With the knowledge that Connor was now actually on his way instead of laying in bed with no real intent of moving from there anytime soon, HK800 was easily able to calculate the distance between the DPD and where his databases informed him Detective Anderson resided. With this, it was only a simple algorithm to approximate how much time he was allotted before the human's expected arrival. According to his calculations, which were never wrong, the android had 27 minutes to wait before he could finally get on with the actual investigation.

While, hitherto, the only objective in HK800's program had been Eliminate Deviancy, the android had since given himself the secondary quest of Form Partnership With Connor and under that, of course, the smaller task Learn More About Connor. With these new occupiers to busy himself with, HK800 decided to use all of his remaining time - now 26.43 minutes - to the utmost in an attempt to meet these new requirements. Which is why the android felt it would be beneficial to scan over the ungodly mess that was Connor's desk, even if looking at the haphazard array of useless junk and scattered papers thrown hither and thither as if the detective had mistaken them for confetti rather than important documents made the machine cringe.

Masses of crudely stuffed files dominated the scene. The pale yellow folders were thrown carelessly over every available inch of surface space and overflowing with far too many papers shoved messily into their insufficient confines. Court documents and case reports stuck out at every corner like an unbeatable game of whack-a-mole. The folder that currently played king of the hill over the rest of the paper junkyard, however, was surprisingly slim in comparison. Surprisingly, it only held what could be no more than three or four sheets of paper within its bowels rather than the apparent novels the rest of the folders were suffocating under the weight of.

HK800 glanced a quick eye about the room to ensure than nobody was glancing his way. The machine waited a brief moment until a small, green check of approval pinged into the left hand corner of his vision, indicating his rapid scan had delivered a negative result for people looking in his direction. The moment he had the go ahead, however, the prototype flicked the folder open.

The first paper in the folder was, as one might expect, a description of a suspect; in this instance, a deviant PL600 owned by the Phillips family. The suspect was registered under the name of Daniel; but what caught HK800's attention was not necessarily the actual information about a case he held no connection to... but rather the fact that the word "Damn" had been scribbled over the android's given name in a messy Sharpie scrawl and - far worse than that - the sentence "Back at it again with the white kids" had been doodled underneath the name as well.

Was this really the shit HK800 was going to have to deal with? At least the same sloppy handwriting then went on to jot a few actually pertinent notes about the suspect and its relation to a girl apparently taken hostage: an Emma Phillips - Who HK800's automatic information scan confidently informed the android was still alive and well before the machine even flipped through the rest of the folder. The sloppy Sharpie scrawl shorthanded the date of the event as Aug, 15. 2038, followed by a scribbly 7:52 in which the tail of the last number jerked sideways in a long streak as if the writer had already been up and moving by the time they finished the notes.

Taking this all in, the android leafed through the remaining few sheets of paper a lot quicker, finding little hand scrawled text on the next few pages he rifled over. Rather, the android was only provided with a bare bones description of the actual negotiation and preceding investigation. The pages were filled to the brim with uninformative facts such as Detective Anderson arrives: 8:29 and Detective Anderson discovers PL600 was going to be replaced: 8:38. (Though this fact at least had the words EMOTIONAL SHOCK written alongside it in bold but sloppy sharpie marks) However, even the short, objective notes obviously typed by someone uninvolved with the whole situation - probably from much higher up than the detective himself or anyone else actually sent onto the field - clearly detailed Connor Anderson's preferred methods in crystal clarity and HK800 eagerly filed the potentially useful bit of knowledge away for later use.

Connor gathered as much information as humanly possible, analyzing the smallest detail of a crime scene to piece together an elaborate picture of what happened down to the minutest detail. Sure, the procedure might be tedious, but it was an effective method no doubt and even the final page of this folder clearly detailed Anderson's success in using this information to talk the unstable deviant down. However, HK800 knew the particular style had the potential to be as much a detriment as it did a saving grace. It often slowed things down and hinged entire missions on gathering a single piece of information when simple brutal force could bring things to a messy but efficient end in minutes. The android would not go so far as to label Connor's methods as good or bad but they were undoubtedly something to be aware of in their own investigation.

However, besides the clear cut information detailing how Anderson had convinced the deviant to release the hostage and how the PL600 had been quickly terminated soon after; there was yet another message from the sloppy scribbler. Though their heavy handed scrawl was now far less large and rushed, as if the writer had somehow been subdued since their last message and their text alone seemed determined to convey the death of their earlier enthusiasm. Directly following the professional text reading "Deviant executed by sniper 47 from far roof by single shot to left side of skull" was noted in a small, Sharpie scrawl, "even though I had it under control."

