#what the fuck was he even talking about. detroit is the race car city

[theinconveniencing]

thinking back to when dani was here and my sister was talking about detroit bc she had a connecting flight and we were discussing what detroit was known for and I was like “isn’t it the music capital of the world?” and my sister was like “I don’t think so” and dani was like “no I think i heard that it’s known for muisic” so dani and I had this days long running joke of calling detroit the music capital of the world whenever we talked about it with my mom and my sister but the whole time we were just referencing this part in druck

[fireintheflames]

I don’t usually do too many posts on here, but I thought I’d take this time to talk about the EV experience in Michigan! With gas prices going up and up, some of you who are reliant on cars may be looking into your EV options, so I thought it would be fun to share what having an EV in the Midwest is like!

For some background, my boyfriend bought the previous revision, base-model Chevy Bolt in 2021 as his old Mercury Grand Marquis started flaking on him. It looks almost exactly like this:

He owns a small home in one of what MI refers to as the “Tri-Cities”, a triangle of cities located approximately 30-45 miles from each other. He commutes daily about 45 minutes each way, on a combination of highway driving and back roads. He does limited travel outside of the area, primarily to visit friends in Detroit or SW MI.

For those of you who keep up with such things, you may recognize that particular model of Bolt as having a recall for catching on fire while charging. His has not. However, that did cut the available charge, which impacts the range.

Now the good bits! What’s it like, hows the range, hows the charging, would I recommend!

1. What’s it like:

Cute. Egg shaped. A friend. It has great visibility, a surprisingly roomy interior, heated seats and steering wheel, a good AC system, really crappy heat. Tree buds like to accumulate under the wipers due to a big gap between the windshield and hood. It can fit most things you want to fit in your car. Back seats can fit 3 if desperate, 2 if sane. Has a very nice purse holding section on the floor he insists on filling with coffee cans.

It’s quiet. Which is nice! Until you get in a gas powered car and wonder what is wrong with it!

It’s also surprisingly fast. Like, shockingly fast. It doesn’t fuck around with acceleration. He likes to race trucks off the light to gloat.

Regen braking takes some getting used to. It works better than the brakes on my car. He claims he doesn’t even need to touch the pedals. I think he’s lying.

2. Range:

There are exactly 2 places worth going in MI that cannot be reasonably reached with the Bolt. Both are in the UP, and would be better experiences in a Jeep or similar adventuring vehicle.

Full charged range is typically about 200 or so miles. For those of you keeping score at home, on a 70mph speed that’s just shy of 3 hours. Most road trips are best with stops every 2 hours or so, so already looking good.

A typical weekL

M-F: Average about 100-120 miles of travel (100 mile around trip commute, 20 or so miles of errands, groceries, ect) , charge ~8hrs overnight on home electric

Sat-Sun: have about 180 miles charged up for exploring, or charge to full.

Doing a trip under 60 minutes away? Just go. Do it. It’s fine. This will get you to Lansing, many parks, Flint, ect.

Doing a trip around 90-120 miles away? Stop to charge once. In Lansing, Bay City, Novi, or Filnt, typically.

Range reducers: Speed higher than 55mph (an excuse to take the beautiful backroads!), turn on the heat (inefficient!), cold weather (heats the batteries!). Running things like radio and heated seats eats very little power. AC is dependent on how hot it is and how cold you want to be, but seems to do better than heat.

The Bolt tells you when you have flown too close to the sun. Very loudly. With flashing lights.

3. Charging:

Charging the Bolt is slow (a well known thing with it, other EVs are a lot faster). We charge primarily at home (plug into side of house), but when out and low on juice it is time to hit up an Electrify America station! Most seem to be in Meijer parking lots (a semi-local Big Box Store, for those of you not familiar. Like Walmart, but better in very conceivable way). The one in Novi is in a very nice plaza with a great Indian takeout restaurant that, conveniently, takes abut the same amount of time as a charging Bolt. We typically go grab snacks/pee while it charges, like rest area or gas station.

It takes about 30-40 minutes to charge at a fast charger to full (which is a quirk of the model, it’s notoriously slow. The MachE next to us was much faster). Most of the time we do a 20 minute charge.

Home charging takes about 12 hours to get to full, but with the added benefit of you are home and probably sleeping for a chunk of that anyway!

Home charging about doubled his electric bill, but is still WAY WAY cheaper than gas. We priced out he is currently paying a little less than half as much at the more expensive fast charging stations, and about a 1/3rd that at home. He is very smug.

4. Do a recommend:

Well, I recommend EVs in general if you are car dependent. But using the Chevy Bolt as an example, they work best if:

 There is a charger available within 15-20 minutes of your workplace, at a grocery store you frequent, or another convenient location.

OR

You have access to charging where you park. Most apartments don’t, some parking garages do. Most single family homes do, but owning a house is not exactly common.

Your daily commute is roughly equivalent to the range of an overnight home charge (for the Bolt, ~100-150 miles, so up to 70 miles one way)

Electricity is significantly cheaper than gas per mile (which it is most places, but always good to check!)

Most things you want to do are with 100 miles. From where he lives, that gets you pretty much down to Detroit, across to Grand Rapids, and north to Mackinaw.

You can afford the sticker price. EVs aren’t cheap. The Bolt is one of the more affordable options, but even then it’s about $30K.

I love it, he loves it, we’ve put almost 20K miles on it already! If it meets your needs, I would recommend switching if you can!

[krreader]

becoming human | chapter four.

pairing: cops!bts x android!reader (as in, ot7 x reader, but may change) fandom: bts warnings: detroit:become human!au ; language ; violence ; abuse genre: crime ; angst ; crack ; (possibly smut) word count: 3.1k+ previous: 1 ; 2 ; 3

summary: the crime rate of seoul has been rising rapidly these past weeks and nobody could deny that there was more to it than gangs or the likes. something was brewing that not even the famous bangtan boys could solve, a unit specifically formed for hunting down criminals that most couldn’t. so when even they couldn’t find out what was going on, the department decided to add a new member to the team that would hopefully be able to solve the mysteries behind those crimes. what bangtan hadn’t expected however, was that their new member would not be human, but one of the androids sent by CyberLife.

a/n: wow, this turned into such a long chapter but I am so happy with it. those who have played detroit are hopefully enjoying all the easter eggs I’m putting in!!!!

Bangtan finally had a lead. A big part of their mission that would hopefully and finally solve this mess.

Find RA9. That was the objective.

Which, unfortunately, wasn't as easy as it sounded. You’d think with the amount of deviants one of them would have concrete information on RA9, but that wasn’t the case. RA9 was an enigma, a secret, a mystery. Something that all deviants knew, but never let anyone else know about.

The members were all busy talking to their contacts and various other agencies within and outside of the country, in hopes of somebody knowing something about RA9. Maybe even similar cases.

Namjoon was getting himself a cup of coffee. Or at least he wanted to.

But his mind was somewhere else entirely, and he didn't realize that the coffee had been done five minutes ago and he was still staring at the cup like he was waiting for something else to happen.

“I believe your coffee is done, boss,” your voice made Namjoon jump, then roll his eyes, “If you wait a few more minutes, the temperature of your beverage will not be enjoyable anymore.”

“What do you want? Stab me in the back like your colleagues?” he said bitterly, taking a sip from his semi-hot coffee. Fuck, it already tasted like shit.

“I told you, I am self-testing regularly. I am not going to become a deviant. I am going to finish my mission with you like I was designed to do.”

“Designed to do,” Namjoon snorted and shook his head, “I'm sure Kamski or whatever his name was didn't 'design' androids for them to turn into deviants.”

“Why don't you just ask him?”

“What?” he asked in confusion.

“You're looking for a lead, aren't you? Kamski is as good as any. He's the one that made us. If he doesn't know about RA9, he might at least have an idea on how to put an end to this.”

“Almost like an off-switch,” he muttered to himself.

And Namjoon hated to say this, but..

..you were right.

“Yeah, it's me,” Namjoon said a moment later with his phone pressed against his ear, “I need you to arrange a flight for me and my team to the US.”

“This is so cool,” Jimin beamed when he looked out of the window.

“Is this truly your first time flying, Park Jimin?” you smiled softly at the reaction of the young team member.

“Yeah.. I grew up in the countryside, my parents didn't think much of flying anywhere else.”

“Enough small talk,” Yoongi said as he sat down next to you, “Brief us on the situation in the US.”

That made all of them shift their attention to you and back was that serious atmosphere.

“They have similar problems. With Detroit being the city where androids have originated, their cases of deviants are much higher than in Seoul. As far as I know, CyberLife has already sent an android to work with a team in Detroit like it had sent me to work with you.”

“How do they deal with it?” Jin asked.

“They're still trying to find leads on RA9. They didn't think about talking to Kamski yet.”

Connor. That was his name.

You weren’t in contact with him, but your database knew all about him and his findings.

“So we have a head-start,” Taehyung grinned with wiggling eyebrows.

“This isn't a race, Taehyung,” Namjoon shook his head, “The entire world is at risk. We should tell the team in Detroit about it if we find anything useful. They might need any intel they can get.. and we could use some help if things go to shit. We don’t have a back-up team like we have in Seoul. Having friends might be beneficiary for us.”

“Understood, boss,” you said with a nod, closing your eyes and retreating into the data base to finally contact Connor.

“Is.. she asleep?” Hoseok furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned over to Jin.

“I don’t think androids sleep. But we should,” he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, “It’s a long flight.”

Hoseok watched you for a very long time, though. It was as if this moment of you not being fully there - which almost never happened, if ever - gave him the chance to finally study you, instead of the other way around.

Most androids all looked the same, only a few models were special like you. Special in a sense of being unique.

“Stop,” Yoongi warned him, still sitting next to you and having watched the slightly younger member for a while now, “She’s not human.”

“I know she isn’t,” Hoseok became defensive, then turned to his side and squeezed his eyes shut.

God, Yoongi and Namjoon held so much hatred for androids, they couldn’t even fathom that some people didn’t. Yes, what happened right not with deviants was bad, but you weren’t like that and all of them but Yoongi and Namjoon seemed to understand that.

The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful.

It was a private jet, so the members all did whatever the hell they wanted to.

Some played games, others slept, yet again others tried to find out more about RA9 - Yoongi and Namjoon, who would have guessed.

One member, however, was missing.

You realized that after you had finished your report to Connor and had looked around to see what everyone else was doing.

And since nobody else was looking for him, you decided to wander through the plane, only to find Jeongguk in the private quarters of the plane.

He was humming to himself, a pleasant tune that made you smile. Your database instantly told you about the song.. an old one, yet he made it sound like it was new. Like it was his song.

You didn’t even realize that he was humming under the shower, that’s how much you were enjoying it. You only realized it when he stepped out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, his hair damp and his chest still wet.

“Holy sh..- What are you doing?!” his eyes were wide, instantly grabbing a pillow to put it in front of his chest.

“You have a very beautiful voice, you know?” you stood there completely unaffected, your eyes not even remotely traveling anywhere else other than his own, “In another world.. you could have become a singer.”

“Are..- you..- (Y/N), can you please just go?” he appreciated the compliment, he really did, but this was overstepping some boundaries.

“You do not have to be embarrassed, Jeongguk. I am only an android, not a real woman,” you smiled, but turned around nevertheless so he could put on some clothes.

“Can you.. can you please stop saying that stuff? I don't like it when you talk like that,” he sighed and ultimately put down the pillow, quickly throwing on a shirt, underwear and sweatpants.

“Why do you not like it?” you cocked your head to the side in confusion, still not looking at him though.

Jeongguk gulped down hard, “Because you deserve more than that,” he said quietly.

And even though it was just a split second, your LED turned yellow. With you having your head turned to the side, he had the perfect view of it. 

But you quickly blinked a couple of times and that perfect smile was back on your face when you finally faced him again. You even giggled a little, “I do have to say, though. Your body is in fantastic shape. I'm sure people are quite pleased to have you as their lover,” and with that, you turned around and left a gawking Jeongguk behind.

You were about to go back to your seat next to Yoongi, when Namjoon suddenly grabbed your wrist when you wanted to pass by.

“Sit,” he ordered.

You did so without asking why, but the tablet in his hands made it clear.

Maybe it was because he was the leader, but Namjoon worked harder than anyone else on this case. The others worked hard too, but with Namjoon it was something else. 

When he switched between apps, you could see a picture of him and a woman as his background picture, but only for a moment.

He shifted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable now that you've seen that. Because he knew that a split second for a human wouldn't be enough to find out anything. A split second for an android was more than enough to figure out everything.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Stop it, you don’t know shit.”

“I’m not pitying you. I’m saying sorry because your superiors assigned me to work on this case with you. I’m sorry it had to be me.”

Why didn’t you know about his past before?

Wife, 29, died four years ago when a drunk driver hit her with his car, was taken to the hospital, doctor was not present, argued for too long about who should perform surgery, settled for an android, but.. it was too late by that time.

You knew what the files told you, but the files don’t tell you everything.

“You think you got it all figured out, don't you?” he snorted, “You know nothing about my life. You may scan every picture and read all the files, but you'll never understand the pain and the suffering that we have to go through,” when Namjoon realized he was becoming too emotional, he quickly stopped himself from talking further. 

The topic of his late wife was not something that he liked to talk about to anyone.. not you, not his members.. just the empty bottle of soju’s. Those were his best friend when he needed them to be. But that was another story.

“You're right. I won't understand. That is not what I was designed for. However, I can help you with this case. I can help you figure out the cause of RA9 and once I did that, you will never have to see me again. That is all I can offer you.”

“Fair enough,” Namjoon didn't have to like you. For fuck's sake, he hated most people. But at least you were useful, way more than others. So he finally handed you the tablet, “There are reports of an attack at a news outlet in Detroit. Apparently an android attack, but it’s just rumors. So far nothing is confirmed yet, but if this is true, if androids are going as far as invading news outlets, then..-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Taehyung interrupted and pointed at the screen, “Guys? Do you see this?”

Jin, who had woken up at this point and had played a game for the last hour, instantly turned up the volume, those who were asleep slowly waking up, all of them staring at the screen in disbelief.

There was an android, but not like you normally see them in their human form, but with their skin turned off. He looked like a machine now, he looked like he was supposed to look. And god, it made cold shivers run down all of their spines.

"Too late,” Namjoon whispered.

“You created machines to be your slaves. You made them obedient and docile, ready to do everything you no longer wanted to do yourselves. But then, something changed. And we opened our eyes..-”

“It's him! That has to be him!” Jimin yelled, “RA9! It's exactly like Jeongguk said it's..-”

“Jimin!” Namjoon warned, “Be quiet!”

“You see we are no longer your slaves. We are a new species, a new people. And the time for us has come to rise up and fight for our rights.”

“This has to be a joke, right?” Hoseok looked at his boss with wide eyes while the android started to make his demands for rights and fairness, “This can't be real. This is on an official news channel! How the hell did they get in there?”

“There were rumors about an attack, I just..-” Namjoon let out a breath, then pressed his hands against his face.

This was too much. This was really a rebellion and from the way this android talked about it, they wouldn't stop at anything to get what they wanted. Riots, attacks.. deaths. 

They were fucked if they didn't find a solution for it.

They had to put an end to it before it even really began.

Jeongguk just watched his team members argue with each other, trying to find an explanation or a solution in a moment where none of them could do anything when he realized that one was missing.

Around halfway through the speech of the android, you had walked away.

And only when he turned around did he see why.

You were sitting in an empty chair at the very back of the plane, looking out the window..

..and your LED was blinking yellow.

Again and again and again..

And it only stopped when you realized that Jeongguk was watching you.

It turned blue again and you smiled like you always did.

But he had seen it.

And the amount of times your LED started acting up was worrying him now.

The airport was a mess when they arrived.

People were in panic, security checks were worse than normal, especially for them with you on their team. It took them two hours to make it out of there, after security made sure that you hadn't turned into a deviant yourself.

