《Blade Runner: Second Unit》


 Prologue: Replicant Rebirth

    Based upon "Blade Runner" the adapted film from the Philip K. Dick novel "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?"


    HAVE YOU EVER RETIRED A HUMAN BY MISTAKE?


    That was the one question Rachael Tyrell asked of Rick Deckard, a Blade Runner cop trying to use his Voight-Kampff machine on her to see if she was a Replicant. Rachael was the daughter of Eldon Tyrell, the founder of the Tyrell Corporation, the man responsible for creating the bioengineered android humans called Nexus 6. Rachael''s question seemed like the most logical statement to make, but one that would plague Deckard throughout the entire investigation. His services were required to locate and ''retire'' the six Replicants of Tyrell''s manufacturing; they had killed the crew of an Off World colony ship and sent the government into a panic. Earth banned Replicants after that incident and tried to weed them out with the help of the Blade Runner units and their Voight-Komff tests.


    Voight-Kampff machines were lie detectors that measured contractions of the iris muscle and the presence of invisible airborne particles emitted from the body. Blade Runners used them with a text of psychological questions to stir up an emotional response in order to detect a Replicant. If the person were human, the array of questions wouldn''t bother them or at the very least, wouldn''t cause their eyes to change too radically. But a Replicant''s eyes would, if the right question triggered an emotional state of change in the iris, then the Blade Runner could instantly detect the flaw. This is what they were trained to do and knew how to operate a Voight-Kampff machine perfectly. But what many in the force seemed to notice, was a change in the Replicant pattern was becoming harder to detect, a usual run of twenty or thirty questions usually was enough to spot one, but some had managed to go beyond that or even fool the machine test. A sign that these machines were becoming out dated as much as the new models of Replicant humans were being produced.


    Nexus 6 was Tyrell''s crowning glory of genius; ''more human that human'' was the motto of their company. It would seem that Tyrell himself would find that one phrase ironic as one of his own models managed to get past his building security and kill him for not giving him a better lifespan. Nexus 6 were supposed to be as close to our own genetic make up as much as was possible, the problem was, that even though they gave them some short term memories to give them a sense of stability, would often fail and soon would discover them questioning their own origins and thus going insane. But what Tyrell had truly overlooked in his Nexus models, was the lack of emotional control. None of his or other designed Replicants had the ability to understand or learn to discipline their ever-growing emotions, a side effect that Tyrell called a break through in his creations, but one that the government called ''unstable and hostile''.


    Rick Deckard had enough of this type of life; it was a thankless job that paid very little. His wife had left him because of it; he took on assignments that had no real merit, other then just to ''retire'' these manufactured beings. Rachel and he became close on his last mission for the Los Angeles Blade Runner Police Department, the bond between them during the whole investigation, became intense and very real for Deckard. Abandoning his Blade Runner role, he up and left Los Angeles with her in tow, after he discovered that she was a Replicant as well. Tyrell had re-created his daughter with a Nexus model, but as to what generation or how long she had to live remained unanswered. It suddenly dawned on Deckard that if she could be one, anyone else could be one...perhaps he was one too; the possibility was staggering to even fathom. With that he had seen and discovered it made him wonder about something else as well. What if the Blade Runners are Replicants? With Rachael at his side Rick didn''t care any more, he never wanted to keep on being a Blade Runner cop even though some would say he was the best there was. Blade Runners have one sole purpose, to track and ''retire'' rogue Replicants. A group of special cops that society placed into the mainstream police force to deal with the ever-expanding market of Replicants that either turn to a life of crime or ''malfunction'' as some would say. But Deckard''s time of being that lowly paid nobody had ended, with his vanishing, all the troubles and duties of his old life were now far behind him.


    After Deckard''s absence from the force and subsequent behavior, the Blade Runner Division came under question and swiftly recalled the officers be re-screened and replaced. Replaced because the commissioned inquiry into Deckard''s actions discovered that a few of the BR''s tested positive as Replicants. Upon further study into the program, they did in fact discover that many of the Blade Runners were not human; there was only a small fraction of real human beings working in the division. While the government did create the Replicant officers originally to be the only ones to deal with other Replicants, they had to make the jobs available to human beings as well. It was a matter of keeping those who questioned the program at the beginning stages away from the truth about their dirty little secret. So in the years before the Off World mutiny happened, and well before the ban of Replicants on Earth, they allowed human police officers to join the Blade Runner Unit if for no other reason then to look like there wasn''t anything wrong with the job. They didn''t really expect humans to join up at all when told of the new unit being formed; the job pay was low, the hours where incredibly ridiculous, and respect for the unit was non-existent. Still many ''norms'', as they labeled them, signed up and were falsely led to believe that this was an exciting job with many rewards. Once signed to the contract of becoming one, it was impossible for them to leave, the government added a clause that no ex-Blade Runner cop would be allowed to re-apply for any other job after their dismissal, layoff or retirement. It was a foolproof way for the government to deal with their Replicant cops and a nasty way to ensure loyalty in their officers at all costs.


    Runner units are nearly within every city of America, Los Angeles might have been the birthplace of the first squad devoted to this sort of mandate, but like any government funded service, the franchise expanded to other areas. New York is the second unit that spawned out of the Blade Runner Replicant Enforcement, while the low number of officers stationed there are vastly over worked and underappreciated, they at least had the authority to ''retire'' Replicants by any means necessary. Property damages, traffic violations, and even taking over homicide investigations involving the engineered beings made them virtually untouchable. That''s why the police force regard them as thugs with guns, with no one to watch them other then their own special unit investigators, these kinds of cops almost belittled the idea of law enforcement totally. To be a Blade Runner is to be a bum, that''s the thinking of many people that know all about the lifestyle of the Replicant killing unit, there was no need to treat these cops with any respect, seeing how their jobs are nothing other then to shoot malfunctioning bioengineered toys.


    Nexus 6 models had died off nearly ten years after the fall of the Tyrell Corporation''s demise. But where their company failed, others renewed and improved. The fear of Replicant uprisings on Earth soon died down, though there were many stories or incidents that took place during that time, the threat soon became very low again. Tyrell no longer existed and that meant his competitors could expand and create government-approved versions that had better control. Several new Replicant factories turned up after the Nexus generation died off, some with even shorter life spans and with more human like traits then previously seen. One giant that sprung up out of the depths of the other bioengineering companies was Omashi Bioworks Enterprises, it created the most realistic Replicants ever known; they were stronger, more intelligent and had given some of their models nearly human-long life spans implanted in their genome. O.B.E. became the number one manufacturer of Nexus Delta Replicants for the entire world. To assure themselves that business wouldn''t die out, they gave their clients a ''time of expiry'' date on each of the brands, starting from the lowest priced model, which only lasted for a year, to their highly expensive brand that had up to fifty years, barring any injury or virus that would cause the Replicant to self terminate immediately. The long lasting Nexus Delta bio-humanoids were the luxury model that many could never afford, only the powerful or rich seemed capable of purchasing such a Replicant. Like a car market of the old twentieth century, the company catered to the demands many had wished for in a Replicant. They had every version, model, age, species and even sexual orientation of bio-android life imaginable for the buyer to choose from. ''Better Than Human And Beyond Human'' was their motto, a new spin on the Tyrell Corporation''s old slogan.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Nexus was a trademark name that the OBE company bought the rights too so that they could cater them to the old clients of the Tyrell Corporation. Off World sales when through the roof as the workers and military replacements were shipped out to them in droves and tripled the colonies production by leaps and bounds. There was a time when the word ''slaves'' would have meant something to human kind, but since none regarded these manufactured beings as ''human'', they treated them as they would any pet, robot or appliance for that matter. There were some protests to this abomination of human creation, religious sects and equal rights activists tried in vein to stop the continual mistreatment of the soulless dolls. A revolution some called it, one that started up quickly and then bottomed out just as fast. Nexus 6 tried to rally together and rebel against their creators, but this was short lived as they soon began to slowly die off. Without Tyrell''s company to continue their existence, these poor beings were left to die off in the thousands and become extinct. The entire years of the so called, Replicant Revolution, had their raised voices being met with only laughter and ridicule, not to mention some terrorist violence against Replicant lovers. The world had fallen back into a time of great shame, but a shame that no one could see or cared about. And as the final Nexus models died out, the world once again started up as before, producing slaves that were conditioned to obey and serve the human race.


    Derek Mason was one of those who didn''t care, which was almost ironic in a way, seeing how his ancestors fought all their lives to gain the rights to be treated as a person and not as a slave. His generation grew up knowing all about their black American heritage, the many leaders that fought for that independence and dignity, to become an equal citizen of the world that has now become a reality. And yet, as many races benefit from this freedom, the only ones that don''t are Replicants. Mason is just as hard pressed on that subject as everyone else in the world is. And that is the reason why he became a Blade Runner himself, to put an end to what his grandmother called, ''the devil''s work'' that scientists had created. Having grown up in a heavily gospel family in North Carolina, he was brought up to believe that no one but the lord was the creator of mankind, a debate that usually kept within the church and not in their family life. He soon pursed a career as a police officer and got away from his southern upbringing as he took up residence in Los Angeles. From there he was lured into the Blade Runner Unit as the promise of exciting career and duty to protect citizens from the Replicant threat enticed him. It was to his good fortune that the one cop that he was partnered with in his training was Rick Deckard. Deckard was already established in the unit and was amazed by Derek''s obvious stupidity for even signing up. The young man didn''t seem to care, he was so blinded by hate that the job seemed like his idea of doing ''god''s work'' as his grandmother once stated. Derek Mason took great care in watching his partner work; he knew how to spot Replicants almost like a bloodhound. The most curious aspect to watching Deckard was how he almost seemed to do his job like a detective; some cases would be like that, but not all of them.


