Chapter Text
Saturday, August 15th, 7:32 pm
Cyberlife Warehouse and Docks
The moon was no more than a wisp, a scratch clawed out by a gargantuan claw, giving off the tiniest, most pitiful scraps of light. You could hardly see in front of you, but you didn't even need to- everything was muscle memory at this point. You twisted the keys in the ignition of your motorcycle to cut the engine, flipped your hood up over your head, and grabbed the handlebars with gloved hands to guide your bike into it's usual hiding place. A faint breeze, just warm enough not to be unpleasant, rustled the leaves of the of the lone grand oak towering just on the outskirts of the warehouse like a guardian- or maybe, rather, an enemy, since it's tangled roots provided just enough cover to keep your bike hidden from view. You leaned it down gently, letting it rest in a half-upright position and leaving your keys in the ignition just in case you needed to make an easy escape.
"Here goes nothing." You secure your backpack over your shoulders and can't help the smile that dawns itself on your face. Tonight was the perfect night for a simple little theft- less than 30 minutes ago the news channels had exploded with a story of a hostage situation, a little girl being held on a roof by a deviant android. Though you mourned for the inevitable death of the poor deviant, you knew you could use this to your advantage. You pulled gently on the strings of your hoodie, cinching the hood around your face more securely, and creep with silent footsteps towards the towering chain link fence. From this side of the warehouse, it was an easy climb to a collection of shipping containers, the perfect cover for a break in. You looped your fingers in the links and pulled yourself up with practiced ease, hopping right over the top void of the usual barbed wire- you had just cut the spiraling spikes away again with your laser cutter last month, but guessed it would be repaired any day now. As you perched on the top of the fence, you could see downtown Detroit and the lights of helicopters circling the tallest apartment complex in Detroit- sure, it was dwarfed by Stratford Tower, but it still stuck out like a sore thumb.
The hostage situation would be demanding all the attention of both the DPD and most normal people- you hoped that that included the security guards you knew to patrol the docks. Maybe if they were watching the news you could get in and out without even being noticed. You were in desperate need of a new android arm for a deviant back in Jericho, the place you had taken up as a home. As the only human, you were either adored or despised, thankfully leaning more towards the former since you risked your neck so often stealing parts from warehouses and scrap yards. You dropped down on the other side of the fence, landing neatly as you had taught yourself to do and feeling the exhilaration of a theft pump through your veins. All too familiar with the layout of the storage facility, you skittered like a nervous cat form one shadow to another. The shipping crates were tall and wide, giving you more than enough cover to slink from one to another, following the path you always did.
The wind was steadily picking up, tugging at your clothes and bringing a chilly bite to your nose and cheeks, but you pushed on through it. You had originally dropped down into shipping zone H1, but now you were rapidly crossing over to the next, being G2, and then F3, following the descending numbers and winding through thing pathways between crates in direction of the Cyberlife warehouse. Your back pressed against a crate hastily as you heard the telltale whirring of a police drone, and seconds later it's blinding luminescence lit the path you had just about crossed. Your smile widens through chilling lips as it flutters past without any idea that you were there, and you set off again along the open pathway between one shipping zone into the next. You could see your destination now, it's clean minimalism a grand contrast to the rusted aesthetic it was surrounded by. You take a left into a shoulder-width gap between two containers, then a right into a slightly wider space when you're met with a dead end and your face shifts into an annoyed grimace. A container blocker your view, it's tall red metal walls brandishing white letters you knew spelled out 'Archway Garage'. Some rookie dock worker must have set this new shipment down too far to the right.
Working around the situation, you took a few paces backwards, and then set off into a sprint. You leaped, catching a metal part resting just above halfway atop the crate and using your momentum to propel yourself upwards so you could stand on that bar instead. From here, you could make a simple jump, tucking your arms over the side of the container and hauling yourself up the rest of the way. You stayed low, scanning for your next plan of action and skirting the most concealed edge along the top of the crate. You followed it onto another one, and then a third, and from there it was easy to drop back down on the edge of shipping zone D8. The Cyberlife warehouse sat right in front of you, and you were mildly disappointed to see that there were no crates resting outside of it, not yet having been stored away. Instead of the easier option, you approached the raised landing of the esteemed building, hopping up and heading for the 5 loading doors. Stopping in front of the metal roll up door sporting a '5'. Pulling out your trusty laser cutter, you made quick work of the lock, slicing through the shackle and tucking the lock into your back pocket.