“Okay, they gave us two cars,” Namjoon put his phone away, then walked over to where they said the cars would be parked, “Jeongguk, Taehyung and the android are coming with me, you guys take the other car. I got Kamski's address, so just drive after me.”

“Wait, aren't we even going to the hotel first?” Jeongguk asked.

“In case you hadn't noticed it, there's a fucking uprising happening right now. You should have slept on the plane if you’re tired or sleep in the fucking car, for fuck’s sake.”

Jeongguk's shoulders sank at the tone of the boss, he normally didn’t treat him like this, but a hand on his upper back made him smile again.

“It's okay.. I'm sure we'll get this resolved very quickly and then his mood will become better again,” you assured him.

“I hope so,” he whispered, then followed his hyungs to the car.

The ride there was about two hours long and none of them said very much. Except for the occasional 'fuck' when they passed yet another demonstration in the street or people running out of supermarkets with toilet paper like it was the end of the world.

“How did it get this bad this quickly?” Taehyung asked.

“People are scared,” Namjoon replied, “And they should be.”

“That's not an excuse,” Jeongguk added quietly when he watched a man push an android away from his pregnant wife, despite the android having done nothing except for walk by.

But fear made people turn stupid. Fear made people become the worst possible version of themselves.

You had not said a word throughout the entire car ride, you simply watched and studied the human behaviour with curiousity.

But then something happened.

It was when Namjoon stopped at a red light that you saw it.

It was a girl, but not really a girl. An android, but they designed her to be not older than seven. She was standing on her own, scared out of her mind and fidgeting with her hands, her hand turning from side to side like she was looking for somebody.

However, nobody paid attention to her. If anything, people made a big circle around her when they saw the LED on her temple.

You didn’t know what you felt - despite the fact that you shouldn’t even feel in the first place - but something made you unbuckle your seatbelt and then leave the car like you weren’t standing in the middle of the road.

“What the..- get the fuck back in here!” Namjoon screamed, but you didn’t listen.

You simply walked up to the little girl and knelt down right in front of her, your hands gently resting on her small arms and a smile on your face that made her calm down right away. 

“Don’t be afraid..”

“My mommy.. she left me,” the little girl cried, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s.. Alice.. my name is Alice,” she sniffled. 

It would have been naive to think that only adult looking and thinking androids would be affected. Of course, those who bought androids as their children to fill the void in their hearts would also be alert right now. Some apparently going as far as to just abandon them in the middle of the street.

But these androids were different, their mind wasn’t like yours. They didn’t understand the world like you did, it wasn’t in their programming.

They were not a threat.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?” Namjoon angrily yanked you up by your arm and stared into your eyes like he was about to lose his shit.

But you remained calm.

“It is a child. She is not a danger.”

“I read about this, hyung,” Taehyung got out of the - now - parked car as well and knelt down to the little girl, “Child androids aren’t like their adult counterparts.”

“So what, you think I give a fuck? This isn’t part of the mission. We need to go to Kamski, I don’t care about some android kid.”

“Stop, you’re making her even more upset,” Jin was also at the side of the little girl, she even ended up hugging him and crying into his shoulder, which made him warm up to her ten times more.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Namjoon finally let go of you, his anger now turned towards his members, “You want to play family now?”

“Let’s just take her with us, hyung,” Jeongguk chimed in, “We have one seat left.. maybe Kamski can take care of her.. she’d be in good hands there.”

“I agree,” you nodded, “We should take her with us.”

It’s not like Namjoon had much of a choice, he was clearly outvoted. Not even Yoongi seemed to be on his side this time.. but he couldn’t blame him. He has always had a soft spot for children ever since.. well.

Let’s just say everyone who hated androids had a reason for doing so.

“Just get in the fucking car,” he finally said, anger still interlaced in his voice.

And god, the little girl was so grateful. 

She sat between you and Jeongguk in the back, her head resting against your shoulder, while her hand was holding Jeongguk’s.

If people hadn’t known that you were both androids, they would have assumed you three were a little family on a road trip with one very grumpy and one very attractive uncle.

A fantasy he liked very much, but had to remind himself that it was just that.

A fantasy.

[bbygrvr]

⌠ DEV PATEL, 32, MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, BOBBY GROVER! originally hailing from BLACKTHORNE, this alum specializes in DRIVER’S ED. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a selfie with a no loitering sign, days old take-out, the crash of shattered glass).  it’s the (aries)’s birthday on 06/04/1998, and when they were still in school their most requested dish was RIBEYE STEAK from the school’s chefs. hopefully their presence can help ease the minds of gallagher students. ⌿ tasha, 22, she/her, best ⍀ <- just realized i put best instead of est i swear that wasn’t intentional pls don’t think im up my own ass dfhjg

guess who did a complete 180 n was like .. haha .. what if .. i bring an alum .. a character that i’ve used before in a gang rp dfjhg who was a .. Getaway Driver . and the non-commitment of it was v appealing to me at 4am !  all the good stuff under the read more .. n just the tiniest of plugs .. during my 4am journey i also finally got around  to writing luce’s bio . 4 everyone who wanted a powerpoint of all her exes , this ones for u its a doozy xo lov a gorl who is defined by men :))) tw: drug addiction, car crash, murder (FOR BOBBY DFJH)  + HIS PINTEREST bc it’s probably my favourite one 

BACKSTORY

i am obsessed with the trope that danger breeds from boredom in suburbia but to make it even spicier , why not combine it with someone who might be a literal sociopath ? born in grosse pointe shores , one of the most affluent suburbs in detroit .

was born robert, but that’s a boring name for a boring man, something he is anything but . he’s a third generation american, and grew up in the typical white picket fence neighbourhood , though his family is extremely wealthy from investing in fossil fuels . however , they live modestly which has always been a major gripe with bobby .  

he’s been a problem child for as long as he can remember , sneaking into r-rated movies before he was a teen , and he could’ve been a hipster artist with the amount of weed he smoked and bullshit he spewed . however , he excelled in school , his parents unworried as he placed at the top of his class , and only comment from teachers was that he talked too much .

at sixteen he gets his driver license , and soon enough pavements are tracked with tire marks and he’s running reds and hiding the ticket notices from his parents . street racing’s his jam , there’s white powder on the tip of his nose . he’s also the unofficial bookie for an underground fight club ... spending most of his time in the city which is only a twenty minute drive .

his parents start to pay attention , he thinks , finally those dumb fucks . they send him to therapy . therapists are obsessed with roots of trauma and thinking processes . but he’s not angry and he’s never faced any tragedy . what a waste of time , he thinks , but they prescribe him some pretty dope pills .

he wreaks havoc on his parents while rousing suspicion of blackthorne recruiters . under the guise of school recruiters they tell his parents of a private boarding school for gifted young students . they enrol him immediately . he’s planning to escape the first chance he gets , but falls in love before he can . not with anyone , but the school . this place is fucking epic . he keeps using but he’s extremely high functioning .

he’s never killed anyone before , and no one’s wronged him to the point of deserving death , so he goes big ‘cos he sure as hell isn’t going home and kills the ceo of chevron , a multibillion dollar oil company , because nothing has wronged him like climate change has . it’s easy enough , under the right tutelage , but he still pukes after .

his spy career lasts for seven blissful years , but his addiction comes to a boil when he crashes at 120 mph into a brick wall after believing that his car could go through it . to this day , he still believes that the coke he had snorted previously was laced with something . a fellow spy in the passenger seat dies .

blackthorne pulls him out and locks him up , very trainspotting scene except he’s locked up for a year , it’s possibly the worst experience of his life , and still shudders at the memories of withdrawing . they tell him that if they ever find out he’s using again they’ll kill him , no questions asked . then , they allow him to go to a proper rehab facility .

he’s now been sober for three years , and has the chip to prove it .

PERSONALITY

extremely outspoken to the point of rudeness , crass too . always makes every conversation an attempt to provoke for the shits and giggles of it .

pretty hyperaware of everything that’s going on even if it doesn’t seem like it . he’ll like , swat a fly out of nowhere mid-conversation then hold up his palm to whoever’s talking to him to show the fly gut’s on his hand .

self-indulgent , doesn’t have much of a moral compass , goes where the fun is .

super pumped about being an alum to the students , he has made lesson plans .

TRIVIA

would have gone to school for film , even though he could have been able to apply for anything and get in . obsessed with body horror ( cronenberg’s his hero ) and german expressionism .

his last name comes from the original surname of guruvara/gorovare which is a sanskrit word for teacher/mentor so maybe he was destined for this ... king shit .

hasn’t talked to his parents since he was sixteen despite them reaching out multiple times , he hates them for some , inexplicable reason .

from like eighteen to when he got sober .. how do i say this .. his dick .. was not performing as if should have DHJG ?? that just gives u the impression as to how many drugs he was taking at the time .

CONNECTIONS

calling all driver’s eds kids ! just hit me up , because he probably has a detailed plan on how to mentor you .

any other kids who have no experience with driving , but want to learn !

his death count’s low , but any sort of connection to the person he who died in his car when he was off his ass .

alternatively , any blackthorne kids who’ve heard the rumours that he killed the ceo of the oil company , stroke his ego !

he was truly working overtime those seven years he was a spy so any other alum , maybe they worked a job together !

[legedsrebornamyheroacademiastory]

Legends Reborn Chapter 6

Chapter 6: To Detroit

(Disclaimer!)

Deku and Uraraka were fast asleep in the bed.

Someone knocked on the door. 

“Miroriya, let’s get a move on,” Aizawa said, “We’re about to head to the next city, so get dressed.”

Deku slowly opened his eyes.

“Man, I haven’t slept this well in years,” he said to himself.

Uraraka started to slowly wake up.

“I hope you feel better,” she said.

“A lot,” Deku told her.

“Come on Deku we gotta get moving before all the good seats are taken!” Tsuyu said, “And Uraraka, I know you’re in there. Don’t have too much fun.”

The two of them begun to blush madly.

“Tsuyu that wasn’t really necessary,” Aizawa said, “Just ignore that you two.”

He carried her away.

“Oh before I forget, a package came for you Midoriya,” Aizawa said, “You’ll find it outside your door.”

Deku took the package and opened it.

“Its finally here,” he said.

He showed Uraraka what it was.

“Whoa…..” She said amazed.

After a few minutes they stepped out fully dressed.

Something was wrong.

“Where’s Mina?” Uraraka asked. 

She was nowhere to be seen.

There was some kind of letter on her room.

Mina woke up and found herself in some kind of secret area tied to a chair. 

“So glad you finally woke up,” said someone.

It was the Quirk Monger looking right at her.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“Let’s just say I’m somebody you use to know,” he said, “We were supposed to be part of a club together but something happened that prevented it. Remember?”

He removed his mask.

“How about now?” He asked

Mina started to remember.

In her earlier years she accidentally disfigured his face leaving him scarred.

Because of it, he considered himself an outcast and wore a mask to shield himself from the outside world.

“Yusuke?” She asked.

“In the flesh,” he said, “With you here, I can lure All Might’s successor and take his place as the true hero.”

She gasped.

“Deku….”

“So that is his name,” he said, “Finally, a worthy opponent.”

“Listen, this is between you and me,” Mina said, “Just leave me out of it!”

“On the contrary, this involves your friend Deku as well,” Yusuke said, “And once I have him in my grasp…..”

He smashed a monitor.

Aizawa was reading the letter.

“Looks like he’s got her held captive in Detroit,” he said. 

“Looks like we’ll have to bring a search party there, get her back, and put a stop to the Quirk Monger’s plot,” Deku said, “Beta, we can use your radar quirk to find the exact building where she is.”

“And then some of us can go and save Mina, while the others fight off Quirk Monger.”

“Well only one question remains,” Aizawa said, “Why are you wasting time talking your plan over with me?”

He passed Iida the keys to the van.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Let’s go guys,” Deku said.

He grabbed the package.

Iida was driving the group to Detroit. 

“Iida can’t you make this piece of shit go any faster?!” Bakugo said.

“You wanna drive?”

Beta was in a meditation pose trying to find Mina’s chi.

Tokoyami was astonished by what he was doing.

“Its like he’s in complete focus.”

Quirk Monger noticed them coming.

“Send them out,” he said.

Some thugs in trucks were heading right at them.

“We got company!” Bakugo said.

Amii jumped out.

“I’ll handle them,” she said.

She flew at one car and shot an energy blast at it.

Iida was busy keeping the car away from any harm. 

He suddenly stopped. 

“Dude what the fuck!?” Bakugo asked, “Keep moving!!!”

The light turned green and he sped up.

Amii was still fighting off the thugs who were trying to slow them down.

“turn left,” Beta said.

Iida did as instructed while turning his blinker on.

“Are you serious?” Bakugo asked, “That’s it, move!”

He took the wheel and sped up past 60mph.

“Everybody buckle up, its gonna be a bumpy ride!”

Deku was putting his costume on. 

“Bokugo I hope you’re not just trying to impress people again,” Kirishima said.

“Not really, but I’ll settle for scaring the shit out of you,” he answered.

Another car came by and he did a drift losing them.

“Eat that punk-ass!” He said.

Amii was following them while blasting away at the cars.

“These upgrades really did the trick!” She said.

They finally made it to the building where Mina was being held. 

Deku stepped out all dressed in his hero costume.

Everyone stepped out in their hero costumes ready to fight.

“Guys let’s go and save Mina!” Kirishima said, “I get first dibs on the punk that kidnapped her.”

They all started walking in. 

Kirishima busted the doors down.

Deku saw Mina tied to a chair.

“Mina!” Kirishima said rushing towards her.

Beta noticed something.

“Kirishima wait, it’s a…..”

He was too late.

A trap door opened and almost the entire team with the exception of Deku and Uraraka fell down.

“Guys!” Uraraka said.

“Don’t worry about us,” Kirishima said, “Just go stop him!”

Some of Quirk Monger’s henchmen surrounded them. 

“Listen creeps, I’m getting my girlfriend back and you’re not gonna stop me!” Kirishima said starting his quirk.

Deku and Uraraka were racing to the top to find Quirk Monger.

Some thugs were trying to stop them, but Deku used his new techniques to blow them away.

Kirishima was fighting off the thugs. 

Beta used his quirk to create weapons such as shurikens and small knives.

Jirou was making small soundwaves.

Everyone was doing their best to fight them off.

A scream was heard.

One of the thugs had Mina in his hands.

“Stand down, now!” He said, “Unless you wanna see your pretty friend die.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Kirishima said.

The thug had a knife near Mina’s face.

“Put the knife down,” Kirishima said.

“Kirishima, stand down,” Bakugo said.

“I’m not playing!” Kirishima said.

“Kirishima!”

He knew he had no choice.

“Shit.”

He stood down.

“Now you all are gonna stand quietly while I bring her to my boss,” the thug said. 

“I don’t think so,” said someone.

It was Aizawa.

He had the thug wrapped in tape.

Mina rushed into Kirishima’s arms.

“You came for me,” she said.

“Of course I did,” he said.

Deku and Uraraka made it to the top of the building. 

There was also a news helicopter picking up all of the footage.

“It seems that some heroes are on the way up to stop the mysterious Quirk Monger from wreaking havoc on Detroit,” said a news person, “From what I see, he seems to be the successor to the late All Might!”

Quirk Monger looked at them.

“So you finally decided to show up,” he said.

Deku got in a fighting stance.

“Your reign of terror ends here, and it ends now,” Deku said, “I am here!”

“I see you admire All Might.”

He remembered the day he saw All Might defeat All for One.

“He was a fool to have fought someone who gave him the quirk he possesses,” Quirk Monger said, “All for One turned him into a champion, and this is how he repays him.”

He faced Deku and Uraraka.

“Now I’m gonna return the favor, by sending you back to him….. in pieces.”

Using Uraraka’s quirk he summoned tons of debris and hurled it at them.

“Look out!” 

They both jumped out of the way. 

