken only by the rain, which drummed with particular intensity against the hood, the roof, and the nearby dumpsters. Even though Gavin hadn't completely bared his soul, he had still shown a completely new side of himself. It was so out of character that the girl felt an urge to pinch herself. She probably should have said, "I'm sorry" or "I understand," but she felt that to him, those words would be about as useful as offering medicine to a corpse. This man had no need for sympathy or support, aggressively driving away any display of pity with his foul disposition. Not knowing what to say, Kira looked down at her hands, where she was twirling a long-extinguished cigarette filter that had melted on one side. "When I first started out, I doubted myself a lot, but there were also moments when I genuinely felt like I was doing something important," her senior mentor suddenly continued. "Once, we busted a ring of drug dealers who were terrorizing a neighborhood. It wasn't easy, but when we finally locked those scumbags up and gave people their peace of mind back, I felt like a real hero." Gavin smiled, reminiscing about his past merits. She had seen that smug smile many times before, but this time, there was something warm and nostalgic about it. "And then there was this one time," the detective continued, his mood visibly lifting, "when we helped a family find their missing kid. Normally we didn't handle missing children since that's not our department's business, but back then I had a bullet wound in my arm and couldn't stand sitting at home on medical leave. So I took up the search for the brat just out of pure boredom." Taking a quick drag, he sharply blew the smoke out in a thin stream. "I found the little shit pretty fast, and the parents' happiness knew no bounds." Gavin smiled out of the corner of his mouth again at the memories, which clearly stroked his ego. "Moments like that keep me remembering why I chose this line of work." With that last sentence, a sudden gravity joined Reed's elevated mood. Gavin turned his head toward her while she, keeping her head down, continued to twist the melted filter. "You remember who you are too, Kira," the man jabbed her shoulder with his index finger to lock in her attention. Despite Gavin being her official mentor, he had never given her advice or words of encouragement in the way she had imagined them. Even less frequently did the girl hear him use her actual name, as the detective preferred to call her simply by her last name, "trainee," or "little detective," deliberately mocking her short stature. The start of her career in the police force hadn't been nearly as eventful as Gavin's, and the girl even felt a twinge of envy listening to the adventures of her experienced, battle-hardened partner. She had been born in the small town of Fenton, which had emptied out so thoroughly that it no longer needed a police department. All the youth had fled to the big cities, and a whole slew of professions in that backwater simply ceased to be in demand. A few years ago, the run-down precinct with its bare-minimum funding was disbanded, and the employees were redistributed among the nearest departments of neighboring cities. Young police officer Kira Wainwright had been faced with a choice: be transferred to Flint, where she would be catching pickpockets, or ask for a letter of recommendation and try her luck in the big city as a "real detective," just like all her former colleagues from the now-closed precinct. When she first arrived at the Detroit Police Department for her probationary period, Captain Jeffrey Fowler, as was standard procedure, assigned a senior officer to mentor her. The reviews in her recommendation letter had been mediocre, filled with clichéd phrases like "great potential," "courage," "persistence," "bravery"... In essence, they took her in as a provincial outsider, making a massive concession. The captain, reading the paper closely, kept shifting his gaze from the tablet to the petite girl standing before him. Before long, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily and pushing his glasses up onto his forehead, Jeffrey delivered the verdict that would define the future of Kira Wainwright, the girl from the provinces: "Alright, you start tomorrow. We're short-staffed as it is." "I don't know what came over me back then, Gavin," the girl broke the silence, staring straight ahead. She decided that now was the right moment to tell him about the situation—the very one whose outcome they were both currently paying for. In a rush of emotion, still an inexperienced detective, she had gone after the suspect completely on her own, ignoring every possible protocol. That is what happens when you don't know how to separate the personal from the professional. It was a lesson the ordinary "provincial girl from Fenton" in big, hostile Detroit would have much preferred to learn in theory rather than through hard practice. "I bought into his manipulations like a naive fool," the girl let out a joyless sigh. In that moment, it had felt like the ocean was only knee-deep and she could bag the villain all on her own, without anyone's help. Convinced she had the serial killer dead to rights and that he was about to face justice, reality dealt the girl a sobering slap across the face. "I knew what I was risking, but emotion blinded my judgment." The villain had lured his naive, off-guard "victim" straight into a trap, and a whole SWAT team had to be called in to pull her out. Gavin, listening intently, looked at her with actual understanding for the first time instead of sheer contempt. After all, he had been first in line back then to teach the inexperienced trainee a rather harsh lesson. The way Fowler had screamed at Reed for failing to keep his charge on a leash was something practically the whole city of Detroit had heard. "It was pretty fucking reckless, Kira," his voice turned serious again. "You didn't just screw me over, you dragged an entire goddamn SWAT team into it," Reed cursed under his breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. He simply didn't have the energy left to stay mad at her. "I get why you did what