"Open sesame," you joke, and pull the rolling door upwards a simple quarter. You drop to your knees, crouching underneath, and then pull it shut again. Inside the warehouse, dim lights shine from high above your head, the backup lights that flick on when the building is unoccupied. You're rather proud to say you've memorized the interior, and know the rows and rows of tall black shelves like the back of your own hand. It's no android memory, but it's decent enough to lead you to what would be yesterday's shipment, the freshest parts you could find. You toss your laser cutter into the air, catching it easily again and repeating the action as a nonchalant fidget. You almost feel safe enough right now to whistle a tune, but that's much too risky. Turning into the aisle of Cyberlife crates coming from the boat arriving the night before, you head straight for the tall, rectangular cases you know hold android limbs. With that same small pen-shaped object, you click the button on it's base and the thin green laser shoots from the front. It's easy to guide over the tiny locks, and once they're out of the way you click open the sturdy grey latches and pull open the blue lid. It swings on a silent hinges, giving out a hissing steam meant to aid with water-locking the crates, and just what you are looking for is presented.
You swing your bag from your shoulders, unzipping the top, and lean in close to scan the serial numbers shown just below the elbows. #8674l, #2577b, #5823d- aha, #9004r, the component compatible with the HJ400 back at Jericho. You pull it from it's place encased within a soft black Styrofoam, and it finds a new home half-sticking out of your backpack. While you're at it, you might as well scrounge around for a few other things on the checklist, minor repairs like a broken optical unit or an audio processor, and thirium pumps or regulators were also needed. In the end, you had found a shipment of smaller components and stolen a few more basic components like a few joint modules, replacement arterial tubes and adhesive, and replacement hand you easily disconnected from it's socket, mainly for the index finger- and android new to Jericho was missing theirs. You also discovered some pouches of Thirium 310, packing those away for safe keeping with the rest of your haul. Your bag was full, and you were contented, so now all that was left to do was escape.
You had slipped lids back over boxes and closed the door-like ones to cover your tracks to at least some degree, so you weren't worried about being discovered before you could safely make it off the premises. You pull the roll up door a quarter from the ground again, and crouch underneath it once more. It falls shut with a click and you pull out the padlock, slipping it over the steel latch just so that it might be overlooked. Whatever buys you time is good. Now begins the backtrack. Hopping from the landing and back to flat ground you make a sprint for the safety of the shadows on the other side and just barely evade the lights of a flashlight beam held by a GJ500 you knew was named John. You were certain he caught your shoe, because the flashlight quickly whipped to the opening you had hidden in, and your adrenaline shot up as you propelled yourself forwards as quickly yet silently as humanly possible. You saw an opening up ahead, glancing over your shoulder and throwing yourself to the left, out of sight, just as light flooded the space around you.
For a moment, the light lingered, and you were afraid that John was going to follow, but then the light disappeared and you let out your breath with a triumphant chuckle. You continued on, a little more careful, from zone to zone with that same practiced ease that you always had. You frequently checked back on the arm sticking out of your bag but it was still there each time, waiting to be put to good use. The rest of the return was easy, but getting your full bag over the fence was a little harder. You climbed the front of the fence awkwardly, with your shoulders hunched to try and keep the backpack as upright as possible, and once you did reach the top you slid it right off your shoulder. Grabbing one of the back straps, you leaned over, bringing it as close to the ground as possible and almost losing your balance as you did before letting it drop. You heard the parts rattle together, wincing, and quickly followed behind, but a quick scan of the items inside showed that everything had survived. As easy as always, you slip the bag back onto your shoulders and return to your bike, grabbing the handles and pulling it free from the roots previously hiding it. As you right it on the small dirt road you frequented, hopping up onto the seat, you pulled the android arm from the back on your back and tucked it, safe and out of sight, in your jacket.
No human would even suspect a thing of you now- they never did. You wondered for a brief moment how you happened to always get so, so lucky when robbing this place. You had always heard that the security was tense and almost always alert, and you've had your fair share of close calls, but you've never gotten too close to capture. You twist your keys, pulling one foot up to rest on the foot peg and pushing off with the other, before cranking the handlebar and accelerating off, into the night, back towards Jericho with another handful of spare parts.