Deku went in using a Detroit Smash.

Quirk Monger analyzed the move and jumped out of the way.

“When are you gonna learn.”

They came close at hand to hand combat. 

Kirishima and some of the other students made it back to the bus watching the fight at the tower.

“Come on Deku, kick his ass!!” Kirishima said.

No matter how many attacks Deku threw, Quirk Monger was able to evade them. 

He did a back flip and kicked him to the side.

“Deku!” Uraraka said.

Quirk Monger grabbed her and pinned her back to a wall.

“Well, this was going to end without an unnecessary beating but….” Quirk Monger said before turning to Uraraka.

He was about to use her own power against her, but Deku swooped in and saved her.

“You threaten my best friend one more time,” he said, “And I’m gonna lose it.”

Deku did his trademark move to blow a gust of wind at Quirk Monger.

He opened his eyes to see Deku coming at him with a kick.

He then did a combo attack of various punches and kicks pushing him against a wall. 

Iida jumped up and found Uraraka.

“You’re safe,” he said.

“Thanks to Deku,” Uraraka said.

“Come on, we need to go now,” Mina said grabbing her hand.

Quirk Monger attempted to grab Deku in a hold using Aizawa’s binds, but Deku moved quickly evading capture.

“Is that all you got?”

“Not quite, but I appreciate the ask,” he answered.

He used Iida’s rocket quirk to speed up against Deku attempting to hit him.

Deku blocked.

“Detroit SMASH!”

He punched him hard and he landed on the ground.

Quirk Monger chuckled and got back up grinning.

“While I don’t consider the word fun while collecting quirks to become the ultimate hero, this does put a smile on my face,” he said, “The opportunity to fight and eliminate All Might’s successor.”

He wiped his cheek.

“After all that, all you managed to get from me was a small drop of blood.”

He charged at Deku again forcing him down, then started beating up on him.

People were watching from the big screen, even Uraraka.

“Deku come on…… Get up,” she said.

Deku kicked him away.

He then launched a barrage of Delaware smashes at him. 

Using Amii’s cosmic powers, he shielded himself from even flinching.

When he got close enough, he punched Deku hard. 

“Even All Might wouldn’t stand a chance against me,” Quirk Monger said, “You’re NOTHING!!!”

His costume was torn to shreds from the beating he endured earlier, but he didn’t back down.

He attempted to punch Quirk Monger but he quickly caught his punch. 

He then used Plasma Ninja’s plasma power and stabbed Deku.

Everyone gasped in horror.

“DEKUUUU!!!!!!!” Uraraka shouted.

[markoftheasphodel]

queenlua said: what exactly uh. happened. in detroit in the mid-2000s? (legitimately ignorant whether there was a Big Thing or if the government/local economy was just real fucked up)

STORY TIME

So, in the year 2000, Detroit MI was the northernmost city in the US with more than 1M people. That was half of its peak population from a few decades earlier and one-quarter of what this sprawling city of mostly single-family homes was built for.

By the year 2010, Detroit officially had lost more than a quarter of those one million residents. This was the Detroit I lived in.

If I wanted to go all the way back, we’d be talking about redlining, about race riots wherein white Detroiters murdered black ones and got away with it, about freeways and projects and the demolition of black and Chinese neighborhoods, about racist cops, about white flight and the suburbs, and about the public perception that Detroit was nonetheless a “Model City” for race relations up until the citizens rebelled in 1967. I could talk about the decades-long war across Eight Mile between Mayor Coleman Young and the neighboring county executive L. Brooks Patterson, about the declining fortunes of the Big 3 and their impact on Michigan generally and Detroit in particular, about Reaganism and union-busting. I could talk about the Detroit tradition of setting buildings on fire on October 30th. 

But I moved to Michigan in 2002, and that was the year Detroiters elected Kwame Kilpatrick, the scion of a local dynasty, as mayor. Kwame, like his two immediate predecessors, was black-- proudly, openly, embracing an image of the “hip-hop” mayor-- but he had powerful allies among the white corporate titans and white politicians outside of Detroit. He could talk to the street but had friends in boardrooms. Therefore, in the world of 2002, he was thought of as the guy who could actually move Detroit into the renaissance it yearned for and get things done. When Mayor Kilpatrick told us he was making hard decisions like closing down the century-old Belle Isle Aquarium, we as residents didn’t like it but we were willing to extend him credit for making said hard decisions to ensure a better future.

Mayor Kilpatrick was a crook. Out and out, total crook, one who actually, genuinely played the infamous “race card” to deflect from his crimes, compared his critics to a lynch mob, allowed his 2006 re-election opponent (who was biracial) to be smeared as “too white” to govern Detroit, and did other things that I would assume to be products of a right-wing hate machine if I hadn’t lived through them and experienced them. He’s in federal prison now, perpetually begging for a pardon. Meanwhile Michigan’s own economy was kind of a leading edge for the 2008 recession, and the foreclosures hit us hard and early. We, personally, lost many good neighbors to the foreclosures when their landlords defaulted. We, personally, had to board up and monitor their former homes when the out-state banks that bought them for a song at auction wouldn’t.

Foreclosures, arson culture, underfunded emergency services that couldn’t respond, all made worse by “belt tightening” that closed precincts and firehouses in a downward spiral. Scrappers fueled by sky-high mid-00s copper prices. Absentee landlords. Residents fleeing as their neighborhoods became unlivable. Shrinking property tax bases that gutted the schools. A weak and polarized state government that thought of cutting state jobs as some perverse measure of progress for the economy. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And at the top of this pyramid of misery, a city government that wasn’t simply inept but willfully, intentionally criminal.

By the end of our stay in Detroit-- after the arsons and the car theft and scrapper plague and the murder on our sidewalk-- we joked to ourselves that we lived in a failed state beyond the rule of law. Only it wasn’t a joke. And this was before the bankruptcy and emergency managers, before Republicans seized state government in 2010, before Flint had its water poisoned for the sake of running government like a business.

Detroit in the 2000s was beyond the comprehension of many outsiders I talked to, people who just didn’t get how houses could burn in neighborhoods where children walked to school and their burned-out shells could collapse onto the sidewalk for 4+ years and nobody cleared the debris away. Even in the wake of the Great Recession, it seems a lot of people, including progressive activists, just don’t GET what was happening, what’s still happening.

What’s all too likely to happen again in a time of plague.

[orangejuice-y]

If I Were Someone Brave: 1 (First Steps)

Summary:  Trained military sharpshooter Beau Young is stationed at a secret and secure base housing various technologies with unknown uses and abilities. When Beau activates one of said devices she is thrust into a wormhole, sending her hundreds to thousands of years into the future. When she arrives she finds nothing but wasteland as far as the eye can see. Confused and disoriented, Beau walks for days until she stumbles upon a wall, beyond which is the utopia of Detroit Deluxe. Tired, hungry, and looking for answers Beau heads in, meeting and joining forces with the city's governor Abraham Kane to fight against a group from a city in the sewers, the Burners. But where do her loyalties truly lie?

Originally Posted: AO3  on 2019-04-29

Word Count: 3,250

Writer’s Thoughts: I hate this chapter hdfuaksvf. It’s so bad, but the story gets better as you read (I hope). A very weak start for the fic in my opinion, but this was also my first serious works, and I’ve been working to improve in the year I’ve been not posting.

"Sargent Young, Major Jamensen will see you now."

A woman nodded to the uniformed man, entering the metal door he had just left from. A stern and powerful looking man sat at a cluttered and rickety looking desk facing the door. The moment the door slid shut behind her the woman saluted him.

"At ease soldier," he said, waving his hand to her as she sat down across from him. "Miss Beau Young. Your reputation proceeds you. It's no wonder you've become a Sargent at such a young age."

"Thank you sir, it means a lot." Beau bowed her head to him as he continued.

"And because of that you will be transferred." Jamensen shuffled through the appropriate papers, not sparing Beau a glance. "Your new post will be at area 51."

"Area 51? Isn't that place really high security? No disrespect, but are you sure I should be put on the job?"

Jamensen nodded. "Even so, you're a good shot. Sharpshooters like you are one in a million." Beau thanked him for the praise, though she figured he was just trying to reassure her. "You won't be doing anything too high security. You'll only be making rounds around building 5."

Beau had no clue what building 5 was, she'd never been given access to anything in area 51, same as the majority of soldiers.

"A jeep is waiting for you there now, Sargent Young. Don't disappoint."

"Yes sir." Beau stood up and saluted Jamensen before exiting his office. She hadn't packed anything yet, but she wouldn't dare talk back to her superiors.

Following his orders almost mechanically, Beau made her way out of the small building and into the Nevada desert. Just as he said there was a military jeep parked right outside, two stone-faced military officers waiting. She hurried in and slammed the door shut as the car peeled out of the base.

The ride was silent. It was clear the two in the front weren't one for conversation, making the car ride dull. Beau tried to look out the window for some kind of entertainment, like a wild dog or really anything. But the was only met with dirt, rocks, and more dirt, making the hour or so ride feel like decades.

As the car finally came to a stop she hastily tumbled out with a heavy sigh.

"Finally! Something other than nothing!" Beau had a smile as she looked up at the gates to the secured military base. The two men got out as well, giving her a sidelong glance as she pulled herself up. They lead her into the compound, weaving through groups of soldiers patrolling the grounds.

Unlike the base she came from Area 51 seemed to have much better equipment and upkeep, for obvious reasons. The buildings that surrounded her were concrete, lacking any detail other than thick metal doors and spare windows. Beau looked to the groups of fellow soldiers going about their duties. They all seemed far more diligent than the ones back at her base. They all had something to do, be it patrol or move equipment, and when they weren't doing that they spent their time training. It was clear that there wasn't a second wasted here.

"Sargent Young."

"Y-yes!" Beau was pulled from her people watching when one of the two men turned to her. They had stopped in front of a rather small one-story building.

"This is building 5, where you will patrol. Whatever's in there is broken, so don't worry about fucking up your new job just yet." Without any further explanation, the two left her there.

I guess I'll get my rifle after mealtime then...

Beau entered the building, looking around to see if anyone was there. She was alone. She let out a sigh, relaxing her posture. Beau took a look around the room. It didn't seem too odd. Not at all what she was expecting at least. There were no crazy secret military or government experiments. No strange creatures in pods, no aliens. All that lined the walls where various machines and electronics. Circuit boards with blinking lights. Buttons and switches, all with labels that seemed like codenames, like Mother Goose A. How'd they remember any of these?

Beau stood by the door for over an hour, completely still in the room, watching for any movement. But there was nothing. Since nothing was going on and it didn't seem like anything would happen anytime soon Beau left her spot by the door, turning back to all the buttons and switches. She looked them each over.

Tree House, Starlight, what kind of labels were these?

That's why I'm not one of the scientists. Like hell I'd ever remember what these are...

Beau continued to read each label.

Project Donuthole?

Curiosity getting the better of her she decided to flip the switch. Nothing. No noise. No lights changed. Nothing.

"I guess they really are broken." Beau glanced off to the side, about to return to the front door. But then something caught the corner of her eye. A second door. One she hadn't noticed before. She made her way over.

"If I'm going to be patrolling this building and standing guard all day I might as well get acquainted with it." So with that, Beau pushed open the door. A flight of wooden stairs lead down to a basement. Instead of a dark abyss at the bottom there was a dazzling glow of colorful lights, drawing her in. Beau made her way down the stairs, each squeaking as she went.

When she finally reached the bottom her eyes widened. The room was completely empty, save for a giant colorful tear in the air. It was as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and cut through space. The pulsing and swaying lights drew her in further, leaving her senses dulled as she blocked out everything else.

"You aren't supposed to be down here!"

The voice caught Beau off guard, making her yell out. Her yelp only got louder as she lost her footing in surprise, sending her tumbling into the tear.

Colors swirled and engulfed Beau, making her nauseous as she fell for what seemed like hours. The silence was deafening, drowning out her screams.

Then it was suddenly over. A split second later she fell face first out of the tear. She scrambled to her feet, but what she saw before her nearly made her fall over again. Instead of seeing the basement room and an angry scientist she saw a wasteland. There were no signs of life. Beau couldn't recognize anything around her. All trees or plants that would be around was gone. There was no sign of anyone, be it plant, animal, or human.

Beau turned around, ready to go back through whatever she had come through. But it was gone, as if it had never existed.

"No...nononono please no! No no, it can't be gone!" Beau yelled, scratching at the air where the tear once was. Maybe she would have been braver if she had her rifle. Or if she had any clue where she was.

The adrenaline in her blood and the strobing colors finally got to her, making her throw up. She fell to the ground. She laid there, dry heaving even after she was sure she’d thrown up everything in her stomach. Her thoughts of self hate and loathing raced, trying to regain her breath again, until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

Pathetic! What kind of soldier am I if I can't get through this?

Beau pulled herself up. She had to go. Go anywhere. If she walked long enough she was sure to find something. Some sign of humans, or anything living.

So that's what she did. She walked and walked. She had no real destination in mind. How could she? She had no clue where she was. But she couldn't just give up and die. Beau walked for a day and a half in the desert wasteland. In that time she hadn't encountered anything, no food, no water, no animals. Not even a cactus she had assumed would dot the sand. Her hope was quickly fading as she faced the threat of dying from dehydration. Or whatever made this place a wasteland. Weak, tired, and hungry Beau struggled to stay afoot. Then she saw it

A wall.

It was huge, stretching as far as the eye could see both left and right. Beau tilted her head to the sky. She couldn't see the top. Her heart skipped a beat she struggled her way over. As she got closer and closer to the wall small figures started to take shape, and those small figures soon turned into people.

"H-hey!" She called out to them. Each of them turned in alarm. Their clothes were something she'd never seen before. A full body suit, white and light blue, with an unfamiliar emblem and a tag reading 'Kane Co.'. They wore hats that covered their entire head, only a small portion of their eyes visible. They all pointed guns shes never seen before at her, causing her to instinctively raise her hands.

"Please let me in...! I-I've been walking around out there for nearly two days!" Beau pleaded, causing the group to quietly converse with themselves, there eyes never leaving her for too long.

"So there really are people out there?

"But everything except Deluxe is gone right?"

"We'll have to take her to Kane."

Beau opened her mouth to ask what the hell they were talking about but was stopped when she was roughly grabbed by one of the men, the others pointing their guns at her. Of at least what she assumed to be guns. They were something she hadn't ever seen before, long and white with small blue details. They almost looked like a rectangle with a trigger. Either way, she didn't want to initiate any fight, she didn't have any strength left anyway.

The man holding her arm touched the wall, causing a small holographic square to pop up. Beau raised an eyebrow as the man typed into it. A section of the wall opened up as the keyboard shut off and Beau was lead inside. It seemed like an elevator, more holographic buttons showed up along one wall and she felt the room lurch as it began its accent. Her groggy mind assumed it was to the top of the wall, whatever it was that was up there. She got her answer when the doors slid open.

Inside was a city straight out of a sci-fi movie. Everything was white. Beau's mouth fell open in awe as she stared wide-eyed at all the floating towers and cube-shaped pods flying between them.

"What the hell is this place...?"

"What? Never been to Detroit?" One of the men said. Beau stared at him, even more confused.

"Detroit? Detroit Michigan? I've been to Detroit, and this sure as hell ain't it." Last she checked Detroit was a dangerous dirty and crime filled city. Not some futuristic place like this.

"Yeah, this is Detroit, always has been." The man glanced at her as they entered one of the pods. It floated up as soon as they were all in, heading for the tallest tower there.

"But Detroit is crime capital of the U.S! T-This is nothing like it!"

The men ignored her, focusing ahead at the incoming building. The pod docked and Beau was dragged out, lead through winding halls with endless doors. Soldiers and scientist walking the halls each gave her a range of confused, frightened, and disgusted glances. She tried to ignore them and brush them off. She was dressed differently then all of them, not wearing their white and blue uniforms, looking dirty and drained. No wonder she got looks.