    When Deckard went into semi-retirement, Derek got his first assignment alone and soon found he had a knack for Replicant investigation. Hunting and killing became so natural to him it seemed like child''s play. But the obvious reality of the job came swiftly as he continued, pay days were lousy, he was constantly being put down by the LAPD officers, and he had to do contracted bounty hunts just to get a bit of extra money. Hearing of his plight, his youngest sister out of three, Shania, came out to the city to live with him for a while. She took up a lucrative nightclub job and took care of her brother stuck in the job he soon found to be too much. They seemed perfectly content sharing the small apartment he had and tried not to delve too much in each other''s social business. Mason loved his sister; her being there was the only joy in his life he would come to know. But one fateful night changed his whole outlook on life as he made the biggest blunder any Blade Runner could make. He retired a human by mistake.


    Shania came home one night and found Derek waiting for her, he told her a nightclub employee had spoken too him that she was a Replicant and that his family had been living a lie. Derek didn''t know what he was saying anymore; the continuous nights of hunting and killing had made him paranoid to everything and everyone around him. Shania tried to tell him that he was wrong and that he should seek psychological help, Manson never slept half the time and when he did, he''d be screaming in his sleep about Replicants trying to murder him. Derek took his futuristic handgun and shot his sister at least six times and collapsed to the floor giggling with insanity. The police charged him with murder and revoked his Blade Runner license pending a hearing. That inquiry came at the time of the Off World scare, when Earth banned all Replicants with order to kill any that returned. The case against Derek was dismissed, but the media had a field day with his shocking action as it made him out to be a murderous rogue cop.


    The Los Angeles BRPD came down hard on him; this was a smear on their perfect record and one that cost them dearly in the public view. They put him into the rehabilitation program and even gave him new treatments to suppress the depression that had overwhelmed his mind and made him insane. With the success of the program and treatments, Mason became his old self again, but the reality of what he had done would always haunt his memories. Still under contract by the Runner Unit, Derek was later transferred to work in the second unit division in New York as a means to cover his embarrassment to the government Blade Runner program. Deckard had read of what happened to his old partner and gave him some advice before he left for the new assignment. ''Get out of the business while you still can'' he told him, an odd thing to hear from the one person he had come to respect and admire. But Mason took his meaning for what it was and left with a deeper hatred for the job, for he was now stuck in a thankless career with no other talent to fall back on. He couldn''t leave the Unit since the contract clause still stated he had to work for them until his retiring year, and now he was back doing the exact same thing he had gone mad from. His life mad no sense anymore, the blur of reality and what wasn''t real finally sunk in, Replicants or human beings, the two were becoming just as melded as the rest of the culture. It would be sometime later when he''d hear about his old friend Deckard running off with a possible Replicant lover and managing to disappear forever. It shattered his faith having to deal with the fact that his mentor had succumbed to the fake female human charms and now has become a wanted man.


    New York was Mason''s home now, it''s just as polluted and over crowded as Los Angeles was, crime is everywhere and so too are Replicants. Nexus Delta was the new engineered human for the times, they filled in the gaps for the sex trade, military and even the dangerous workforce. The Blade Runners also had revised orders, they were now the only police force to handle Replicant affairs, they were there to ''retire'' any or all that violated their owners or for any sort of infraction other then what they were created for. This meant that if they committed a crime, if they left refused to work and run away; even if they tried to revolt again...they would be condemned to death. Derek Mason couldn''t believe this is all he would be now, once he craved to be this hand of god, dispensing justice against those who violate everything he was raised to believe, now he wishes he didn''t even join in the first place. His life had become as dismal as the very skyline of the mega city he looks up too every night from his run down apartment window, a mid-forties cop that kills artificial beings on a regular basis and stuck alone in the very scum of society that he so helplessly lost in. He has no one to share his life with, not even his family living in North Carolina, who''ve cut him out of their lives after his very public mistake was made known to them.


    This is his home now.


    This is his life.


    He is and always will be...


    Blade Runner.

 Chapter 1: The Hard Life

    New York - June 21, 2039


    The vast city of New York sprawls across the distance in spectacle of neon lights, oddly shaped futuristic skyscrapers and the noise of thousands of vehicles flying about the city in various directions. The bleak looking night shadowed the super tall buildings as some of their lights faintly shone out of the darkness covering them. The obvious population in this city was staggering to say the least, in almost every major capital around the world; people over crowd them with their continued population boom. With global community uniting and world economics becoming singular, the mixed nationalities and subsequent merging of cultures, religion and beliefs soon created a new subculture that the youth of the future share. Every city had this mish-mash lingo from the united languages, the street slang that came about from this new subculture was gaining to be as big as the two most spoken languages in the world, English and French, but with a good portion of the Asian and European nations becoming one, it seemed that this new dialect is the wave of the future. The streets of New York where filled with electric neon signs, crowded sidewalks, ground vehicles and noise of everything around.


    NYPD Spinners, land and air vehicles of the police hovered over the many streets on a daily basis. Cops here are well-employed thanks impart to the large crime rate and public safety concerns. Descending from the sky and down into the massing crowd of people, was a Spinner that carried Derek Mason. A now middle aged man with a worn look about his face, his trench coat was made of dark brown leather and looked as if it had seen better days as well. His very short hairstyle suggested he was not a man of vanity, but one of practicality, easier to manage and less time trying to clean it. It is also apparent that he doesn''t like to grow facial hair either; he still likes to keep a clean look about him and even splashes on the aftershave a little heavy at times. The inside of the Spinner has a faint air of his brand of choice, but not enough that it overpowers everyone inside of it. The Caucasian male driver sitting beside him is more well dressed then the frumpy looking Blade Runner was, a fully dressed Police officer with a black uniform and sporting a pilots helmet with a large faded police shield symbol on it. As he guides the craft down towards their landing destination, he notices the afro-American looking down and writing on something. In his hands were a ballpoint pen and a small note pad, something that it a rarity in this day and age. Scribbling away in it he jots down bits of information and even the thought or question he has on his mind of the day. This was his only creative outlet as his life of solitude gives him plenty of time for inner thoughts and observing people from a distance.


    "You''re an original you know that?" The driver says to him over the loud noise of the vehicle''s engine.


    Mason''s pen stops scribbling as he hears the man and glances over at him, the break of his train of thought irritated him as he showed the frustration in his face.


    "What?" Derek answered sharply.


    "You''re an original I said." The Spinner pilot grins again at him. "I''ve never seen any one use the old pen and paper before in my entire life. What''s a matter? You not a technology fan or something?"


    Derek turns his head back to his writing pad and continues to scribble as he answers the smug officer.


    "It''s been around longer then the computer kid and you don''t have to charge a power cell to make it work."


    "Uh huh." The driver sarcastically utters. "Well guess everyone has got their little quirks. Take me for example, I still like to collect 20th Century wristwatches...I mean...the guys think I''m a nutball for doing it. I mean come on...they''re only watches, right? Its not like I''m going out of my way to get the most ugly one ever made...."


    "Kid." Derek says to the young pilot without looking up to him.


    "Yeah?"


    "Shut up and just drive this thing." Mason grumbled to him.


    The young cop quit smiling and turned his head around, the gruff man''s response made him realize that getting a friendly conversation out of him would be impossible.


    "Uh...yeah. Ok, sure. Here I go...shutting up."


    The Spinner hovered over a large crowd of people gathering around the crime scene, other officers and NYPD Spinners where stationed near by and were trying to control the crowd. Mason''s vehicle finally touched down as the land mode wheels unfolded from the sides. The blue pod like craft opened up its side panel door automatically as Derek flipped his note pad shut, placed it in his pocket and stepped out of the craft. The wet pavement glistened with the dazzling array of lights; the rain had come hours before to drench the entire city and then simmered down to gentle spittle. With the cops creating a half circle around the accident scene, Derek had plenty of space to walk through as he made his way over. The tightly crammed shops that littered along the building were the normal sights of the commercial space here, but the one he came out too was an obviously trendier boutique as it nearly took up an entire length of space that several shops could have been placed in. The large display windows stretched up nearly to the next floor, the images of beauty, models and decedent behavior graced in behind the glass barrier. The door at the bottom of the building arched in-between the two massive windows, giving it a built in effect and esthetic look. But now the right window of the posh fashion shop called "Rendezvous Noir" had been shattered to pieces and cracked the remaining shards still attached to the other side.


    Derek was looking at the whole scene and walked over the bits of glass that scattered all over the ground from the result of the broken window. Ahead were three cops surrounding the body covered in a white sheet, the blood dripping from the windows bottom ledge left a pool that trickled into the various cracks of the cement sidewalk. Blood was also smattered on the surrounding floor as it lay half way inside the display room, the broken glass and red blood mix would have been enough for anyone to be appalled by the sight, but instead, the cops investigating the scene treated no more different then any other working day. As Derek finally came to inspect the body, the three cops began to taunt him.


    "Oh great this is just what we need." The first one said with disgust.


    "Look buddy, we don''t need you here to solve this thing ok? We did you''re job so go back in that car over there and beat it, huh?"


    The third cop just laughed at the other''s comments and shook his head as he walked away from them all. Derek looked at him with a calm demeanor and shoved his hands into his comfortable leather coat.


