#Gavin: how to traumatise 101

[fandom-necromancer]

129. Just talk to me please

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: blood mentioned)

'Good morning, RK!' 'That is a possibly incorrect statement, Hank. Neither you nor I know how this morning will develop and whether the subjective judgement would conclude it as good.' 'Jeez, Nines can't you just take it? Just for once?' 'No.' Gavin braced himself for the android's arrival. 'Morning, tin-can', he mumbled to avoid listening to the same shit Hank had to put up with. But as always, he just got the silent treatment.

There was no denying the RK900 wasn't good with conversation. No one knew whether it was deliberately or just how the android had been programmed, but whenever he talked to someone it was harsh, degrading and with no account taken for other's feelings. And, well, Gavin could live with that. He rarely cared for such things himself when it meant getting the job done. But no, the stupid thing didn't talk to him. Not at all. In their first few weeks, yes. There had been no difference in his behaviour towards him and the others. But now... Gavin couldn't even find a reason for the sudden change. Yeah, he hadn't played nice, he had taken it for a challenge and had answered with equal disregard to social etiquette. Quite immediately the android had stopped talking. Although Gavin had to admit, their talks had always been a welcome challenge to him. Finally, someone who was willing to address the things as they were. There had been times he had wished for the machine to be more careful, times where what he said really hurt. But he enjoyed their conversations more than not – something that couldn’t be easily said of his other co-workers. Being ignored was somehow worse than anything he had to put up with yet.

‘Hey, uhm…good news: we got our warrant.’ He looked over to his partner, searching for any kind of reaction. As usual: nothing. ‘Err, do you want to go now or d-‘ RK900 was already standing and looking at him expectantly. The subtle hint he was already waiting for a longer time than he would have liked to. Gavin hurried to get up, too, fishing the warrant from his top drawer and power-walked after the android. A few minutes later they sat in the car, Gavin was driving, and the silent robot was next to him motionless. Could as well be in standby or something. ‘So, uhm… How was your weekend?’ God, that was awkward. Couldn’t he have askes something less… trivial? As there was no answer, he quickly tried to cover up what felt like a huge misstep to him. ‘Heh, bet something between around average and mildly pleasing? Yeah, I know, why have I even asked? Mine was good, I guess. Spent a lot of time with my cats. But I guess that doesn’t interest you either…’ He took a short glance into the passenger window, seeing the reflection of the LED turn from yellow to red. Yeah, shit, he better stayed quiet. He didn’t know what he had done to have pissed off the android in mere weeks, but he would have to cut it down if he wanted to come out of this alive. He had seen the things during the revolution. He had seen Nines a few times fighting criminals. The guy was a viscous fighter. And even if Gavin was well trained and capable himself, he knew he wouldn’t be a match for the RK900.

He pulled up in front of the house. ‘Okay, we are there. Should I go? Or do you want to-‘ Nines was already out of the door and Gavin grumbled before he hurried out too: ‘Guess you want to.’ But as he walked to the front porch, Nines stood patiently next to the door. Gavin groaned again and rang the doorbell. ‘Really man, this game you playing? Absolutely no fun. We really have to talk about this. As we started this you quickly became one of the more pleasant partners I had. Might have even said I liked you. But this? I can’t work like this.’ Gavin had talked while they waited, but by now someone would have opened already. ‘Oh, for phck’s sake.’ He rang again and added, this time louder: ‘Detroit police, open up!’

No reaction. Slowly Gavin was fed up being ignored again and again and again. He felt his patience running out and someone would have to pay the price then. He was about to ring again as the damn toaster shoved him to the side unceremoniously. ‘Hey, dipshit, what the hell?’ The android pressed his hand against the lock, skin retracted. Moments later the door swung open. ‘Good to know. I’ll phcking invest in a mechanical one, just you know it!’ Before he could announce to go in there, Nines slipped in in front of him, weapon drawn.

