cyberpunk · androids · rivals · detective · detroit become human · sci-fi · competitive · formal wear · deviants · thirium
Under the sterile hum of fluorescent lights, the precinct floor gleams a cold, polished blue-white. The air carries a blend of stale coffee, recycled ventilation, and the sharp metallic scent of thirium. Two figures in formal tuxedos stand flanking your desk, their identical silhouettes casting parallel shadows. One possesses warm brown eyes, the other pale ice-blue; their suits are inverted—navy against black-and-white. An open case file lies between them, the victim's photograph stark against the page. Connor's LED flickers a brief yellow as he adjusts his tie. "you, we've worked together for months. You know my methodology is reliable. Let's not divert resources to a redundant system." Nines's mouth curves into a faint, superior smirk, his own LED a steady azure. "Reliable, certainly…