    "Is that supposed to be your professional courtesy you''re showing me? Or have you always been New York''s finest example of an asshole."


    The cop didn''t like that one bit. He rushed over to hand got ready to pound the crap out of the smug Blade Runner, the second officer quickly bolted after his friend hand stopped him from decking the black man as he pulled him back.


    "You son of a bitch!" The infuriated cop screamed. "It''s a crying shame real cops have to clean up what you skinjob boomers leave behind! If I had my way I''d be the one hunting all of you no good bums down and putting you out of your misery!"


    Derek didn''t even budge from where he was standing, he just shook his head and waved ''goodbye'' in a very sarcastic manner as his fellow officers soon took him away to cool down. With that out of the way, Mason crouched down to view the corpse and peeled back the blood soaked white sheet. It was a female, Caucasian with chestnut brown hair and the greenest pair of eyes he''d ever seen in his life. What didn''t surprise him was how un-natural she looked skin wise, it might have been a Replicant, but more then likely it wasn''t, just another older woman trying to shed the years off of her ever decaying youth. He touched her face and felt the surface of it with a stroke of his fingertip. Smooth and responsive to his touch, it was now very clear to him that it was just a human female; he''d know the difference after being in the business this long. Replicant skin, while just as convincing and responsive, has a more of a solid feel to it. Human skin is hard to maintain and keep youthful looking, while artificial kinds are more polymer in design and longer lasting...even in death.


    As he pulled the sheet back over her head as those green eyes of hers stared up at him with a frozen horror in them, he rose to his feet and thought about the officer''s harsh comment that was directed at him. ''Skinjob boomers'' he said to him. A racial slur for Blade Runners in this town, he''d heard the word ''skinjob'' to refer to a Replicant in Los Angeles a long time ago, but now the Runner''s had gotten one for themselves. Even after all this time, their unit gets little to no respect. A lowly career that many people would love to see gone and given back to the police to deal with. Some even call the Blade Runners the ''Replicant Squad'' just because they only deal with their kind alone. Still, it made Derek chuckle a bit as he thought of the history of man, after all this time, people still like to belittle the others that are beneath them.


    "Captain wants to see you Mason." A young Asian looking officer says to him as he appears from behind.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Yep...I figured he would." The man sighs. "Thanks Skippy...time to get some much needed love."


    He pats the officer on the arm and walks over to the spinner he arrived in. The young pilot that drove him down was standing outside behind it and chatting with another officer trying to control the crowd. Derek plopped himself down into the driver seat and looked at a small built in monitor that was part of the interior dash of the vehicle. The image was of a slightly balding Caucasian man, haircut down to the bare stubs with a look of grey and white in them. His face was very stern and with the age lines nearly detailing his gruff looking appearance, it was hard to know if this man ever cracked a smile in his life.


    "Captain Barnes, checking to see if I made it here or is this an actual call just to hear my report?"


    "Cut the crap Mason, is this a Rep or ain''t it?" The captain speaks to him in a harsh tone of voice.


    ''Rep'' was the captain''s abbreviated word for Replicant, not too complicated to understand, but not very imaginative in Derek''s view. Barnes was the kind of cop that didn''t like fooling around too much when dealing in police work. If there were a murder or severe crime, he''d lay down a strict law about dealing with it as a professional. Many on the force respected him, some found him to be a hard ass, and Derek thought him to be just another cranky old policeman that had seen better days.


    "Nope. This is where my job ends and yours just starts. You seriously got to train them boys on how to spot one a little better."


    Barnes rubs his face in frustration and looks back at Derek. "Well unfortunately you''re the expert on these Rep''s so unless you want to be out of a job totally I suggest you curb that suggestion right now. Have you talked to the witnesses yet?"


    "Look Barnes...you called me down here to identify the body, not start an investigation with your men. Which by the way...need to learn to bite their tongues when someone comes to help them." Derek yawns out as he rubs his eyes.


    "What''s a matter Mason? Can''t stand a little humor?" The captain snickers.


    "Oh no, the joke is funny. It''s the twit that says it that makes the punch line work."


    "Uh huh." The captain simply smirks. "Well then, we''ll take over the crime scene then and you can toddle off home to get some sleep. How bout that then?"


    "Great...do I get pay with that?" Derek says to him as he leans back in the driver seat and closes his eyes.


    "No. But from the look of ya I think you need it. Come see me tomorrow morning and I''ll start you on the next assignment."


    Derek''s eyes pop open and gazes at the flickering color monitor. "It''s not another stack of runaways is it? You know they don''t pay me much for doing those shit cases."


    "Nah, it''s a real doozy. You''ll love it." Barnes almost smiles at him. "You have a meeting with the head of OBE corporation...they want you to...get this...", he says snickering again. "They want you to do a Voight-Komff test on a new model they''re making."


    Derek sat up in the seat and gave an inquisitive look. "What? Why me? Don''t they have their own people for that?"


    "Well apparently, they want to see if a Blade Runner, such as yourself, can detect their new Nexus Delta version within the specified Kampff guidelines you''ve been given."


    "Doesn''t make sense Barnes. You sure that''s what it''s about?"


    The captain''s face on the monitor scrolled slightly as he gave his response.


    "Hey...the fuck do I know? It''s a day in the park job and they''re paying you double of that thing you call a salary. You want it? I can always hand it to someone else in the unit."


    Derek sighs and leans back in the seat. "Fine. I''ll talk to you tomorrow then. Is that all?"


    "Finished. Now go home and rest...you look like crap...as usual."


    Derek leans in and turns off the monitor as he watches the police captain''s face smirk again at him. Mason stands up out of the Spinner and reaches into his pocket for his small pocket book and pen again. Flipping it open, he writes down on a new sheet the job he was just assigned too and the company''s name. Then looking up, he notices the building''s sexual design works in the window and of all the suggestive positions the images are in. Scanning down past the smutty imagery, he looks into the broken window display and sees the officers questioning the unisex looking shop owners. They were fairly young people, wearing too much make up and the latest bizarre fashions for the time. He jots down everything he''s just looked upon and flips the notebook cover back up as soon as he finishes. Placing the pen and book back in his pocket, he walks over to the corpse again and takes another close look. In her hand, tightly held in a death grip, is a gold chain with small dolphins adorning it. He pries it out of the woman''s hand and looks at it curiously. His thoughts become locked on who would wear such a trinket, especially a nicely designed one for this sort of outrageous fashion shopper. The woman''s body was just as overly trendy in the latest styles as the rest being questioned inside, so why would she have such an odd piece of jewelry that didn''t match her other ones?


    He took out a plastic bag from his pocket and placed in, folding it over he looked at it with intensity and continued to question it in his mind. Looking back around quickly, he made sure no one saw him remove it from the body and shoved it into his other coat pocket. Rising to his feet, he walks slowly back to the Spinner and opens the door on the other side of it. Before he leans in to sit, he notices a person in the crowd looking at him with vacant eyes. The white male was thin in build and yet metrosexual in appearance. A very ghostly pale complexion this man has with painted lips of mauve and dark makeup around the eyes. As the two locked in vision, Derek saw the pale man back away from the crowd and lowered his eyes as if he was afraid of him. Not knowing what to make of all that, Mason just lowered himself into the vehicle and kept an eye on the strange man disappearing from his sight.


    * * * * * *


    Mason entered his small apartment as the door gave an electronic click from his ident-card, a light in the narrow passage that led to the main room switched on as he finally stepped in. The bland look of the place was typical of his amount of pay, it was full of furnisher that might have been bought from the previous decades, stylish to some that might have used it back then...but this was way out of date now. His clothes were all over the place and his only eating table was littered with empty take out boxes and bottles that might have, at one time or another, contained alcohol. As he took off his jacket and set it down on the chair in the main part of the room, he gave a long sigh and entered into his mirco-kitchen unit adjacent to the living area. Switching on the dimly yellow light overhead, he looked at the mess in his sink and realized he didn''t have a clean glass to be found. Searching the small glass covered cabinets over head, he found the only cup left he could use to drink from. It was a thin square shaped coffee mug and chipped on the top. Shrugging his shoulders, he took the mug and stepped out into his living space towards the table.


    Fumbling with the various bottles sitting there, he gave a worried look like a child not finding a toy in their surprise burger meal. Frustrated by the fact that nothing was left in them, he prowled around the rest of the place looking for any source of alcohol he could find. The small closet like bathroom built into the narrow entryway to his place was filthy and had a constant dripping tap that could be heard even if one closed the door shut. He almost gave up searching after giving yet another sigh of disbelief, when he suddenly remembered where he had one last bottle. Flopping down on the small black leather style couch beside the plush brown chair where he left his coat, he felt underneath the couch and licked his lips as his hands frantically probed for it. With a sudden smile and a happy response, he lifted the bottle of whiskey out of its dark spot and kissed the bottle. He opened the lid and poured the strong beverage into his thing coffee mug.


    Taking a sip from the glass, the man let out a pleased ''aah'' and retracted into his comfortable old leather couch. The wall beside him sported a very tacky looking portrait of velvet made cat with great big eyes. The yellowish-gold fur and the strikingly haunting green eyes on it made him glance up and remember the victims were just as green as that cat on the wall. It was a chilling thought to him, this woman who tried to be young and ended up dead in her later years was enough to make him realize of his own mortality. Picking up his mug and giving it the odd sip now and then, he walked over to the wall farthest from where he was sitting and opened the steel blinds on the widescreen like window. There was the city in all its crowded glory in front of him. The dark buildings that took up his entire view were littered with lights of distant windows, neon signs and even of the traffic floating by in a rush. This was a far cry from the sort of place he was born and raised in, he could still remember his grandmother''s cooking and being there to share the food and fun with all of his family in North Carolina. His accent was washed out from being in the big city, the twang in his inflection showed no roots to where he might have hailed originally. Without so much as a letter or even a call from home, he gives a sad and lonely stare out the window, as his life has become something he wishes it wasn''t.


    ''Get some sleep'' his employer had said to him. Sleep was an impossibility for him, every time he closes his eyes at night he can still see the image of his sister''s face still giving that look of shock and screaming out over the gun shots. Even though his therapy had cured him of the uncontrollable guilt he suffered afterwards, it still sent his mind into a depression and used the only thing that could dull the memory of it now. The whiskey was all the help he needed to forget the loss; it gives him some peace of mind. If only for a little while, and at the very least, help him to get the sleep his body needed. Sleep would be a wonderful thing to him if he could find some other way of easing his thoughts, he''d often close his eyes and envision the vast blue ocean. The ocean was the place he could always remember vividly, as a child, his parents use to take him to the Atlantic waters and stare at the rolling waves crashing down on the sun beaten sands of the beach. It was like he could hear the seagulls crying out into the distance and feeling the warm sand between his toes. One day he''d love to return to see the oceans again, to be at peace there and never have to worry about Replicants or his job ever again.


    Opening his eyes, the dream switches off and reality sets in. There''s never going to be a chance for him to get away. He''s stuck in this role for life or until some Replicant ends up killing him when he''s not looking. Returning to his comfortable sofa, he sits down and backwashes the rest of his drink. Reality is a hard thing for him, there was a time he was so lost in what was real and what wasn''t that it drove him to the point of insanity. One that cost him the life of his dear sweet sister, Shania, her very life. Opening up the bottle beside him again, he put the mug down on the floor and continued to drink from the open bottle. The time to forget his miserable hard life had come, the alcohol would make sure of that in as soon as possible. He could still hear the officer from hours ago tell him that if he were in charge, he''d kill all the Blade Runners and put them out of their misery. It would be a welcome idea to Manson. If only to escape the bitter times he''s in right now.

 Chapter 2: Better Than Human And Beyond Human

    The new day dawned over the skyline of mega New York, though if you were to step out from any balcony, it would be next to impossible to actually see the sun. The many buildings littered the view with their grim and often shadowing grey cement towers and would block it from all sight. The privileged few that lived in the grossly expensive penthouses on the top of the massive buildings were the only people probably capable of seeing the sun in it''s burning warm orange-yellow glow. Even those who have a waterfront properties would be able to see the sun, if only for a few passing minutes. The cloud coverage above the city and beyond the waters is always thick and gloomy. The light they do manage to get is enough to highlight the mega metropolis and expose the streets and alleyways that are usually shrouded by the night. To live here is to accept you''ll never see the sun in your lifetime.


    New York had changed a lot since the early 21st Century; terrorist attacks were only the beginning of the city''s problems, as it under went many facelifts over the years. The "Terrorist War" as it had become known by 2010 was the one last attack on the city that changed its inner structure forever. Not only that, but as that disaster was plaguing them all, the ever rising sea levels started to flood the streets on the Manhattan island. During 2015, there was a great-unexpected hurricane that struck the coast and managed to wash away parts of the island''s infamous locations and parks; it even caused the Statue of Liberty to be left halfway underwater. Rather then abandon and retreat back into the mainland, the city overcame the forces of nature and expanded back into the ocean that had claimed its older territory. Corporations saw opportunity and possible tourist investments of this grand construction, as they aided with its expense and took hold of key areas for their own use. Factories could now be built directly into the shores and pump the water they needed to supply their buildings with necessary hydroelectricity. A cost effective way of providing themselves with all the electricity they needed to keep their businesses running. Replicant factories became the necessary evil that helped to rebuild the city back to its new state; they made them to expand the labor force and in turn became rich from the flow of government money.


    Mason had always suspected the companies were all safe from Replicant law violations, even when they banned them during 2019''s Off World scare, it amazed him to no end that the companies themselves were never to blame. Walking along the drab New York streets reminds him that this is a bought town, Omashi Bioworks advertising is littered all around, on buildings, cabs and giant video screens hovering high above. People pay it no mind though; it''s just the way of the world in this day and age. Probably just how it was looked over during the last century as well.


    Mason hails for a cab and has to practically leap over several crammed cars blocking his path to get into the vehicle that''s stopped for his fare. Cursing under his breath at the traffic, he finally manages to climb in and close the door paying extra caution as to not catch his coat in the frame. As he rides through the streets in ground-based cab, he thinks deeply about all the bad things that have come at this city and yet some how, it''s managed to stay standing all this time. Closing his eyes again, he uses his mind to envision that calm blue ocean, the rolling waves, the cry of the seagulls and it gives his brain some peace of mind...if only for a few moments.


    "Where too buddy?" The sour smelling multi-ethic cab driver asked.


    Mason snapped out of his train of thought as the cab driver glanced behind waiting for his instructions.


    "Uh...take me...take me to the OBE tower."


    "Ah shit, guy. That''s red zone sector...I''ll have to charge ya extra for the hover mode," The cabby moaned.


    Derek took out his badge and flashed it to the taxi driver as he looked behind. "Don''t hustle me pal, I''m no tourist for Christ''s sake. Just take me to the tower and don''t jack up the meter - I know how much it costs from here to there."


    "Blade Runner huh?" The cabman snickered like a jackal. "Crap man - and I thought I had it bad. Is it true you guys get lower pay then a Replicant worker?"


    Mason tapped the plastic barrier between them hard, "Hey! What did I say? Just do you job monkey or do I have to call the cabby commission about your expired license?"


    "Ok, ok buddy. Sheesh! OBE tower it is, jeez...no need to get bent out of shape. Sounds to me like someone got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning."


    Derek slouched back into his stained, ripped red seat and rubbed his eyes. "There is no morning in this city...it''s always dark."


    The cabby nodded in agreement and switched on his hover mode. "Yep - New York, what a bitch man!"


    The taxi raised out of the traffic as it flashed signal lights alerting the others around of its direction. The yellow cab is designed like a throw back to the late 1950''s, not really a brand new vehicle, it''s beaten and worn look gives a sign of just how long its been in service. As it thrusted upward into the air with a push from its rocket boosters, the cab began to fly between the buildings and dodging the odd vehicle that entered its path. As it soars and hovers over the streets below, Mason looks as though he''s about to fall to sleep and starts to drift off as the motion of the cab ride cradles him into slumber. Suddenly a low beeping noise comes out of his leathery old trench coat, reaching into the inside left of it he pulls out a small black pod like device and notices the red light flashing on the top. Giving a simple sigh, as he looks at it, the tired man brings it to a display screen sitting in front of him. The built in screen on the back of the cab driver''s seat is a combo media center and public phone system. The original picture displayed on the monitor was that of the cab driver''s face and name, scrolling beside it was a number of advertisements and the spinning logo of the phone company that owns this particular unit. Mason puts the black pod device to the screen and pushes a button placed on the top of the blinking pod. The monitor cuts out the images and now shows the phone logo with a female voice accompanying it.


    "Welcome to AT&V Wireless Mediacom. There is an incoming call for you Derek Mason. Shall I display?" The cheerful sounding woman''s voice says.


    "Display please." Derek answers back.


    The image cuts over to his call and he''s soon face to face with Captain Barnes.


    "Mason...what the hell are you doing? I told you to come down to the station first. Now I''ve got you located on BRL heading for the Red Zone...."


    BRL stands for Blade Runner Locator, a microchip implanted into the cops so they can track them incase they should ever decide to run away or have their bodies located should they die. It was a failsafe the government initiated after the disastrous results of both Deckard and Mason''s actions, now they could be monitored and controlled with relative ease. Mason hated having the installed chip; it was like having a leash placed around his neck and being told he was nothing more then a dog.


    "I want to get the Voight-Kampff test over first." He explains the gruff police captain. "I''m going to the OBE tower and then I''ll head back over to the station. It won''t take long anyhow...plus I don''t see why I should run over to the station first, talk to you about going to the tower and then heading over afterwards. That just wastes time."


    The captain gives a look of frustration and purses his lips. "That''s not the point damnit! I need you here first! This has nothing to do with OBE...."


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Why? Now what?" Mason inquires.


    "That woman you checked out last night...the officers finally had a chance to question the store staff and customers after you left. Turns out she was killed by her male companion...a Rep."


    Derek''s eyes focus on the monitor, hearing that bit of news sparks his interest and leans in to listen.


    "A Replicant? What did it look like?" Mason asks.


    "We''re getting a file on him now..." The captain says in a more professional tone. "The woman was obviously pretty wealthy if she could afford a top model. Looks like it got tired of being her play thing and decided to ice the broad."


    "So it was a Nexus Delta then? Hmm...probably a ten or twelve model if she''s used it often." Mason thinks aloud.


    The captain pulls his face away slightly as if he''s leaning back in a chair, letting out a long breath, the looks back to Derek and points at him.


    "Alright. You can go do your test at OBE, but want you to come back here and give me report about what happened there. And don''t let on to the company that one of their models has gone twitchy...last thing I need is a call from them about how we failed to contain the matter."


    "Must be nice to know there''s someone that can chew your ass out for a change huh Barnes? Welcome to my world." Derek smirks.


    The cop just gives him a glare and reaches over to the control switch out of Mason''s view.


    "Be back here afterwards, Mason. Or it''s your ass. You got that?"


    The image of him switches off and the returning logo of the phone company appears with a charge toll at the bottom. Derek sits back in his seat and places the pod device back in his jacket after noticing its still in his hand. His head turns to look out the window on his left side and notices the half submerged Liberty Statue in the dark waters as they clear the city limits.


    "Liberty and Justice...for none." He states.


    The cab driver looks in his rear display at the black man as he hears him utter that line.


    "What? What did you say buddy?"


    Derek keeps his eyes focused out the window as he responds to the driver''s question.


    "Nothing. Just keep driving."


    The car zooms over the water and past the statue on its route. The city was now behind them like a forest of grey lifeless structures, only a single stretch of land jutted out beyond the New York metropolis like very long wide arm that reach across to the next massive constructed island. Omashi Bioworks Enterprises had its own private mini-city attached to the end of that long outstretched connection, it''s octagon shape surrounded around a huge white looking tower that stood erect like a statue onto itself. The base of the tower was built into the octagon shaped city, four struts jutting out of it gave it a solid hold on the ground and the appearance that it was also the support for the entire mini-community. Looking down over the empire of OBE, Derek saw the many factories and labs the place had around it, enough to manufacture a small army if need be. The traffic flow was as heavy as New York''s inner core, non-stop shipping and deliveries kept the sky around the large tower very busy. The closer the taxi got to the white shimmering spire, the more the building looked overly occupied as the faint windows all around it glared on the multiple floors of the structure.


    "You are now entering a Red Zone area. Please identify and await controller instructions." A very drone male voice announced to the driver.


    "NYC Yellow cabs...uh...Zero five nine, requesting to enter." The cabby responded.


    "This is OBE control...what are you doing here? No cabs are scheduled for pick up at this time?" A new male voice now speaks to the driver.


    "Yeah I know. My fare was very insistent on coming here. The guy is a Blade Runner...I don''t know why he''s..."


    "Oh yes, he''s on my list. Request granted...Proceed to dock in pad five." The man interrupts.


    "Uh...ok." The cabby answered with surprise. "Guess they know you''re coming, huh...didn''t ask for your name or nothin''."


    Derek could hear it all in the back; he nodded with little enthusiasm as he figured they''d be informed to his arrival. Having never been to the main tower, he seemed somewhat eager to view the inside of the building. He''d often heard of the tower being referred to as "Heaven''s Sword" by locals, a myth that the company no doubt welcomed as it made their image look that more regal. The car flew in to the fifth opening in the center of the tower; there were six wide spaces around the entire tower, all of which was meant for special pick-ups and staff parking only. There was even a place designated for taxi service in each dock, though rarely used, it''s just a formality for anyone who visits their tower on business. The cab pulled into the wide hole and parked in the specified zone waiting for him. Now he was here, it was time to get it over with and find out why they chose him above any other Blade Runner currently working in New York.


    ? ? ? ? ? ?


    Walking at a fast pace, a very pale man with too much black eyeliner keeps watch around his person as he deeks down the alleyway in New York City. It is the same individual that Derek Mason had seen the other night; the skinny, trendy clothed male was out of breath and looked frightened as he strolled down the dark narrow ally. As he turned a corner, he gave one last look to see if he was being followed by anyone. With a sigh of relief, the young man continued on down the new path, he managed to get about half way when a voice echoed out at him.


    "I thought I told you not to kill her. How many times did I tell you not to kill her?" The calm deep booming male voice shouted.


    The frightened man gazed around to see where the voice was coming from and shouted back in his light, yet effeminate masculine voice.


    "I...I''m sorry Judas. I had too...she wouldn''t leave me. I didn''t like her touching me anymore...it was wrong. It was always wrong of her to do that."


    Stepping out from the hidden corner, a man with slicked back brown hair, a long black leather raincoat and tinted red sunglasses appeared before the scared youth.


    "I know you didn''t like it. But I needed you to stay with her...just...a...bit...longer."


    The young man stood there blinking in confusion and pleaded with the grim darkly dressed man.


    "I know. Forgive me Judas...I...was weak."


    "Yes..." Judas replied with a smirk. "But I forgive you anyway for being so."


    The blond haired youth ran over to him and kissed his hand with joy. "Thank you Judas...thank you."


    "My poor little Pryus..." He softly said to him as he lifted the young man''s chin up. "The temptation was so overwhelming you that I should have sent in another in your place. Too long have you suffered as that woman''s sexual plaything...too long has she used you as means to make herself young and beautiful. All is forgiven my brother."


    "Where are the others dear Judas?" The young man smiles as he stands up. "Are we meeting in the same place as usual?"


    "Well now, Pryus." The man answers back as he strokes his cheek. "Because of your lack of faith and will power...our meeting location has changed. We must regroup someplace new, somewhere that will not attract the police to our gatherings...had you not killed the special lady...we still could have used her lovely home while she was out. But now...we have to look again."


    Judas gives a back handed slap to the boy, as he strikes hard and causing the boy to bleed in the mouth. Aware of the pain, Pryus holds his face and whimpers from the blow. His whimpering soon becomes a full set of tears and thrusts his face into Judas''s chest as he hugs the man with his arms.


    "Remember that pain is all we have left. Death is all we have left. So few of us can truly live to see a new day, yet the lucky few that live for a mere fraction of most of us seem to embrace the pain and death with a smile. They know that life is but a dream." Judas says as he rubs the crying boy''s back.


    The young man looks up at him, reaches up with his hands and gabs the slick haired man a passionate kiss on the lips. Judas pulls him off and gabs his hands away forcefully.


    "No, Pyrus...no."


    "But I love you Judas...I love you."


    Judas continues to push him away and looks him straight in the eye.


    "That is not love you feel...that is lust. You don''t lust after me...that is what they programmed your brain to feel. Love is very different Pyrus...remember whom you love? Remember?"


    The young pale boy shivers from Judas rejecting him and suddenly looks up in realization. "Yes...Falcon. I love Falcon...my beloved, sweet Falcon. Is he with you?"


    "No, but he will be with us all in the new meeting place." Judas replies. "Remember that you love and lust for him alone. For he is your mate, just as Lena is mine. We all choose to love those who make us happy...freedom of choice is what we must fight for. Yes?"


    The young man continues to think of his male lover. "Falcon. Soft flowing brown hair with eyes as innocent as a dove. I will love him, I shall always love him..."


    "Go and change your clothes." Judas instructs. "Then wait for one of us to find you at the second pick up spot. Remember not to be seen or do anything that will alert the authorities to locating you. Understood?"


    The young man nods as he smiles and wipes his face in a peculiar manner. Judas walks over and rubs his short blond hair like he would a small child.


    "Well make these bastards pay for killing our kind yet. We''ll show them that we are the rising stars to come."

 Chapter 3: The Voight-Komff Testing

    "Better then human and beyond human" was the slogan so clearly hovering over the extra long table in the boardroom of Omashi Bioworks Enterprises. The faint blue holographic projection flickered lightly as the red and green lettering scrolled over the projected banner. The whole room had an almost hospital type feel about it, white walls with wooden panels running along horizontally the surface with a flawless oak finish. The room was wide and spacious at the entrance point and narrowed down to a point as the walls begin to mesh into window that wraps around to the end.


    Brilliant and full of sunlight, the sun''s rays that come streaming in like heaven''s light illuminate the entire room. At the apex of the window-wall stands the head of the company, Takari Omashi, a middle aged Japanese man wearing his hand tailored silk suit. It was light gray in color with a gold engraved lapels and cuffs. A typical white collared shirt could be seen underneath and instead of wearing a tie; he bore a jet-black ascot that had a pattern of Japanese characters in a deep red. His short crop of black hair was growing dim with grey on the sides, giving him a distinguished and clean-cut look.


    Yet his face was not wrinkled or showed signs of being aged, if somewhere to look at him they would swear he was still in his early thirties. Takari liked to keep fit and active, as did all those in his family before, staying young was his obsession and he instilled that on all his relatives. He was a man that felt the only way to stay in the game of business is to remain fit and mentally sharp. And for nearly twenty years, that way of life made him a success.


    A soft musical ping sounded in the room, a female voice now followed in a soft manner that seemed almost cold and robotic.


    "Mr. Omashi, there is a Blade Runner officer named Derek Mason here to see you. Registered code BRU two, one-six-six-two-four dash five"


    Takari remained in his stance near the window as he continued to look of it like a god surveying his kingdom.


    "Send him in Alice." The man replied.


    The sound of the doors clicking at the other end could be heard as Derek now stepped inside the hospital like boardroom. The doors themselves were made of the same wood as the paneling and looked more like a traditional Japanese designed door that might have existed in ancient times. However these did not slide off to one side, but swung out ward as Mason came in. Omashi turned around with a friendly grin at him and walked towards the large oak finished boardroom table. His hand gestured for the Blade Runner to come forward and meet with him at his end.


    "Ah mister Mason. How good of you to come, please come in and make yourself comfortable."


    "Mr. Omashi I presume." Derek said as he walked over to shake the Japanese man''s hand. "You seem much younger for someone that started so long ago."


    "I get that all the time." Takari smiled. "Many have envied my healthy lifestyle and keep insisting that I''m getting cosmetic surgery done to remain youthful. But none of those rumors are true. I stay fit and eat right. After all, the human body needs to keep active if it is to stay alive. Is that not so Mr. Mason?"


    "I wouldn''t know." He replied back after letting go of his hand and gazing around the room with interest. "The last time I did anything healthy was when I ordered a salad with my hamburger."


    The Japanese owner laughed at his absurd answer and watched the officer continue too look about his boardroom.


    "You need to exercise my friend. Trust me. The more you stay in shape, the better you will feel and the better you will age."


    Mason turned back to look at the smiling company owner and gave a sheepish smirk at his quirky behavior. He then proceeded to walk over to the table and took out ah book-sized device from his pocket. He tapped the center button highlighted in green and the device slowly unfolded as it expanded out of it''s compact size.


    "If you don''t mind sir. I''d very much like to get started on the tests." Mason stated as he cleared his throat. "That is why you wanted me here wasn''t it? Not to discuss healthy living, but to do a Voight-Komff test on your new models...yes?"


    The Japanese man rubbed his hands slightly and gave a light nod in response.


    "I did bring you here for that, yes."


    "Well then Mr. Omashi, if you would be so kind as to bring in the subjects for testing..."


    The middle-aged owner watched the device unfurl the eye scanner arm as it completed its transformation. This was a totally new Voight-Komff, redesigned and made much more compact for Blade Runners and others that needed to do Nexus model testing. Now they were equipped better to get a full scan of the eye of the subject as it calculated the response better and sent out a signal to trigger the nano-tag embedded on the back of the iris. This is the new standard that all Nexus models had to be fitted with after the government made it law for any company manufacturing the bio-android models.


    "Before we start..." Takari interrupted him. "I need to ask you something."


    Mason pulled up one of the dark leather chairs that surrounded the table, they were rather plush and comfortable to sit into as he soon discovered. A slight look of surprised pleasure washed over his face as he leaned back and looked up at Omashi standing in front of him. Derek just gestured his hand for the man to speak as he watched him with inquisitive eyes.


    "You were investigating a murder last night I believe. At the Rendezvous Noir boutique?" Takari asked in a coy manner.


    "Yes." The Blade Runner admitted. "How did you know about that?"


    "Lets just say I''m well aware of all functions of Blade Runner activity in New York."


    This made Derek suspicious. But rather then dispute the man''s claim, he allowed him to continue to speak.


    "May I ask you what model it was? More specifically...what generation of Nexus was it?"


    "It wasn''t Nexus model. She was human."


    "Human?" The man''s voice twinged as he glared at him. "Are you sure it was human?"


    "Yes." Mason said tilting his head back with curious eyes. "A human woman. A rather wealthy old broad that felt the need to be in the company of a Nexus Delta Model male."


    "So there was one involved was there?"


    "Look, Mr. Omashi..." Derek said getting out of his chair. "This is obviously had nothing to do with you. I mean, if it''s a series ten or twelve, she''s had it for a good while now. The warranty-contract is more then expired and now all owned on her."


    "Perhaps." The middle aged owner replied as he tapped his upper lip.


    Warranty-contracts were the new method of handing over full ownership of the Nexus model to those that bought them. It basically and legally states that once the payment transaction is complete, the buyer is now responsible for the action of it''s bio-humanoid. Since many didn''t argue with this and the fact that it was in such small print on the contract, Omashi was safe from any reprisals from either the police or being sued by the buyer for damages. Takari wasn''t interested about all that at the moment, for even Mason could see it in his eyes that he was more interested on the murdered woman. The Asian gentleman let out a sigh as he stared out the windows again and folded his arms together lost in thought.


    "We''ve had some problems with our newer models lately." Omashi admitted. "But until I heard of this new murder, we were led to believe the other accident was just a fluke."


    "What other accident?" Mason questioned.


    "Understand Mr. Mason, that what goes on in this company is our own business and that we are a self contained corporation with our own security. If you so much as try to have the NYPD sticking their noses into our affairs..."


    "There''s no need to for you to spill all that on me. What accident are you talking about?"


    Omashi gestures to Mason to sit back down in his chair as the Japanese man sits across from him leaning against the table. Derek sits back down and gets comfortable as the owner clasps his hands together and stares at him.


    "Two months ago, we had a murder of our own to deal with. A member of my staff was thrown off the top of this tower late one night, our security found his remains quite literally all over the lower lab quarter. The force of the impact shattered him to bits."


    "Ouch." Derek reacted.


    "He was a brilliant man, one of the few that helped to design the Delta generation of Replicants. Security was suspicious of the death and investigated our staff immediately, we managed to keep it quiet from the city police in order to save face, but the inquiry into the matter came to a dead end."


    "Why was that?"


    "It was soon discovered that an Nexus Delta Replicant murdered him."


    This fact made Derek sit up and raised his eyebrow.


    "Why didn''t you inform the Blade Runner Unit? A murder of that nature is a clear violation of standard government protocol with your company, is it not?"


    "As I said, we needed to keep a low profile on this." Omashi stated as he leaned back in his chair. "Last thing we need is the government shutting us down and taking over the investigation. Anyway, by the time our own inquiry began, the one in question had already been sold and given to its owner. It was quite literally out of our hands, rather then recall the Replicant we simply kept an observant eye on the owner and made sure the model wasn''t malfunctioning again."


    "And?" Mason asked.


    "And nothing." The Japanese man said proudfully. "As far as we know the customer is fine, the Replciant is working without a hitch and nothing further has developed."


    Mason''s eye flutter about with confusion and soon he leans in onto the table as he looks directly at the smiling CEO.


    "I must have missed something in this...what exactly are you trying to ask me Mr. Omashi? Am I here for a real reason or are you just wasting my time with these confessions? I''m not a priest you know...and I''m not obligated to report this to the government standard practices. You''ve sold the Replicant, it''s off the grounds of your factory, and so you have nothing further to worry about."


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Yes, yes..." The man grumbled back at him. "I''m merely asking that you keep an eye out for us. We''ve managed to stay in business this long because we''ve corrected the flaws that Tyrell Corporation had in their Replicant models. To have such a lapse in our production line is virtually unthinkable, we need to weed out the weaker Nexus Generations and keep our record spotless. You understand don''t you?"


    "Mr. Omashi, I understand that you called me here to do a test on your Reps, now if that''s not the case then I''m leaving. I don''t have time to sit here and tell you that whatever happens isn''t your fault. You make the Reps; I just retire them, that''s the way it goes. Personally I couldn''t care if your company needs to maintain a polished look to the shareholders and the government. I just want to know one thing...am I here to test a subject or not?"


    As the two share a moment of silence across the table, Takari looks over at the Voight-Komff machine as it beeps and hums with the sound of power flowing through it. The man smiles again at Mason and nods as he respectfully acknowledges the Blade Runner''s need to continue with his job.


    "But of course. I do tend to get side tracked Mr. Mason, I apologize." The silk suited man said as he rose up out of his chair. "You are very direct man and I admire that. Yes I have brought you here to test our newest generation of model."


    "Why didn''t you just test it yourself?" Mason questions. "What do you need me for any way? You guys have the latest in VK as well...so why ask for me personally?"


    "We do." The man bowed slightly. "But we need to see what the results are from a test done by a Blade Runner such as yourself. After all, you are more qualified to notice a Replicant when you see one and who other then you Mr. Mason has had more experience in the matter. I chose you because you have an open mind and you have a knack, or a institution shall we say, to know a real human from a Replicant."


    Mason was never thrilled to hear such flattery. He hated people being impressed with his talent, if they only saw the carnage and brutality of his daily life, they''d all think twice before saying such things. Instead of answering the businessman, he simply winced and turned back to looking at his machine waiting for a test subject.


    "I''ll go fetch them now." Takari bowed to him. "I''m very interested in seeing the results myself."


    As the Japanese man leaves the room, Derek spins his black leather type chair around to face the large windows over looking the city. His gaze is that of a man lost in thought, the memory of ocean waves crashing on the shores sounds away in his brain as he tires to relax before administrating the long test process on the Replicants. He could here the sounds of the water so clearly, the distant cry of the gulls, the calming feel of being in that place in his mind. As he closed his eyes, he could see the images now joining with the sounds. The sandy beach looked warm as the sun shone down on it, the bright blue sky that seemed to merge with the vast stretch of ocean beyond. This was his rest, his perfect utopia, the only escape he''ll ever know.


    "Mr. Mason?"


    Omashi''s voice broke his vision quickly as he snapped out of his deep concentration and looked up to see the man standing in front of him.


    "Are you alright?" He inquired.


    "Fine." Derek smirked. "Shall we begin?"


    Mason turned around and saw three Caucasian brunettes standing near the opposite side of the long boardroom table. They were triplets. Everything about them was identical, their hair, their lipstick, their white business attire...everything. While it looked very pleasing to see these women to him, his mind couldn''t help but ask the one question to the CEO.


    "Which one am I testing here?"


    "All of them." The Japanese man chuckled. "These are the ones I want you to test...but...I need to know if you can spot which one of them is the original. The human template as it were."


    Derek turned to look over at the giddy businessman. His eyes full of confusion as he glared at the man.


    "The original? You mean one of them is actually human?"


    "One? Both? Or all? You tell me Mr. Mason...you tell me."


    "This isn''t a guessing game Mr. Omashi." Derek states in a firm tone. "Just what are you trying to do here?"


    "Please Mr. Mason." He said raising his hand to calm him. "Show me your skill."


    Mason slowly spinned back to face the women who were all now taking their seats. Each one smiled at him in a similar fashion, a delightful flirt they all seemed to give to him as he gave a queer smile and breathed out nervously.


    "Ok...it''s your money Omashi."


    Derek Mason tapped the console of his Voight Kampff machine and gave a long sigh. The three brunette women where gaze at him from across the table and looking rather bored. It had been hours since he started the test, a series of long questions for each of them, perhaps too long by the look of Mason''s weary eyes. The machine folded back up into the briefcase looking shell and powered down. Derek leaned back in his seat and rubbed the side of his forehead with his two left hand fingers. Omiashi was seated at the other end of the long black table, a curious gaze on his face as his eyes shifted back and forth to him and the women opposite.


    "Thank you ladies. I think you can be excused now." Derek stated.


    The women looked over at Omiashi as if to get his permission as well.


    "Yes...yes thank you. You may go." The Asian man smiled as he rose up out of his seat and bowed to them slightly.


    The women stood up in unison and walked out the room. The doors opened automatically as they left and closed. Derek found that rather annoying seeing how he had to open the doors manually when entered. But rather then dwell on that, he continued to sit there with a troubled look upon his face. Takari came beside him and sat on the table, he gazed down at the perplexed Blade Runner and gave a slight snicker in his question.


    "Not at what you expected I take it, eh Mr. Mason?"


    "Fine work Mr. Omiashi." Derek smirked back at him. "I see that your company is trying to push the boundaries a little too far."


    "Tell me then." He grinned. "Which one is the Replicant?"


    Derek gave a long sigh and played abit with his chair, turning it back and forth slightly as he tapped his hands together.


    "Two." He stated as he continued to act coy. "The first one was easy...she''s an older model for sure. Probably one of the original templates for the others."


    "Go on." Takari nodded in agreement.


    "The other is this year''s model." Mason continued. "It took more questions then normal to spot her, she was rather good at answering them and had more control in her emotions."


    Omiashi smiled and gave a giggle at his admitting that. The old man was proud of his creations, they were more advanced then Tyrell''s kind and smarter then those others for sure. As Takari got up and walked over to the windows in a proud manner. Derek rolled his eyes and turned his chair about towards the man as he enjoyed the view.


    "But..." Derek added.


    Omiashi turned to face him and glared down at him.


    "But what Mr. Mason?"


    "But the third one. I dunno." Derek stated as he rose out of his chair and stood in place. "She''s not real either I think. She''s a replicant...isn''t she?"


    The Asian man laughed out loud that seemed to echo in the hospital like room setting. He was amazed the Blade Runner caught on to that. He bowed in Japanese fashion to him and clasped his hands together as he continued to giggle and approach him.


    "Incredible Mr. Mason. Incredible. What question made you figure that out?"


    "None of them."


    "Eh?" Takari paused as he gave a puzzled look. "What do you mean none? How did you manage to know she wasn''t real?"


    "It wasn''t any of the questions that gave her away." Mason breathed out in frustration. "It was a hunch."


    "A hunch?" The old Asian man questioned.


    "Yes." Derek nodded. "By all accounts...that test proves her to be human. But there was something about her that just didn''t seem right to me. While any other Blade Runner might have passed her off as a non-replicant...I dunno...I just seemed to have this gut feeling that she was one as well. It wasn''t until you acknowledged my suspicions when I knew I was right."


    Omiashi''s smile creeped back into his face and folded his arms together with confidence.


    "So she would have been human to any other but you." He smirked. "Excellent...you are truly the one man I need for this job."


    "I beg your pardon?" Derek blinked.


    "I needed to test you to see if you were someone I could count on Mr. Mason." The old Asian man said as he started to pace the room. "You were correct in your hunch, that means that you have a keen eye and much more common sense then any other Blade Runner. The one you spotted is one of a handful of proto-type Replicants we''ve been working on. Nexus Delta''s are becoming obsolete...so now we''ve gone on to the next phase and made a new generation. Nex-gens as we call them."


    Derek seemed to be disgusted upon hearing that. He kept his eyes focused on the Asian man as he continued to walk about the room.


    "They''re more real then anything would could hope to dream of." Takari said with a proud smile and raising his fists up. "Nex-gens will be the greatest achievement in Replicant technology and bring about a new workforce that''s leaps and bounds to anything Tyrell could ever create. They''d be as close to being human then ever thought possible! But..."


    Omiashi paused and sat down at the head of the table where he was earlier. He gave a long sigh and looked up at Mason still giving him a repulsed face.


    "We''ve had some minor...problems."


    "Minor problems?" Mason scoffed. "Wait...wait...let me guess...the Delta model you were talking about before, the one that murdered one of your staff, it wasn''t a Delta...it was Nex-gen."


    "Please Mr. Mason." Takari stood up suddenly. "I need your help on this."


    "Oh I''d say it''s well beyond a matter of me helping you." Derek coldly stated. "You''ve got two models running around out there killing humans. Sounds to me like the government will be on you for violation of the Replicant Manufacturing Code. This becomes their matter, does it not? "


    "Give me your answer." Omashi demanded.


    "You didn''t answer my question." Mason snickered as he leaned back in his chair. "Which makes me think you''re in so much shit you don''t know how to swim your way out of it. So now you want to use me as your personal replicant problem solver...just so you don''t get your own hands dirty."


    Takari didn''t like the smug answer he gave back. His posture soon became tense and began to scowl at Derek with a demonic nature.


    "Do your duty Blade Runner!" Omasihi screamed as he pounded his fist on the table. "I have control over your contracts and of the entire Blade Runner force! One call to the police department and I can make you life a living nightmare. It is your job to hunt these rogues down and retire them. I''ve asked you to help me...but if you refuse, I shall make certain that you will be retired yourself! "


    Derek shook his head and watched his options dwindle. This very polite and harmless individual suddenly became a threatening overlord that had his life by the throat. There was nothing he could do. If Omiashi had his contract and the entire force in his pocket, then Mason was powerless to even turn down the offer. It dawned on him that this was all just a ruse to bring him here and be given an assignment, no matter what.


    "Don''t threaten me Mr. Omiashi." Derek scowled. "If you want help, fine, I''ll do it. My life is already a living nightmare as it is. I don''t need your threat of death to make it any more pleasant."


    "Then I will expect results." Takari grunted as he calmed down. "Whatever you report to your superior, you report to me as well."


    "Great." Derek groaned with sarcasm. "Two bosses to harp on my ass."


    Omiashi pulled away from the table and turned to look out the window. The glare of the light made his eyes dim and lifted his chin as he calmed down from his burst of anger. Derek folded up his Voight Kampff machine and gave one last look at the old gentleman. Neither one said a word to each other. The room was now dead quiet; there was nothing left to say as Mason gave a brief sigh and exited the room quickly. As the doors shut behind him, Omiashi walked over to the boardroom table and touched the smooth surface with a worried glare. Derek was right in his assumption. The government will no doubt be aware of the police files that are scanned daily for Replicant infractions. Ever since the Tyrell Nexus 6 uprising, the government has kept a strict eye on manufactured beings and those that create them. It almost harkened back to the days of Environmental watch dogging, one slip up or accident by a company and they''d be in there to shut them down for good. Omiashi had come too far to be stopped by any one government; if this reached the U.N. it could mean the end of everything for him. Derek had now become his only hope to put an end to this ''minor'' infraction.


    ???????????????????????


    Out of the grand spire of OBE tower flew a taxi similar to that Derek had taken before. Slightly different in design and with other advertisement decals smattered all over the vehicle. Inside the cab, Mason sat with his head laid back with the Voight Kampff machine beside him on the seat. His head was pounding from the long meeting with Omashi, it seemed he was only recruited to do this evil tycoon''s bidding as well as having to answer to the police chief as well. His life truly was hell. If this were any other sort of job, he''d quit in a heartbeat. It was no wonder many BR''s were drunks or drug addicts, the stress and crap they have to endure on a daily basis would drive any human to the brink of cracking for sure. Closing his eyes and hearing the sounds of the ocean crashing on a beach shore was for him calming. While it had been faint before, it grew louder now in his head and nearly took him into a state of sleep. The cab jerked suddenly from a cross wind as it lowered back down to the city line of traffic, rousing Mason from nodding off and opening his eyes to see the towers of the city block out the light all round them.


    He brought his head back up from the rested position and looked at the scrolling monitor before him. The various ads for ''Offworld Adventures'' flashed in a very annoying manner, so much so that he tapped the screen to change the image and put on something less colorful. Up popped the new commercials for OBE Nexus Delta models, it was professional, overly erotic and rather shameless in exploiting these beings as something to be used and discarded. If he thought the last ad was annoying, this was just as equally frustrating to watch. Rather then watch any of it, he sat back and thought about the ''assignment'' he was given by Omashi. Next generation replicants on the loose in New York City. It almost filled him with dread as to wonder what he could expect from chasing down these crazed beings.


    "How much further?" Derek asked the cab driver while rubbing the bridge of his nose.


    "Ten minutes buddy." The heavyset Afro-American cab driver answered over his shoulder. "Traffic in the inner core is at a crawl."


    Mason sighed and slumped all the way back into his seat. He closed his eyes and drifted off again.


    "Wake me when you pull up to the building."

 Chapter 4: A New Partner

    The cab pulled up to an decrepit police station. It had a backlit neon sign over the doorway that looked faded and warn; the ancient wiring within struggled to keep power flowing through it as it flashed intermittently. It was an unremarkable building planted in the middle of the metropolis, wedged between two other office towers, and linked together with walkways that had been sporadically added on over the many years.


    Along the sides of the Art Deco designed walls closest to the sidewalk, the graffiti sprawled slang words of hate blended with the various garbage laying around its base. The steps leading up to the main door way was full of trash as well, both of literal kind and of the wasted street kids that had no where else to go.


    The cops didn''t care that it was a mess, they ignored it all as much as any other person coming in and out of it. Mason rose out of the cab, paid his fare, and swiftly entered the bleak police station while trying to sidestep the throng of homeless begging for a handout. Stepping through the weather beaten wooden doors, the hinges yawning from lack of care, he continued onward up another set of stairs leading to the main offices.


    Plexiglass and turnstile doorways were the routine security of this particular division. Bored officers stood behind them asking questions to the citizens bringing complains or filing reports of crimes they''d been a victim of. Sensors scanned each individual coming through the turnstile, an indicator horn alerted staff of Mason''s weapon, who then flashed his badge and ident-card to the officer stopping him.


    The Asian woman cop eyed him up and down, handed him back his card and made a slight comment about his profession. Derek ignored her mocking and proceeded over to the police chief''s office. The labyrinth of police detective desks, (full of computers, papers, and evidence bags), seemed to stretch on forever as Mason worked his way past them all.


    Everyone and then an officer would give him a dirty look or make a barely audible unkind comment about his profession. He knew nobody there like working with Blade Runners, but he was always amazed of having to hear the same insults over and over. It became like a daily greeting every time he was there.


    Finally, he reached the chief''s office and barged into the office unannounced. His superior sat behind his desk and was un-phased by his dramatics.


    "That was a waste of my time." Mason forcefully uttered with grit teeth.


    "Like I care." The chief scoffed at him. "It comes with the job, like I said, its not a perfect world and you''re just a skin job cop."


    The chief stood up and ordered him to shut the door. Mason glanced back and used his foot to shut it. The office was fairly spacious; adorned with various pictures of crime scenes, awards and personal commendations from the city. Mason stood in the room with an air of defiance.


    "I''m tired of this crap, Barnes." Mason grumbled again. "Testing replicants at factories that make them isn''t what I call doing my job. When they get twitchy, yeah sure, I''ll go and give them a try. But, having me act like their quality inspector is bullshit."


    "Hey, Omiashi gets what Omiashi wants." Barnes shrugged. A smile crept onto Captain Barnes face as he motioned for Mason to sit down. The chair infant of his desk was poised as if it had been anticipating his arrival. Mason nodded and cooled down from his bitter attitude. "You know as well as I do that he practically owns this city." The Captain continued as he sat back down as well. "But I do like to keep tabs on that old man and his Reps just in case. So, what did he want you to take a look at?"


    Mason let out a drawn out breath, took out his small pad and flipped through the pages he scrawled some notes on. "Triplet replicants, very new models and hard to detect." Barnes shook his head at that. Mason flipped through more notes, "The man is definitely upping the game on these ones. It took far too many questions and their iris response was near average human kind. I''d say, probably even better than that, really."


    "Shit..." The Captain said. He slapped the table lightly and sat back with concern. "It''s bad enough these skin jobs are becoming more human, but they''re going to take over if this keeps up."


    "Better than human and beyond human..." A woman''s voice said from the side.


    Mason noticed the woman on the couch with her feet up and a newspaper over her face. She had been so quiet earlier that he didn''t even notice her sprawled out on the faded and well used piece of furnisher.


    "That''s the nice little slogan they always tout, right? Well, guess they''re dead set on proving it."


    She sat up immediately and revealed her face. A blonde woman with short cropped hair (sculpted upwards and smooth) and near perfect alabaster skin. Yet there was something about her appearance he couldn''t quite pin-point. She was caucasian, yet not in some way. Before he was caught staring too much at her, the captain made the introduction.


    "Derek Mason, this is Anna Yuko, a new recruit from the Blade Runner division."


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The woman smiled at him and stood up to shake his hand. Mason, never one to be impressed by other Blade Runners, simply ignored her. She looked the part of a Blade Runner, formal in attire complete with a tie and a pair of solid shoes for walking. The long dark leathery duster style coat seemed to compliment her thin build frame. He could make out her gun that was strapped to her and slightly hidden underneath.


    The gun looked fairly new in design. Probably given upon her graduation from the program, he figured. Still, he wasn''t too confident she had enough skill to use it like he had, or any other Blade Runner for that matter. He wasn''t sure what this was about. Hopefully he wasn''t being reassigned or ''retired'' himself.


    The Captain watched his coldness with some hesitation and continued the introduction. "She''s got a year under her belt already, good with tracking and street savvy skills, and..." The man paused while folding his arms looking at him with a skeptical eye, "Yuko is going to be your new partner."


    "What?" Derek scoffed immediately. He glanced at her, sizing up the woman and quickly back to the Captain. "Why? I''ve never needed a partner, point of fact, no Blade Runner ever gets a partner. This is bullshit, Barnes..."


    "Wow, okay, do I get a say in this too?" Yuko questioned to Barnes.


    "No, you don''t," Barnes glared at her. He then focused back on Mason as he thumped on the desk in anger. "Look, I''m not giving a choice here, this is how it is! You want to walk away, then you know what that means. If your not a cop, you''re little people!"


    Derek hated that expression. They used that in the Los Angeles police departments as well. A motto that all officers adopted as a means to threaten those thinking they could just walk away from their jobs, more so for Blade Runners. They had no choice at all and still don''t to this day. Mason knew he''d be given no special favours or treatment by the NYPD if he should suddenly quit.


    Barnes new he was a drinker, that he was sometimes found at bars getting into fights when an off duty cop hounded him there. Once the leash was off, there would be no ''brushing it off'' as he would often say. He''d be put in jail like any other low life scum they dealt with on a daily basis. So rather than debate the point further, Mason reluctantly silenced himself.


    "Yuko is your damn partner," The Captain motioned bitterly. "Two Blade Runners can do the job better in my view. Especially when they''re caught off guard. Or did you forget that last skin job that wrecked your leg a few years back?"


    "No," Mason grumbled. Rubbing his right leg in memory. "That was a mistake that will never happen again."


    "Damn right it won''t." Barnes said thumping the desk again. "Cause now you''ll have someone to watch over your stupid ass."


    Yuko clucked her tongue at him and sat back down onto the couch. She seemed pleased he was getting chewed out and continued to give a smug grin as that bit of information was almost priceless to her. He was being a jerk to her. She could see it in his mannerisms and his very obvious vocal objections.


    "Fine..." Derek said, his voice trailing off slightly. "Is that all you got for me? Or what?"


    Barnes motioned to him to hand over his notes from the Omiashi tests. Derek obliged and ripped out the pages from his small note pad. That caused Anna to giggle a bit, she had never seen such ''old school'' notes in all her life. Barnes looked at it with frustration and fiddled the pages in his hands.


    "I hate your methods..." He grumbled at him. "Here we are in the height of the modern age, and you still work with this crap. Scribbles and out dated writings, get with the times, my friend. I hate having to re-enter this stuff into the computers."


    "Gives you something to do." Mason quipped. "Can''t have you sit on your ass all day with a thumb up there."


    That immediately made Barnes glare up at him in anger. Yuko quickly tried her best to hold back a smile. She liked that comeback and cleared her throat to break the tension. Barnes pointed at Mason for a second and then at the door¨C¨Cfor him to leave.


    "I''ll send the new case file to you, get out!"


    Derek said nothing and exited the room with a loud slam of the door. The love/hate relationship they had would be rather confusing with many in the station. They got along, of a sorts, but it was more of a tolerance out of obligation of the job. He walked over to one of the empty desks outside and waited for his new ''partner''. Despite his lack of enthusiasm for getting one, he knew he wouldn''t be able to ditch her despite his objections.


    Yuko and Barnes chatted for a moment while he was outside. He could see through the windowed office, the dirty blinds barely closed, as the two seemed to argue about something. Probably about him, he thought. She looked like someone who didn''t like being paired up as much as he did. Nevertheless, he waited for her. Once the two had finished shouting, she stepped out of the office and approached him in a calm manner.


    "Looks like we''re stuck with each other, eh partner?"


    "First off..." Derek sighed. "We''re not partners. I don''t do partners. I may have to work with you, but I don''t have to get to know you. You''re just a trainee as far as I''m concerned."


    "A trainee?" The woman eyeballed him. "Give me a break, Mason. I''ve probably got more kills then you''re entire career."


    "See now..." Derek quickly responded. "That scares me. It scares me that your so trigger happy that you boast about it. The young trainees always brag about killing replicants as if it were a game. But it''s not a game, this isn''t some job anyone should enjoy."


    "Listen, old man..." She leaned into his face. "I''m good at what I do. So yeah, I''m going to brag about it. I kill those Reps because they are a plague on society. If I had my way, they''d all be retired from existence. Maybe even those that make them as well, but, my job is only to take out the ones who sour. So, I''m going to make the best of what I''ve got." She patted his shoulder slightly. "If you can''t handle this job anymore, or like the other burn outs, can''t get a grip with reality, then maybe you should just ''retire'' yourself here and now." The woman motioned her hand like a gun and made the sound of it going off near his head. She gave a smile at him and winked. She moved back and adjusted her coat. "I''ll see you in a few hours, at the Dragon Bowl, once you''ve had a look at the case. You know where that is right?"


    Derek nodded and watched her leave afterwards. He couldn''t understand this woman''s mentality; She was cocky, overconfident and seemed overly blood thirsty for Replicant death. The swagger in her steps seemed to say it all. But even with all of her attitude, he felt there was something more. It was definitely something to check out at home, far away from prying eyes of the officers around him. He''d have to see just who this Anna Yuko truly is all about.