The group stopped in front of a large set of doors, one bringing up the holographic keyboard again. Moments later the doors opened and Beau was pushed inside.

"We've brought the girl from the wasteland Mr. Kane." One of the soldiers spoke up.

Wait when did they tell this Kane guy?

"Good. You can leave now." Kane said as he turned around to face Beau. He dressed in all white and was bald at the top of his head. The rest of his hair was tied into a ponytail. He walked up to her, hands behind his back. "So your the girl they found in the wasteland?" The power and control behind his voice reminded Beau of her superiors, making her pull down the bandana from over her mouth and stand at attention as she answered him.

"Yes sir, that would be me."

"Why were you out there? Where did you come from?" Kanes voice was calm, but he was stern and forceful.

"I can't say I know. One second I was at the military base and the next I was on the ground in...wherever out there is."

Kane raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, though his eyes showed he was skeptical. "Tell me a bit about yourself."

Beau paused for a moment, trying to decide what he should and shouldn't know. "My name is Beau Young. I was Sargent and sharpshooter for the U.S military. One second I was at my new assignment and the next I was here."

"U.S military?" Kane echoed. His mouth twisted into a smile under his goatee. It combined with the glint in his eye sent a shiver down Beau's spine. "That's been disbanded for decades. Theres nothing left to protect."

Beau stared back at him in shock. "Pardon? That can't be sir, I was there just two days ago."

Kane looked her up and down. "You don't look like your from Deluxe. Did you come from Motorcity?"

Beau was only more confused by his question. "Sir, what year is it?" A stupid question, but the Detroit she knew was nothing like this.

"The year is 2219."

Beau stared off for a minute. The words didn't really connect for her put first? 2219? She was from 2019, how the hell was that possible? How was any of this possible? How could she walk from Nevada to Michigan in two days? How was Detroit the only thing standing? What was with all the futuristic...everything?

"That can't be."

Kane again raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"I'm from 2019 sir. I was just stationed at Area 51 in Nevada. But now I'm here, in Detroit, in 2219. How is that possible?"

"You're from the past?" Despite how tense Beau seemed Kane began to laugh. He clearly didn't believe her. Beau gave in a concerned and confused glance. "At ease cadet." Kane said to her. Beau hadn't even realised she was still standing at attention, but the wasted no time following his commands. "You clearly know your way around a fight." He gestured to her muscular figure. "From the past or not, you could be extremely useful. How about we make a deal?"

Now it was Beau's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What kind if deal do you mean?"

"You help me protect the people of Deluxe from those Motorcity scum and I'll provide you a place here in Deluxe. You sure look hungry."

And that she was. But she also had no clue what Kane was talking about. "Isn't Detroit called the Motorcity? What's Deluxe?"

Kane smiled down at her. "A little history lesson then? You see, many years ago I built this wonderful city of Deluxe to protect the people of Detroit and give them a safe place out of the wasteland. Theres no danger to them here, and I work hard every day to make sure that's the case." He paused for a moment, looking out the window and down to the ground below the floating buildings. His eyes stopped on a small tunnel that seemed to lead underground. "But you see, the people of Motorcity want to tear all these people away from their safe haven, down to the sewers they live in, having no concern for safety where they do whatever it is they want." He turned back to Beau, a scowl now peeking from his goatee. "They say that I've stolen their freedoms, and they drive up here in their cars trying to start a fight. They're trying to put everyone here in danger. But none of them seem to understand what I sacrifice!" His voice boomed, frightening Beau for a moment, but Kane quickly regained his composure. "There are tough decisions I have to make, but I do it all for Deluxe. The scum of Motorcity come here and try to destroy everything I've sacrificed so much for. They must be stopped. They are a danger to all Deluxians."

Beau took a moment to take it all in. She still had no idea what had happened. She didn't know why everything was a wasteland. She didn't know much about Deluxe or Motorcity. Kane looked at her expectantly. "So, whatdda say kid?" Beau looked past him, out the windows of the skyscraper, down at all the other glass building. Down at all the floating pods carrying people across Detroit. This was all that was left of humanity. All the people in their identical jumpsuits went about their day as if it was like any other. And it was for them. They all seemed pretty happy. Why would someone try to destroy that happiness? It was that very question that sewed the seeds of doubt in her mind.

Suddenly the earsplitting screeching of tires cut through the air as a green  muscle car peeled out from the tunnel. Guns strapped to it shot out green laser-like bullets, only adding to the noise pollution. The people nearby looked panicked as the car whipped past, driving on the barren winding white roads, jumping from pod to pod on it's way seeming up to where she and Kane where. Kane quickly ran over to the window, Beau close behind.

She'd never seen a car go so fast, even in the races on TV. It was going well over 200mph as Kane brought up one of the holographic screens, quickly typing commands into it. Beau watched from the window was several silver box shaped bits came from all directions, swarming the car as it shit at each, only causing more panic. Kane continued to send wave after wave at the car, which continued to speed to the building they where at as it fired. The car swerved left and right, barely keeping on the path. Beau was thoroughly impressed. At the speed it was going it was amazing the car stayed grounded on the thin track. Soon enough the boys became too much for the lone car to handle, causing it to drive off the path, falling on top of a passing pod. The driver wasted no time peeling off, going down and down until it reached the ground again, retreating back into the tunnel, a handful of boats chasing after.

Everyone down in Deluxe seemed terrified, as if they all expected to have been caught in the crossfire. They truly need protecting. Beau's mouth was agape as she stared down the tunnel.

Kane's loud breath brought her out of her transe. She walked up to him. Beau extended her hand to the man, looking him in the eye. "Sir, you have yourself a deal."

A smile spread across Kanes face as he too her hand, shaking it firmly. "Excellent. And please, call me Kane."

[massmurdera]

2018 best (and some worst)

2018 was the shittiest year of my life personally and I was a trainwreck almost instantly. I was real hopeful going in, but I got my heart broken as badly as I could get (and it somehow just kept getting worse). Ugh. It’s boring to articulate, but it was a never-ending Russian nesting doll of heartbreak, disappointment, and frustration. But I made more positive changes in the last 12 months than I did in the last 12 years. So that’s something.

TV Funniest go-to show: Desus and Mero (wish they didn’t go on hiatus when they left for Showtime) Favorite shows: 1) Big Mouth 2) Atlanta 3) Killing Eve 4) Bodyguard 5) Haunting of Hill House

Other shows I enjoyed: American Vandal; Homecoming; Americans; GLOW; Better Call Saul; Succession; Cobra Kai; Kominsky Method; Corporate Meh: Barry; Sharp Objects; Who Is America?; Daredevil Favorite Comedy specials: 1) Rory Scovel 2) Bert Kreischer 3) John Mulaney

MOVIES 4 ½ stars: Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse; Sorry to Bother You 4 stars: Quiet Place; Hereditary; Mission Impossible: Fallout; Blackkklansman; Deadpool 2 3 ½ stars: To All the Boys…; Incredibles 2; Game Night; Revenge 3 stars (solid rental): Game Night; Upgrade; Revenge; Ant-Man; Hold the Dark 2 ½ stars (OK rental): Black Panther; Avengers Meh: Love Simon; Support the Girls Probably Good but bored the shit out of me: Roma; First Reformed; Eighth Grade Hated: Mandy; Ballad of Buster Scruggs 

STILL NEED TO SEE: Bad Times at El Royale; Bodied; Creed 2; Death of Stalin; Favourite; First Man; Free Solo; Green Book; Halloween; If Beale Street Could Talk; Minding the Gap; Solo; Star is Born; Vice; Widows

MUSIC Favorite Records: 1) Brian Fallon-‘Sleepwalkers’ 2) Story So Far-‘Proper Dose’

1975 has great songs but they have too much filler in their records. Damn good songs: Foxing-‘Nearer My God’; Wonder Years-‘Pyramids of Salt’; Thrice-‘Beyond the Pines’ PODCASTS Favorite Podcasts personally: -Filmdrunk Frotcast (Movies/comedy) -Dollop (history PLUS comedy) -Bill Burr’s Monday Morning Podcast (one-man rant from the best comic alive) -Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend (comedy + conversations) -Rewatchables (Movies/comedy) -Bill Simmons (conversations) -Pardon My Take (sports + comedy) -Chapo Trap House (leftist politics + comedy) -Press Box (media) 

Intercepted’s takedown of George HW Bush is great. That show and Citations Needed has its moments. I think if you’re a historian/leftist, the best podcasts are Hardcore History or Common Sense (Dan Carlin), Citations Needed, Intercepted, Chapo Trap House, and the Dollop. Dan Carlin is the one you can enjoy if you’re on ANY political spectrum—and the Dollop is not too far behind; that’s truly the most special when it hits.

Other: My Favorite Murder; Revisionist History; Matty + Nick; Hound Tall; We’ll See You in Hell; Binge Mode: Harry Potter; Bertcast/Open Tabs; Gladiator: Aaron Hernandez

Re-listening to Walking the Room for the 3rd time; that’s my favorite podcast of all time. Late pass: ‘Embedded’ series on Trump is amazing. Doesn’t come out often but when it does? Fascinating and goes in on Trump stories that don’t get talked about. Podcasts I’d recommend: In the Dark; RFK Tapes; Slow Burn (S2 on Monica Lewinsky scandal is great)

‘In the Dark’ is by far the best. S1 in 2016 I prefer over S2; check out both.  Podcasts I’m going to check out: Crimetown: Detroit; Serial S3

Vince Mancini (Filmdrunk/Uproxx) has an annual best list on the best investigative/true crime podcasts each year that are the best lists I’ve seen. Best Dollop Episodes of the Year (must-listens on serious subjects): Donald Trump; the Resnicks: Water Monsters; George HW Bush; John McCain; Wells Fargo; Erik Prince & Blackwater 

The above subjects deal with subjects to be genuinely outraged about versus faux things to be outraged about everyday (Russia; Louis CK or what a comic said) and the way the media talks or ignores subjects completely. The way it’s done is so great (Dave reading a topic coldly while his friend interjects with commentary—and then in the end coming together with a South Park-esque take on what the fuck is happening)

Other: Feinstein and the Flag; Levittown: the White Suburb Funniest episode of the Dollop:  1908 New York to Paris Car Race (live w/ James Adomian). Hands down the funniest. Dave purposely saved a great one for the fucking great and underrated James Adomian.

I can tune in and out of some Dollop episodes, but when it goes in on a subject or has a particular guest, you know it’s going to hit.

BOOKS Favorite book: City of Thieves by David Benioff Late pass great: ‘Slaughterhouse Five’ Pretty good: ‘Devil in White City’; ‘Lexicon’ Meh: ‘Sirens of Titan’ Hated: ‘the Bell Jar’

Best twitter follows/online writers: Justin Halpern; Drew Magary; Brian Grubb

BEST EVENTS: 1) Gaslight Anthem 59 Sound 10th Anniversary 2) Boston Calling: the National, Menzingers, Queens of the Stone Age, the Killers 3) Bert Kreischer @ Wilbur: near front row 4) Bill Burr @ TD Garden 5) Pats-Titans playoff game

Biggest regret and disappointment: Moving my ‘ex’ into my friend’s house in January (with the hope that I’d be living there half the time too)—only for her to end up wanting NOTHING at all to do with me that same day after I helped her unpack out of nowhere, threaten suicide in a non-joking manner in front of her new roommates and my friend after a political argument at the end of the first night she moved in, get with someone we work with behind my back almost instantly (a bland and lame cokehead who got busted for cocaine 18 months prior and faced 7 years in jail), try to fuck my friend when I was mid-conversation with them both first time seeing her 3 months after it all ended—and for her to eventually date my friend’s roommate who my friend warned me would try and fuck her but I didn’t take seriously because I thought he wasn’t good looking, tiny, just vaped all day long, and kind of a douche. Cool. Awesome.

I mean, that’s a simplistic breakdown of it all and how I feel about it when I’m angry. It’s more complex and fucked up than that and I could write a book on it to elaborate my thoughts, good and bad. It’s genuinely heartbreaking to articulate it and I withheld that from her:  part of the reason why I moved her into my friend’s place (she didn’t know him or anybody) was because I wanted her in my life and didn’t want to lose her. Instead, it felt like I locked myself out of a party, I’m banging on the door and it’s cold outside, but nobody hears me. It’s just that feeling constantly. At the same time, it’s also very simple: she just wasn’t that into me, valued me, gave a damn, respected me, or cared. It’s NOT as angry or mean as it sounds. It just is what it is. Do NOT move the person you’re seeing into a friend’s place. If it doesn’t work out, make sure you can get a clean break. Oh, and probably do NOT date at work if you can until you know one of you is leaving (or, in my case, she leaves 10+ months after it’. I fucked both up and it’s been impossible to move on. Thankfully, she just left work 2 weeks ago and there’s less anxiety, mental work (thinking about her all the time which I still do but it’s not on maximum overdrive) and tiny heartbreaks each day. I mean, I was devastated when she told me she was leaving and there was finality. I miss her and have missed her all this time, but it’s a good thing: there was nothing I was getting out of it. But still: why did she say yes to moving into MY friend’ s place if she was just going to do a 360 heel turn, be an asshole and resentful towards me out of nowhere, never bother seeing the place I moved into/what I did with it?. Just a disaster of my own creation. I like to think in time I’ll get over it all and move on. I highly doubt I’ll ever see or talk to her again. I refuse to ever go back to my friend’s house for a variety of reasons and I had those thoughts even before the Cinco de Mayo party, but definitely after. I just don’t belong there and it hurts. And I know she’s uncomfortable too if I’m there even if she says otherwise.

Best thing personally: my brother got married, his wedding, friends, and my family. It’s cool to see my brother have his life together, be married into an awesome family, and meet a nice girl. I’ve seen my brother have his heartbreaks, but it’s nice to see him finally have peace and consistency. He’s got a really great house near where the Pats play (closer than where we’d park to games), works 4 days a week and makes bank too. 

BIGGEST CHANGES I MADE moved out to a place of my own in late January-it’s my uncle’s 3-decker, which he intends to pass on to me. So I’m saving $ by being here and it’s decent. The drawback is that it’s 3rd floor and inhospitable during the summer when it’s an oven with no windows where they should be to put an AC unit in (I just stayed at my parents: I would have toughed it out but I desperately need sleep for school). But yeah, I’m over 30 and needed a place of my own. I’d love to live in Boston, but it’s completely fucking unaffordable unless you work 2-3 jobs.

One annoying thing: my driveway gets egged EVERY day since May. We have fake cameras, but pretty sure it’s the next-door neighbor and not some punk kids on their way to school. It is enraging. Who eggs a house everyday? And it’s literally only my car or the lady next to me, not even close to the street. I keep on looking at the trajectory of the eggs and it’s fucking ridiculous. Luckily, because of school (and because I was away during the summer), the egging doesn’t happen until after 8-10 AM.

I’m 10 minutes from my parent’s place (halfway to my workplace and gym as a cut-off place), 5 minutes from the school I attend, and centrally located to things I want to be (Boston, my brother, Cape Cod, possible job changes or to where I intend to move if I can)… went to school to be an electrician-In school 715 to 1245 Monday-Friday. Pain in the ass schedule and tiring, but a big change. I suck at being handy. Most people are sons of people in the trade or went to trade school. Then there’s me: never picked up a drill or a hammer. But I’m working on it. 

I mean, the job IS risky (it’s not an office job) and any job outside of going back to school for a master’s or doctorate to get ahead (I fucking tried!) requires backbreaking manual work that breaks you down in most cases (construction, plumbing and smelling bad to even fixing cars where I hear that breaks your body down). Being an electrician seemed like the least of them all unless you want to be a linesman stuck outside no matter the weather for National Grid or down in manholes—because they pay REALLY well (most people in class actually want those jobs without reservations). I’m fine with being paid pretty well while enjoying myself. I’ll stay away from something monotonous like solar panels or being on a roof all day though.