On the left side of the paper, however, a new slim lined, red inked pen joined the conversation -And vicariously brought it to a quick and painless end with a simple "I must ask that you refrain from doodling on case files." The font was much neater than Connor's handwriting. The text was perfectly inlined formed from impossibly straight lines with not a single jitter or shake to speak for in its impeccable precision.

"Sorry, Amanda. It won't happen again!" Was incredibly ironically noted in the right hand corner. The apologetic text was even followed by a frowny face just in case there were a few remaining dregs of professionalism still desperately clinging on that needed to be taught a lesson they wouldn't soon forget.

HK800's internal timer informed the android 16.83 minutes yet remained to complete his investigation and tick off the mini task of Learn More About Connor by the time the android finally thumbed back through the papers for a final scan and flicked the folder shut so that no one would be any the wiser. The mechanical man proceeded to let his eyes rove over the rest of the hideous mess of a desk for anything else of note that may aid him in his quest to earn the detective's trust. Unfortunately however, barely anything dared try and fight back against the overwhelming tyranny of the piling folders and their unbested army of crumpled documents. It looked like something out of an OCD man's delirious fever dream.

A silent reminder to never trust Connor to store important papers formed in the android's head and filed itself away in the machine's boundless memory as HK800 took in what he could through the ocean of murdered trees. Objectively, he noted that nearly every free inch of desk not dominated by paper held a drained mug. Each only had a vague brown stain marring the ceramic inner edges and a tiny pool of abandoned dregs left to rest at the bottom of the cup to speak for what the forgotten items had once held.

HK800 dipped two experimental fingers past the rim of the nearest mug. The ceramic surface of the cup was painted pure black save for where the sleek darkness was disturbed by three white lines printed on either side of a pink upside down triangle in the center of the mug's front. Paired with the discovery that the rim of the odd cup was sculpted into two points, the item was likely mimicking the face of a cat. Ironic, considering cup right beside had "UNT" scrawled in bold, black lettering across the front, the text carefully positioned precisely alongside the huge curving black handle of the thing that looked suspiciously like a C.

The android touched the pads of his digits lightly to the dark pool of black liquid resting at the bottom of the cat cup. He lightly wet the very tips of his fingers with the unknown substance before pulling them back from the dark recesses of the corny mug and bringing them to his lips. HK800 flicked his tongue free from the confines of his mouth, sliding the synthetic muscle over his lips and and brushing it gently over the dark stained pads of his fingers to expose the unnamed liquid to his oral sensors. His processors worked instantaneously to assess the new substance the moment they were presented with it and had an answer in seconds.

A gratuitous amount of the chemical C8H10N4O2, commonly referred to under the well known name of caffeine, quickly brought forth the conclusion that the substance was, in fact, coffee as one might expect. Black, unsweetened and unadulterated coffee, to be exact, with no softening substance daring to even think of standing up to the overbearing bitter strength of the beverage.

Connor likes his coffee black, A small notification formed in HK800's head and the android filed it away in an incredibly small, practically insignificant section of memory the machine walled off and labeled Connor Anderson to be accessed if ever relevant. Hey, at least the machine was beginning to learn something more positive than the only other solid fact stored in that minuscule chunk of memory: "Connor is lazy."

Aside from the plethora of coffee cups which amounted to far more than any normal human being could ever have use for in the span of their natural life according to HK800's statistical data, the only other personal item existing on the messy desk was a sleek, black, ceramic ashtray. The thing was half full of graying ashes and snuffed cigarette butts beginning to pile close to the brim of the container, indicating frequent use. This information immediately brought up a red notification in HK800's vision. The translucent, crimson square pointedly informed the android that smoking indoors was a breach of company policy and constituted a violation that should be reported.

HK800 swiped the obtrusive notification away with a sharp blink of his eyes. The android decidedly ignored the prompt to report the misdemeanor as his programming debated with itself for a moment before coming to the conclusion doing so would be detrimental to the secondary mission of Form Partnership With Connor. It was in the android's greater interest to pursue that task relevant to his primary mission rather than follow his normal protocol of reporting any noted illegal activities he encountered as all androids were programmed to do. Spy bots, some called them. Peacekeepers, said others. Neither name effected HK800 in the slightest.