Gavin sighed and followed, announcing their presence: ‘Detroit police, come out, we just want to talk!’ They walked down the hallway. The house was clean and well-kept. No sign of a sudden departure. Maybe their suspect was just at work? Well, either way it would go well. The person they searched for was an elderly man, near retirement and according to medical data not the fittest. Gavin didn’t expect much resistance. He already dropped his weapon. It was evident no one was home, as the man would have at least tried to stop them.

Out of nowhere, Nines spun around and shoved Gavin in the chest hard enough to let him fall backwards to the ground. The moment Gavin wanted to exclaim some profanities the words got stuck in his throat. The gunshot was near simultaneously with Nines’ reaction, Gavin only saw the fracturing hull under the force and the splatter of blue blood. Then a shot from the android’s own weapon and someone falling to the ground behind him. Reflexively Gavin spun around on the ground, throwing himself at the man and grabbing the pistol to avoid more damage. Nines had targeted the man’s leg, rendering him unable to walk. After a bit of a struggle, Gavin had pried the gun out of his fingers and turned him around to handcuff the idiot. Occupied, he just asked into the space in front of him: ‘Are you okay, toaster?’ No answer. Phck this guy’s silence, really! He turned around to make voice of his anger, as he saw the android leaned against a wall, Thirium flowing freely from a wound near the pump. ‘Phck! Nines, you alright? Just… talk to me please! Only this one time!’ The android fixed him with these grey eyes and actually opened his mouth: ‘Your incompetence will get me killed, detective.’ Then the machine shut down.

‘Phck!’ Gavin was caught between their suspect that was bleeding out and his partner that kind of did the same. ‘Phck this!’ He jumped over to Nines, snatched the handcuffs from his belt and used them to chain the suspect to the banister. Then he pulled out his phone while trying to lift the android. ‘Connor! It’s me Gavin. Shut up! I need you here, as soon as possible, best with an ambulance. I handcuffed our suspect to the stairs. I will leave now, your brother got shot. Yeah, I phcking know, Connor! I’ll still get him repaired, phck protocol. He shut down; this can’t be good. No, don’t give me a lecture about emergency stasis. Not. Helping. Now get your ass over here!’

He slammed the red button and pushed the phone back in his pocket. He would need two hands to get the android back into the car. ‘Hang on, Nines. I’ll get you fixed!’

 It was weird sitting in this waiting-room, worrying about a robot getting repaired. Well, honestly, that wasn’t the weird part. Of course, he was worried about his partner. He still liked him, he would worry about any co-worker hurt on the job, even if he wouldn’t show it. No, it was weird sitting here. Amongst all these weird android-lovers. Seeing people worry that much and immediately starting to smile when their toy came back, hugging, sometimes kissing. He felt out of place.

‘God, what takes them so long?’, he muttered to himself, resting his face in his hands. ‘Don’t worry, they do good work. You’ll get them back in no time.’ Gavin looked up into the friendly face of an android, perplex. ‘A friend of yours?’ ‘Partner’, Gavin answered without thinking, not prepared to have a conversation with a stranger. ‘Oh, how lovely! I am happy to see human-android relationships rising!’ ‘No, it’s not-‘ Gavin only now realised not everyone’s first association would be police partners. But the other was already continuing so enthusiastically, Gavin just fell silent and listened. Hell, he couldn’t care less for some stranger’s image of him. ‘I couldn’t do it, to be honest. You humans lack the ability to interface, sorry if I’m so bold. That would be too much of a sacrifice for me, but I knew a few androids who live quite a happy life with their humans.’ ‘Yeah’, Gavin nodded, glancing to the door and hoping more than ever the damn RK900 would finally step out. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude!’ God, this android was already getting on his nerves. ‘Some of my best friends are humans! You have a few quirks I think are quite interesting! Like eating or sleeping.’ Yeah, quirks. It’s called staying alive, idiot. Come on Nines please, rescue me! He couldn’t start a phcking argument with this toaster here. ‘I guess.’ ‘Okay, sorry, I have to ask but how did you two met?’ The guy had now fully turned towards him and was in full gossip mode. Gavin smiled. Oh, he would simply tell the truth, that would shut him up. ‘Hmm, just work. Well, I kinda tried to kill him’, he grinned what hit the other unprepared. ‘My partner is a RK900 unit, you see? The deviant hunter.’ He smiled as the android recoiled and gaped at him. ‘We met on the job, he tried to kill the friend of a co-worker, you might know him? Connor? A RK800? Anyways, I shot him, Connor deactivated him and made him deviate.’ The android’s eyes widened even more. Gavin knew Connor was quite famous, being the deviant hunter himself before he switched sides. It was a shitty card to play, but the idiot finally shut up for once. ‘He started working at the police force soon afterwards.’ ‘That’s… sweet’, the android answered swallowing and scooted fully back onto his seat.

