There comes a time when even the best cops have to throw up their hands and admit that they're done.  Insufficient unto the day.  It's booze o'clock.  Or something harder.  Or an evening with the one who can still make your desiccated heart beat faster.  Or a DiJi cat.  Whatever.  LAPD's seen it all from its own, and as long as you're back for your next shift, it's not gonna judge you.

Crowe and Elly are bundled into the back of an emergency spinner, still covered in concrete dust and some lab tech's best guess at what dog hair was like.  Within minutes Cedars-Sinai-Honkou hospital looms into view through the fog, surreal through Elly's unsynchronised sight and Crowe's concussion.  Then there's landing, gurney wheels squeaking down too-bright coridors.  Intrusive hands.  Voices saying things.  "You're going to be okay.  We'll take care of you.  You're one of ours." 

You know what they say.  If you ain't a cop, you're little people. 


So, Elly and Crowe get a shift in a high-end medical facility on the LAPD's dime.  Both get a roll to see how well the surgeons know their stuff:
Crowe



Elly



Meanwhile, regardless of the outcome of the above, everyone taking a Downtime shift recovers a point of Resolve (N/A).  Humans recover a point of Health, and replicants recover two - . 

Cedars-Sinai-Honkou is well-equipped, and the surgeons there work fast and thorough.  Crowe wakes to a chest covered in bandages, and sympathetic nurses saying there's not much else to be done.  He's got two broken ribs and only time is going to fix them.  Better news for Elly: the eye wound was bad enough that they tossed the entire thing and replaced the parts.  All Nexus subassemblies, it seems, are hypoimmunogenic, or some other such pretentious medical term.  They don't trigger rejection syndrome, so it's often easier to cut, dump and replace.  Two days with an eyepatch while it heals and it'll be like nothing ever happened. 

Then, just as they're getting ready to discharge themselves, a vid-phon call from Deputy Chief Holden.  "Well," he starts and then waits, glaring at them.  Clearly torn between a professional need to be updated on his officers' conditions and a deep-seated personal desire to tear them second anuses.  "What do I need to know?"


I'm not going to roll on the events chart (there's a Downtime events chart, if you didn't know) for you two, because there is no way this wouldn't happen. 

Doug, is Wylde heading home or staying out?  Where does he spend his time?

  I see the docs arew much more comfortable working on replicants then the organics. 

In case it isn't clear, this is a space for you to do some narration.  How do Crowe and Elly respond to their boss?  Where's Wylde gotten to?

Wylde would hear about the explosion and take the time to go over to the hospital to check on his 'partners' status, and even talk to them, if he can.

Once he has done all he can there, he would find a watering hole for a bit to enjoy some downtime and nightlife, and then off to home... with a lady or without.

Okay, I'll call that a Street scene.  Let's see if anything comes up for him:

Okay, let's run the conversation between Crowe, Elly and Wylde (it's not going to be hard for him to see them) then the one between Elly, Crowe and Holden with Wylde participating if Doug decides he's still there.  Then I'll throw in a bit of narrative to finish off. 

 Crowe cleared his throat. He was used to this. He never knew where he stood with the bluebacks. Having come from Internal Affairs, they always treated him like an outsider—never fully trusted.

"Sorry, sir. We're a little behind on our KIA updates. After getting blown up, I never had time to put up an out-of-office message. While we were lying around, we'll have to see whether anything came back on the parts manifest, stock analysis, vehicle search, insurance claim request, blood samples, hazardous-duty pay, and the identification-card update. My partner's eye color suddenly doesn't match her credentials."

There was no response from the other end of the call for a moment.

"Crowe, your KIA hasn't left the spinner in weeks, and the battery died two days ago. Get your shit together, or I'll sort you out."

"Yes, sir. We're about to compare notes with Wylde. Thank you for the additional resources at this critical time."

"I also need the weapon-discharge report. And if you're going to keep sending the same scripted one you always send, at least change the dates."

"Yes, sir. Can we get a ride back to our spinner?"

"Figure it out, this is a department doing police work not a shuttle service. I want a real update from you two—make that three. Soon."

Crowe emerged from the hospital carrying a clear plastic bag containing what remained of his shirt, his identification card, and several forms nobody had explained to him. The card still listed him as deceased. The shirt made a stronger case.

Outside, the rain had settled into the fine, oily mist that seemed permanently suspended over the city. Traffic hissed across the elevated roadway, throwing pale reflections through the hospital's entrance canopy.

