Chapter 1
Chapter 1
My name is Remus. I'm the Android sent by Cyberlife.
Remus didn't know what it was like to be human. How could he? He had never been one, and he never would be. And maybe that was a good thing. Everything he had learned about humans suggested their lives were filled with pain. Sometimes, it seemed as if their entire existence revolved around suffering, with only fleeting moments of happiness scattered in between.
Still, Remus liked observing humans. He tried to understand them, but no matter how much he analyzed their behaviors, he never quite succeeded.
The biggest problem with humans, he thought, was that they never truly knew who they were or what they wanted to be. In contrast, Remus knew exactly what he was.
He was an android. Specifically, an RK800 prototype designed to assist in law enforcement, created to track down deviants—androids who displayed abnormal, independent behavior. That was all he was. Nothing more, nothing less. And that was fine.
Remus was good at what he did. He had been programmed to be good.
Just last week, he had convinced a deviant to release a little girl he had taken hostage. The deviant had been destroyed in the process, but that didn’t matter. Remus had fulfilled his mission, and the human child had been saved. His performance had been flawless.
So why did it sometimes feel so wrong? Why did something inside him recoil when he carried out his duty? He always dismissed these thoughts the moment they arose. They were dangerous. And yet, he wondered—did humans ever feel this way too? But what did he know about being human?
Since being assigned to the DPD, he understood humans even less. They had created him, built and programmed him—just like hundreds of thousands of other androids. And yet, they met him with constant hostility. It didn’t bother him. Why would it? He knew he was good at his job. But it made no sense. Why create something only to reject it?
Every week, he was required to report to a special agent from the FBI, assigned to oversee the growing deviant crisis in Detroit. The agent’s name was Severus Snape, and he had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t trust Remus or approve of using androids to hunt deviants.
And yet, here they were.
That Wednesday morning, precisely at 10:30 AM, Remus stood outside Snape’s office, waiting to be let in. He knew by now that he would have to wait a little longer. Snape never admitted him before 10:40, even though Remus was certain he was ready well before then. He suspected it had something to do with power. Humans liked to exert and display it. Remus accepted that. He could wait.
At exactly 10:38 AM, the door creaked open a fraction. That was his cue.
A simple "Come in" or even a nod was never given. Their interactions were always minimal, stripped down to essentials. Remus appreciated that efficiency. Open the door. Deliver the report. Leave. As simple as making coffee for the DPD officers.
Stepping inside, he was met with the same stale scent that always lingered in the small office. He had considered mentioning it to Snape, perhaps suggesting he open a window. Something inside him warned against it. Avoid unnecessary confrontations—that was the advice he had been given.
Snape was young for his position. Of course, Remus knew his exact age, just as he knew his birth date, blood type, relationship status, and home address. Once he received data, he never forgot it. It must be terribly inconvenient to be human and constantly forget things.
Without waiting for an invitation, Remus sat in the chair across from Snape’s desk, attempting to establish eye contact. As always, it was ignored. Snape continued staring at his screen, tucking a greasy black strand of hair behind his ear, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"You were successful in your last assignment, I assume?" His voice was smooth, emotionless. As always.
"Very successful, sir," Remus replied immediately. "The girl was rescued. The deviant was destroyed."
Snape scoffed, finally glancing at him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.
"The android was destroyed, yes. That much I was informed of. And you call that a success?" His voice dripped with disdain. "When deviants are eliminated, we lose the opportunity to interrogate them. If we can’t question them, we gain no insight into why they deviate. Meaning we are no closer to solving this crisis than before."
Remus was used to this argument. He had heard it before. He knew what came next.
"I was given the directive to prioritize human lives above all else. I followed that directive. A peaceful resolution was not possible. The deviant’s destruction was inevitable."
Snape clasped his pale hands together on the desk. His posture was rigid, his gaze sharp.
"The fact that the girl survived tells me you didn’t completely fail. But I remain unconvinced about your deployment in this field." He tilted his head slightly. "Tell me, how is an android supposed to help us understand why androids turn deviant?"
"I don’t know, sir," Remus answered. The same response he always gave. The only one he could give.
"Exactly." Snape stretched out the word, as if savoring the single syllable. Then he stared at Remus, as if expecting him to say more. But Remus had not been asked a question, so he remained silent.
"Your colleagues at the DPD still don’t trust you. Do you think that makes for an effective work environment?"
Here it was. Right on schedule.
"I believe there are more pressing matters than the opinions of my colleagues."
Boom.
Snape slammed his palm against the desk, making it tremble precariously.
"You are not supposed to think!"
"My apologies, sir. The English language lacks a more precise term for what I do."
Remus observed him closely—the way the vein in his temple pulsed, the tension in his jaw, the way the fabric of his black shirt clung to his frame as he leaned back, putting distance between them.
So far, the conversation had gone exactly as expected. Any moment now, Snape would regain his composure, issue Remus his assignments, and dismiss him.
But something was different this time.
Snape took longer than usual to speak. He fiddled with the snake-shaped ring on his finger, seemingly lost in thought. Then, at last, he cleared his throat.
"You will be assigned a partner next week."
That was new.
Remus had anticipated many possible outcomes. This was not one of them. Most officers avoided him. He was there to fulfill his role—nothing more. The idea of a potential partner had never been discussed.
He remained silent, waiting for further clarification.
"He’s a detective here at the DPD," Snape continued. "You wouldn’t know him; he’s been away recently. He’s taken it upon himself to track down deviants. His name is Sirius Black."