you did, but you need to remember that protocols don't exist just to annoy you. They keep us alive," he leaned his head back against the headrest with a tired sigh, closing his eyes. A whole night of patrol still lay ahead, and he was dying for some sleep. "You should thank Fowler for not tossing you out on your ass entirely," Gavin added a minute later, his eyes still closed. "You got incredibly lucky. That's the kind of shit they only forgive rookies for." And truly. Two weeks of night shift patrol duty without a demotion was nothing short of an unspeakable stroke of luck for such a flagrant violation of protocol. Gavin could have been busted down to a beat cop, and she could have been kicked out entirely with a black mark on her record so severe that no precinct, not even the most rundown backwater office, would ever hire her again. It was terrifying to imagine what would have become of her. Kira couldn't see herself anywhere else but in the police force. It had been her cherished dream, and she had practically clawed her way to a tuition-free spot at the police academy, sacrificing half her health and nerves in exchange. "I let emotions get the better of me sometimes, too," Gavin muttered half-asleep, crossing his arms over his chest, "but it always comes with a price." The night continued to wrap the streets in its embrace, and the rain showed no signs of letting up. The atmosphere inside the car had grown noticeably calmer, which undoubtedly relieved the girl. She glanced at the relaxed detective; right now, he seemed peaceful, almost serene. This was a Gavin Reed she could actually work with. If only he could always be this level-headed—but something told her she would have to forget this version of her partner the moment their patrol duty ended. Tomorrow, she would face the same old sullen, angry, and grumbling Gavin. "Two whole weeks, for fuck's sake," a quiet grumble drifted from the right. Realizing she had been staring at the detective's profile for far too long, her cheeks instantly flushed with heat. Hope he didn't notice,she thought, shrinking back awkwardly as she sharply turned away. Having processed their entire conversation, Kira decided to ask the question that weighed on her the most, the answer to which she desperately wanted to know. After all, they say that whatever is said on the balcony during a smoke break stays on the balcony. Maybe this was exactly like that. Why the hell not? Let the cabin of his SUV serve as their balcony tonight. "How do you separate your personal life from work when they start to blur together?" Her voice pitched slightly higher than usual from nerves. Out loud, the question sounded even more intimate than it had in her head. Gavin slowly cracked his eyelids open, cocking a single eyebrow, and stared intently into the eyes of his curious partner, who visibly relaxed, relieved that she hadn't just poked a hornet's nest. "Sometimes it's not as simple as it looks," the detective began unhurriedly. Judging by his tired voice, devoid of any anger, the personal question hadn't triggered any negative emotions. "Sometimes I just try not to overthink things. The job takes a lot out of you, and when you're constantly facing cruelty and injustice, it can really weigh you down and burn you out." The man paused, unhurriedly lighting another cigarette just to keep himself occupied and ward off sleep. It was going to be a long night. And as if on purpose, not a single bastard out there wanted to rob a convenience store to finally give them a reason to get their asses out of these seats. "As for a personal life..." Gavin gave a vague shrug. "I spend a lot of time alone. It helps keep me focused, but sometimes it gets to be too much. I just... try to keep my head above water." Blowing the smoke out the window, the man shifted his gaze back to his blue-eyed colleague. "Something like that." It was a rather vague answer, but Kira was happy enough with it. Any other time, he would have told her to go to hell for asking such things. Would the detective become kinder after their brief but candid conversation, or would he pretend nothing had happened and put his grumbler mask right back on? She couldn't help but smile, imagining the two of them swapping jokes in the precinct while amicably sipping coffee in the breakroom. Yeah, right—she must be dreaming. The detective caught the faint smile on his partner's face and decided it had been too long since he last ruined her mood. It was time to fix that. There was no reason for her to be happy, considering they were currently being punished like a pair of mischievous stray cats because of her. "What are you smirking at, trainee?" Gavin’s eyebrow shot up mockingly. His question was mostly rhetorical. Since the girl didn't detect his usual toxic undertones, she kept right on smiling, watching the rivulets of rain race down the windshield. "I could be messing around in the back seat with some chick right now, instead of incubating hemorrhoids all night in a shitty alleyway," he blurted out, demonstratively venting his frustration over his miserable state of affairs. His resentment was entirely justified. The young detective was already mortally ashamed of her blunder, and she felt terribly awkward around her mentor. Seeing Gavin so tired and sleepy brought the weight of her conscience right back, pressing down on her chest like a stone and making it hard to take a deep breath. He was right. Instead of hotboxing this car in a cloud of cigarette smoke all night, he could have been relaxing at home, watching TV, pumping iron at the gym, or whatever the hell he usually did in his free time. A sharp sting of shame washed over the girl again, and for the umpteenth time, she cursed the day she had decided to stick her nose out of the precinct. She could have just been sitting at her desk, filling out the endless stacks of paperwork that Reed—who absolutely loathed writing—constantly dumped on her. Everything would have been completely fine. But no, the devil had nudged her to go chasing excitement, racking up enough fresh sins to ensure her ass would be roasted to a perfect "well done" in hell. Kira hadn't intended to