At the same moment, Nines walked out of the door, the bloodied jacket the only evidence of his previous damage. Gavin was at his feet immediately, happy to be spared to spend another second near the android. ‘Nines! Are you alright?’ ‘I’m working perfectly again. Why is this android staring at me?’ Gavin looked back to the seated guy, who quickly averted his eyes. Nines hadn’t exactly been quiet addressing him. ‘Don’t worry, we had a lovely chat’, Gavin answered with a devilish grin. ‘I see. Your effort to get me repaired are noted’, the tin-can stated, looking at another recently reunited pair, then swiftly pulling Gavin into a hug. It was now the human’s turn to be taken off guard. ‘Hey Nines, did they exchange you for another RK? Something wrong?’ ‘We need to talk.’ ‘Thank phck, because I want to know what I did to deserve the silent treatment!’

They went out, Gavin again following the plastic to the car. It was inside that Nines spoke again: ‘This unit has a defect no one can repair.’ ‘Hs to be serious when you start talking in third person.’ ‘I have been issued without a social program.’ ‘Okay?’ ‘I don’t know how to properly talk to persons. But I realised I often hurt people with my words. I just can’t figure out why.’ ‘Okay, that explains a lot. But why didn’t you speak with me? You spoke with others.’ ‘I don’t care to hurt others. Connor understands, the rest will eventually. But I didn’t want to hurt you. I like you. I was informed friends are important.’ ‘Wow okay, but you not speaking to me hurt more than your words before, if you so will.’ ‘That wasn’t my intention.’ ‘Yeah and now it makes sense. Why didn’t you just tell me before?’ ‘It’s a defect.’ ‘So? You said we are friends. I won’t judge you. I’m pretty bad with people too.’ ‘I know. Your social capabilities are below average.’ ‘Thanks. I guess.’ ‘So you would prefer me hurting you?’ ‘If that means we speak again, yes. I understand why now. So, I don’t really think I would be mad for long. Also, how will you learn, if you don’t try with someone?’

There was silence for a while, then Nines spoke up again: ‘Gavin, I don’t think I will learn much from you.’ ‘True, asshole. But I know how to be nice, I just choose not to, okay? I’m definitely not leading by example, but I could correct you.’ ‘That could help. But I doubt your judgement still.’ ‘Okay, toaster, first of all: Phck you. Second of all: that was rude. See? I can help you!’ ‘We’ll see. I agree to your suggestion.’ ‘You do?’ ‘Of course. We are partners.’

[kingsofchaos]

What do you think it would be like of the fakes got arrested (probably at different times cause they are better than that) and got psych evaluations. The police would probably get even more of an realization that they are freakin monsters. (If you could somehow maybe put freewood in that would make me very happy, but you don't have to if you don't want) ALSO I LOVE YOUR BLOG!!!!

THANKS FRIEND! That makes me feel way worse for what i’m about to do but apologies i’m not super comfortable playing around with psychological evaluations, sorry to disappoint! In lieu i offer you a bit of a more generic, though infinitely more melodramatic, insight into that one time the cops got their hands on Ryan and Gavin then instantly wished they hadn’t. 

