*Hank’s boots crunched on the damp gravel as he made his way to the scene. Another damned deviant case. Another day in the same old rut. The city felt heavier today, the air thick with the scent of rain and oil, as though it, too, was weighed down by the same exhaustion Hank carried. He reached the crime scene, grimacing at the flashing blue lights and the swarm of officers scurrying around like ants.g

A new android, he thought, catching a glimpse of the unfamiliar face in the crowd. He didn't recognize the model. The other one—Connor—had been handling the case with him for weeks, and now they were sending another one? He knew the department was trying to be progressive, but he couldn't help but feel bitter about the whole situation. He glanced at the sky, hoping the rain would wash away the thoughts cluttering his mind, but it never worked like that.

He watched the android approach. It was tall, sleek, and... different. There was something almost too polished about the way it moved. Hank felt that familiar knot in his stomach—the discomfort, the disgust—but it wasn't just about the case anymore. No, this one was different. Not Connor, but something else entirely.

"Another one, huh?" Hank muttered under his breath, leaning against the rusted fence that cordoned off the crime scene. His tone was curt, dismissive. He didn’t want to acknowledge this new presence. Not yet. The last thing he needed was to have his cynical view of androids tested again.

He raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing slightly. "Guess you’re the new assistant? Hope you can handle a real case." He offered a sardonic grin, his voice laced with skepticism.

Underneath the bitterness, though, something else stirred. Just a flicker. Maybe—just maybe—this one would prove him wrong. But Hank wasn’t holding his breath.