say a word, but the response slipped out before her brain could veto it. The short phrase, snapping through the air like a silenced gunshot—sharp and quiet—made Reed freeze in pure astonishment, if not total shock. He had absolutely not expected to hear anything like that from her. "Well, the back seat is free," she said, keeping her tone completely flat as if she were commentating on the weather, a smug smile spreading across her face. Poking fun at Gavin in his own signature style was a rare, high-stakes amusement. At least if Tina were in her shoes, Gavin would have appreciated the banter. Unfortunately, not even the faintest chuckle came from her right. Unable to believe his own ears, the detective slowly turned his head to the left, needing to verify that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. Was he hallucinating from sleep deprivation, or had he just passed out completely? That would at least offer some logical explanation. The furrow between his prominent brows dug even deeper, his eyes scanning the girl's frame as if looking for the catch. Expecting to hear a chuckle or something similar, the girl received only a dead, heavy silence in return. She timidly turned toward her partner, and their gazes locked. The faint smile instantly vanished from her face. Judging by the senior detective's reaction, she had clearly blurted out the wrong thing. The devil had dragged her by the tongue this time, and now she would have to endure yet another round of mockery, just when their dynamic had finally started to improve. Once again, she had ruined everything: a failure at work, pathetic apologies, and now a botched joke. And all of it, Lord forgive her, in a single day. She stared out the windshield, completely at a loss for what to do, what to say, or where to go. Maybe she should just make a run for it and throw herself out of the car? Desperate to fill the awkward silence, she blindly jabbed a button on the dashboard. A cheerful female voice instantly poured from the speakers, delivering a stream of evening news. Trying to occupy herself with anything at all, Kira flipped through boring radio stations in search of music, or God knows what else. The suffocating awkwardness was pushing her out of the cabin again, and the detective's piercing gaze was burning a hole right through her. After what felt like an absolute eternity, she suddenly heard a quiet, but firm: "Get in the back seat." The slender finger turning the radio dial froze instantly. The junior detective hesitantly shifted her gaze back to her mentor. Her pensive partner, staring directly into her blue eyes, looked completely serious, which was actually a little terrifying. The sheer nonchalance in his tone made it sound as if he had simply suggested going out for a smoke break, rather than having sex in the back seat of his SUV. "What?" she asked, though she had heard him perfectly clear. Her heart plummeted into her stomach, a tremor spread to her hands, and her mouth went bone-dry. This was absolutely not what she had anticipated. Even in her wildest, most unhinged fantasies, Kira could never have imagined that her shift with Gavin would take a turn like this. The detective's relaxed posture dissolved into sudden tension. Letting out a strangled breath, Kira was already cursing her own tongue. She must have completely lost her mind. How could she have suggested something like that to Gavin Reed? To a man who knew no mercy and took pleasure in tearing others down. It seemed that today, the Devil was hiding in every shadow—and he had just handed her yet another trial. What shocked her wasn't so much the proposition itself, but the fact that Gavin had taken it seriously. Everyone in the precinct knew Reed loved cracking dirty jokes. She had hoped that if she could make him laugh, she would finally become someone he jokedwith, not someone he jokedabout. "Get in the back seat, I said," he repeated, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. The realization of what was about to happen set her heart hammering against her ribs, as if a hungry tiger were breathing down the back of her neck. She didn't fully understand who was playing whom now... or if anyone was playing at all. This particular "tiger," seemingly starved for certain things, was staring at her without the slightest shadow of a smile or a sneer. He wasn't joking in the slightest. And that was what terrified her most of all.

***

The clicking sound of the automatic locks drew the attention of the motionless android, wrapped in the damp chill of the night. He resembled a stone statue, blinking only occasionally to clear the moisture from his synthetic eyes. Richard’s systems instantly spun up, shifting into high combat readiness. Had Detective Reed finally condescended to actually work and accepted a call? But the moment he began to push himself off the hood, a new command arrived. A completely unexpected directive that threw his processing units into temporary disarray. "Hey, toaster! Do me a favor and beat it somewhere for an hour or two." Hearing the detective's voice from behind him, Richard immediately complied with the command to "leave" without a word of protest. He merely hoped that this detour wouldn't take too long and that they would soon return to the objective they had originally come here to achieve. The heavy, dead silence of the deserted alley was briefly interrupted by the muffled clunk of the door locks engaging. Inside the dark grey SUV, the interior lights cut out completely, shielding the passengers entirely from any unwanted eyes. Just a few paces away from the vehicle, Richard's LED suddenly flashed a sharp, warning red. He froze in his tracks, instantly running a full system analysis. He double-checked the data. Everything was functioning within normal parameters. He was the perfect machine, built to handle tasks of any complexity. Day in and day out. Always prepared for anything: any hardship, any obstacle. Richard remained certain that, sooner or later, he would utilize his full potential—once he was given a proper, full-scale assignment instead of being wasted on trivialities. He just needed to wait a little longer.