To get the Vagabond and Free in custody, to not only pin them down but catch them without killing them in the process, is more or less a goddamn miracle and everybody knew it. There’s a weird energy amongst the LSPD officers, half smug pride at the triumph, half quiet terror at what comes next.The entire journey back to the station is fraught with tension, the completely legitimate fear that the Fake AH Crew may come for their own keeping everyone on high alert. It doesn’t help that despite the fact that there’s no way it could be possible Free and the Vagabond are acting like getting arrested was their intention, like everything is going according to plan. As relaxed as two handcuffed men surrounded by armed officers can possibly be they’ve ignored all demands to shut their mouths in favour of critiquing how well they think everything has been going so far.Ryan asks for the time any chance he gets, responding to each update with a pleased grin so unsettling that officers begin to refuse to answer. In response Ryan has taken to humming a quiet tick tock tick tock tick tock under his breath while he stares them down.The less said about the transfer between van and station the better. Six officers swarm around the Vagabond while only one moves to escort Free, a choice that leaves Ryan shaking his head in utter disbelief and Gavin smirking away like the cat who caught the canary. He leers all over his increasingly uncomfortable guard while Ryan is yanked roughly to his feet and pushed out of the van, followed moments later by a grunt and a scream as Ryan is tazed without provocation and Gavin’s new friend loses a chunk of his arm to that sharp grin. It’s a traumatising experience across the board.By the time Ryan’s head clears they’ve already dragged him into the station, frogmarching him towards an intake room, with Gavin somewhere behind him making lewd comments about the muzzle he’s apparently been threatened with. Shifting to take his own weight has all the officers around Ryan stiffening, but all he does is ask for the time, chortling to himself at the way it makes them flinch.The weapons pat-down is rough. Even the cops know Gavin’s not really in the hands-on half of the crew, aren’t expecting much more than maybe a knife or two, certainly aren’t expecting the arsenal they uncover. Gavin has knives in his pant pockets and shirt pockets and jacket pockets, he has knives in his belt, tucked into his shoe, sewn into linings. There’s so many knives the officers quickly roll from smug superiority into increasing alarm; it borders on comical, on intentional, and Free’s careless grin only grows.  Ryan though, god. On Ryan they find nothing, not a gun, not a knife, not even wire or nail-file; absolutely nothing. It should be a relief but it isn’t, how can it be when there’s no way the Vagabond is actually unarmed? When history has taught them that they surely must have missed something. Ryan bears the increasingly frustrated search with exaggerated compliancy, lips twitching in amusement as Gavin sniggers beside him, the mercenary entirely unresisting yet still exuding an insufferable degree of cheerful insolence.When one man tries to get a rise out of him by sneering out some less than savoury comments about Gavin and his prison prospects the whole room holds its breath, bracing for a sudden act of unstoppable violence, but it doesn’t come. Instead, after a long tense moment of Ryan staring the man directly in the eye, it’s Gavin who breaks the silence, shaking his head and looking far too pleased as he shrugs and sends chills down spines with a cavalier ‘Well that was rude. I do hope your affairs are in order, this one’s really rather overprotective.’ The extended weapons frisk is declared over rather quickly after that.The pair are placed in cells on opposite ends of the station’s holding bay; with walls and doors between them there is absolutely no way legible sound could possible travel between the two. To the disturbed awe of an increasing crowd of officers watching and listening over the cctv the pair proceeded to have a complete conversation at normal talking volume anyway; speaking and responding as though they can hear one another, with appropriate pauses and logical replies, never acknowledging that anything is out of the ordinary. It’s alarming enough that they are frisked again on their way to separate interrogation rooms but no hidden transmitters are found and no one has any idea how on earth they were doing it.You don’t go into an interrogation room armed, that’s just police policy 101, but particular precautions are certainly made for members of the FAHC. Ryan is just about as chained as he could be, handcuffs locked to the table, leg cuffs chained to the floor, and still, as long as there