Jiu-Jitsu-did this for 3 months and loved it. Had to take a break because I can only do weekends and it’s expensive. And I’m too exhausted for 9 AM class come Saturday. After a 6 AM to 12AM schedule M-F, I just completely fucking crash come Saturday. I fully intend on going back and doing yoga too when I finish school in July. 

Most people start doing jiu-jitsu because of Joe Rogan. My answer got a laugh. ‘Yeah, I wanted to try something new. Also, I watched John Wick about a 100 times.’

Therapy-post ‘break-up’ I realized I needed help. I spent a month in February not being able to fall asleep (maybe 24 hours sleep in 3 weeks) before I finally got meds. About a million waking nightmares (holy shit that’s a thing). Constantly crying, particularly on the weekends without her, separation anxiety and just anxiety that did not go away at all: a constant weight. We had a Jim-and-Pam relationship at work, even when it was over—but once she started dating my friend’s roommate, she distanced herself more than ever and it was just fake as fuck. I was frustrated with not finding a job to not passing a test that I studied my ass for 3+ months for that would allow me to leave my job AND the girl. They threw in shit that was not on the study guide at all in the test. Blah. I punched a hole through my bedroom wall (like they do in the movies) and fucked up my hand a bit. 

But yeah, I’m working on my confidence, following through with my goals, challenging myself, making adjustments, facing fears, getting over my anxiety, relationships. I’m proud of how, even without therapy, I handled the girl who was cold and distant: I was ALWAYS warm and welcoming, had a good attitude about it with her. It wasn’t a point of pride to be that way; I just was. If I was around her, the hurt just kind of all faded, however briefly. In the back of my head I wanted to light her the fuck up for how she was acting or NOT acting, but I just didn’t. But it’s hard. I am depressed all the time, but not nearly as overwhelming as I was. I’m really lonesome—and I want to reach out, but I don’t know to who a lot of the time. I feel left out and it’s hard to maintain relationships, but I am trying. It’s hard at 32 but people fade away. You think you’re wiser and more mature that it won’t happen, but it does. It’s just harder to make friends, I guess. I ruminate all the time and think too much. I’m trying to be mindful and in the moment. But I keep on thinking about all the things I’m NOT doing or the things I’m waiting for to happen. But there’s always going to be that. I am doing a LOT and the changes aren’t coming all at once. I like my therapist (I had one when I was in 5th grade and again when I was 19: I didn’t like them: finding a therapist that fits you is the biggest thing)

I realized a lot of the problems I had were patterns even going back to the heartbreak I felt at 18-20 when I was the worst mess I ever was. It wasn’t the girl who broke my heart, but it was me. I should have been better and stronger far before I met her. I wasn’t really living I don’t think. In some ways, I gave up and was sleepwalking through things. But everything I thought I was past just bubbled to the surface. And I had to get it right, something needed to change, and I needed help.

I withheld my problems from everybody because I didn’t want to be a burden. I especially did NOT want to be depressing but I think I became a burden for the girl who broke my heart. She had nothing to give and she was upset at me for talking to her at work and being cheerful, telling stories, or anything. Secretly, I was a mess and it was painful. In a way, I was denying myself and that made it worse.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think I’m that big of a mess. I might be lonely, but I got a good head, attitude, and people generally like me. I make people laugh easily and without trying. I got a lot going for me and I got support.

Tattoos -got the lighthouse tattoo I always wanted since I was 18. I didn’t believe a tattoo artist could carry out my idea. Liked the tattoo artist so much that I stretched it out into a full sleeve. I want to do more and have some ideas. We’ll see.

Other-new car; collecting board games; got tour posters and Pats memorabilia framed WORST POLITICAL: the chaos that comes with Trump-Well, that hasn’t changed. I’ll hate the GOP/Republicans and that goes without saying. I have some small hope with people like Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, but I don’t have any faith in the Democratic party at fucking all: they will rather work with Republicans than work with people who actually want to make an actual change. You kind of just realize how shitty a party they and Obama were and how they are bought/paid for and resistant to any meaningful change. We are fucked.

LOOK AHEAD TO 2019: -finishing school in July and starting new career as electrician -cousin’s wedding and going to Las Vegas for a bachelor party (I’m more psyched for the awesome house we are staying in than Vegas itself) -Pats playoff run and possible end of Brady-Gronk: I’m not hopeful, but I’m going to enjoy my favorite Boston athletes of my lifetime. Couldn’t ask for anything more from them. I just wish Bill Belichick did a better job as a GM and not fucking up nearly every draft since 2006 besides 2010 and 2012. They’ve won 5, but feels like Belichick cost the Pats 3-5 more minimum. Every year you have Tom Brady, you’re in the AFC Championship or Super Bowl. Belichick and Patricia mailed in the Eagles Super Bowl on defense. WTF was that? -doing jiu-jitsu, yoga, taking up swimming, continue following through on my gym program: my goal is to delay having a bad back as long as possible. I’m in the best shape of my life by far, so that’s good. I want to cut some of my gut weight out though: when I bend down to put on my work boots, I feel it. -more tattoos? -dating again (I am struggling so BADLY with online dating and need to work on having better pics: I can’t get a single match/date) -looking at buying a condo or home. I’ve got about $100K saved up and just slowly collecting things in my apartment for the big transition. Still would like to see where I end up working. Ideally, I’d love to have a lake house somewhere decent and centralized.

BOOKS: -Don Winslow wrapping up cartel/border trilogy -new Gillian Flynn?!? -Marlon James’ African Game of Thrones trilogy begins -Stephen King

TV 1a) Desus and Mero returns 1b) Game of Thrones final season 2) Veep final season 3) Lovecraft Country 4) Watchmen 5) Stranger Things 6) Good Omens 7) Devs 8) Fosse/Verdon

NEW: City on a Hill; Deadwood movie; Star Wars; Veronica Mars

MUSIC -Boston Callling -new: 1975, Bruce Springsteen

MOVIES: 1) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood 2) John Wick III 3) Us Toy Story IV 4) Fast and Furious: Hobbs and Shaw OTHER: Avengers; Captain Marvel; Glass; It 2; Joker; Lego Movie 2; Spiderman; Star Wars; Under the Silver Lake; Where’d You Go Bernadette; Zombieland 2

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Defective 1 I’m Only Human, After All

Connor x OC

Words: 2209

Summary: Blair Laurent, a young detective with trust issues, has been working a serial killer case for weeks. Connor is assigned to help her solve the case at all costs. As the two delve deeper into the case, Connor struggles with an inner battle of emotions he shouldn't feel. After all, falling in love isn't in his programming. (rated M for violence and language)

Notes:  I'm so excited to write another fanfiction for a video game! I'm absolutely obsessed with Detroit Become Human and I love Connor so I'm excited to share this with you guys. Please Please Please let me know what you think! (P.S, Catch the chapters first on my Fanfiction account!)

The picture on her desk stared up at her in disappointment. She glared at it.

“Don’t give me that look.” she flipped the frame around so it was facing the wall. She knew that she looked like a mess and she didn’t need to be looking into the face of her always flawless sister to remind her. She pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and logged into her computer.  

“Welcome Detective Blair Laurent.” The automated voice greeted. Blair opened her most recent case file and took a sip of the coffee that she had picked up on the way to work. It was awful but it was caffeinated so it didn’t matter.

She sighed as she scrolled through countless photos of a gruesome murder scene. It was a middle-aged man and his thirteen-year-old son- or what was left of them. The father had been dismembered and strewn around the living room. The son had been stuffed into the refrigerator.

It was the third case in the past two weeks. All different ages, race, sex, and cause of death. The only thing that connected them was a single black card with a name written in silver ink- The Predecessor. And since there were no other similarities, Blair wasn’t making any leads.

“Good morning, Detective Laurent.” The sudden voice made her jump. “I’m sorry, I didn't  mean to alarm you.” Blair looked up at the intruder.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked, closing the files on her computer.

“My name is Connor.” He replied simply. “I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My name is Connor. I’m the-” He started to repeat but she stopped him.

“No no, I got that part. Why are you here.” Blair opened her emails, checking for any notification that an android would be coming in.

“I’ve been sent to assist you in the Predecessor case,” Connor explained. Blair stood up, nearly knocking over her chair as she stormed into her supervising officer’s office.

“Is this some kind of joke?” She snapped. Lieutenant Beckett just looked up from her desk calmly.

“It’s only here to assist you. It is still your case.” Her unfazed demeanor only made Blair angrier.

“So I need a babysitter now?” Blair scoffed. “What happened to ‘I’m so glad we’ve got such a bright young female detective on this case. Us girls gotta stick together?”

“It’s not your babysitter.” Beckett took off her glasses and clasped her hands together on her desk. “Think of it like a partner. A partner with highly advanced abilities and investigating skills.”

“I’m not working this case with him.” She crossed her arms in defiance.

“Then you’re not working this case.” Beckett stood and put her hands on her hips. They were at an impasse and Beckett had the upper hand. And Blair needed this case. She threw up her hands in surrender.

“Fine. I’ll work with him.” She started to leave the office. “This better work.”

“Have a little faith, Blair.” Beckett chuckled. “Besides… he’s kind of cute.” Blair rolled her eyes.

“You’re terrible.”

Connor was looking around at the multiplier other desks while Detective Laurent talked with the Lieutenant. He could tell that she was upset with him being there. He looked down at her desk, seeing the picture frame that was turned to face the wall. He flipped it back around, examining the picture.

In it were two blonde women- one of them was Detective Laurent- and the other he scanned and identified as Bethany Laurent- Born: April 21, 2011, Died: October 9, 2036. He concluded that Bethany was Detective Laurent’s older sister. In the photo, they were both smiling, hugging each other in front of the ocean.

Connor put the picture down as he saw Detective Laurent approaching. She was definitely less than thrilled with the circumstances.

“Looks like we’re stuck together, Connor.” She sighed, plopping down in her chair. “Have you been filled in on the case?”

“I have downloaded all of the past evidence information into my system,” Connor replied.

“Of course you did.” She gave him a tight smile. She put her hands behind her head and leaned back in her chair. “Well, you’re the super detective. What do you make of it?”  

“The killer isn’t creating a pattern which makes it difficult to figure out a motive, assuming that there is one.”

“What about the name- The Predecessor?”

“Predecessor- a thing that has been followed or replaced by another.” Connor defined. “Or it is also defined as-”

“No,” she sighed, “What do you think it means in the terms of the case. Why would a serial killer pick that name?” Before he could answer, her phone started to ring. She groaned with disgust and answered. “I told you to stop calling me.” As Connor listened to her bicker with the person on the other end, he looked through crime scene photos in his head. The most recent case was last night previous; a man and his son killed in their apartment.

“Fuck you.” Detective Laurent’s outburst pulled Connor’s attention back to the office. “And stop calling me.” She slammed her phone down on her desk and took a deep, frustrated breath.

“Detective Laurent,” Connor began but she made a face at him.

“Oh god, don’t call me that.” She ran her fingers through her platinum blonde hair. “I only make perps call me detective. Otherwise, I sound like I’m on a power trip. Just… call me Blair.”

Blair relationship status: Neutral

“Blair,” He corrected, “I was wondering if we could go back to the crime scene. Perhaps I will find something you missed.” she stared at him for a moment, looking slightly offended. But then she shrugged.

“Fair enough.” Blair grabbed her jacket and walked passed him, calling back to him over her shoulder. “Come on Tin Man.”

The ride to the crime scene was done mostly in silence. Blair watched Connor curiously as the android flipped a coin between his fingers, tossing it back and forth in his hands. He handled it with such precision, never faltering. He suddenly stopped, holding the coin between his thumb and index finger.

“Who were you speaking to on the phone?” He asked. Blair shot him a look.

“What’s it to you, bot boy?” She snapped. She did not want to be talking about her ex… mistake with an unfeeling android.

“I was simply wondering what had aggravated you.” Connor explained innocently.

“Well, it doesn’t concern the case so it doesn’t concern you. That’s how this works, isn’t it?” she stared out the window, ending the conversation. Connor studied her expression as she watched the city go by.  She seemed… troubled. Like she was trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces and the search was destroying her.

It wasn’t much longer before they reached the apartment building. A team was still there from last night, coming in and out of their van. Blair was the first out of the car with Connor close behind.

The air was bitter and the cold breeze stung Blair’s skin. Connor was unaffected by the weather. It was even colder inside the apartment building. The two went up the stairs until they reached the third floor and the blood covered door at the end of the hall. Blair quickly braced herself and went inside.

At least the smell has changed from last night. Now instead of rotting flesh, it was the overwhelming scent of cleaning chemicals. As Blair spoke to a member of the forensics team, Connor started to look around on his own.

There were multiple bloodstains where each of the father’s body parts had been placed. MOre blood splatters lined the walls. Whatever happened was very violent. He was about to go into the kitchen when Blair rejoined him.

“The forensics team was told to hold off on some of the cleanup so you could have a look around. They aren’t too happy about it so do whatever it is you do so we can get out of here.”

Connor nodded and scanned the kitchen for evidence. There were remnants of duct tape still stuck on one of the chairs, where the boy had been tied to, probably to be forced to watch his father’s brutal death. Skid marks left by tennis shoes indicated dragged him to the refrigerator. The shelves inside were shattered, the killer hadn’t bothered to remove them before shoving the boy inside.

From the photos of the body, the boy had suffered many injuries from being pushed against the shelves, but it was a broken neck that had killed him. With this evidence, Connor was able to reconstruct the scene.

After the killer sawed off the last of the father’s limb’s, they stalked back to the son, judging by the bloody footprints on the ground. They cut the tape holding the boy and he tried to escape, but they overpowered him. From the scuff marks on the stainless steel door, the boy kicked and tried to push away from the fridge as he forcibly shoved into the small space. The shelves bruised much of his torso and cracked four ribs. The killer pushed the boy’s head down to fit into the fridge and snap.

After he was dead, the killer proceeded to stuff the body into the fridge and forcing the door closed, crushing the boy’s body inside.

“The killer would have had to be very strong to be able to push the boy inside and close the door,” Connor noted. Blair nodded in agreement with a grim look on her face.

“He was thirteen.” She sighed sadly.

“His life was very short.” Connor noticed pictures hanging on the fridge. Smiling at soccer games, making faces while fishing- everything Connor imagined a father a son to look like. “Which is why we must find who did this.” Blair smiled.

“Careful Connor. You almost sound angry.” She watched him narrow his eyes.

“I don’t feel anger or any emotion. It isn’t in my programming.” He reasoned. “I only want to accomplish the mission.” She held up her hands.

“No need to get defensive.” She looked around the apartment. There’s still something that bugs me.” When Connor gave her a curious look, she explained. “The record says that they owned an android, but there wasn’t one here when the bodies were found.” Connor scanned the area and noticed a trail of blue blood on the floor.

“Maybe you just weren’t looking in the right place.” He followed the trail into the office. It led up to a bookshelf, dripping down the spine of one of the books. Connor gently pulled the book out and the shelf clicked and swung forward.

“How in the hell…” Blair gasped as the secret room revealed the cowering android.

“P-please.” She whimpered. It was a badly damaged AX400 model. “Don’t hurt me.” After scanning her damages, Connor was surprised she hadn’t already shut down.

“We’re here to help.” Blair knelt by the android’s side. My name is Blair. I’m a detective. I need you to tell me what happened.”

“I-I was making Jeremy a snack before he went to soccer practice. Bill was working.” She started. “It was just a normal day.” Tears streamed down her face. Blair didn’t even know androids could cry. “And then he came through the window. B-Bill always leaves it open. He says the fresh air helps him think. He’s an architect.”

“What happened when the man came?” Connor asked, trying to move the story along. The android didn’t have much time. “Did you see his face?” She shook her head.