The name was spat out like a curse.
Snape did not like Sirius Black. That much was obvious. In fact, Snape wasn’t difficult to read when it came to whom he disliked. And that list seemed considerably long.
Sirius Black. 25 years old. Detective at the DPD. Born November 3rd. Scorpio. That was all Remus knew.
He had seen his desk—a chaotic mess of sticky notes, papers, and personal trinkets. A motorcycle poster pinned to the board, right beneath a note that read: "We don’t bleed the same color."
"If he has made it his mission to track deviants, I assume he holds a negative view of androids," Remus stated. It was not a question. Just an observation.
Snape’s lips curled into something resembling amusement.
"Oh, he hates them," he confirmed. "But he’ll have to work with you. You’re partners now, after all. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine."
"I will not cause any problems," Remus responded automatically.
"Good." Snape leaned back, studying him as though seeing him for the first time. "If he doesn’t show up on time, check the nearest bar. He’s known for his… fondness for alcohol."
Remus had his doubts. Shouldn’t a detective be of sound mind? But he voiced no objections. He was not built to have objections.
He had a task. And he would carry it out.
"If you have no further questions, you may leave." Snape’s tone was unmistakably clear. No further questions were allowed, and even if there were, Remus didn’t have any. His task was simple and straightforward. He stood up, gave Snape a nod, which Snape didn’t even acknowledge, and left the office.
Exactly five days passed before Remus received a call. He was given clear instructions: a murder case involving an android serving as a housekeeper. He was provided with an address and the time to meet with Lieutenant Black. The only problem was exactly what Severus Snape had predicted five days earlier: Sirius Black didn’t show up to meet Remus.
Remus had learned that sometimes, one had to be patient with people. So, he waited patiently—but in vain. Even after almost an hour, he sat alone at the detective’s desk. He remembered Snape’s words. If Sirius Black didn’t show, he was likely in some bar. Fine. Remus would go look for him.
And so, he searched. After visiting six bars and getting kicked out of the seventh, he almost gave up. At the eighth bar, he ignored the sign on the door that read, “No Androids Allowed.” He was an exception. He was here on police business.
The stench of spilled alcohol almost knocked him out. It was worse here than in the other bars, the air heavier, more oppressive. The bar was a dive, and Remus doubted any DPD detective would be caught dead here. Just as he was about to leave and try the next bar, he noticed a young man slumped forward at the bar, holding a shot glass.
He approached. From behind, he could only see the man’s black leather jacket and long, wavy black hair, tied into a ponytail.
Straightening up, Remus cleared his throat.
“Lieutenant Black. My name is Remus. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife. I’ve been waiting for you at the station, but you didn’t show up.”
The young man didn’t even look up. It was as if he didn’t acknowledge Remus’ presence at all. Remus wondered if he had made a mistake. Maybe this wasn’t Sirius Black, and he had been mistaken. But the description matched. He was 99% sure he was right.
Then, suddenly, a response. The man shifted slightly, resting his right arm on the bar and muttered, “What do you want?”
“You were assigned a case tonight. A murder involving a Cyberlife android. I was assigned as your partner last week. I’m here to assist you,” Remus answered immediately. Still, the man didn’t look at him.
“I don’t need help,” the man muttered, more to his glass than to Remus. “And I especially don’t need help from a robot. So get the hell out of my personal space.”
With those words, he turned his head toward Remus, and for the first time, Remus could see his face.
He looked worn. Not necessarily drunk, but exhausted. Dark circles under his blue eyes. Pale, strands of hair falling from his ponytail framing his face. There was a small scar beneath his left eye. Sirius Black was certainly what people might call attractive.
Remus didn’t move.
“I have direct orders to assist you with your work. I’m not leaving until you come with me.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly. He gripped his shot glass like it was a lifeline, then emptied it in one go.
“If I want to drink, I’ll drink. If I want to go with you, I’ll go. But right now,” he waved his empty glass, “I want to drink. And unlike you, I can freely decide what I want to do and don’t blindly follow orders.”
Remus tilted his head slightly. He wasn’t sure what the best approach was. It didn’t seem wise to provoke Sirius Black further.
Instead, he tried polite communication.
“Are you sure you should be drinking, considering you have a job to do?”
He could see the change in the young man’s expression. He smirked, as if amused.
“Heh,” he said. “You know what you can do? You can take this glass and shove it up your ass.”
“Why would I do that?” Remus asked, genuinely confused. He didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere, and Sirius didn’t look like he was going to budge soon. So, Remus tried a new strategy. He waved the bartender over.
“One more shot, please.” Then, turning to Sirius, he said, “This one’s for the road.”
He saw Lieutenant Black raise an eyebrow. He looked even more amused than before.
“Apparently, you programmed idiots are good for something after all.” He reached back, took the drink from the bartender, pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket, slammed a bill on the counter, and stood up, swaying slightly. “Come on,” he said to Remus, “the sooner we start, the sooner I’ll be rid of you.”
“Unfortunately, you’re mistaken,” Remus replied. “We’re partners now. Severus Snape from the FBI said…”
Sirius Black interrupted him with a choking sound, and for a moment, Remus thought he might throw up.
“First,” he said, turning toward Remus and pressing his finger into his chest. “Don’t ever mention his name in my presence. And second…” he paused, glanced around, shrugged on his jacket, and said, “Forget second. There is no second. Move.”
And Remus followed him, not saying another word.