Crowe stopped beneath it and looked at his partner.

"You look better."

It was not true. They both looked like they had been dragged through a ventilation shaft behind an industrial furnace. The medics had cleaned the blood away, sealed the cuts, and declared that neither of them was actively dying. By departmental standards, they were fit for duty.

Wylde was waiting near the curb, leaning against an unmarked spinner with a paper cup in one hand. The vehicle was not theirs. Crowe had already been informed that theirs had not moved, although he continued to feel this was somehow being presented as a personal failing.

Wylde looked them over.

"They let you out?"

"The hospital is experiencing a bed shortage," Crowe said. "We agreed to continue suffering elsewhere."

He held up the plastic bag.

"They also returned my personal effects. Apparently I'm still dead."

Wylde glanced at the identification card through the plastic.

"Might simplify the paperwork."

"It hasn't so far."

Crowe opened the rear door of the spinner and lowered himself carefully into the seat. Every movement produced a new opinion from his ribs. His partner climbed in beside him, moving with the same rigid caution.

Wylde got behind the controls but did not start the engine.

"All right," Wylde said. "Compare notes."

Crowe looked through the rain-streaked windshield at the hospital entrance. Uniformed officers moved beneath the lights, blue-backed and anonymous.

"We entered the tunnel following the canimoids," he began. "One of them had already been damaged. They heard the shot but didn't attack. Didn't retreat either. They just stopped."

"Stopped how?"

"Like they were listening."

Crowe glanced at his partner.

"That's when the explosion happened. No warning. No visible device. The blast came from farther down the tunnel and cleared it like somebody had pulled the trigger on the whole structure."

Wylde took a drink from the cup.

"Gas?"

"Maybe. Except somebody would have needed to ignite it, and the canimoids seemed to know it was coming."

Crowe's partner added what they remembered: the direction of the pressure wave, the debris, the brief glimpse of movement farther down the passage before the air turned solid and threw them backward.

Crowe listened without interrupting. There were pieces of the event he remembered clearly and others that existed only as flashes: concrete dust, emergency light, half a synthetic dog trying to lick his face.

When his partner finished, Wylde looked between them.

"So either the canimoids were waiting for the blast, or whoever set it off was waiting for you."

"That's a possible conclusion," Crowe said.

"And you didn't put that in your update."

"I was unconscious during the reporting window."

"You've been conscious for several hours."

"I've been medically conscious. Administratively, I remain deceased."

Wylde stared at him.

Crowe cleared his throat.

"There's more. We had requests running before the explosion. Parts manifest, stock analysis, vehicle search, insurance records, blood samples. If somebody has been rebuilding canimoids from scavenged components, the parts have to come from somewhere."

"And the blood?"

Crowe looked at his partner.

"That depends on whether the sample comes back human."

For a moment, the only sound inside the spinner was rain tapping against the roof.

Wylde set the cup in the console and powered up the vehicle.

"Good," Wylde said. "That almost sounded like a real update."

Crowe settled back against the seat, then immediately regretted it.

"Our lieutenant also wants the weapon-discharge report."

Wylde pulled the spinner into traffic.

"Did you change the dates this time?"

Crowe watched the hospital disappear behind them in the rain.

"I was planning to."

  Sorry Paul I did that in the exact reverse order you told me too    I got carried away.

Awesome scene! I do not think I need to add much, but I will put in a little bit.

---

The vehicle rose to one of the city's designated aerial lanes and Wylde took them over the skyline. Traffic was light for this time of night and it allowed for a little speed.

"I have a few things to add, too. Interesting footage captured. Looks like two names in the system, not sure how they are tied, but it looks like something heavy went down tonight." Rett continued on about what he discovered from the data sent thus far, and his assignment to the investigation. The known perps; the company name and dealings; and other tertiary input from his own musings.

"I am planning on a drink once I get you dropped off, unless you want to join?" He gave a chuckle, "Based on how you look, though... might be inadvisable."

Crowe looked over at his partner.

"Normally I'd pull seniority and have Detective Le1, go get the spinner. But seeing as I'm the reason I got us blown up I think this one is on me."

"If you could get me near the scene I'll limp on over and get it."

Crowe looked out the window and the days events ran through his head. Thinking started the pressure behind his eyes to build again. Was it his body or his soul that was telling him he had had enough for the day.

"I could go for some steamed dumplings and shai mai, though."