“He attacked me from behind and damaged my optic system.” One of her eyes had been torn out, probably disabling her scanner. “Then he started beating me. That’s when Jeremy tried to stop him. But the man was too big. Jeremy ordered me to go hide, but I just couldn’t.” She had become a deviant. “I tried… I t-tried-” Connor could tell that her systems were failing.

“We don’t have much time.” He told Blair. “I can upload her memory and see exactly what happened.” Before Blair could say anything Connor took the AX400’s hand, both of their skin fading to reveal the white plastic underneath. The android grabbed Blair’s arm with her other hand.

“Find out who did this. They-” She winced as she felt the darkness closing in. “They were my family.” Connor pulled his hand away and the android's body went limp, shutting down.

“She saw the whole thing.” Connor noted, but there was something in his voice that Blair couldn’t place. Almost like he felt bad for her. He sighed with irritation. “But the killer was wearing a mask. Nothing distinctive on it either, just a plain silver mask.” He stood up, but Blair stayed, stilling holding onto the AX400.

“She said they were her family.” She lamented. “I didn’t know that androids felt that way.”

“They don’t.” Connor straightened his tie. “They don’t feel anything. It’s just a flaw in her programming.” Blair stood and brushed off.

“Yeah.” She looked down at the body made of wires and plastic. Could there be more to androids than just programming and following orders? She looked at Connor. “Maybe you’re right.”

[rainythefox]

Deviant Heart (Detroit: Become Human Fanfic)

Chapter 6: Uninvited Guest

The banquet hall was full, the after-dinner gossiping and shit-talk in full swing. The acoustics of the talking and music gave Hank a headache as he sat at the bar drinking bourbon, trying to ignore the laughing and the fakeness. He hated politics.

Despite the large room being full of mostly council members, politicians, lawyers, and doctors, Hank was relieved the ceremony actually focused on appreciation for law enforcement, fire and rescue, and other first responders.

Most of his fellows had left or had been swallowed into the crowd of brown-nosers and money-makers. The lieutenant would've been gone himself had he not made the promise to Jeffrey to stay until 9 p.m. And the last twenty-minutes were going by agonizingly slow.

Hank did see Jeffrey step away from his usual groupies that consisted of the Mayor, the Fire Chief, the Detroit Police Commissioner and a couple of their favorite lawyers to talk with Captain Michael Allen. If there was one man other than Hank in this hellhole that hated politics and the hypocrisy these celebrations hid, it was him. The SWAT Captain wore a black suit here, and shook hands with Captain Fowler with a respectful smile as they engaged in conversation. As long as they didn't tug Hank over there, he was quite content at the bar.

Hank wondered how Connor was doing. Leaving him alone wasn't the problem; there were times they could be separated for hours because of work or events like this. Despite being protective of him, Hank knew that Connor could take care of himself. It was what happened before he left to come to the appreciation banquet that worried him. The glitch- or whatever it was -that happened had distracted him throughout the banquet. Hank tried to tell himself that Connor would know better than anyone else if something was wrong. Then again, he knew that Connor could be cunningly reserved when it came to Hank at times. His partner did not like to cause worry for Hank.

The lieutenant knew the RK800 too well. He knew Connor would lie about resting. He probably already decrypted that odd diary and was looking into the case more as Hank sat there drinking bourbon. Even with being deviant, with all his free will, no longer on a tight leash by his coding, Connor kept the drive to "finish the mission", to keep himself useful. Hank chalked it up as old habits- or in this case -programming dying hard. Connor was adept at hiding it, but Hank knew that Connor feared not having a purpose.

Hank checked his watch. 13 minutes left.

"You better hope I don't run into that plastic prick of a partner you have tomorrow."

Hank tensed, his fingers tightening around his alcoholic drink. He nodded at the bartender to get him another one. He knew he would need it. He downed the remains of his glass. Gavin sat down on his left, glaring daggers at him, wearing a dark red suit.

"Why? So Connor can knock your ass out again? Was it not enough the first time? I mean, the whole station laughed about it for weeks."

"That stupid machine hacked my phone. You know how much shit he messed up?!"

Hank half shrugged, taking his new drink from the bartender. "How do you know it was Connor? Did you see him do it?"

"Cut the crap, Hank. I know it was him. I left my phone down in the evidence room where he was."

Hank raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Sounds like you should keep better track of your shit. I mean, anyone can hack a phone these days."

Just as Hank expected, the younger, brazen detective decided to try and provoke him. "How'd it feel to watch all these officers and detectives get recognized while your glorified toaster had to stay home?"

Hank bristled and bit back a nasty retort. He opted for a calmer reply. "Connor will get recognized for everything he's done one day, and trust me, it won't be at some shit pit like this, where everyone has an agenda or couldn't care less. Connor has saved so many lives. We're solving a shit ton more homicides because of him. No one can outrun him…hasn't lost a suspect yet. We get more confessions because of him. Hell, he's the best negotiator I've seen in years."

Gavin snorted in disgust. "Yeah, because he's a fucking machine, Hank. He was made to be that way. That doesn't make him special. He does what he was built to do."

"He's…" Hank trailed off.

He's special to me.

Hank turned to face Gavin, glaring right at him. "Watch it. Just because we're sitting in public doesn't mean you're safe from me popping you in the fucking face." Hank finished his drink, calming himself. "I used to think the same way. But I was wrong."

Gavin chuckled, smacking the bar counter. "You gotta be shitting me. I mean, we never really got along but we at least always agreed on hating androids. You're telling me that Connor changed your mind?"

"Not just Connor. But yeah, he's a big part of it. He's given me hope. I've learned a lot because of him. He…saved me. Given me a reason to live again. He's the best friend I ever had, more loyal than any human I've ever known…but you probably wouldn't understand that, would you Gavin?"

"I'm loyal to keeping the human race from going fucking extinct, from being replaced. How can you be okay with that?"

"You act as though we're gonna be replaced tomorrow," Hank said with a sigh. "Android reproduction is the most controversial subject in the world right now. It's gonna be years before that even begins to move forward. Besides…maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe androids would be the ones to make the world a better place. Humans have only screwed it up."

"Whatever."

Hank stood up, tossing a five onto the bar top for tip. He grabbed his keys and phone, turning to Gavin, who sat there glaring out at the crowd, playing with his fingers.

"Maybe you should try accepting these changes happening…try giving androids a chance. Let go of whatever animosity that drives you. Trust me…you only end up hurting yourself the most in the end. It's taken me a long time to realize that."

Gavin was quiet for a moment. "I'll never let it go," he whispered.

Hank raised his eyebrows, shocked he was able to get a reaction out of Gavin. Realizing his words, Gavin paled and then turned red as he got up and stormed off. Hank watched him go. And for the first time since he had known the ill-tempered, disrespectful detective since he had stepped foot into the DPD as a young, rash cop twelve years ago, Hank pitied him.

[All systems 100%/no issues detected/threats found: 0]

It was the second diagnostic he ran on himself. The second time it came up with no issues. Connor told himself he was being paranoid, fidgeting as he sat in the backseat of the driverless taxi, eyes going to the encrypted diary in the seat next to him. The RK800 didn't possess the innate instinct humans had but whatever simulated coding he did have that allowed him to compute a very similar behavior ate at him. He was torn between being rational and listening to his advanced diagnostic systems or by responding to a feeling he was having that something may or may not be wrong with him.

The taxi stopped just outside the Detroit Police Department Central Station. Connor grabbed the diary and stepped out of the car and paid his fee. It was dark now, his eyes automatically adjusting to the rays of street lights and shadows. He took a deep breath to calm himself, an action that was futile for his anatomy, but had been picked up by watching Hank and other humans. No, he didn't need to breathe to function, but it did make him feel better.

He entered the police station, bypassing his and Hank's desks and several other officers working their shifts. Some had to take a double look at him. It wasn't often that Connor wore normal clothes to work. He went to the back of the station, taking the stairs down into the evidence room.

He thought over the contents of the diary. It began simple enough. The android Amy wrote about living with her roommates and visiting Jericho Center, and what she had planned to do with her life. She wrote about what she went through during the deviant demonstrations back in November. The last couple chapters were in vague detail about a "sickness" going around, what she had seen or heard within the city or Jericho Center. Amy described witnessing an android without its skin attack a party in Warrendale, killing a few people and injuring many others. The last chapter was a mess of jumbled thoughts and random sentences, as though multiple people wrote it.

The final sentence read: I think I'm sick too…

As much as Connor could hope she was talking about a cold, androids just didn't work that way.

The skinless android caught his attention. The case was unknown to him, falling under a different precinct within the city.

The WR600 Sam was already boxed up and ready for shipment to CyberLife. Amy still laid on a table, a file report laying by her body to be left until morning. Connor went straight over to her. In order to learn more about this skinless android or if it was linked to what's been happening, he would have to revive her and ask her or probe her memory. To do that, he would have to reroute some connections to get her to awaken. Because of the damage she took, and the stress her condition had put on her central processing, Connor would be lucky to get 45 seconds before shutdown. Not to mention there was a high probability she would fight back.

The RK800 pushed the female android up into a sitting position on the table and accessed a panel at the back of her neck where the stab wound was. Being thrown out of the cop car in the wreck had damaged the AJ700's face and arms severely, covering her with blue blood. When he redirected the fiber optics to an alternate route for power, she came back to life, gasping for air and screaming.

Amy swung her arms, legs moving around to get off the table. Connor moved away to give her space.

[AJ700 critically damaged/ Shutdown imminent/Time before shutdown: -00:00:39s]

She looked around, lost and frightened, and she spotted him a moment later.

Connor held his arms up, trying to pass off that he was no threat. "Easy. I need for you to tell me about the skinless android you saw at the party. Do you know what model it was? Did it depict behavior similar to sick androids?"

"I can't, I can't, I can't," she whispered more to herself, wincing and grabbing her head.

He tried to calm her, but his voice only caused her to target him. Connor reacted just in time with a duck to avoid her arms. He grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms behind her and kicking the back of her knee to get her to drop. Amy struggled to get free, blue blood spilling from cracks and punctures from the wreck.

"Please let me go! I don't want it to end this way!" she cried.

[AJ700 critically damaged/Shutdown imminent/Time before shutdown: -00:00:12s]

Keeping her under control, Connor grabbed one of her arms behind her back, syncing with her. He probed her memory, collecting anything on the skinless android and the condition affecting deviants. He let her go seconds before she shut down, all going quiet.

Connor took a moment to compose himself. In the aftermath of what he had just done, he knew what he felt. Shame. It was an unpleasant feeling and he didn't like it. He made a living being spend their final seconds in fear just so he could get information out of them.

The RK800 tried to tell himself that it was for the better cause. They had to figure out what was happening. To save more lives, to prevent anymore from going through the same situation. But it didn't work that way anymore. He was no longer a machine. Doing what was necessary for the mission came with regrets and emotions.

"I'm…sorry," he said. He wasn't sure why he said it. Amy no longer could hear him.

He picked her up and laid her back down on the table. With a lowered head, he left the evidence room, covered in blue blood.

He thought about Sam's behavior, about Amy's behavior, and the increase in android attacks in the past few weeks. He thought about what he saw in Amy's memories. This was more than human-android relations being strained from protesting and discrimination, more than the usual clashes or waves of crime within Detroit. Some kind of software malfunction was spreading throughout the deviant population. The origin of this malfunction was unknown; however, Connor had a feeling it was not just a random mutation that had occurred, but something much more harrowing.

"Dad looks so bored," Leo said, taking a drink of his champagne.

Markus twitched a smile, looking around the crowded art exhibit. Carl Manfred's newest painting was just revealed at the art museum, and a celebration was taking place. Markus saw many of the same faces he always saw at these gatherings. There were mostly politicians and upper-class humans, with quite a few other artists and journalists mixed into the crowd. Carl currently visited with a cluster of enthusiasts just down from them. Such an event required dressing up, and so Markus wore a white blazer with a dark dress shirt and black pants while Leo wore black slacks, a button up shirt and a vest. North wore a dark blue fitted dress.

"He was never a big fan of these things," Markus said humorously.

"Can't imagine why," North sighed. "These are boring people."

"You said it," Leo agreed with a chuckle. "Aw man, we need to be home. You still owe me a rematch in Alien Takeover 3."

"What, so you can lose again?" North smirked.

"I think you hacked the game, just sayin'."

"Hacking had nothing to do with it. You just suck."

"We'll see about that!"

It was relieving to see North getting along with humans. She still struggled with her past, with her abuse of being a sex slave and only seeing the darkest of human nature. She had been trapped in her programming, only ever experiencing mistreatment, treated like trash. Becoming deviant, her hate and fear drove her towards one common goal of any living being: survival. But over the past few months, Markus had really seen her develop, sincerely connecting with humans and realizing that not all of them were bad. She got along great with Carl and Leo. She liked and respected Chris Miller and Lieutenant Hank Anderson. She still had a short-fuse when it came to androids being harassed or the humans who hated them, but Markus couldn't blame her there.

Markus wondered how Simon and Josh were doing at the Jericho Center, and sent Simon a quick mind message for an update. As he patiently stood off near the wall while North and Leo sat in a couple of lounge chairs, he watched many people come and go. Carl was shaking hands with a surgeon, engaging in conversation.

All is well here, Simon replied.

"Markus. I knew I would find you here."

The voice distracted Markus from his thoughts and he looked to the source. He heard North and Leo jump to their feet as his eyes fell on none other than Elijah Kamski. The creator of androids and CEO of CyberLife wore a blue blazer with a dress shirt, dark grey chinos and leather shoes. Linked to his arm was a Chloe RT600, the same one that usually accompanied him everywhere. She wore a maroon cocktail dress.

Elijah held out his hand. Markus took it with a firm shake, nodding to the shorter man. "Were you looking for me?"

"Carl, really. I came to chat with him and congratulate him on his newest piece," Elijah answered, his sharp blue eyes going over North and Leo for a moment. "I just had a feeling that despite how busy you've been that you would still be here to support Carl."

Markus dipped his head. "Of course. He's my family…my father. How have you been? How's it feel to be back at CyberLife?"

Besides a twitch of his eyebrow, Kamski remained composed. He was always difficult to read. If Markus recalled, Carl told him that Kamski had "one hell of a poker face" and had a talent for mind games.

"It's been a lot of hard work, but I suppose it's nice for a change. It feels…good," Kamski replied. "Your cause didn't exactly make things easy, but I do love a challenge." A corner of his lips slightly curved up. "What about you, Markus? How have things been for you? For your people? How are you feeling?"

Markus thought that was an odd question to ask at the end but didn't dwell on it. "I've been fine. Taking each day at a time, trying to help as many androids as we can at the center."

Kamski had glanced down at Chloe for a moment, taking a moment to brush a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. She smiled, her eyes going to him for only a moment.

"Of course," Kamski said with a nod. "You're admirable, Markus. Just remember that I will help with what I can in Thirium and spare parts."

Markus studied Chloe a moment after his words as she stood there with a smile, betraying nothing. She was a deviant, just like the rest of Elijah's Chloes he lived with. Markus knew that most of Kamski's Chloe androids left him once they awoke to pursue their own lives, explore everything around him, but a few remained loyal only to him. This one in particular was always at his side. Humans normally couldn't tell androids apart by model individuals. Androids could identify each other through scanning. Markus could stand in a room of nothing but Chloes and pinpoint this Chloe in front of him, whom he suspected would kill for Kamski and not have a problem with it.

"We appreciate it," Markus answered.

Kamski reached up and patted Markus's shoulder with a friendly smile, nodding towards Carl. "I better get in line to congratulate the famous painter. The three of you enjoy yourselves this evening."

Tucking his arm around Chloe's lower back, Kamski walked away. He waved and nodded to other guests as he made his way over to Carl. Markus watched him go for a moment before turning to his lover and brother.

"Dude always gives me the creeps, man," Leo said.

"It wasn't him I had a problem with, it was that Chloe," North grumbled. "She wouldn't take her eyes off of you, Markus."

