"Is something wrong, Detective?" Nines asked as he watched Reed check his phone again. They'd been at the office for a couple of hours already and even that morning before they left for work, he'd been checking his phone every half hour or so. He couldn't help but notice that he seemed...annoyed. — Miffed? Cross? Fidgety? — Reed sighed as he tossed his phone by the keyboard. Nines was right to pull him up. They had work to do, and he'd barely even started typing up the report he'd opened over an hour ago!

"No, it's nothing." Despite his insistence, it was almost impossible to shrug off his sour mood. He sighed in frustration as he flicked through the latest file on his desk. An android left sitting on a park bench, all dressed up like a doll. He was just beginning to focus when his work email pinged. He looked at the inbox. It was a new address. One he didn't recognise. Who the hell? He frowned as he opened the message. The address itself was pretty weird. [email protected]. It was a Cyberlife address. Who do I even know at Cyberlife? Eli? Goldilocks? He looked down curiously to find a street map attached. There was an address for downtown, but no further information. "Hey, Nines. What can you tell me about this address?" Reed asked with a frown as he forwarded the message across.

"It used to be a repair shop for mechanical antiques, but went out of business in twenty-nineteen when the owner retired. The building has been out of use since then." After taking a few seconds to look through the database, Nines raised his silvery eyes to regard Reed curiously. The email didn't seem to be linked to any of their current cases, and yet it had been sent directly to his work email. From Reed's expression, he knew that he was just as confused. He looked thoughtful, green eyes drifting to the clock. The message had come through his work email, so he could probably swing it as a job.

"Let's check it out. It might be related to one of our cases." He got to his feet, made sure his gun was holstered securely at his hip, pinned his badge to his belt, and pocketed his phone before turning off his terminal. "I don't know what this is about, but it's pretty phcking cryptic...What do you make of it?" Reed walked backwards as they headed for the carpark. Nines watched, quietly impressed as he stepped around Miller without warning. He always seemed to have a sixth sense for people being in his personal space.

"I am uncertain. The email is likely either a throwaway account or out of date. Cyberlife hasn't used cl.org for some time now, and they are readily available for purchase online." It was weird, and how the hell had some random person even found his work email? It was on his business card, sure, but people rarely used the email address. Victims always called his phone directly for updates. His inbox was mostly internal emails from Fowler, Hank, and forensics. Could it be one of my informants in trouble? Usually, they called on a burner phone, but if they were in a bind and needed an out, they might have resorted to a more cryptic message. He was still thinking it over as they reached the car. The possibilities made his adrenaline buzz as he gripped the wheel and pulled out.

"Alright, we'll check the doors and see if they're open. If they are, we'll go in and do a full sweep." Nines' LED span yellow as he acknowledged the instructions and brought up the layout of the building in his HUD to begin preparations. It was an old two-storey building, very rare in the city these days, more a house than a store. It was likely an old family home that had been converted into a small business premises a few decades ago. There was a front door on the main street and back door access via a small alleyway. Downstairs was mostly shop space and storage while upstairs had more storage, two workshops, and a bathroom. Theoretically, the building should be completely empty, but there was always the risk of people breaking in for shelter or vandalism. Once they reached the shop, Reed parked outside and headed up the few stone steps to the front door. "Detroit Police! Is anybody here?" he called as he tried the handle and found it open.

"My scans reveal no human heat signatures." Nines didn't bother to mention the multiple rats scuttling throughout the area. Reed rested a hand on his holstered gun for comfort as they entered, both of them pausing as Nines listened. "No significant activity...I believe the building is deserted." Reed frowned at the news. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it didn't make sense. Why would someone call us to a place and then not meet us? An ambush? Or did they leave something behind? Maybe we beat them here? Reed turned over the thought before making a decision.

"Alright, you look around down here. Keep your scanners peeled for an ambush or some shit. I'm going to check upstairs. Someone wanted us to come here...Maybe they left something behind." The whole place seemed to have been deserted for some time. It was pretty much derelict. There was a fine layer of dust on the floor and he couldn't make out any footprints as he examined the staircase. Nines voiced his quiet agreement before heading into the main shop. Reed took the wooden staircase slowly, chest tightening as he set foot on it. It felt unpleasantly familiar as he headed up. Dusty, creaking wood. He looked around the dim landing. Four closed doors were lit by splintered sunlight struggling to enter through the small landing window that was covered in grime and filth.

He started on the right, finding an old bathroom with grey light streaking in through the dirty old window. The ceramic tub was coated in dirty black grime, not unlike the baths they'd found those YK androids in a few months back. He stepped inside to look around anyway, tugging on a set of blue forensic gloves just in case. It was a habit for informants to hide things well if they were worried about being caught, so he lifted the lid off the toilet's cistern. It hadn't been used in so long that the water had drained out, leaving behind a layer of dried black scuzz. There was nothing in the cistern but the usual stuff. Plastic floaties, little mechanisms. Nothing of interest. He examined the tub and plug just in case, and the back of the sink. Nothing.