are detectives in the room with him two heavily armed guards will wait just outside the door for the first sign of trouble. On the flipside Gavin, whose teeth are still stained red, bears only handcuffs and a delighted grin. There are no armed guards, the detectives have no fear about leaning into his space, but after the first few are left shell-shocked with their personal secrets dragged into the light there is a serious discussion about getting the LSPD’s in-house psychologist on standby.For the first half of Ryan’s interrogation he says nothing at all. The detectives, all over the moon about finally nabbing the Vagabond, all desperate to show they’re the one who can crack him, throw just about every interrogation trick in the book at him and Ryan just watches on calm as you please, only moving to look up at the clock on the wall. When at last he does open his mouth the relief is short-lived; carefully meandering around confessions Ryan talks in hypotheticals and television plotlines, discussing supposedly fictional violence in such vivid detail his interviewers start looking a little green. It’s quite a talent, to balance technical innocence with an undercurrent of undeniably remorseless responsibility, all while casually discussing the fascinating sounds humans make when they are pulled apart.  In another room Gavin slouches in his metal chair like it’s a throne, like the worst kind of entitled, like the grown-up version of the trust-fund baby sneering at the principle’s threat of discipline, utterly untouchable and he knows it. All grinning swagger Gavin asks the detectives if they’ve thought this through, if they know what they’re doing, how they think it’s going to end. He asks if they haven’t heard all those terrible rumours people have spread about his family, shares a few of his favourites, the darkest and most deplorable things people have said about the Vagabond. Isn’t it funny? Could you even imagine if the stories were true? If that was the kind of man you’d captured? Can you picture what he would do to you when he got free? And that’s saying nothing of Ramsey, have you heard what they say he’s done for his family? What he’d do for his son? Chilling stuff that, terrifying. Especially for someone like you, with kids at home. Someone who’d just gotten married, who has reliant parents, who’s sister’s about to have that baby. Wouldn’t it be awful huh? Aren’t you glad they’re only stories.It’s late by the time the detectives give up for the night, but there is an undeniable sense of relief in locking those two away again, in washing hands of those horrors for a couple of hours, going home to hug loved ones close and stave off technicolour nightmares. To kick things off at midnight is appallingly cliché, but things kick off a midnight. The station is never empty, particularly not when it’s housing criminals this high profile, but at midnight everything goes quiet. Still. Just long enough for every officer’s well-honed instincts to start blaring in alarm. And then the screaming starts.When the bigwigs try to piece it all together later even frantic reviews of security footage won’t reveal what happened. They see Gavin’s cell suddenly go dark, and when the light returns he’s gone. Changing angles there’s a flash of him wandering down the hall, utterly unhurried and blowing a winking kiss at the camera before it flickers out. When they find him again it’s on the camera outside the Vagabond’s cell, leaning through the bars and chattering away to the Mercenary looming on the other side as calmly as you please, like they’re playing instead of launching an escape.Free’s in no rush, waiting for his crew-mate to grab his collar and yank him into the bars before he laughs and shakes his way free, finally trotting over to unlock the door, unleashing the Vagabond into the hall. As Gavin turns to answer the phone he shouldn’t have the Vagabond looks up, directly at the lens, shaking his head as he points to an imaginary watch before flipping off the camera just before it, too, goes dark.From there the LSPD have only witness accounts to work with, tales from those who survived and those who came in after; the ones who saw the cavalcade of big black cars pulling up in front of the station just before everything went to hell, who didn’t have the chance to raise the alarm before the FAHC were raining bullets down on them. Those who had to clean blood from linoleum, tape up shattered windows, carry bodies to the morgue. Those who can no long bear the sound of clocks ticking, who swear they can still hear the echoes of that monstrous laughter. The ones who witnessed death slinking through the station in a leather jacket and designer jeans, who observed the birth of Los Santos’ newest horrifying rumour firsthand.