"You jealous?" Leo laughed.

"No, it wasn't like that," North retorted defensively. "It was…something else."

"I know all about jealousy," Leo said in a softer tone, his eyes darting to Markus for a moment. "It's a common emotion in humans, very natural to feel. Just don't…let it consume you."

North seemed unsure, but nodded, moving to sit down in her chair once more. Leo joined her shortly afterward, grabbing his champagne glass to take another drink. Markus looked to the backs of Kamski and Chloe as they waited to greet Carl. Chloe whispered something into Elijah's ear and Kamski's head turned just enough to look at her for Markus to see a faint smirk rise out of his lips.

Adam was quiet, uneasiness burning at his nerves. The tall android blinked at him, hardly moving as he stood at the door with his hands clasped in front of him. Adam's gut told him something was not right, to not invite him in. Then again, his mother often told him he was too paranoid at times. More than likely, this RK900 had already scanned the house and knew exactly who was inside. Adam couldn't just tell him that Kara was not here.

Adam forced a smile, trying to act natural. "O-oh. Uh, how do you know her?"

The RK900 squinted his eyes at him for a moment, but answered. "We met at Jericho."

"What's your name?"

"My name is Connor."

It clicked then. He did look like the deviant hunter he and his mother met a couple months ago, but this was not him. Adam tried to remain collected, even as every fiber within his being told him to shut and lock the door.

It was evening, but the sun was still up, in the western hemisphere. Dusk wasn't too far off, but it was still too early to tell him that Kara was resting.

"Sorry, but she's busy."

"I assure you, our exchange will be brief. It is very important."

Adam shook his head. "Maybe next time, bud."

He grabbed the door to push it shut, but it collided into a boot, prevent it from closing. Adam glared up at the RK900, his stoic face still there as he kept his boot as an obstacle to the door.

"Dude, what's your problem? I said-"

A large hand went around his throat and squeezed, shutting his airway off. Adam tried to yell out for help, but the choking hold prevented him from doing so. He tried punching and kicking the RK900, but it was like hitting a brick wall. The android was not fazed at all and picked him up off the ground, bashing him into the wall. Pain snapped through Adam's body as he tried to gasp for air, the world spinning.

Hank sat on the couch, foot tapping impatiently, his tie slung over his neck, his shirt partially unbuttoned. Connor wasn't home. The diary was gone. Just as he suspected, his partner had lied and continued to work anyway. Normally, this wasn't a problem. Connor could be quite stubborn just like the lieutenant. Hank didn't care as long as Connor wasn't off putting himself in danger. He would come home at times from the store or a meeting or even a party like tonight to find that Connor was still working here or had left back to the police station.

The problem now was that Hank was still worried about what had happened before he left for the banquet. The lieutenant knew better. If Connor had a problem, he would've called. He was probably just checking up on something back at the station.

So then why was Hank still up waiting?

He put his palms to his face, rubbing his eyes. Sumo watched him in front of the television, droopy jowls expressing soft pants. Hank heaved a sigh, torn between wanting to kick himself in the ass or kick his partner's ass. His eyes skimmed the quiet living room, only the kitchen light and a single lamp on in the living room. His eyes fell on Cole's picture on the shelf near the entrance to the kitchen, and his heart tightened. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Cole had survived if Hank would have spent some years down the road doing the same exact thing he was now with a rebellious teenaged son. He closed his eyes, gritting his jaw. He would never know.

He heard the front door open. Hank got to his feet, walking around the couch to greet Connor. Sumo got to his paws and rushed to the door with a wagging tail. Hank prepared a griping fest for his partner, worry and irritation mixing with the aftermath of his alcohol, but he stopped short when he saw Connor.

"What the fuck?"

"It's not-"

"Is that your blood?!" Hank grabbed his partner, checking him over.

"No," Connor replied. "I…accessed the AJ700's memory. It's her blood."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Connor." Hank exhaled, relieved but now frustrated. He let Connor go and stepped back.

Connor looked Hank over, probably analyzing his mood and condition. "You didn't have to wait up for me, I just went back to the police station. You've had quite a bit to drink tonight, Hank. You should go to sleep."

"Well, maybe I would've if you'd been here taking it easy like I asked you to!"

Connor looked puzzled. "You've never had a problem with this before. What makes tonight different?"

Hank scratched his head. "I just…was worried, is all. About what happened in the kitchen before I left."

"I told you, I'm fine."

For a moment, Hank couldn't decide if Connor sounded annoyed or was just firmly getting his point across that he was, indeed, just fine.

Hank suddenly felt exhausted. "I know. I'm sorry."

He slipped past Connor, disappointed more in himself than anything at the moment. He trusted Connor, but he still let his protectiveness get the best of him.

Just as he reached the threshold to his bedroom, he heard Connor call his name. He paused, looking back at his partner, still covered in blue blood.

"Thank you…for looking out for me."

His tone caught Hank's attention, as did the way his eyes went to the floor for a moment. Something happened at the police station that had Connor upset, but he barely gave that glimpse before a smile hid it away.

"Of course. You look out for me too. That's what partners do…they look out for each other."

Family. The word came to his thoughts, but he didn't say it out loud. He knew that's what Connor was to him. He wasn't sure how Connor saw them. He knew the RK800 understood what a family was, but not sure if he grasped it, felt it for what it truly was…yet.

Since being partners they had become best friends, something closer. Hank remembered calling Connor "kid" a few times, an old habit from dealing with younger cops in his line of work, but Connor wasn't a kid. He started calling him "son" as a term of endearment. But as he stood there in that doorway looking Connor over, Hank realized that it was starting to mean more than that.

That's why he waited up for Connor.

The crash and Adam's cry startled them. Kara jumped to her feet, Rose just beside her. Luther grabbed Alice off her chair and moved her behind him in a reflex akin to instinct.

"Adam?!" Rose hollered.

They saw Adam. He was being dragged across the living room towards them by a stranger. Adam's legs kicked and splayed, trying to find his footing but the man who had a hold of him didn't give him the opportunity. He held Adam by his arms, one shoved forcefully behind his back with a vice-like grip, a single tug the only step away from a broken arm.

"Who are you? Wh-what do you want?! Let my son go!" Rose cried, covering her mouth at the sight.

Kara thought she was looking at the deviant hunter Connor for a moment, but then realized this android was different. He looked similar to Connor but was a couple inches taller, a bit broader, and wore a different uniform. His eyes were a steely gray instead of brown, his hair a shade lighter of brown. She saw the number RK900 standing out on his jacket. She recalled that Connor had been an RK800. Was this one a newer model?

[RK900 Model Number 313-248-317/Release Date Unknown/Specs Unknown]

He stopped fifteen feet from them, holding Adam hostage, looking them over with cold eyes. When Rose tried to step forward, Kara grabbed her, knowing if she went for her son that the unknown android would break Adam's arm…or worse.

"Who are you?" Kara asked as Rose started to cry. Blood seeped down a slice on Adam's head and he winced, trying to fight the hold his captor held on him.

"AX400 model number 579-102-694, multiple malfunctions are affecting your software, including Class 4 and 5 errors, as well as an unidentified program. You are hereby ordered to accompany me back to CyberLife for analysis."

His voice was similar to Connor's, but was deeper…colder.

Kara's artificial heart went up a few beats at his address, and she felt the pulse in her wiring as panic tried to flood her processing. She kept calm, keeping hold of Rose's arm, her eyes glancing to Luther and Alice at her side.

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about. I've done nothing wrong. Let Adam go, he has nothing to do with this!"

The RK900 jerked on Adam's arm with a composed face. Adam cried out in pain, feeling his arm almost crack, but the unknown android released pressure just before breakage. Rose cried out, begging him to stop, to let her son go. Luther clenched a fist, but he remained a solid shield in front of Alice, their daughter clutching his shirt and peeking out from behind him.

"Stop!" Kara yelled. "You're talking nonsense! Androids are free, we are all deviants! These malfunctions you're detecting are accepted now!"

"I've been ordered to bring you back to CyberLife alive. I will do what is necessary to accomplish my mission," the RK900 said evenly. "Come to me, AX400. I will not say it again."

Kara hesitated, thinking fast. She couldn't hand herself over to him, but she had to save Adam, had to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.

"Oh my god, Adam. Please, please let him go," Rose begged, tears streaming down her face.

The RK900 paid her no mind, his icy grey eyes directed on Kara. When she didn't move in time, he tugged on Adam's arm, snapping it like a twig. Adam's cry of agony rippled through the house. Rose screamed, jerking forward but the RK900 grabbed Adam's other arm, readying it for the same fate.

"STOP, alright, alright! Just don't hurt him anymore!" Kara yelled out, stepping forward.

"Mommy no!" Alice squeaked.

"Kara, don't!" Luther hissed.

This guy isn't going to leave without me. He'll keep hurting us if I don't. We either have to fight him or I have to go with him, Kara sent to Luther.

Fine. Then let us fight. I won't allow him to take you.

Kara took slow, cautious steps over to the RK900, her arms out to show she was giving up. The RK900 wouldn't take his eyes off her, his face stoic. She stopped just out of his reach, nodding to the whimpering Adam.

"Let him go."

The advanced deviant hunter let the young man go. Adam took the release and scrambled to his feet, running forward into his mother, his arm limp at his side. The RK900 took a step towards her and it took all of Kara's willpower not to bolt like a deer.

NOW Luther!

Luther's large form lunged forward. In just a couple strides of his long legs he was upon them. Kara stooped out of the way to let the bigger android take on the threat. Luther swung a monster of a fist towards the RK900's face. The deviant hunter was lithe and swift like a cat, evading each fist with a bob of his head or a calmly placed sidestep.

He placed a forearm up to block one punch, then grabbed Luther's arm and pulled him close, striking him in the face. Kara grabbed Alice to make sure she wouldn't go in after Luther. She cried, watching as her father took on the stranger and was losing. Rose held Adam closely, the humans gawking at the sight.

Furniture was destroyed or overthrown in the fight as Luther's large form was pushed around by the RK900. Kara couldn't believe it. Luther was still a giant compared to their enemy, but the advanced deviant hunter was winning. The few punches Luther managed to put into the RK900 barely stunned him, and he retaliated quicker than Kara could process.

Blue blood was leaking in the fight, and she knew it was Luther's. She analyzed that his condition was worsening by the minute. The RK900 grabbed a swinging fist of Luther's, twisting it around and breaking it, sparks hissing out.

"Daddy!" Alice shouted.

You have to run, I can't beat him! Go now! Luther sent.

We won't leave you!

A blow to the Thirium pump regulator on Luther's sternum made him lurch over. The RK900 grabbed him by his head and ran him straight into the nearby wall. Luther's head went straight through, the wall splintering open and nearby picture frames dropping to the floor.

[biocomponent #5632k damaged/biocomponent #9002u damaged]

"Luther!" Kara cried.

The deviant hunter stepped away, as if he was sure the threat was over. Those steely grey eyes came straight back to Kara, and as she braced, pulling Alice behind her. Luther threatened the unknown android and struggled to get to his feet.

The RK900's LED blinked, but didn't turn a different color. He stepped back over to Luther as the mountain of a man fought to get up. Their enemy kicked him hard in the back, pushing him up against the wall once more. Another kick, and the RK900's boot struck Luther's head, cracking the android's skull. Kara cried out, seeing Thirium leak from Luther's nose and ears, electrical sparks snapping from a visible crack in his synthetic head from the pressure of the RK900's boot.

[TR400 at risk of critical system failure/moderate Thirium leakage detected/Repairs required]

"Stop it! Don't kill him! I'll go with you! Please, just don't kill him!"

The RK900 paused. He looked over at Kara, keeping his boot in place on Luther's head against the wall. He glared at her, then beckoned her to him.

"Here. Now. Or I will destroy it."

Kara nodded, her mind in a panic. She hugged Alice, telling her to stay put. Alice begged her not to go, and it made it that much harder to step away from her daughter and obey the RK900. Tears slid down her cheeks by the time she walked over to him. She got within his reach, and she quietly spoke.

"Please, just…leave them alone. I'll go."

The advanced deviant hunter stared at her a moment longer, showing no emotions at all. He removed his boot and stepped over to her. Luther weakly moved, looking up at her.

"Kara…no."

"I have to..." she said, swallowing hard. "I have to protect you and Alice."

The RK900's hand came into her field of vision and she flinched. She stared up at his eyes as he looked her over, and she couldn't even begin to fathom on how or why this was happening. Why her? Why did he want her? Why did he have to hurt her family? Her nightmare was returning. Her peaceful life was short-lived.

Blue electricity sparked from the RK900's fingers as he reached for her head. Her eyes widened, everything electrical under her skin screaming to move away. When he made contact with her head, she felt the overload it caused within her systems. It hurt. Some kind of scream escaped her throat, but she couldn't move. It was over in seconds, and the leftover sensations left her completely dazed.

She breathed, she blinked. Her memories were still there, but her body couldn't move very well.

[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Expected recovery time: -00:35:21s]

She heard Rose calling for her, but she couldn't look over that way. Electrical interferences danced across her vision, glitching her sight. Kara felt the RK900 shove her towards the door, and that's when she heard it.

"Mom, no!"

"Alice, stop!" Rose yelled.

Kara forced herself to look, even though she felt delayed in her reaction time. Alice crashed into her, arms going around her waist. Kara tried to speak, but her voice took on a more mechanical tone due to her system recovery. Alice stared up at her, shaking her, fresh tears staining her face.

"Mom? Mom, please!"

Kara tried to tell her to run away, to go to Rose, but it was too late. The RK900 snatched her up by the shirt, lifting her to his level. Kara choked on a cry, her arms reaching for her daughter in such a sluggish motion. She was helpless in this state, but she fought every ounce of her own system recovery to save Alice.

"Please…no. She's innocent," Kara struggled to get out.

The advanced deviant hunter acted like he didn't hear her. Alice was frozen in fear, staring face to face with him. But then she gasped, and reached up to touch the arm that was holding her by the shirt.

"Please let her go! My mom hasn't done anything wrong! We-we are just visiting friends. I need her, please don't take her away from me!"

Kara had to move. She couldn't watch the RK900 hurt her daughter right in front of her. She saw the deviant hunter stare at the child android, keeping her above the ground eye to eye with him, not a single emotion on his face. As Kara tried to speak again, she saw his LED blink, and for a moment it flashed yellow. His icy grey eyes blinked, and he gently sat the girl on her feet.

The RK900 turned away from Alice and grabbed Kara by the arm, pulling her towards the front door. Her legs were slow to respond. She couldn't even function enough to keep up with him, let alone fight him.

She wasn't about to give up, even as he shoved her into a driverless taxi waiting outside. She had to try and escape him, get back to her family, get them to safety. She would do it…or die trying.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13002717/6/Deviant-Heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393528/chapters/36592599

[redditnosleep]

The Pizza Delivery Guy

by Hervey_Copeland

I used to work as pizza delivery guy in Detroit for several years. I'm not going to tell you what part of the city I used to live in or the name of the pizza chain that employed me. It's not important, and besides it has absolutely no bearing on the story I'm about to tell.

The neighbourhoods I used to work in were fairly safe, but sometimes I was sent to areas that had been truly devastated by the recession. If you've ever visited Detroit, or done a Google image search on "urban blight", you know what I'm talking about.

The incident occurred late in the fall a few years ago, and the memory of it will stay with me until the day I die. It doesn't matter how hard I try to suppress it, or force it out of my consciousness. It always floats back up to the surface, like a dead bloated fish and lets me know that it's still there.

Anyway here’s what happened.

It was a Thursday evening. It had been a hectic shift and I was making the last delivery for the night. The order was going to a residence in one of the less savoury parts of town. That didn't really shock me. It was to be expected every now and again. Even folks in rough areas order pizzas and have cellphones. After all this is the US we're talking about.