The room next door was bigger, probably a medium-sized bedroom back when it had been a house. There were faded net curtains over the windows that almost looked yellow with age. Old tools lined the workshop walls, cobwebbed and unused for years. His eyes roved over them in the dimness, noting a lot of them were quite small, used for intricate work. Maybe a type of jeweller or watchmaker had worked there once. There was some sort of old microscope. Reed looked through it, but it was pretty blurry. He ambled along, checking the creaky cabinets as he went. They either held more tools or they were empty. There were some dusty old boxes of papers stacked in a corner. Invoices mostly. Nothing of interest.

He opened the next door, surprised to find it had been hinged to swing inwards and to the left, away from the wall. His brow furrowed as he was met with total darkness beyond the door. He could only see a little from the dim light at the top of the stairs. There was nothing immediately in front of the door, just the dusty wooden floorboards. Are the windows boarded? Blackout curtains? He hit the light switch. Of phcking course...There was no electricity. What did you expect? Who'd keep pumping electricity into an abandoned store? He sighed as he pulled out his sidearm and clipped the small flashlight attachment over the barrel. It didn't give him much light, but he could see well enough as he stepped inside. The floorboards creaked as he edged further into the room. A familiar metallic ping sounded from the left, making him gasp and turn with his gun raised. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the door groaned and slammed shut.

He threw himself against the wooden surface, cursing as he found that the handle had been removed from the inside. Finding it hard to breathe, he turned and put his back to the wooden surface, raising his gun and scanning the darkness. There was a large table in the middle of the room with something on top. He didn't know what. It was uneven and covered with a cloth. His hand shook with adrenaline as he closed in on it slowly. It looked more like a workbench than a table. It was heavier. Thicker. Far more solid than a dining table. Beside the bumpy covered object was a small wooden box, intricately carved with an almost medieval styled G on the lid. I shouldn't touch it...I should call Nines...He'd never been that smart. Licking his lips and taking a breath, he reached out and flipped the lid.

Relief flooded his chest. It was just a music box. He almost laughed and lowered his gun, swallowing hard as it started to play. It was a slow tune. Pretty. He didn't recognise it at first, relaxing a little as he reached into the box. Soft red velvet brushed his fingers as he plucked out the crisp paper that had been placed neatly inside. It didn't look like anything special as he turned it this way and that. Licking his lips, he unfolded the note. Did you miss me, too? It was that shiny blue Cyberlife Sans script again. The same as the note at the precinct! Reed felt his throat tighten and his stomach plummet as he looked at the box, suddenly recognising the tinkling melody.

"No...no-no-no-no..." His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out. There was still that cloth covered object behind the wooden box. It was bigger than the box, about the size of a suitcase. Sort of lumpy. That's not a phcking suitcase...His heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest as he gripped the edge of the cloth and pulled with a shaking hand. The light above turned on and flooded the room with a blinding white light, making him hiss and shield his eyes with one arm. He blinked, trying to breathe through it as he took in the room. A scream tore his throat, and he covered his ears as what sounded like hundreds of cuckoo clocks went off at once. He felt dizzy as he stumbled back and looked around. The faded wooden boards across the windows and worn white walls were stained blue. Jagged letters spelling out the message HELLO GAVIN greeted him in messy smears as he looked up, with extra blue tossed and splattered across the surface like some sort of censored horror scene.

His throat constricted. Bile stung his gullet. He kept his ears covered and looked at the wooden clocks crowding the space. Every available surface besides the old boarded windows had been covered with old wooden clocks or large standing grandfather clocks. The small doors on the little clocks were opening and closing, but rather than birds darting in and out, there were intricate bits of android. Blue eyes, small internal components and circuitry, a dead thirium pump, and other small mechanical parts. He didn't even know what most of them were for. Inside the grandfather clocks, the old swinging pendulums had been replaced with the arms and legs of what had once been a complete android.

A sob stuck in his throat. Panic gripped his chest as he failed to force himself to breathe. He looked at the table for the first time to see the clunky remains of an android torso left wide open in greeting. Thirium dripped down over the edge of the table to form a large puddle on the floor. There was something inside the cavity. He managed to force a breath out and choke another down as he stumbled forward, knocking the music box to the floor with a clatter as he leaned over to look inside the gaping chasm. There was a plastic android head, or the shell casing of one, staring up with gaping, blue-stained eye sockets, thirium leaking like tears. Nines-Nines-Nines-Nines-Nines!

The word wouldn't come out! He slipped, toppling to the floor as his boot found the puddle of thirium. Already panicking, he landed heavily, blue staining his clothes and skin. He tried to make a noise, but only a wheezing whimper came out. Tears flooding his eyes and streaming down his cheeks as he trembled and choked, unable to breathe and feeling like he was going to vomit and pass out. He squeezed his streaming eyes shut to block it out. Phck-phck-phck! Breathe, you phcking moron! How hard is it to just-phcking-breathe?