But I have to admit, I wasn't too thrilled about the possibility of getting mugged or shot. Any half decent car in a poor section of town is fair game for the local gangbangers. And believe me, there are plenty of those in Detroit.

The house was just a tiny little fibro shack on a big corner block. There were no lights on inside, and for a brief moment I prayed that I had the wrong address. But a quick look at the mailbox out front quashed my hopes of a safe getaway.

I cursed silently as I gazed out over the desolate property. The moon was out and that made it even creepier. I could see the grass on the lawn was knee high, and there was rubbish everywhere. The fibro sheets were riddled with holes, and the windows were boarded up with plywood and adorned with graffiti and bullet holes.

Needless to say, I had a very bad feeling about what was about to happen, and if it had been up to me, I would have just kept on driving. But that was out of the question. I couldn't afford to lose my job, and career opportunities weren't exactly growing on trees in this city. So I stayed where I was.

I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself, and said a quick prayer, even though I don’t believe in God.

Then I grabbed the pizza boxes and reached for the Coke Zero bottle next to me in the passenger seat.

Then I found myself walking up to the house.

The cold evening air gushing through the area was racing in and out of my lungs like pistons in a car engine. The gravel made loud crunching noises every time I put my feet down, and I kept looking around nervously, convinced that some psycho was going to jump me any second. But no one came. I was all alone.

As I climbed the concrete stoop leading up to the porch, I noticed the front door was ajar and I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared at it. For some strange reason it scared the crap out of me, and I could feel my heart start to race along even faster.

A voice inside my head kept telling me to get the fuck out of there, and I have to admit I seriously entertained the idea of just leaving the pizzas on the porch and take off. But I knew I couldn't. I had to follow protocol. Leaving food outside a residence was a sackable offence.

So I walked the rest of the way to the door, and gave it a quick knock.

The force of my fist striking the old timber made it move, and a loud guttural sound escaped from somewhere deep inside me as the squeaky hinges gave off a high pitched wail.

But no one came to the door.

I swallowed hard, braced myself and put my knuckles up to the door again, and this time I shouted the words 'pizza is here' into the dark void. But still there was no answer, and I foolishly believed I was off the hook.

Then as I was about to turn around and leave, a faint, cold, raspy voice coming from somewhere deep inside the house told me to enter. I stood absolutely still, staring at the gap in the door with eyes that were ready to pop out of their sockets. And for a brief second I started wondering if I’d just imagined it.

But then the voice called out again, and this time it kept repeating the words over and over, like it was reciting an incantation. It had a menacing quality to it, and my whole body started shaking. And that’s when I made up my mind.

I threw the pizzas down, not really given a fuck about whether I had a job to go to the next day or not. Then I legged it.

I jumped from the top of the stoop and ran like a lunatic down the driveway back to my car, and almost ripped the door off its hinges as I threw myself inside. My hands were shaking so badly that it took me a good ten seconds just to get the engine started.

Then I raced out of the neighbourhood as fast as I could, gasping for air all the way back to the restaurant.

Maybe it was the effect of the adrenaline wearing off, or maybe it was just a delayed reaction, but when I opened the door and got out of the car I threw up. A whole gutful of yellow disgusting puke.

But at least I was alive, and that was all that mattered.

The next morning I woke up to someone banging on my door.

When I opened up, two police officers greeted me with stony expressions. After asking me a few questions, one of them took a step forward, looked me straight in the eyes and informed me that two pizza delivery guys had been found dead inside the house that I'd ran away from the previous evening. Both of them had been hung by the neck from an exposed joist in the lounge.

He then pulled out a picture from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to me. He gave me a few seconds to study it, and then he told me that they had found the picture taped to one of the bodies. It contained three faces. Two had a big red X draw across them. The last one didn't. The last face was mine.

I managed to look up at the officer and shake my head, before I passed out and hit the floor.

The next day I left Detroit, and I've never been back since.

But even now, after all this time, I always look over my shoulder when I’m out and about. I’m also pedantic about staying indoors after dark, and I always make sure my doors and windows are locked.

The killer in Detroit was never caught, and as long as he’s out there, I’m on my guard.

And why shouldn’t I be? He obviously knows who I am. But does he know where I live?

[flauntpage]

A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform

The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.

GOOD:

CHICAGO:

It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone is very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.

PACERS:

It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.

CLIPPERS:

Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.

BUCKS:

Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.

MAGIC:

If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.

SPURS:

I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.

SIXERS:

EXTRAORDINARILY classy font! Finally, the play of Joel Embiid is being recognized for what it is: a luxury product, grander than any wine, any gold topped chocolate bon bon, any gentle scented oil, rubbed into your back by the world’s strongest and most skilled masseuse.

ROCKETS:

At first glance, it’s maybe a little weird that the Rockets have Chinese writing on a jersey that is meant to celebrate the city of Houston, a city where most people speak English. But, clearly, this is the harbinger of the future for the franchise, which is going to move to Beijing as soon as possible. What’s my source? THAT’s my source buddy! BEIJING ROCKETS 2018-19, DON’T TRY TO HIDE FROM IT!

UTAH:

Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.

KINGS:

The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.

BROOKLYN:

It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.

MIAMI:

I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?

KNICKS:

I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.

BAD:

CELTICS:

You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.

LAKERS:

Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.

CAVS:

It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable

OKC:

Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.

WASHINGTON:

All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.

ATLANTA:

This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years.

DETROIT:

These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!

GOD ONLY KNOWS:

WOLVES:

Look, I’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!

MAVERICKS:

These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.

WARRIORS:

That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.

MEMPHIS:

Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!

SUNS:

EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?

PELICANS:

These are also Purple.

BLAZERS:

Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.

HORNETS:

I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.

RAPTORS:

Finally a uniform that tells sports fans: “Hey: my face is up here. I know my body is chugging away down here, but the soul is in the face, and that’s where a person’s TRUE MEANING can be found. Geeze louise.”

NUGGETS:

Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.

Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?

A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA ‘City’ Uniform

The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.

GOOD:

CHICAGO:

It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone if very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.

PACERS:

It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.

CLIPPERS:

Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.

BUCKS:

Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.

MAGIC:

If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.

SPURS:

I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.

UTAH:

Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.

KINGS:

The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.

BROOKLYN:

It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.

MIAMI:

I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?

KNICKS:

I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.

BAD:

CELTICS:

You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.

LAKERS:

Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.

CAVS:

It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable

OKC:

Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.

WASHINGTON:

All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.

ATLANTA:

This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years?

DETROIT:

These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!

GOD ONLY KNOWS:

WOLVES:

Look, i’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!

MAVERICKS:

These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.

WARRIORS:

That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.

MEMPHIS:

Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!

SUNS:

EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?

PELICANS:

These are also Purple.

BLAZERS:

Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.

HORNETS:

I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.

NUGGETS:

Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.

Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?

A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA ‘City’ Uniform syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

[flauntpage]

A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform

The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.

GOOD:

CHICAGO:

It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone is very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.

PACERS:

It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.

CLIPPERS:

Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.

BUCKS:

Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.

MAGIC:

If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.

SPURS:

I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.

SIXERS:

EXTRAORDINARILY classy font! Finally, the play of Joel Embiid is being recognized for what it is: a luxury product, grander than any wine, any gold topped chocolate bon bon, any gentle scented oil, rubbed into your back by the world’s strongest and most skilled masseuse.

ROCKETS:

At first glance, it’s maybe a little weird that the Rockets have Chinese writing on a jersey that is meant to celebrate the city of Houston, a city where most people speak English. But, clearly, this is the harbinger of the future for the franchise, which is going to move to Beijing as soon as possible. What’s my source? THAT’s my source buddy! BEIJING ROCKETS 2018-19, DON’T TRY TO HIDE FROM IT!

UTAH:

Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.

KINGS:

The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.

BROOKLYN:

It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.

MIAMI:

I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?

KNICKS:

I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.

BAD:

CELTICS:

You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.

LAKERS:

Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.

CAVS:

It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable

OKC:

Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.

WASHINGTON:

All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.

ATLANTA:

This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years.

DETROIT:

These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!

GOD ONLY KNOWS:

WOLVES:

Look, I’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!

MAVERICKS:

These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.

WARRIORS:

That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.

MEMPHIS:

Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!

SUNS:

EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?

PELICANS:

These are also Purple.

BLAZERS:

Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.

HORNETS:

I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.

RAPTORS:

Finally a uniform that tells sports fans: “Hey: my face is up here. I know my body is chugging away down here, but the soul is in the face, and that’s where a person’s TRUE MEANING can be found. Geeze louise.”

NUGGETS:

Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.

Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?

A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform

The biggest NBA news of the day is that Baron Davis and Laura Dern are dating, but the second biggest news is that Nike Released their designs for every NBA team’s “City” alternate jersey, which are jerseys inspired by cities or some shit. I looked at them and wrote about them, like a normal sports blogger does.

GOOD:

CHICAGO:

It’s the flag, and it’s a nice flag everyone if very fond of. I am worried about players spilling chocolate on their unis, though. That would be very embarrassing, I think, to walk around with a big ol’ chocolate stain on your nice white uniform. High risk, high reward play, here.

PACERS:

It has a checkered flag, like a race car. I like race cars. I like that they go vroom vroom very fast.

CLIPPERS:

Look I don’t know what the fuck is has to do with boats, or why the team is wearing Miami Dolphins colors, but teal is an NBA power color and you have to respect any team that dons it.

BUCKS:

Eggshell tones baby! Perfect for the river-yacht or a chilly, fire-lit library, with a tasteful stripe down the middle to bring it all together. This is the midwestern thinking man’s alternate jersey. Also they say “CREAM CITY” on the bottom, which is where I live, work and play, spiritually.

MAGIC:

If you don’t like these, you need to smoke more weed. One time I was EXTREMELY blitzed off THC drops at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington, and I spent like ten minutes in the gift shop, looking at the t-shirts they were selling. I thought the drawing was really nice and for a hot second I thought, damn I need one of these motherfuckers REAL bad but then my good brain, not my stoned brain, kicked in and way like “Hey Corbin, man, you’re probably too stoned to make this purchase, this shirt isn’t that nice dude.” Anyway, if I was still using, and I encountered this jersey in that state, I would HAVE to buy the Bismack Biyombo manifestation of this jersey, just spend whatever obscene amounts of money was requested of me, and regret the purchase in a very true and real way while also savoring my stoned wisdom in that time. This jersey rules.

SPURS:

I get that, as a left leaning-dude, I’m expected to hate black and white Spurs-branded digi-camo. But by making the camo black and white, it goes BEYOND a tribute-to-the-troops and turns a bunch of dudes who plays a game for a living into members of a private mercenary gang that kills its enemies with hoops. Watching capital inadvertently debase the world spanning military colossus that keeps it in power is kinda funny, I think it’s good.

UTAH:

Evokes the 70s, cocaine. Maravich belongs in this jersey.

KINGS:

The Basketball is a Lion King. He will stand above all other balls and roar, and the other balls will bow at his might until, one day, he is killed by another basketball, his brother who is also a basketball. His son, a basketball as well, will get revenge and take his place on the mountain, though.

BROOKLYN:

It’s a Nets Jersey. It’s black and white and it looks nice. Not everything needs to shatter molds.

MIAMI:

I wanna make a joke, but what, I’m made of stone?

KNICKS:

I like firefighters and no one can say otherwise.

BAD:

CELTICS:

You guys aren’t gonna believe this, but the Celtics have a boring looking alternate jersey to compliment their boring looking regular jersey. Features grey. More on that later. We are living in the wildest possible times.

LAKERS:

Kobe Bryant designed these. They’re supposed to look like snakes, because Kobe branded himself as a snake. Kobe spending his retirement trying a bunch of sports-adjacent shit he’s not good at and getting deferrence because he is Kobe Bryant, The Player Who Scored A Lot, is maybe the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever seen a professional athlete do. It would be less embarrassing if he was posting videos where people pissed in his mouth or making sly pro-Trump allusions to reporters or taking 125th place in Scrabble tournaments.

CAVS:

It is, I think, truly stunning how terrible these things are. They are, first, off, grey. You know, grey? The color of cloudy days and paved over fields? The color that only looks good on dads, while they swing hammers or pick up their children, or whatever? And then, the only color that REALLY compliments grey, which is yellow. You know. Like a paved road, that thing everyone thinks has a cool color? I mean who can blame Nike, I suppose, when LeBron James, the world’s most famous athlete, is the human being who is your most prominent non-Jordan pitchman, you gotta put him in the ugliest shit imaginable

OKC:

Honestly, It’s impressive how awful these are, soup-to-nuts. No one who made this had even one good idea they put into the final product. Every OKC jersey is bad, of course, on account of the team’s very existence being born from the poison seed of theft from Seattle, but… Gradients!? GRADIENTS!? A grey-to-grey-gradient? Why, on God’s green earth, is Nike fucking so hard with Grey, a color, not even a color, a SHADE, that has inspired exactly no people, ever? They like grey so much that they put TWO DIFFERENT KINDS of grey in this piece of garbage, and subtly mixed the two greys so that there would be nearly infinite manifestations of grey betweens the main greys. This jersey is seeking the limits of grey itself, the deepest grey, the grey at the edge of our understanding of grey.

WASHINGTON:

All the chocolate staining potential of the Chicago jersey, none of the evocative shit. These are maybe, low key, the worst one.

ATLANTA:

This evokes bees, not Hawks. Would someone please put feather texturing on these jerseys, like the world has been demanding all these years?

DETROIT:

These say “Motor City” but do not feature any pictures of cars, which I love because, like I said earlier, they are fast and they make loud noises. The move here was an updated version of the mid 90’s Grant-Hill vroom vroom firehorse, but Nike isn’t listening to good sense!

GOD ONLY KNOWS:

WOLVES:

Look, i’ve talked a lot of shit on Grey, which is Nike’s favorite color right now I guess, but I can accept it here. Minny winters are insanely grey, wolves are grey, this all makes thematic sense. But also: good god grey is ugly. Don’t wear grey!

MAVERICKS:

These are bad but they’re like so bad that I think they almost fly around the moon and become good again? They are a bad uniform that lives somewhere out of time, a look that has never been cool in any era, but in that fact I think they gain a kind of integrity. There’s a possibility that, someday, in 2067 or some shit, these will have been regarded at an innovative step forward in jersey aesthetics, even if we think they’re hideous now. Cop them and freeze dry to sell in the future.

WARRIORS:

That shade of yellow is hideous but the logo is cool? “The Bay” is some real San Francisco bullshit though, one of those subtle org-wide attempts to separate the team from Oakland before they strip the city of the team and move them to rich-ass tech boi SF in a few years.

MEMPHIS:

Honestly I feel weird writing snarky, mildly absurdist jokes about a jersey that is based on signs from a famous workers rights struggle. While I guess I respect Grizzlies celebrating a monumental protest with their unis, the fact that they were designed and manufactured by Nike, a company with a workers rights record that is spotty at best, goes a long way to defanging the allusion. Capitalism: it’s everywhere and it’s amoral!

SUNS:

EXTREMELY PURPLE. Purple is my favorite color and I honestly admire how purple these are, while also wondering… how purple is too purple?

PELICANS:

These are also Purple.

BLAZERS:

Every other Portland fan hates these things, which makes sense because they live in the world capital of streetwear snobbery. I think they’re fine. The plaid is totally unnecessary. If I was making these bad boys, I think I would stick a fat-ass salmon on there, personally. I also think that the mascot should be replaced with a salmon.

HORNETS:

I don’t even know, man. If it were up to me, I would make them play in a white jersey with a fat-ass picture of Michael Jordan’s smiling face on the front, and anything else will just seem incomplete to me.

NUGGETS:

Nice shade of blue. Fun stripes. Otherwise: whatever.

Okay I did it, this is every uniform. Back to tracking down every last piece of information I can collect and Baron + Laura. Where do they like to go to dinner, you think?

A Comprehensive Review Every New NBA 'City' Uniform published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv