Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

*Original book cover*

*****

Sometime in the early 21st century after the world was plagued by war, famine, plagues, and disease that wiped out a rather large majority of Earth's inhabitants, big technology companies were able to create an advanced human race into what was called the NEXUS phase, a being that was virtually identical to a human, known as a Replicant. As time went on, more big corporations jumped into the NEXUS bandwagon to create other types of Replicants and even after species of animals died out, synthetic animals were created as well.

At the turn of the 22nd century, world famous entrepreneur Peter Freestone of Freestone Enterprises created a much more advanced human race into the NEXUS 39 phase. These Replicants were superior beings with super sonic strength and agility, and had incredible intelligence all thanks to the genetic engineers who worked day and night around the clock to create them.

However, the newly created Replicants would never get to experience the greatness of life on Earth as they were used in the off world colonies as slave labor and to fight hazardous wars on other planets within the solar system.

After a bloody mutiny by a NEXUS 39 combat team in an off world colony of planet Rhapsody that left thousands dead, Replicants were declared illegal on Earth and under penalty of death, special police squads, known as the Bohemian Blade Runner Units, had orders to shoot and kill upon detection of any trespassing Replicant. This was not called execution, murder, termination, or assassination. It was called retirement...

Chapter Text

Los Angeles
November 2139

A tall young man by the name of Gwilym Lee stood at the window of his office, smoking a cigarette, just wanting this day to be over with as he looked out at the vast dystopian city of Los Angeles. He had already screened about twenty employees just today and already it was getting on his nerves being stuck in this stuffy and boring office. (A/N: I was originally gonna have Jim Hutton play this role but I somehow forgot and replaced him with Gwilym so he's the only Bohemian Rhapsody cast member in this.)

He stood in silence, waiting, his blue eyes fixed on the city that lay before him, clouds of white smoke drifting from his nose and mouth as he scanned the horizon, watching plumes of fire burst out from the smoke stacks of the Los Angeles oil refinery.

"Next subject, Prenter, Paul, engineer, bio hazard waste disposal, file section, new employee, seven days," a voice announces over an intercom.

Here we go, the young man thinks to himself as there's a sudden knock at his office door. "Yes, come in," he says.

The door opened and a middle aged mustached man with short dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing white scrubs entered the room.

The tall young man turned away from the window and looked over at the blonde haired man. "Hello Paul. Please have a seat," he says, gesturing to the table.

Paul nodded silently and sat down at the end of the table while the taller man moved to the other end where a machine was sat on the tabletop with the words Voight-Kampff etched on it. Taking his seat, the curly haired individual placed his unfinished cigarette in a nearby ashtray and began to press some buttons on the machine while adjusting a screen that showed a close up of the blonde haired man's iris.

"You mind if we talk?" Paul asks in a distinctive Irish accent. "I'm a bit nervous when I take tests."

"Please don't move," the tall man says, his focus still on the machine in front of him.

"Right, sorry Mr. Lee," Paul says. "I've already had a few IQ tests this year, I don't think I've ever had one of these--"

"Reaction time is a factor in this, so please pay attention," Gwilym interrupts him. "Now, answer as quickly as you can."

"Righto," Paul mutters.

"Eight, two, one, Belfast," Gwilym absentmindedly reads off a paper.

"That's me birthday and where I'm from," Paul says to him.

Gwilym furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"The twenty first of August is me birthday, Belfast is where I'm from," Paul explains.

Gwilym nodded, understanding what he meant. "Belfast a nice place?"

Paul stared at him with a deadpan expression. "It's alright I guess. Is that part of the test?"

The young man shivered inwardly to the man's creepy look then turned his attention back to the machine. "Nope it was just a warm up."

"It's nothing fancy, nowadays it's a burnt up nuclear wasteland," Paul adds in, looking straight at the machine which magnified his eye until the entire iris filled the whole screen.

Silence followed his last words as the young man flipped to a page containing all the basic questions. Up above them, the ceiling fans whirred. Glancing at the first question, he could feel the sweat gathering on his face.

He nervously cleared his throat. "You're in a desert walking along when suddenly, you look down and see a--" he begins.

"Which one?" Paul interrupts.

"What?"

"Which desert?" Paul asks.

"Doesn't really matter which desert it is, this is completely hypothetical," Gwilym explains to him. 

"But why would I be in a desert?" Paul asks. "How did I get there?"

For a moment, the young man hesitated on an answer, knowing what Paul was trying to do. He was trying to intimidate him.

"Maybe you're fed up with the world and just want to be by yourself, who knows," the young man says. "So all of a sudden you look down and see a tortoise crawling towards you--"

"What's a tortoise?" the other man asks.

With his patience wearing thin, Gwilym took a nervous drag of his cigarette. "Do you know what a turtle is?"

"Yes."

"Same thing," Gwilym says.

Paul gave him a slight smile. "I've never seen a turtle before, but I understand what you mean. Could you describe to me what a turtle looks like?"

The young man looked up from his paperwork, a chill going down his spine with the way Paul was looking at him. He quickly looked away, turning his attention back to the Voight-Kampff machine as he continued with the hypothetical question.

"You reach down and flip the tortoise over on it's back," he says.

He suddenly notes a slight change in the pupil, a clear sign that the question was having some kind of effect on Paul.

"Do you make these questions yourself Mr. Lee, or do they write them for you?" Paul asks.

"You flip the tortoise over on it's back, it's belly baking in the hot sun and it's beating it's little legs trying to turn itself over, but it can't," Gwilym says. "It needs your help but you're refusing to help it."

"What the bloody hell do you mean I'm not helping?" Paul asks, raising his voice as his eye twitches.

"I mean you're not helping," Gwilym says, keeping his own voice calm. "Why is that, Paul?"

Paul doesn't answer. In fact he looks rather shocked and even a little surprised. Gwilym glanced back to the machine, the needle on the Voight-Kampff remaining still. 

"Relax Paul, they're just questions," he says to him with a smile. "And to answer your question from earlier, yes they are written down for me. It's simply a test designed to provoke an emotional response. Shall we continue?"

Paul nodded as Gwilym placed his cigarette back in his ashtray and looked back down at the paper in front him.

"Alright now I want you to describe to me in single words, only the good words that come into your mind about your mum," Gwilym tells him, watching the iris on the screen of the machine.

"You want to know about me mum?" Paul asks.

"Yes."

Paul leaned toward the table, his face suddenly taking on a dark look. "Let me tell you about me mum..."

Before Gwilym had a chance to react, the sound of a blaster being fired from underneath the table broke the silence in the office and the young man felt a sharp searing pain in his shoulder as he was pushed back in his chair, the force of the impact sending him through the wall. He screamed in agony, catching a glimpse of the crazed look on Paul's face as the gun was fired again, the bullet of the blaster hitting him directly through the spine.

*****

Brian May always ended up in Chinatown at the end of a long day with his favorite spot over at the Noodle Bar where he would read a book or the local newspaper and wait for a seat to open at the bar. His mass of dark curly hair blowing in the breeze, he stayed huddled in his spot under the awning of a closed down flower shop, watching as people passed by in the rain with their umbrellas. Overhead he caught sight of the neon colored advertisement blimp that promised a new life in the off world colonies. He always scoffed at it, knowing it was anything but a golden land of opportunity and adventure.

When a spot finally opened, the old Chinese man, who he knew pretty well by now, waved him over. Already knowing what he was going to order since he pretty much ordered the same thing ever since moving here from London about ten years ago, Brian stood up, tucking his book away into the inside pocket of his long overcoat, and hiking up his collar, he wandered over to the bar in the pouring rain.

"Nani ni shimasho ka?" the cook asks.
(What would you like to have?)

"Number four, please," Brian says to the Chinese cook.

"Futatsu de jubun desuyo," the old man says, holding up two fingers.
(It's two / two is enough)

"No, mate, two, two, four," Brian says, holding up four fingers.

"Futatsu de jubun desuyo," the old man repeats again.

Brian sighed in defeat. "Alright, fine. Some noodles too, please if you will."

The cook nodded and after handing over a pair of chopsticks to the curly haired man, he went to work on preparing the dish for his young customer, and a few seconds later, a dish of vegan noodles was placed on the bar.

Brian had only taken a few bites when he heard two voices over his shoulder, but he kept his eyes on his food as he was too hungry to deal with street beggars. 

"Hey," one voice says to Brian as a hand was placed on his shoulder. "Idi-wa."
(A/N: According to the city speak script made for the movie, it means "Hey, come here." in Korean)

Brian looked up, instantly recognizing a Korean LAPD officer clad in the normal police gear standing next to a dark skinned man with a pencil thin mustache and short cornrowed hair that he recognized to be Peter Straker. 

"M'sieu, aduanon kovershim angam bitte," Peter says to him, a hint of Jamaican in his tone of voice.
(Sir, will you please come with me now)

Brian beckoned over the Chinese cook. "What are they saying?" he asks, gesturing over his shoulder.

"He say you under arrest, Mr. Brian," the old cook says.

"Sorry mates, but you have the wrong guy," Brian says to him as he turns back towards his food.

 "Lófaszt, nehogy már. Te vagy a Blade...Blade Runner," Peter says, his tone insistent.
(Horsedick, no way! You are the Blade...Blade Runner)

"He say you Blade Runner," the cook tells Brian.

"Oh yeah, well you tell him I'm eating," Brian says back to him.

"Captain Beach, toka, me ni omae yo!" Peter argues.
(Captain Beach wants to see you, y'know)

Brian rolled his eyes and turned back to the two officers. "Beach, huh? Well does he know I'm retired now and in the music business?"

Peter nodded and smiled at the curly haired musician. "Hai. Ikou."
(Yes. Let's go)

"No worry, Mr. Brian, you take food with you," the cook says.

Brian stood up with his bowl of noodles. "Thanks, mate," he says, and turning towards the other two, he gestures for them to lead the way. "Gentlemen."

"Nante pūdoruheddo," Peter mutters to the other officer.
(A/N: That should translate to "What a poodle head")

The curly haired musician chuckled as he followed Straker to his Police Spinner, knowing all too well what they were conversing over. He had spent enough time learning the language to recognize it to be gutter talk, also known as city speak, which was a mixture of Japanese, Korean, Spanish, Hungarian, German, and even French. 

They walked to the end of the block, weaving their way through the crowded street until finally reaching the curb where the Spinner was parked. Bowl of noodles in hand, Brian climbed into the passenger side while Straker got into the driver side and started up the Spinner. He ate his noodles in silence as the vehicle's engine roared to life and rose up above the street until they were high up into the skyline, and from there, the curly haired musician admired the vast neon colored view of Los Angeles.

Flying onward, Brian looked out the rain streaked window as they rounded the corner of a skyscraper that led downtown to the old precinct, his gaze landing on the familiar face of a young Japanese woman, clad in the old style geisha makeup on the giant screen of the Los Angeles Insurance Company building, advertising the latest nourishment pill.

It was only a few minutes until they reached their destination and Brian started to feel anxiety building in the pit of his stomach for whatever the reason was that he was needed back here. He hadn't been to the precinct in the last five years. The day he turned in his badge, he left and not once did he look back. 

"Now on glide path, on course, over the landing threshold,"  the Spinner computer announces as they slowly landed on the helipad roof of the station.

*****

With Straker following behind him, Brian quickly walked through the large high-ceilinged lobby of the precinct to the familiar route where Jim Beach's office was. Not bothering to knock, he opened the door to the Captain's office and walked right in. The small room was just as dark and dusty as he remembered it, and the man sitting at the desk had a generous amount of gray hair.

Jim looked up, and seeing it was his former curly haired bounty hunter, he smiled warmly. "Hi, mate, long time no see. How have you been?"

Brian shrugged. "Fine, I guess. What's up?"

"You may want to sit down for this," Jim says. "Tea?"

Brian nodded and sat down in the chair as Jim stood up from his spot and went to prepare drinks for him and his guest. The anxiety in the pit of his stomach continued and felt to only be getting worse with each second that ticked by. At last, the silence was broken when Jim returned to the desk and placed a cup of hot tea in front of the curly haired musician.

"Four skin jobs from an off-world colony jumped a shuttle, killed all crew and passengers," Jim says to him. "They found the shuttle drifting off the coast about two weeks ago so we know they're around here."

Absorbing this information, Brian took a sip of his tea to swallow the lump in his throat. "Well I'm very sorry to hear that, but I can't help you, mate. I'm retired. Give it to Gwilym, I hear he's quite good."

"I did," Jim says. "He can breathe alright as long as nobody unplugs him. He's not good enough, though. Not as good as you. I need you, Bri. You're one of the best that's ever happened to this department. But this is a really bad one, the worst yet. I need the old Blade Runner. I need your kind of magic."

"Sorry Jim, I was quit when I came in here, I'm twice as quit now," Brian says, and standing up, he headed for the door.

"Oi!" Jim calls after him. "You know the score, mate. If you aren't a cop, you're little people."

Brian paused in opening the door, and turned slowly back around, noticing the desperate look in the Captain's aging face.

"There's no choice in this is there?" Brian asks in a low voice.

Jim solemnly shook his head. "No choice. Come on mate, sit down and I'll explain everything."

Chapter Text

Taking a seat again at Jim's desk, the old Captain pressed a button on a handheld device, and the TV behind him flicked to life with the interview that Gwilym conducted with Paul. It was a multiple split screen view with one part showing Prenter's retinal response, one showing the reading of the empathetic response, one showing Gwilym's view, and another showing the test subject's full face.

"The subject's name is Paul Prenter," Jim says. "Incept date is 21st of August, 2138. A fairly new model."

Brian turned his lip up in disgust, noting that this Paul Prenter individual was one ugly looking character. He kept his comments to himself and watched the interview from the beginning as Straker stood in silence by the door.

"...I've already had a few IQ tests this year, I don't think I've ever had one of these--"

"Reaction time is a factor in this, so please pay attention. Now, answer as quickly as you can."

"Righto."

"Eight, two, one, Belfast."

"That's me birthday and where I'm from."

"What?"

"There was an escape from one the off-world colonies about two weeks ago," Jim says, breaking Brian's attention away from the TV screen. "They slaughtered thirty people and jumped a shuttle scheduled to arrive in San Francisco. Three nights ago they tried to break into Freestone Enterprises. One of them got fried running through an electrical field and by the time we got there, the others were gone. On the possibility they may try to infiltrate his employees, I had Gwilym go over and run Voight-Kampff tests on all the new workers. It looks like he got himself one. Or more correctly, it got him."

"So what type are we dealing with on this one?" Brian asks, pointing to Paul.

"Artillery runner and loader," Jim says.

Brian raised an eyebrow and whistled. "Bloody hell, he sounds like a tough one."

Jim nodded in agreement. "You're telling me. This one can lift over five-hundred pounds day and night. You can't hurt him, either. You have to kill him."

Brian snorted. "Not even if you comment on that terrible mustache of his?" he asks sarcastically. 

"...So all of a sudden you look down and see a tortoise crawling towards you--"

"What's a tortoise?"

"Do you know what a turtle is?"

"Yes."

"Same thing."

"I've never seen a turtle before, but I understand what you mean..."

"I don't get it though, why do they risk coming back to Earth knowing they're bloody arses are declared illegal," Brian says, looking over at Jim. "What do they want from Freestone Enterprises?"

Jim shook his head and chuckled. "You tell me mate, that's what you're here for. Here take a look at what we're dealing with."

Pausing the multi-cam surveillance video, Jim pressed another button and the screen changed to show a head slowing rotating in a 360 degree circle. It was a head of a male replicant with tanned skin, shoulder length wavy black hair, dark brown almond shaped eyes, sharp nose, full lips, and an impressive looking jawline. For a moment, Brian seemed caught off guard. He'd seen many replicants before but none ever looked as exotic as this one.

"What's this one?" the curly haired musician asks, his eyes still glued to the TV screen.

"NEXUS 39, Freddie Mercury," Jim reads off a paper. "Model number F1946B11-199X. Incept date 2135, September 5th. He's been used in various combats, has incredible strength and they call him Mr. Bad Guy, and among other nicknames such as White Queen and Killer Queen, he's most likely the leader." He looked up from the paper and up at the image on the TV screen. "And being an older model, he may not even look like that anymore. For all we know he could have a mustache or his hair could be shorter."

"Well that's not much help," Brian observes.

"True, but unlike Prenter and according to the makers I talked with, this one has a very distinctive flamboyant appearance and was modeled in very unique styles of clothing when first created," Jim says. "Take a look."

He slid a manila folder across the table, and for a brief moment, Brian wondered why something like this would need a folder, but when he flipped it open, he soon figured out real quick why. It was a small stack of photographs of the NEXUS model with the first one being a full bodied image that was completely nude, giving the curly haired musician an eye full of long lightly muscled legs, and a skinny torso and broad chest covered in a moderate abundance of dark hair. But one thing that really stood out was how well endowed this replicant was...

Feeling heat rise to his cheeks, Brian quickly flipped to another photo in the stack, this one showing quite a revealing outfit as a tight black leotard with a deep chest plunge that revealed his entire chest and stomach. On the next photo, the outfit was pretty much the same thing, only this one was white, and on the third and fourth photo, the replicant was modeled in a long sleeved black and white diamond patterned jumpsuit, and lastly a long sleeved red sequined leotard onesie. (Bowie wore the onesie better, fight me IRL, nyahahahaha! 😝🤣😂)

Fucking hell, this thing makes these ridiculous outfits actually look good, Brian thought to himself. "I don't think I'll have any trouble spotting this one in a crowd," he says, and closing the folder, he slid it back towards the Captain.

"Yes, he won't be hard to spot unless his hair is different or if he has any facial hair," Jim says. "Now for the others."

Pressing another button on the remote, the rotating head of the Freddie model disappeared, and another slow spinning head appeared on screen. This time it was a doll faced female replicant with long dark hair and blue eyes. Brian almost thought she was beautiful if it weren't for the emptiness in her expression that made her look creepy.

"This one is Mary Austin," Jim says. "She was trained in the off world kick murder squad and is notorious for being able to knock her opponents out with just one punch."

"And the next one?" Brian asks, wanting to speed things along.

The rotating head of Mary changed to the last replicant, this one a male that looked to be very feminine with long bright blonde hair, blue eyes, rounded jawline, and a dimpled chin. (A/N: I'm sorry I'm bad at describing what Roger looks like. 😶)

"This one is Roger Meddows Taylor," Jim says. "Incept date 26th of July, 2139. He's a pleasure model, brand new, and a standard item for drag bars and male strip clubs in the LGBTQ+ community of the outer military colonies. He may appear weak but he is in fact so strong that even by screaming, he can make the ears of his victims bleed."

"Hmmm, how lovely," Brian mumbles, his scalp prickling to the very thought of that last bit of information. "I'd like a screenshot of these models faces from all angles."

Jim nodded. "Sure thing. Another thing you need to be aware of is these particular models were designed to copy human beings in every way. They were designed to learn from interaction, similar to how a child learns. The designers also think that over a certain period of time they'll start to develop emotions like hate, fear, sadness, or anger. Even love. So they built in a fail-safe device."

"Which is what?" Brian asks.

"A four year life span," Jim says.

Brian grimaced. "Four years," he repeats.

"Uh-huh," Jim confirms.

"Well it's no wonder they're so bloody mad," Brian says. "So how am I going to administer the VK test on them if they've by chance already learned human emotions?"

"This is a hunt and kill mission, you won't need the test," Jim explains.

Brian sighed in exasperation and ran a hand over his face. "Jim, I need to know if it'll be a replicant, not the actual lookalike human."

"It shouldn't be a problem," Jim says. "The lookalikes to these replicants were modeled after humans who were around in the twentieth century who've long since been dead so you won't have to worry about accidentally retiring the real one."

"Any other advice?"

Jim gave Brian a half smile. "That's about all the advice I can give you, Bri."

Brian rolled his eyes. Perfect...

"Now there's a NEXUS 39 demo over at Freestone Enterprises. I want you to go there and administer the test on it."

"And what if the test doesn't work on it?" Brian asks, looking over at the Captain.

Looking unsure of himself, Jim looked away and didn't respond, and Brian figured out the answer. If the test didn't work, then they would all be in deep shit...

Chapter Text

After studying the interview between Gwilym and Prenter, and gather other information, the curly haired musician and Straker headed off to Freestone Enterprises while the late afternoon sun began to lower behind the mountains. As if he hadn't seen sunlight in so long due to the high buildings that surrounded the skies of the city, Brian couldn't help but be in awe of the sight before him as the Spinner neared the offices of Freestone Enterprises within the hills of Palo Alto. The structure of the building was like the great pyramids but much bigger and despite all the wars, it still stood after being built over a hundred years ago, and they still looked the same as they did the last time Brian had come here.

Once the Spinner eventually landed on the roof's helipad, Brian was met with a young female assistant who escorted him through one half of the giant building to an area he had never been to before, and when they reached an elevator, she left him from there with instructions to go all the way to the top floor.

Taking the elevator, it took him to the top, and when the doors finally opened, it was a large open room with a dozen marble columns that extended all the way to the high intricate patterned ceiling. The large room had a highly polished black marble floor which reflected the sun that shined through a wide floor to ceiling window, and although it was dimmed in the tinted window, it was magnified by the smog choked atmosphere of the California sky. 

Brian walked across the room from the elevator to look at the incredible view, to where a large black mahogany desk sat, his footsteps echoing off the floor and walls as he walked. At the window, his attention was taken by the vast view of the rolling hills of Palo Alto with the far off view of San Francisco. 

As he continued to gaze out the window, the sound of fluttering to his left averted his attention, and looking over to the source of the sound, he was met with an eerie, but at the same time beautiful sight of a large white bird sitting on it's perch. It moved it's head in Brian's direction, the low light making the creature's retina shine in a unique and eerie manner. The curly haired musician stared at it, transfixed by it's beauty, and watched it's black pupils expand and contract as it blinked and stared back, perhaps curious by the stranger in the room.

"Do you like our owl?" a woman's voice asks.

Brian turned to the source of the voice, noticing a light across the large room back by the elevator. Against the black surface of the doors stood what looked to be a young woman dressed in a long sleeved black dress that stopped at the knees. She almost seemed camouflaged against the black background.

"Is it an owl?" Brian asks, looking back at the white majestic creature on it's perch.

"Yes," she says as she approaches him. "What did you think it was?"

"I wasn't sure," Brian says to her. "I've never seen one in person before, only in the old movies and photographs. Is it real?"

"Of course not."

"It must be very expensive," Brian says softly, his gaze still on the owl.

"Very," the young woman says in a flat tone of voice.

Brian turned to face her. She was indeed very young, maybe early to mid twenties, and beautiful with pale skin, a small mouth, straight nose, rounded cheekbones, and blue eyes. She had a mass of dark brown hair piled high in an elegant chignon upon her head with not one strand of hair out of place.

"I'm Chrissie Mullen, Dr. Freestone's personal assistant," she says. "You are Mr. May?"

Brian smiled warmly and nodded, taking notice of a British accent in her voice. "Please, call me Brian."

Chrissie held out a small and delicate looking hand to him and they shook. His hand was huge in comparison to hers, and calloused as well from years of playing guitar.

She turned away from Brian, walking a few paces away from him before turning back to face the curly haired man. "So it seems your police department doesn't believe our new unit is for the public's benefit," she states, getting straight to the point.

Brian thought it would be better to be polite and didn't want to appear rude in defending a police department that he once worked for. "Well actually, replicants are like any other machine making them either a benefit or a hazard. When they become a benefit, it's no longer my problem."

Chrissie gave a small discreet nod. "I understand what you mean," she says. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure," he says as he takes a seat at the black mahogany desk.

"Have you ever retired a human by mistake?" she asks.

Surprised by her question, Brian blinked as he hesitated. "No...of course not."

"But how do you really know?" she asks. "Surely in your line of work it is a risk." 

"Is this to be one of those empathy tests?" a male voice asks. "The capillary dilation of what they call a blush response? Fluctuation of the pupil? Involuntary dilation of the iris?"

Brian turned to see a man dressed in a pristine tailored tuxedo, complete with a red bow tie and looked as though he had just come from a extravagant dinner party. He was lean, dark haired, and appeared to be in his mid thirties with a mustache and a friendly face. 

"We call it Voight-Kampff," Brian says, answering his questions.

"Ah yes indeed," he says with a smile as he holds his hand out to Brian. "I'm Dr. Peter Freestone."

Brian smiled and shook his hand. "Brian May. It's an honor to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Dr. Freestone says with a nod. "Anyway, you're here to do a demonstration with the new machine? I'm fascinated to see how it works."

"Yes, I was told there would be a subject to test," Brian says. "Is the subject here?"

"I would like to see it work on a person," Dr. Freestone says. "I want to see a negative before I provide you with a positive."

"Would you like to go first then?" Brian asks him.

"Oh no," he says, and stepping back, he indicates Chrissie. "Try her."

Brian looked at the young woman who's eyes were cast downward as if shy, and he suddenly realized that she had been looking at the floor during the time he and Freestone were talking. At the mention of her name, Chrissie looked up and made eye contact with the curly haired musician, and for a brief moment he found her to be very attractive and drawn to her.

He looked at the low lying sun casting through the window. "It's too bright in here."

"Ah, here, let's try this," Dr. Freestone says as he moves to the other end of the table and hits a button.

The window immediately darkened, giving the room a polaroid effect. While Chrissie took a seat on the other side of the table, Brian set up the Voight-Kampff machine.

"Mr. May, do you mind if I smoke?" Chrissie asks.

"Go ahead, it won't effect the test," he says as he finishes setting up the machine. "Ok now I want you to relax, sit quietly, and answer my questions as simply and quickly as you can."

Brian made an adjustment to the iris dilation sensor and checked it on his screen. He noticed Chrissie's eyes were not the regular light blue but instead they were slightly darker. In the center of her right eye he could see a small, almost unnoticeable yellow glow. Thinking it might be due to the sunlight that was still filtering into the room with a soft glow, he began the test.

"It's your birthday and someone gives you a calfskin wallet--" 

"I wouldn't accept something like that," Chrissie interrupts. "And I would report the person who gave it to me to the police."

Brian watched the gauge react to her response and made a note on what the data showed him, then moved on to the next question.

"You've got a little boy. He shows you his collection of butterflies, plus the killing jar."

Chrissie took a drag of her cigarette. "I'd take him to a doctor."

The machine beeped and Brian took note of the slight expansion of Chrissie's pupil.

"You're watching the news on the telly when suddenly you look down and see a wasp crawling on your arm."

"I'd kill it," she answers quickly in a bold tone of voice.

Brian looked up at her from the machine noticing her face held no emotion to the question. Making a note on that, he moved on.

"You're reading a magazine and come across a full page photo of a nude woman."

"Is this to test whether I'm a replicant or a lesbian, Mr. May?" she asks.

Brian looked up from the screen to see one of her eyebrows raised quizzically at him. "Please just answer the question. The woman is laying on a bearskin rug. You show it to your husband. He likes it so much that he hangs it on your bedroom wall above your bed. What do you say to him?"

"I certainly wouldn't let him," she says.

"Why not?" Brian asks.

"It's quite obvious I should be enough for him," Chrissie answers.

Keeping his eyes on the screen, Brian held back a grin as he continued the test which went on for the next half hour.

"Ok, last question," Brian says. "You're watching a famous stage play. A banquet is in progress with the guests enjoying an appetizer of raw oysters..."

He paused and awaited her response, watching as the needle on the reading swung forward once and went back.

"Being hungry yourself you find out that the entree they are serving is boiled dog." (A/N: I looked up boiled dog and regretted it immediately.)

Chrissie didn't respond and Brian looked up at her to see that her eyes were cast down. She looked nervous and she licked her lips and glanced back up at Brian as if she about to speak, but still she said nothing. He sat back in his chair and waited patiently for an answer.

"Would you step out for a few moments, Chrissie," Dr. Freestone says to her.

The young woman rose from her chair and made her way to the set of discreet doors back by the elevator, and as her footsteps faded, Brian turned to Dr. Freestone.

"She's a replicant isn't she?" he asks.

"I'm impressed," Freestone says. "How many questions have to be asked before spotting one?"

"Dr. Freestone--"

"How many questions?" Freestone repeats.

Brian shrugged. "Twenty to thirty, maybe more, sometimes less."

"That's interesting considering you asked Chrissie more than a hundred."

"Does she not know?" Brian asks.

"She's beginning to suspect--"

Brian furrowed his brow. "Suspect? How can it not bloody know what it is? How can it not be aware that it's not human?"

"Why should it be aware?" Dr. Freestone asks. "Is she not the most beautiful creation you've ever seen? And besides does knowing what we are really help us at all, Mr. May? Knowing we are just results of sperm and eggs that must wait for puberty and eventually mate while everything else around us keeps us entertained and distracted. How exactly does that knowledge help you? With Chrissie she could be the key to the next level of the NEXUS series."

Brian shifted in his chair and pondered on this information.

"My point being, Mr May, is commerce," Dr. Freestone continues. "Commerce is our number one goal here at Freestone Enterprises. 'More Human Than Human' is our motto. Why is that you ask? Well would you prefer us humans to return to slavery, to be sent to the outer systems against our will and work without rest? That is what they do for us. They are needed on the hazardous planets and outer colonies because the conditions are much too harsh for us. Do you understand that?"

The curly haired musician nodded.

"Chrissie is simply an experiment...nothing more," Dr. Freestone says. "In our earliest creations we came to recognize a strange obsession in them because after all they are emotionally inexperienced and only have so few years to store up the experiences that we as humans take for granted. So we tried another experiment by gifting them a past to provide them comfort for their developing emotions that we usually get from our past such as childhood, our teens years and early adult years."

"Memories," Brian says. "So you're giving them memories?"

Dr. Freestone smiled in what finally seemed forever. "Correct, Mr. May."

Chapter Text

The meeting with Dr. Freestone ended and after Brian left he called into the precinct from the Spinner and advised Jim that he'd follow up on the lead on Prenter. The address of the place he was living at was provided by Prenter's job application given to Freestone Enterprises at the time he was a new hire, which was in San Francisco. Hoping it was a legit address, Brian and Straker headed off.  

By the time they arrived, a heavy rain began to fall over the city, which as a result of the last war that caused weather patterns in the atmosphere to change, the city along with almost all of California got a lot of rain, every night.

The address to their destination was a very old and run down building, built before the last two  wars, on the corner of Haight and Ashbury. What use to be a thriving area in this part of the city was now underpopulated, poorly lit, and crime ridden. 

At the front desk Straker immediately showed his badge and requested to be shown Prenter's room to which the landlord obeyed and escorted them all the way to the top floor. Entering the tiny apartment, Straker went into the main room while Brian checked the bathroom. Keeping the bathroom light off, he took out his flashlight, switching from white light to black light just in case he would happen to find something. As he swept the light over the bathtub, something in the drain caught his attention.

Brian leaned down towards the tub to get a closer look, then reaching out he picked it up, holding it on his index finger. It looked like a fish scale. Putting it into a mini plastic evidence bag, he continued to look around to search for anything else, but finding nothing he gave up and went back into the main where Straker was currently at, making a small origami figure out of paper.

"Find anything?" Brian asks.

Straker shook his head and placed the figure on the dresser. "Niente, amigo. Just this." He handed Brian a pile of Polaroid print-outs. "Found 'em in one of the dresser drawers. Everything else looks like it's been cleaned and cleared out."

Brian shuffled through the photographs which were mainly family portraits, some even daguerreotypes, and pictures of Prenter that he assumed were supposed to be him as a little boy, only he had never been a boy.  

"That's odd, I wonder why he would leave these behind," Brian says.

Straker shrugged.

"Or perhaps maybe he knows they're fake hence the reason why these replicants are trying to get to Freestone," Brian says, suddenly realizing. "They must know their pasts aren't real, that they're not real, which means they're beginning to learn..."

*****

Prenter stood outside his apartment building looking up at the window, noticing the two men inside his room. Policemen. He had come back to get his photos but seeing now it was too late, he had to get out of there, and fast. Heading off in the other direction, he made his way to a more populated area, back to a phone booth where he'd meet up with Freddie who was already inside waiting for him.

Upon seeing Prenter approach, Freddie stepped out of the phone booth. His shoulder length silky black hair fluttered in the light breeze as the other man walked up with a sullen look on his face and avoided eye contact with the dark look on Freddie's sculptured face.

Both were dressed in semi casual clothing with Prenter wearing a red and white striped t-shirt underneath a leather jacket and a pair of jeans while Freddie wore a long sleeved white parachute jumpsuit with a pair of white clogs. A casual glance from anyone on the street would make them think they were just two regular guys which was convincing enough to make them blend in with the crowds. (A/N: The thing Freddie is wearing is supposed to be that outfit he wore at Hyde Park in '76 for like the first few songs before he magically stripped it off. What lies underneath it in this story is a surprise for the ending, hehehe.😉😁)

"Did you get your precious photos, darling?" Freddie asks him in a posh British accent that dripped with coldness.

Prenter shook his head while still avoiding eye contact. 

"Look at me when I am talking to you," Freddie demands.

Prenter looked up and met Freddie's dark chilling gaze. "No, someone...somebody was there."

Freddie's mouth set into a hard line. "Men?" he growls. "Stupid little policemen?"

"Yes, it did appear to be the police," Prenter says.

The dark haired man stared for a moment until finally he motioned for Prenter to follow him, and they made their way down the street. A group of bicyclists rode by as the two men finally approached a storefront with a nameplate on the entrance door that read JIM HUTTON.

Inside the building it was an icy laboratory that specialized in eyes. Nothing else. The two walked in to see Jim Hutton wearing a fur hat and a heavy insulated fur coat. His mustache was covered in light frost and his breath steamed in the below zero temperature of the laboratory. 

Upon hearing someone entering his lab, he looked over and jumped at the sight of the two intruders who, despite their lack of warm clothing, didn't seem at all bothered by the extreme cold even with the long haired stranger who had frost gathering on his hair.

"Oi just what in God's name are you bloody doing in here?!" he shouts at them.

"We have some questions, my dear," Freddie says to him. "And you are going to answer every single one of them. Is that clear?"

"Fuck off before I contact the authorities!" Jim threatens.

Freddie gave him a chilling smile, showing off his large front teeth and watched as Prenter snuck up behind Jim and easily tore off his fur coat in just one motion. 

"Oi!" Jim protests as he immediately begins to shiver. "What's this all about?!"

"Morphology, longevity, incept dates," Freddie says to him.

"P-Please, I-I-I don't know anything about t-that," Jim says as he wraps his arms around himself. 

"What is the life span of a NEXUS 39?" Freddie demands. "When were we created? How do we die?"

"I-I-I don't know m-mate!" Jim shouts, his teeth chattering. "All I d-do is g-genetic d-design on eyes--" He pauses, staring straight into Freddie's eyes. "S-So you're a NEXUS? I d-designed your eyes. I knew I recognized them."

"My darling Jim, if only you could see what I've seen with your eyes," Freddie says in a softer tone of voice. "Now answer my questions."

"I-I-I don't have a-any answers, just p-please give...give me my c-coat back," Jim says.

Freddie glared at him. "Who has the answers then?"

"F-Freestone," he says. "He knows all."

Freddie hummed disapprovingly and placed a hand on his hip. "We've already tried him, darling. He's not an easy man to see."

By now, Jim was shivering like a leaf. He glanced at Prenter, then back at Freddie. "John c-can take you t-to him."

Freddie raised an eyebrow. "John who?"

"John...John Richard Deacon," Jim tells him in a weak sounding voice as he looks down at the floor.

Freddie walked up to Jim and grasped at his chin, forcing him to look into his dark eyes. "And where would we find this John Richard Deacon?"

Jim's eyes widened as he briefly glanced down at Freddie's exposed chest peeking out from the jumpsuit, his dark chest hair covered in frost. "B-Bradbury Apartments...s-sector six..."

The dark haired man smiled, and pulling Jim towards him, he placed a kiss on his lips which were beginning to turn blue from the cold. "Thank you, darling. That wasn't so hard now was it?"

At a loss for words, Jim blinked at him confusion as Freddie let go of him and Prenter threw his fur coat in his direction, then turning, the two men left the lab.

Chapter Text

Finding nothing else at Prenter's apartment, Straker flew Brian back to Chinatown where his own car had been left. Tired, exhausted, and wanting to strum on his Red Special, he drove back home to his apartment block in the heavy rain.

The place where Brian had called home for the last ten years since moving from London due to the war that had killed thousands and destroyed the economy in the UK, was a large mansion in the center of the city that had been remodeled and converted into an apartment complex. The eight hundred room building, complete with underground parking, was surrounded by a high security fence that surrounded the entirety of the property.

Stopping at the iron gate, he punched in his access number. The gate creaked open and Brian slowly drove around the complex and down into the underground garage. Once parked he got out and headed for the elevator. He noted he was very tired and at this point he wanted to do nothing else but crawl into his bed and go to sleep.

"Voice print identification and floor number, please," the elevator's security system drones out. 

"May, ninety-seven," Brian says.

"May, ninety-seven," it repeats. "Thank you. Danke."

"Danke to you as well, mate," he says back with a yawn as he leans against the elevator wall and closes his eyes.

The elevator slowly rose upwards and a vision of Chrissie being in there with him, wearing a big fur coat, entered his mind. Suddenly as the door slid open to his floor with the robotic voice telling him he arrived, Brian's eyes shot open, and in one quick movement, he whipped out his blaster from the pocket of his coat and trained it into the dark corner of the elevator where Chrissie was hiding. She stared up at him, not even flinching at the weapon being pointed at her.

He put his blaster back into his coat. "Bloody hell, are you mad?" Brian mumbles, heading out into the hall.

"I wanted to see you," she says to him as she follows him out. "So I waited."

Brian scoffed and shook his head as he searched his pockets for his access card to his apartment. "You're damn bloody lucky I didn't shoot you just now. How on Earth did you get into the building?"

Chrissie spoke, her voice matching Brian's soft spoken accent. So she had used his voice to get into the building which surprised him a bit.

"So why are you here?" he asks. Where's that damn access card?

"I don't know why Freestone told you what he did," she says.

Finally locating his access card, he slid it into the mechanism on the door and opened it. "Look I'm tired and just want to go to bed. Talk to Freestone about it."

"He refused to see me!" she exclaims behind the closed door.

Brian paused in locking the door. Feeling guilty he sighed. Thunder rolled through the sky in the distance which made him feel bad if she had to go back out into the rain. Turning the knob, he opened the door back up and silently gestured for Chrissie to come in. Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her and followed Brian into the living room where he took his raincoat off and slung it over a rocking chair.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asks as he clears some stuff off the couch.

She looked around the large room before finally looking at Brian. "You think I'm a replicant, don't you?"

He chuckled while continuing to clean things. "I don't think. I know you are."

"Here, take a look at this," she says behind him.

Brian turned to see her holding out a photograph for him to look at.

"It's a photo of my mum and me when I was a little girl," she says. "She raised me as a single mum in the UK just before the war and then we moved here. She died of cancer a couple years ago."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat down on the couch and raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh yeah? You remember that rose bush outside your bedroom window with the spider in it?"

Chrissie just stared at him so he continued.

"You watched her build a web all summer long until one day there was a big egg in it..."

"The egg hatched," Chrissie adds in. "And a million baby spiders came out...and they ate her."

Brian shook his curly head and laughed. "Look love, I don't know who you're trying to fool here, but it's not real. Your family and your memories aren't real. It's all implants."

Chrissie blinked at him and cast her eyes down at the photo in her hand that began to shake slightly, and Brian watched as her blue eyes became glassy with...tears?

The grin on his face subsided and he stood up while silently berating himself for saying such mean things. "I'm sorry, bad joke. I made a bad joke and I apologize. You're not a replicant."

Chrissie's bottom lip quivered as she gasped and the tears began to fall.

Brian, you wanker. "Shit, I'm sorry...really I am," he says as he awkwardly places an arm around her back in a comforting gesture. "Don't cry, please."

She looked up into his hazel eyes as the tears continued to spill down her beautiful face. She looked genuinely hurt which made Brian feel even more guilty since he had never seen a replicant cry before. He wasn't exactly sure what he had to do in a situation like this so he thought up the best thing which was offer a drink.

He sighed and removed his arm from her back. "You want something to drink? Tea? Moët & Chandon?"

She continued to look up at him as she sniffled, tears rolling down her face. For a moment he thought about wiping her tears away and wondered if her skin was soft but he kept his distance. 

Backing away while keeping his eyes on her, Brian quickly strolled into the adjoining kitchen and grabbed two glass cups from the cupboard and located the half empty bottle of the Moët & Chandon in the fridge. He looked into the living room as he poured the champagne into one of the glasses and saw that Chrissie was still standing in the same spot with her back towards him, silhouetted against the bright lights outside the window of a passing helicopter. She turned to face him for a moment, then turned, and quickly headed for the door.

Drink in hand, Brian stood in the doorway of the kitchen and stared around the living room, relieved that Chrissie was gone but also quite disappointed by her absence. On the coffee table, he noticed the picture she had left. He went over and picked it up, seeing that it was a little girl with her mother. Turning it over, he saw that a number had been scrawled out on the back of it.

Retrieving the stack of photos that Prenter had left behind from his trench coat pocket, Brian headed to the sliding glass door that lead to his balcony. As he sat down in one of the chairs, a police Spinner flew by, it's emergency blue and red lights illuminating the dark streets. Sipping his drink, he stared at the photo that Chrissie left and began to wonder why she had come to him, why did he feel so bad for upsetting her, and why did he find her so attractive? 

Thunder rolling in the distance as the sound of a police Spinner wailed a few blocks away, he sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, the rain matching his blues.

Chapter Text

The heels of his stiletto ankle boots click clacked against the concrete as he walked past rows of abandoned buildings along the dirty trashed filled street in the rain. Overhead in the distance, the Off World blimp floated by, the announcement droning on about new life in the outer colonies. 

Roger, or as he liked to go by in the clubs where he worked, Rainbow was a male pleasure model who looked to be in his mid twenties. His hair, which was wet from the rain and clung to his face and neck, was long and blonde. Around his neck was a silver choker. He wore very little makeup since his skin was pale but on this occasion, he had dark mascara around his eyes and a light shade of pink eye-shadow which if given a certain expression, would bring out the baby blue color in his eyes.

He was dressed in a long sleeved, off the shoulder sheer black crop top, a low-cut mini skirt, and black fishnet stockings which were held up by a garter belt, leaving about three to four inches of bare skin between the hem of the skirt and the top of the stockings. Being as thin as he was, one would say he pulled off the outfit quite well despite his appearance of looking sickly.

A large knapsack hung from his shoulder, bouncing off his hip as he walked. Rounding a corner, Roger suddenly came upon a stone canopy of a large building. Relief flooded through him as he saw it as a chance to get out from under the cold November rain to try and figure out where he was at since he had been walking around for what felt like hours to the point where he was beginning to feel tired and his feet were starting to hurt in the high heels he was wearing.

Finding a secluded spot by a pair of garbage cans, Roger hunkered down into the trash pile of crumpled newspapers for warmth. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off but a few moments later the sound of keys dropping in front of him caused his eyes to shoot open and it was then that he came face to face with a young stranger who had long brown hair, greyish green eyes and a long nose. 

Roger shrieked in surprise and quickly scrambled to his feet, bumping into the stranger and knocking him over as he ran and skidded on the wet ground into the side of a parked truck where his shoulder slammed into the passenger side window.

"Hey there, wait!" the stranger calls out to Roger in a distinctive British accent.

His eyes wide, Roger turned and looked back at the stranger standing up off the ground with his dropped knapsack in his hand.

"Young lady, you dropped your bag," he says.

At being called a lady, Roger frowned, warily approaching the young stranger as he quickly snatched his knapsack from him. "I'm not a lady, thank you very much," he says in a raspy British accented voice that dripped with annoyance.

The stranger blinked and looked over Roger's appearance, his cheeks reddening as he realized his mistake. "Oh...sorry to have offended you," he says in a tiny voice.

"It's alright, I get mistaken for a girl all the time," Roger says to him. "I'm a drag performer."

The long haired stranger nodded and they stood in awkward silence looking at each other for a few moments. He then glanced down at the stilettos, noting that the blonde haired man was a couple inches taller than him. 

"So uh...what were you doing hiding in all this rubbish out here?" the stranger asks, motioning towards the trash cans.

Roger nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm lost and a bit tired, and I just needed to get out of the rain for the night. I'm not familiar with this part of the city so I just wanted to keep warm until morning time when the rain lets up."

"What's your name?" the stranger asks him.

"Roger. Roger Taylor."

"My name is John Richard Deacon," the young man says with a smile, holding out a hand.

Roger smiled for a moment and briefly shook his hand. "Hi."

"Hi," he says back. "Were you heading home? I could give you a lift."

Roger shrugged and said nothing. John backed away a bit and was just about to unlock the door of the building when Roger decided to break the awkwardness that hung in the air.

"We spooked each other pretty good, didn't we?" he says with a grin.

John giggled, showing off the gap in his front teeth. "We sure did."

Roger reflected the giggle which was cut short by a noticeable shiver as he looked down at the ground.

John took notice of Roger's soaked hair and clothes. "If you've got nowhere to go, would you like to come inside for a cuppa tea and something to eat? It's quite frigid out and you might end up catching something."

Roger smiled. "Tea does sound nice and I am hungry."

John smiled back and turned around to open the door, and the smile on Roger's face immediately disappeared, turning into a neutral expression that bordered on almost hostile. He followed the younger man into the main entrance hall of the apartment building where it was dark and appeared to be raining inside due to the roof of the foyer missing the glass paneling.

"My apartment is the only place with lights," John says over his shoulder as they reach an elevator.

Roger followed him into the clunky express box. "So do you live here all by yourself?"

The younger man nodded as the elevator slowly rose to the top floor. "Yes."

Roger spotted the glint of a ring on his finger. "Married?"

"Was," John says with a sad look. "She died last year."

"Oh," Roger mumbles, mirroring the younger man's look. "It must get real lonely around here then, huh?"

"Mmm...not really," John replies as the elevator came to a stop at his floor. "I make friends...well actually they're animatronic toys that I invented. It's this hobby I do for my work as a genetic designer Y'know what that is?"

Roger shook his head as he followed John down the end of the wet and dirty corridor to his apartment, to a set of double doors. John opened the doors with his set of keys and Roger warily stepped inside behind him.

"Hey-o, home again!" John calls out to no one, his voice echoing off the walls of the large open room.

The younger man shut the door behind them, and while sliding a series of deadbolts to lock up, Roger looked around. The main hallway of John's apartment was large and almost completely bare except for a large crystal chandelier that hung down from the Victorian intricate patterned high ceiling.

John took notice of Roger looking around and smiled to the expression on his face. "Like it?" he asks.

Roger nodded. "It's beautiful."

"All the rooms are like this in the building," the younger man says. "Large with high ceilings but falling to pieces, y'know."

The sudden sound of bells jingling in the next room caught Roger's attention, and looking over, he watched as two figures slowly marched shoulder to shoulder through the doorway and into the main entry hall before coming to a halt just mere feet in front of the two men. One was a stunted dwarf figure with a long white nose, the tip of it painted red, and was dressed in a brown uniform in the style of a war General and a spiked helmet from the old German army. The other figure was large teddy bear in a blue uniform covered in medals with a matching colored Napoleon style hat. 

"Home again, home again, jiggidy-jig," they say in unison. "Good evening Deaky."

John smiled down at them. "Evening fellas," he says to them. "Did you guys have a good day?"

They both nodded at the same time.

"That's Kaiser on the left," John says to Roger. "And Colonel Fuzzy on the right."

"Hello," Roger says to them.

"Hello friend," they reply in unison.

The teddy wheeled around and marched back into the next room. Kaiser followed behind, and as it neared the entryway to the other room, it bumped into the door frame and made a squeaking sound before continuing on it's way.

John giggled and took off his jacket. "He does that all the time, it's kind of funny. 

"They called you Deaky," Roger observes.

"Oh yeah, it's a nickname they invented for me," John says. "I don't mind it. So where is your family?"

"I'm kind of an orphan," Roger replies. 

"Oh...any friends?"

"I have some but I have to find them," Roger says. "We sort of split and that's how I got lost."

"Ah, I see," John says in a quiet voice. "Come on in. I'll get you something to wear so you can get out of those wet clothes."

The young man ushered Roger into the next room and down another hallway to a large bathroom. He handed him a towel from a shelf then scurried from the bathroom to retrieve a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his wardrobe.

"These should do for now--"

John stopped mid sentence as he re-entered the bathroom, and he blushed deeply to seeing Roger without a shirt on. He had also taken off his skirt and fishnets, and was standing in the middle of the bathroom in just the garter belt and a pair white lacy panties.

"Umm...here I b-brought you something to wear," he says, handing the clean dry clothes over while trying his best to avoid staring. "I'll throw your wet clothes in the dryer for you."

Roger smiled. "Thank you, Deaky."

John looked up into Roger's blue eyes and smiled back at him. "You're welcome, Roger. I'll leave you to get cleaned up now and then I'll make that tea."

Scooping up Roger's pile of wet clothes, John turned and left, closing the door behind him. When the door clicked shut, the smile on Roger's face dissolved again into that same hostile look, which now bordered on evil.

Chapter Text

After Chrissie walked out, Brian found it difficult at all attempts to try and go to sleep. To distract himself from his own troubling thoughts he sat at his piano and mindlessly strummed on his Red Special and played a few chords on the keys. Writing music was what he did best and he found it better to play on rainy nights. 

As he played, he looked over his collection of family photographs spread out across the top of the piano. Some were very old from half a century back while others were most recent and just before the war. There were photos of great-great-great grand parents from when they were young. There was another photo, this one with Brian as a child with his parents at the beach. 

Ocean waves filled his ears and then his mother's voice, he could hear her. Brian closed his eyes and then he saw her. She was smiling and looked so beautiful dressed like an angel as she walked alongside a white unicorn...

Brian jolted awake and looked around the room, his eyes landing on Prenter's stack of photos on his music stand with the first one as a picture of a living room with what looked like a bedroom in the background where an odd looking mirror sat atop a dresser. His curiosity to this certain photo suddenly piqued, and picking it up, he set aside his guitar and stood up from the piano, then made his way to his television set where his Esper Enhancement machine was at.

Turning the machine on, he pushed the photo into the scanner and it immediately came up on the screen with a blue grid overlay. With a yawn, he slumped down in front of the screen on his couch while studying the image.

"Enhance 224 to 176," Brian says.

The Esper machine beeped to the command and with a few clicks, the grid overlay zoomed in to the left side of the photo where a man was sitting in a chair.

"Enhance...stop," Brian says to it after a few clicks of zooming in on the person.

Leaning forward a bit, Brian studied the man in the chair. He could see that the man had shoulder length black hair, but he couldn't make out his face which was blocked by his arm that was propped up on the arm rest. In the few seconds of being idle, the Esper machine automatically zoomed the picture back out, and his eyes again landed on that odd looking mirror in the background.

"Enhance," he says.

With another beep, the photo zoomed in all the way to a glass cup sitting on the dresser in the background.

"Pan to the right, pull back, and center."

The machine zoomed out to the command, centering on the mirror in full high definition.

"Enhance 34 to 36."

The photo zoomed in on the odd looking mirror, showing a reflection of an open wardrobe in the foreground. Brian leaned even closer to the screen with a furrowed brow and could faintly see what looked like a hanging dress. It looked like it had scales and looked somewhat similar to the scale found in Prenter's bathtub.

"Pull back," Brian says after a few seconds, and as the photo zooms out, something catches his eye in the reflection of the mirror. "Wait a second, go right."

The photo moved to the right side and Brian raised his eyebrows as a nude woman was stood in the foreground with her back turned toward the mirror's reflection. She had long dark hair that reached down to the middle of her back, and on her lower backside, she appeared to have some sort of tattoo of a letter Q surrounded by two lions on each side with two fairies underneath them, a crab resting on top of the letter with flames above it, and an enormous dragon like bird at the top. In the middle of the letter Q was a crown. Her face which was turned to the side looked exactly like the doll faced woman that he had seen in the replicant model photo that Jim had shown him at the precinct. It was her, the kick murder squad member. Mary. 

"Give me a hard copy right there," he says.

The machine immediately responded to the command and a few seconds later, a photo slid out from the top. Brian looked closely at the printout, then back to the image that was freeze framed on the screen. The scaly looking dress was still in view, or perhaps it was sequins. 

Getting up, Brian retrieved the scale he had found in the bathtub from the pocket of his raincoat. He compared it to the dress, or whatever it could be that was hanging in the foreground of the photo and began to wonder if this was somehow a connection. He thought that whatever it was hanging there was too large to be a fish. A dragon maybe? In this crazy day and age where animals were extinct, people who were rich and could afford such things always had exotic animals made to order.

As Brian sat deep in thought, he suddenly wasn't tired anymore and seeing that it was just past midnight, he wanted to get to the bottom of this case. And he knew just where to go to find out more about this mysterious scale.

*****

No sooner than he had left his apartment, Brian found himself back on the busy streets of Chinatown outside the Fish Market. The old Korean woman who ran the market looked up at him as he approached the counter with a friendly smile.

"Fish?" he asks, holding out the small evidence bag to her.

She took the bag and placed it underneath a high powered microscope, and with a few adjustments she studied the contents of the scale on the screen.

"Hmm," she says as he rotated the scale across the microscope. "Looks like it was manufactured locally. It has such fine quality and superior workmanship. Ah, there is a maker's serial number...9906947-XB71. Let me check this." Turning towards another screen, she types in the number. "Ah, not a fish. Snake scale." 

"Snake?" Brian asks.

The old woman nodded and handed the scale back to him. "Try Abdul ben Hassan. He made this snake. Go to Unit 14 down that way toward Animoid Row."

"Down here?" Brian asks, pointing to the left of the walkway.

She nodded, and after thanking her, Brian made his way through the crowds of people in the direction of the shop which to his surprise was right around the corner. As he entered, a multicolored tabby cat jumped down off the front counter and bounded over to him with a series of friendly meowing and purring. He smiled and bent down to pet it. (A/N: Can anyone guess which cat that is? 😁)

"Very sorry, but if it's a cat you are looking for, they are currently on back order," a males voice with a Middle Eastern accent says.

Brian looked up from his crouched position to see a heavy set older man wearing a red fez looking down at him from behind the counter where two more cats were perched on the counter-top. Around his neck was large boa constrictor.

"Are you Abdul ben Hassan?" Brian asks.

The man nodded. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm Brian May, I'm with the LAPD, and I'd like to ask you a few questions," he says as he holds out the snake scale in the evidence bag. "Synthetic snake license XB71, that's you, correct?"

"Why yes, of course," Abdul says. "What's this about?"

Brian placed the evidence bag on the counter-top. "This is a snake scale found on the premises of a suspect. I'd like to know who you sold the work to."

"My work?" he asks. "Not many can afford such quality."

"How many?" Brian asks.

Abdul shrugged. "Very few."

Brian sighed in annoyance. "Look mate, can we just bloody get on with it, please?" he asks in a slightly raised voice.

Abdul put his hands up. "Alright, alright," he says. "Rami Malek's Nightclub down in the fourth sector of Chinatown." (A/N: I lied, Ramen Noodle is getting added too and yes I called him that. 😁 Also the other three cast members as well.)

"Thank you, Mr. Hassan," he says.

"Glad to be of help," Abdul mutters as Brian left.

*****

The fourth sector of Chinatown was considered Los Angeles' Red Light District, but smaller since the buildings were not tall, and the streets and lanes in the area were narrow and always neon drenched day and night due to very little sunlight. It was also the brightest place in the city.

Weaving his way through the crowded street, he eventually reached the bar where two women in fake fur bikini's and goalie masks danced inside plexi-glass bubbles on each side of the main entrance.

Brian walked in to see that the place was packed with well dressed people. Heavy smoke and the smell of alcohol hung in the air. 

"Rami Malek?" he asks the frizzy afro haired pipe smoking bartender.

The bartender shook his head and pointed to the end of the bar where a man with shoulder length raven black hair, dressed in a brown fur coat and white pants was sat. Next to him was a young woman with blonde hair dressed in a red evening gown. As he approached the two, the blonde woman turned to him.

"Rami?" Brian asks.

The blonde woman tapped Rami on the shoulder. "Babe."

He turned and for a moment Brian almost thought he was Freddie, except Rami's eyes were blue and his jawline wasn't as prominent as the escaped replicants.

"What, what is it?" Rami asks in a drunken voice, his eyes half lidded as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from a pipe, his gaze then landing on Brian. "Well hello there, how can I help you?"

Brian smiled and showed his badge. "I'm with the LAPD and would like to ask you a few questions."

"Lucy baby, could you excuse us?" Rami says to the blonde.

Keeping her eyes on the curly haired musician, the young woman stood up and made her way to the other side of the bar, disappearing into the crowd. Brian turned back to Rami, watching him as he re-lit his pipe and took a long drag.

"So," Rami says, exhaling out another cloud of smoke. "What can I help you with?"

Brian took out the hard copy of Mary's picture and held it out to him. "Do you know the whereabouts of this girl right here?"

Rami studied the picture. "Can't say I do but that tattoo looks real familiar," he drawls.

"And do you buy snakes from Abdul ben Hassan?" Brian asks.

Rami grinned lazily. "Oh hell yeah, all the time pal. Say, why don't you sit down and have a drink huh?" He clicked his fingers at the bartender. "Joe! We got a dry one over here! Give this fine young man a drink on the house."

Joe the bartender immediately served him a tumbler of amber colored liquid.

"Whiskey good with you?" he asks.

Brian nodded. "Sure."

"If you'll excuse me officer, I have some business to take care of," Rami says to Brian. "You'll see in a minute."

Before Brian had a chance to ask what he meant, Rami was already gone and out of sight, lost in crowds of drinkers. He sighed and nodding a thanks to the barman, he downed the whiskey with a slight grimace as it burned it's way down his throat. He placed a few dollar bills onto the counter-top for a tip and leaned against the bar, drumming his fingers and watching people as they came and went for drinks. But as he sat there watching the room, something seemed to gnaw away at him and once again, Chrissie entered his mind. 

Soon he found himself leaving the bar area and making his way to the videophone at the back of the bar. Taking out the photo she had left behind, he dialed the number on the back of it. It rang a few times before the screen jumped to life to show Chrissie's face.

"Hello?" she answers.

"You know I've had lots of people walk out on me before, but not when I was being such a charmer," Brian says. "Would you like to join me for a drink? I'm at Rami Malek's Nightclub down here in the Fourth Sector."

Chrissie shook her head. "I don't think so, Mr. May. That's not my type of place."

"We could go someplace else," he offers.

"Thank you but no," she says and the video call cut off as she hung up.

"Damn," he mutters.

The sudden disappointment he was feeling surprised him and he wondered just how someone like Chrissie was making him feel this way. He continued to stare at the black videophone screen when suddenly a British male's voice broke him out of his trance. 

"Oi bro, are you going to just stand there all night or are you going to call someone? Other people need to use the telly, too."

Brian spun around towards the source of the voice which belonged to a young looking baby faced man with long blonde hair and green eyes. (Just like Roger, I'm terrible at describing Ben's face so I just go with the baby face 'cuz that's what he looks like to me. XD )

"All yours, mate," Brian mutters, and quickly brushing past the young man, he went back to the bar area and sat, determined for something to go right so he could find the answers he needed. 

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice announces over the PA. "For your viewing pleasure, Rami Malek presents The Mistress and the snake!"

A majority of the crowd turned as the lights all around dimmed, casting only a spotlight on the stage. Clouds of white smoke billowed out, and a song with a whistling tune began to play. Brian watched as a woman dressed in a dark red cape appeared out of the smoke on the stage. She swung the cape around, hiding her face from the crowd. The lights went out for a split second and flames blow out each side of the stage. The whistling tune was then joined by a catchy electric bass-line and the woman on stage threw open her cape, revealing her nude body covered in glittery sequins. The crowd whistled and hollered. Her hair which was long and dark, was done up in a french braid. Around her neck was a large python that was nosing it's way past her breasts and down her torso. As she danced in a seductive rhythm to the song with the python, her eyes scanned the crowds and Brian finally saw her face more clearly. It was Mary.

Keeping himself within the shadow of the crowds, Brian made his way to the backstage area wondering if Mary was here then perhaps the other replicants could be here as well, and if so, where could they be hiding?

The music was still going, and while he waited, he discreetly removed his blaster from his coat holster and placed it in the holster on his hip. Looking up for a moment, he watched as Mary bent over and the crowd whooped and cheered in response to where the snake was heading. The music stopped and the entire room roared with applause.

A group of women in costume for the next act walked past Brian, briefly obscuring his view of Mary as she threw her cape over her shoulder and made her way off the stage towards the back where the dressing rooms were. 

"Excuse me miss, I'm from the American Federation of Variety Artists," Brian says to her in his best American accent.

She glanced at the tall curly haired musician with a lopsided grin as she headed to her dressing room. "Oh yeah?"

Brian nodded and followed after her. "That's right. I'm not here to make you join though because that's not my department."

Mary stepped into her dressing room and flung her cape over a coat rack as Brian followed in behind her and closed the door.

"Actually, uh, I'm from the Confidential Committee on Moral Abusers," he says.

Unwinding the snake from her body and placing it on a table, the smile on Mary's doll like face faded. "Committee on Moral Abusers? You are joking, right?"

"No miss, I'm not," Brian says. "There's been reports on this place that the management has been taking liberties with the artists in this place."

"Well I haven't heard anything about it," Mary mumbles as she began to undo the braid in her hair.

"Have you felt yourself to be exploited in any way?" he asks.

Mary finished in undoing the braid and bent over to flip her hair, and although she had sequins covering her nipples and jewels pasted over her (*ahem*) nether region, Brian had to look away to keep from staring at her petite naked body.

"What do you mean by exploited?" she asks.

"Like for example to get this job," Brian explains. "Were you asked to do anything lewd, or unsavory, or otherwise repulsive to your person? I saw your show and where that snake went."

Mary turned to face him and laughed in disbelief. "Are you for real?"

"Oh yeah," he says. "If I may, I'd like to check your dressing room."

"For what?"

"For holes?"

"Holes?" she repeats. "Why?"

"You'd be surprised what a guy will go through to get a glimpse of a beautiful body," Brian says, gesturing to her sequin covered body.

Mary looked over herself and grinned up at Brian with a wiggle of her small hips. "I honestly wouldn't worry about it since they've already seen me in all my glory. But if you insist on it, by all means go ahead. I'm going to take a quick shower."

Brian noticed the sudden change in her tone of voice. As Mary walked past him, she gave him a humorless smile before stepping into the shower stall, and with her back turned to him, her expression dissolved into something more dark and creepy.

While she showered, Brian looked around the dressing room for any clues and anything that might be a lead or a connection to Prenter since he was a known shooter. He had nothing on Freddie Mercury or Mary Austin just yet even though he was sure they had been in on the killing of all those people on that Off-World shuttle.

Mary stepped out of the shower and stuck her head into a bubble that began to blow dry her hair. With her back turned briefly to Brian, he caught a glimpse of the tattoo from the mirror photo on her lower backside. She glanced over at Brian who quickly switched to looking at the walls and the ceiling.

"Find anything?" she asks as she dressed herself in a black leather bikini.

Brian shook his head as he approached the snake on the table. "Is this a real snake?"

Mary paused in tugging on a pair of black leather knee high stiletto boots and raised an eyebrow at Brian. "Of course it's not real. Do I look like the type of person who'd be working in a place like this if I could afford a real one?"

At a loss for words, Brian kept his eyes on the python as it slithered and hissed around the tabletop. 

Remaining topless, Mary approached Brian. "So if someone were to try and exploit me, who do I go to about it?"

Brian pointed to himself and smiled. "Me."

Mary giggled and shook her head. "Such a dedicated man I see," she says as she slipped her arms into a bra. "Here, be a gentlemen and hook the clip in the back for me."

She turned her back to Brian, and still in character, he reached out to hook the clasp on her bra. With his other hand, he discreetly reached for his gun, and before he had a chance to react, Mary drove her elbow hard into his stomach knocking the air from his lungs. Doubling over in pain, she quickly spun around and with the force of a lightning bolt, she delivered the second blow with the heel of her hand into his neck which sent Brian flying backwards to the floor. He gasped and fought to catch his breath and then he felt a crushing weight to this throat as he realized he was being strangled. He kicked and thrashed about, grabbing at Mary's hands, but there was no way he could fight off a replicant with this much strength.

Suddenly the intense pressure to his throat stopped and Brian coughed as he drew in a ragged, gasping breath. He could hear voices in the background and realized that the women from the other act were coming into the dressing room. He looked up time to see Mary quickly grabbing a see through plastic coat before bolting through the stage door and out into the streets.

Woozy and dazed, Brian staggered to his feet, and pulling out his blaster, he ran out after her...

Chapter Text

It hurt to move and breathe but Brian didn't stop running as his former Blade Runner instincts kicked in with the rush of sheer adrenaline. He threw open the backstage door, immediately getting soaked from the heavy pouring rain, and sprinted down the alleyway and out into the street. The front of the club was crowded as was the entire block. After all, it was 2am on a Friday night where hawkers and whores, the rabble, the poor and the curious mill around the crudely built district of the fourth sector.

Brian desperately looked around, his heavy breathing creating steam from the cold as he power walked his way through the crowds and in between the slow moving cars that honked in the jam of traffic. He pushed and squeezed his way through, looking over the tops of vehicles before reaching the intersection where the robotic street sign droned on in a repetitive command for pedestrians to cross.

He kept moving and keeping an eye out, looking every which way while passing a large group of chanting Hari Krishna's who seemed un-bothered by the rain. Then just up ahead on the other side of the street, he spotted her in the plastic see through raincoat she had grabbed just before escaping from the dressing room. Mary was walking at a fast pace alongside a slow moving tram.

He hurried over and drew his blaster, aiming it through the railing of the tram. Pedestrians on board noticed the gun and quickly moved out of Brian's way, giving him perfect shooting range, but with the sudden commotion they began to make, it caught Mary's attention. Looking over, she noticed him and quickly took off running, pushing her way through the throng of people. 

Brian jumped up onto the tram and quickly moved to the other side. Just in those few moments she seemed to have disappeared. With the high height of the tram's platform, he scanned up and down the street. Then he suddenly spotted her as the slow moving tram passed the entrance of the underground subway station. He jumped down back onto the street and slowly made his way towards the railing. 

From her hidden spot on the stairs, Mary looked up, her eyes widening to the gun being pointed at her. She pushed through the crowd on the stairwell and ran back out into the street. Brian ran after her, watching as she leaped up onto the roof of a slow moving car like a perfect Olympic jumper and ran straight down a sidewalk, heading towards the front of a shop. 

He ran up onto the sidewalk and raised his blaster once more. "Move!" he shouts to the people scattered about. "Clear the sidewalk!"

BAM!

Pedestrians screamed and jumped to the ground as Brian fired his gun at Mary, hitting her squarely in the back, causing her to crash straight through the glass showcase window of the shop, but she doesn't stop. Her motor reflexes keep her going. 

BAM!

The second shot exploded through her shoulder sending a splatter of blood everywhere. She crashed through another glass window, slicing her skin. She stumbled and fell but immediately got back up and continued on. Brian fired the blaster a third time, hitting Mary once more and sending her crashing through a few more windows before she fell forward again and slumped to the floor dead.

Brian stood in place for a moment, breathing heavily with a stunned look on his face. Memories of past retirements came flooding back to him with Jim's voice reassuring him it was a routine retirement. No matter how many times Brian told himself this, it still didn't make him feel better about shooting a woman in the back. It suddenly made him think of Chrissie and his feelings for her once again.

Large crowds gathered as Brian made his way through the destroyed showcase of broken glass and up to Mary's body. Her see through rain coat was drenched in blood and her legs and arms bled profusely from the jagged shards of glass sticking out of her skin. 

Uniformed police officers immediately came over to investigate. They checked Mary and turned her over onto her back, checking her vitals to confirm if she was a human or a replicant. Her doll like face was relaxed but the creepy emptiness in her blue eyes remained. 

Brian flashed his ID to one of the officers. "May. B-263-54."

*****

Among the throng of the gathered crowds of those trying to get a glimpse, Paul could see Mary's bloody body. He stared, shocked, wondering who shot his friend down. Then he sees him. A tall curly haired man flashing his ID to an officer. Brian May.

*****

Dismissed from the sight by the police officers, Brian promptly left and headed down the street, the gathered crowd parting to let him through as they stared at him as though he were disease ridden. Being used to that, he ignored them and continued on his way before stopping at a small curb side vendor.

"What can I get for you?" the woman behind the counter asks.

"Absinthe please," Brian says.

"What kind?"

"The strongest one you have," he tells her.

With a nod, she turned away from the counter and went in search, and as Brian fished his wallet out from his coat pocket to pay, he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw that it was Straker.

"Captain Beach would like a word with you, my man," he says, nodding back at the street.

Brian followed his nod and saw a police vehicle sitting by the curb. Jim waved at him through the open window.

"Alright, I'll be just a moment," Brian tells him.

"Don't be too long now," Straker says as he turns and leaves.

After paying for the bottle of Absinthe and tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat, Brian headed over to the police car. Jim got out with a smile on his face as the curly haired guitarist approached but it quickly faded from seeing the forlorn look on Brian's face.

"Why the long face, mate?" Jim asks. "You did an excellent job! You blew her bloody spine right to hell! That's why I wanted you back. You're one of the best shooters."

"Thanks," Brian mutters, the compliment making him feel somewhat better. "I'm going to head home now."

Jim chuckled. "Straker, you could really learn from this bloke. He's one of the best in the business. A machine-like killer. Just four more to go now."

"Four?" Brian asks. "No there's three to go."

Jim shook his head. "There's four, mate. That one you V-K'ed at Freestone Enterprises. What's it's name? Chrissie? We got a report that it vanished. Didn't even know it was a replicant. Something to do with a brain implant says Freestone. Let's go, Straker. I'd like to get out of this rain."

Straker and Jim get back into the police car and drive off, leaving Brian standing on the curb. He blinked the rain from his eyes and looked back up the street where he had shot Mary. People were still crowded around the showcase shop. He turned to walk back up the street to head back towards the other side of Chinatown where he had left his car when he saw a familiar face in the crowd looking directly at him. He then realized it was Chrissie. The instant her pale young face saw him looking in her direction, she turned and disappeared in the crowds.

Brian hurried after her, pushing his way through the commotion of the crowd, when suddenly he felt someone roughly grab him by the arm and pull him back with an iron grip. He turned and found himself face to face with an angry Paul Prenter.

"Paul," he says, surprised.

"How old am I?!" Prenter demands.

Brian made an attempt to push him away but Prenter had a firm grip on his arm. "I don't know, mate, ask Freestone!"

"Bastard, I've fucking tried, that's why I'm asking you!" Prenter yells, slamming Brian into a brick wall. "Me birthday is the twenty-first of August, 2138, how fucking long do I live?!"

"Fuck you!" Brian yells in his face.

"No, fuck you!" Prenter yells back, backhanding him across the face.

Pain surged through Brian's face and Prenter grabbed him again, this time slamming the taller man into the side of a parked utility truck. Brian quickly reached for his gun but Prenter having faster reflexes knocked the blaster out of his hand and it skidded across the wet pavement.

"You have four years, that's all I know!" Brian tells him.

"At least I'll live longer than you!" Prenter shouts as he drew his arm back to punch him.

Brian ducked his head away from the blow and Prenter's punch broke through the sturdy metal of the utility truck causing steam to come whistling out. The replicant, unaffected by the punch to solid metal, grabbed at Brian again as he attempted to break free.

Prenter smiled evilly at him with wild eyes. "It's painful to live in fear, isn't it?"

Brian turned and punched Prenter with all the physical strength he could muster which only seemed to the enrage the replicant even more and give himself a spasm of sharp pain in his hand that ran up the length of his arm, probably earning him a sprained hand in the process.

The replicant grabbed hold of the lapels on Brian's jacket, and with his strength and agility, he lifted him, then half spun and half threw him into a narrow side street off the main road, away from any witnesses. 

His adrenaline began to slowly wear off and Brian was already feeling the effects of this beating and the one he had gotten earlier from Mary. 

"Life is pain and pain is fearful, therefore making life fearful," Prenter snarls, and grabbing Brian by the collar, he picks him up and throws him again.

Brian landed on the windshield of an abandoned car, the force of the impact shattering the glass window. He slid down the car's hood and onto the pavement, pain radiating throughout his entire body. His nose was bleeding and he could feel a warmness trickling down his rain drenched face.

Prenter laughed like a crazed madman as he leaned over to pick him up off the ground. "Don't worry, lad. I won't shoot you in the back like you did to Mary."

Brian looked for any way to get out of this or find the strength to fight back but it was no use. Prenter was too strong. He could actually feel the replicants designed-in combat strength with the way he was being thrown and lifted about. It was like a cat playing with it's catch.

"Please..." Brian began to say.

Prenter smacked him hard across the face. "Begging will get you no mercy."

He smacked him hard across the face again, sending Brian's head in the other direction and causing the curly haired guitarists eyes to roll back.

Prenter shook him hard. "Oi now, don't you pass out on me, ya hear? I want you to feel the pain!"

The replicant smacked him a third time in the face. Brian felt the blow and then a hard constriction to his throat. He realized Prenter was strangling him. He used what little strength he had left to try and drag air into his lungs. His vision began to darken, and Prenter seeing that Brian was passing out again released the pressure on his throat. He hit him hard across the face again before holding his head in place, forcing Brian to look at him.

"Wake up, Mr. May...it's time to die!" Prenter sang.

With no strength left within him, Brian knew this was it. But to be pummeled to death in a dirty alleyway wasn't how he had pictured his demise. As Prenter raised his fingers to gouge out Brian's eyes, all he could think about was how he had let down Jim and how he'd never get to see Chrissie ever again. He wondered if she'll even mourn his brutal death.

Suddenly the sound of a gun went off and half of Prenter's head was blown off. The grip he was being held in loosened and the replicant fell forward, falling hard on top of Brian and they both hit the ground with a thud. Brian pushed the limp body away from him and turned over on his front coughing hard and spitting out blood from his busted lip. He could feel blood pouring down his face and see it dripping onto the wet ground as he forced himself into a sitting position and that's when he saw her.

Chrissie was standing there with Brian's gun in her shaking hand, a horrified and stunned look on her face as she stared at Paul's dead body.

"Chrissie," Brian croaks out, his throat hurting.

Her arm dropped to her side and the gun fell from her grip onto the ground. She looked down at it, horrified, and Brian could see tears running down her face.

"Brian, I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't--" she trails off and puts a hand over her face.

"It's ok, he was a replicant," he reassures her. "It's ok, love. You're a hero. Just pass me the gun."

Chrissie wiped her tears away before more spilled down her face, and she began to bend over to pick the gun up, then stopped and instead she kicked it over to him.

Brian grabbed the gun, his arm hurting like hell as he hid it away into his coat. He leaned up against a wall as Chrissie slowly approached him. Then far off in the distance sirens blared. She glanced out into street before turning back to look down at Brian who was looking up at her.

"You should go, love," Brian says to her. "Before they get here."

The blare of the sirens were getting closer each second. Chrissie shook her head and bent down to help Brian off the ground, and as quickly as they could, they hurried from the alleyway.

Chapter Text

Brian's apartment was the same as he had left it several hours ago, but this time he had brought a quiet and still shaken Chrissie back with him. Neither of them said a word as he poured two glasses full of Absinthe. She took the offered glass and stood by the window, her eyes casted down at the floor, her fake fur coat wrapped tightly around her as if she was cold. The blinds were drawn shut, making her somewhat hidden in the shadows with the occasional light that came through the windows from passing vehicles that flew by.

Brian was stood just a few feet away from Chrissie, drinking from his glass of Absinthe as he kept his eyes on her. Blood swirled around in the clear liquid of his drink from his busted lip but he paid it no mind. His focus remained on Chrissie and how badly she was shaking. He felt a need to hold and comfort the young woman but still he kept his distance.

"Shakes, huh?" Brian asks, breaking the heavy silence.

Keeping her gaze on the floor, Chrissie nodded, holding her drink close to her.

"I get them as well," Brian says. "Bad. Real bloody bad actually...It's part of the business."

She sniffled and finally looked over at the curly haired man, the appearance of his beaten up face making him look somewhat intimidating in the darkness.

"I'm not in the business," she says after a pause. "I am the business."

Brian met her look, the passing lights from outside glistening off the wetness of the tears on her face.

She breathed out a shaky sigh. "I'm the business of what keeps you Blade Runners in business just to make some quick cash."

Brian said nothing and downed the rest of his drink, the burn of the alcohol doing nothing to help with the pain in his face. Setting his glass down on the table, he took off his soaked coat, throwing it over a chair before disappearing around the corner and down the hallway towards the bathroom.  

He flicked on the light and winced at his own reflection as he assessed the damage to his beaten up face in the bathroom mirror. 

"Fucking hell..." he mutters with a hiss.

That bastard of a replicant Prenter had really done a number on him. His cheek from the multiple punches he had received was just beginning to form a bruise. His lip was split and bruised and just above his eyebrow was a deep looking cut. He wasn't sure if it needed stitches but he didn't want to find out as he hated needles and hospitals. Streaks of dried blood trailed down his face, and his white dress shirt was stained in blood from his nose that had thankfully stopped bleeding just as he and Chrissie left that alleyway. And then his neck which had been strangled twice that night was tender and bruised. 

Well at least my good looks haven't been ruined, he thought to himself as he began to undo his tie and unbutton his blood stained shirt.

With her hands still shaky, Chrissie downed the rest of her drink and reached for the bottle that Brian had set down. She poured herself another glass and was just about to take a drink when the sound of running water caught her attention. She made her way to the hallway, staying hidden in the shadows just beyond the bathroom door and stood there watching Brian wash the blood off his face. His back was turned to her. He was half naked, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs that looked tight against his skinny waist. 

She continued to stand there, watching the ripple of muscle in Brian's back, her gaze traveling down to his long legs. It was the first time she had noticed just how tall he was.

He stuck his head down into the sink that was now full of water, before coming back up, his mass of curly hair now wet and dripping. With a sigh he leaned against the counter. Chrissie then stepped forward from the shadows, appearing in the doorway with her drink in hand.

"What if I were to go north or head Off-World?" she asks him. "Just disappear and never come back...would you come after me?"

Brian turned his head to look over at her as he grabbed a towel and began to dry off his hair and face. 

"Would you hunt me down?" she continues.

It took Brian a long moment to think of a response as he studied her face. The harsh light of the bathroom made her look very different to the smooth and pale young face he had met the other day, replaced now with anxiety and fear. Her mascara was smudged from all the crying she had done and there were dried tear streaks through her foundation. The only part that remained the same was her hair piled high in the elegant chignon upon her head. Despite her troubled appearance, he still found her beautiful.

He shook his head. "No," he finally says. "No, I wouldn't come after you."

Throwing aside the towel, he walked towards her and Chrissie briefly glanced down at an old scar on his stomach that disappeared into the waistband of his boxers. 

"I owe you one for saving my life," he adds.

Chrissie perked up at Brian's words and she gave him a slight smile.

Walking past her, he stopped and turned back to her. "But someone else would come after you."

Leaving her to stand there, he made his way into the living room. It was well past three in the morning, going on four and he was beyond exhausted from the events that had taken place just a few hours ago. He rummaged through the laundry basket beside the couch, pulling out a black button up.

"You're welcome to stay here," he says to her. "After I hunt down these other replicants, we'll figure out what to do. Right now I'm tired."

Chrissie remained silent and stood in the darkness of the hallway, her keen sense of hearing picking up on the shuffling sounds coming from the living room.

"Brian, you know those files on me?" Chrissie asks. "With the incept date, the longevity and all those other things...did you see them?"

He yawned. "Umm...yeah I...I did see them, but they're classified."

"But you're a policeman," she says.

"I...never got a chance to look at them," he mumbles.  

Chrissie felt relieved for a moment until another thought crossed her mind. "You know that Voight-Kampf test? Have you ever considered taking that test yourself?"

Silence followed her last question as she waited in the shadows for Brian to answer. When she heard nothing, she very slowly emerged from the darkness of the hallway and over to the couch to see Brian laid down, fast asleep with a glass of Absinthe resting on his stomach. She leaned over and took the glass out of his loosening grip, their fingers briefly touching as he made a slight movement in his sleep but didn't stir awake. She set the tumbler down on a nearby table then made her way over to the piano and stood there looking at it as if she had just now noticed it.

She sat down on the bench and looked at all the photographs, noting that Brian had a lot. Nowadays photographs were considered such an importance of the past and were something so rare that could easily go up in flames, be lost, or be destroyed in so many ways. And Brian kept a rather large collection of photographs. He had paper copies, Polaroids, and daguerreotypes of family photo's that went back several generations.

As Brian slept and softly snored, Chrissie removed her fur coat and loosened her hair from the chignon style which slightly altered her appearance. Now with her hair let down, which was quite long and almost reached her backside, she appeared less the sophisticated business woman to more of an innocent young woman.

While she fluffed her hair a bit, she read the open sheet music on the stand. She seemed to understand what the music was, and placing her fingers on the keys, she started to play. Taken by surprise, she paused and stared down at her fingers which rested on the keys and began to wonder how she knew the music. Sure she had heard the music many times before but not once had she played the piano in her entire life. 

She resumed her playing and soon she was lost in the feeling, the rhythm, and the beauty of the music as it filled the entire apartment. Then she stopped, sensing Brian's presence behind her. Out of her peripheral, she saw him glancing down at the sheet music.

"I dreamed of music," he says in a groggy but soft voice.

Chrissie smiled and played a few more notes as Brian sat down next to her on the bench, watching her delicate fingers move across the keys. 

"I didn't know I could play the piano like this," she says. "I don't know if it's just me or Freestone's memory implants."

"Play something else," Brian says.

Turning to another page in the sheet music, Chrissie played out a slow rendition of a classic Beethoven song and Brian gazed at her profile, noticing the straightness of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks, and the way her long hair framed her features, making her look more younger. 

Chrissie suddenly became aware of Brian's fingers playing with her hair and tucking a strand of it behind her ear. When she finished, she turned to look at the curly haired man gazing back at her.

"You look so beautiful," he says softly.

Brian leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to the side of her face. For being a replicant, he noticed that her skin was quite soft and felt perfectly human. Chrissie felt her heart flutter but made no response as he drew back to look into her blue eyes before leaning in again to kiss her on the lips. But suddenly she pulled back, the expression on her face remaining neutral as she stood up from the bench and began to head for the front door. 

Brian however was faster and stepped in front of her just as she reached out for the doorknob. She backed away a few steps and stared up at him with wide eyes as he pushed her up against the window. He seemed to tower over her short height which made him look even more intimidating. His hair was wild and unruly, shrouding most of his face in the darkness of the room.

"Brian, please--" 

He cut her off by leaning down and placing a soft kiss against the corner of her mouth. "Ask me to kiss you," he says to her.

"I--"

"Say kiss me."

"I can't rely on my--"

"Say kiss me," he says again in a firm but gentle tone of voice.

Chrissie felt a tear drop down her cheek and Brian gently wiped it away with his thumb. "Kiss me, Brian."

With her permission, Brian pressed himself up against her and captured her lips in a soft and deep tender kiss that made her head spin and her heart pound. He pushed her skirt upwards, exposing the soft flesh of her thighs and the tops of her stockings held up by a garter belt and she moaned into the kiss as his skillful fingers found their way to her wetness. 

When they parted, both were breathing heavily as a flare of bright light from outside of a passing Off World advertisement blimp shined through the half closed blinds illuminating the entire room, sending strips of light across their faces, showing the tears on Chrissie's face once more and the sheen of sweat that had gathered on Brian's bare chest.

"Tell me you want me," Brian breathes out in a husky voice.

"I want you," she says in a shaky voice.

"Say it again, love," he whispers.

Chrissie's breathing hitched, her cheeks reddening. "I want you," she says again, her voice sounding more braver this time. 

She couldn't deny it any longer of how much she wanted Brian and how much she was drawn to him. 

Another flash of light illuminated the room and Chrissie saw a look of pure ravenous lust in Brian's hazel eyes.

"Again," he says.

"I want you," she repeats again in a breathless whisper. "I want you so much."

Brian kissed her again, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips. This time she responded back, tangling her fingers through his unruly mass of soft dark curly hair. She pushed his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and Brian shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands roamed his smooth, sweat slicked bare chest as his hands found their way to Chrissie's blouse and he roughly ripped it open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

Breaking away from her mouth, he began a trail of soft kisses between her neck and shoulder, and across her throat as he pushed down the straps of her bra and freed her breasts. Chrissie gasped, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head from pleasure when she felt his hot lips and tongue on her left nipple, sending shivers down her spine. His lips then moved to her other nipple and on instinct she arched into him, shifting her core against his strained erection through his boxers. Brian groaned, his hands trembling with the overwhelming feel of want and need towards her as he kissed his way back up to her lips. He had to admit he wanted her since he first laid his eyes on her, and now that she was here with him, he wanted to claim her and love her.

"Let me love you, Chrissie," he whispers into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Please."

Pulling back for a few seconds, she held his gaze with teary eyes before smiling and leaning in to kiss his jaw, his bruised cheek and then his lips. "Make love to me, Brian," she whispers against his lips.

Claiming her mouth again in an all consuming kiss, their tongues danced together as Brian lifted her up onto the windowsill and Chrissie wrapped her legs around his waist. Freeing himself, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips and he slowly buried himself deep within her. With a promise of passion, he loved her all night and into the rainy early morning...

*****

😁

Chapter Text

Made some new changes to the book cover. :)

*****

Morning dawned at Bradbury Apartments and the cold November rain was nonstop over the city of Los Angeles, creating a dark over cast sky that blocked out all hopes of the sun. 

Roger who ended up staying the night with John was just putting the finishing touches to his makeup when the cuck-coo clock on the wall began to chime, indicating that it was 7am. Having not slept a wink, the blonde haired pleasure model smiled as he looked at his appearance in the handheld mirror. White foundation to give his face that pale waif look, black winged eyeliner, bright red lipstick, and spray on pink eye shadow for a raccoon eyes appearance. (A/N: Again I'm terrible af at trying to describe makeup but Roger's look is basically the same as Pris's, just a little bit more different. Also I literally turned Roger into a woman. XD)

Satisfied with his look, he dressed himself in fishnet tights and threw on a flowery patterned kimono robe, then went to work on painting his fingernails black. (A/N: Someone wanna draw this version of Roger?)

At the sound of bells, Roger turned and watched as Colonel Fuzzy marched into the open door of the master guest bedroom.

"Good morning friend," the teddy choruses to the blonde haired replicant before turning and marching out of the bedroom.

Curious as to where Kaiser and John are at, Roger left the bedroom and wandered into the large living room where all the mannequins and animatronic dolls were at. Some looked in his direction as he tiptoed past while others paid him no mind.

Making his way to the other end of the room, he stepped into the laboratory and saw that John was sound asleep in a chair at his work table which was surrounded by animatronic dolls, toys, and other various unfinished projects. Kaiser was propped up next to John with his jaw wired shut. His eyes followed Roger walking around the room, studying all the work shop equipment until finally he came up behind John.

(A/N: For some reason I can't get the pictures to move to the center)

The blonde haired replicant leaned down towards John, his young face relaxed in sleep. His head was turned to the side with strands of hair masking his face. Roger reached out, lightly brushing the hair back from his face. His eyes then landed on the young man's pouted lips. He leaned in closer and was about to steal a kiss when something on the work table caught his attention. He curiously peeked into it, and inside he saw a three dimensional world of rare beauty with vast looking landscapes, mountains, green rolling hills and valleys. 

A sweet smelling perfume woke John from his sleep, and he opened his eyes to see Roger bent down in front of him, looking into the stereoscope on the table.

"Oh good morning, Roger," the young man says.

Startled, the blonde haired replicant whirled around to see John smiling at him. "Sorry, I was just having a little peek."

"That's quite alright," John says, taking in the sight of the blonde in front of him. "Wow, you look..."

He trailed off, his gaze traveling down to Roger's open kimono. He was practically naked underneath, wearing only fishnets, and a pair of white lacy panties that really didn't do much to cover anything.

"You like it?" Roger asks.

John blushed and looked back up into Roger's eyes. "Yeah. You look much better, too."

"Just better?" Roger questions him.

"Well..." he paused, looking down and fidgeting with the gold band on his finger. "You look very beautiful...kind of like a male geisha."

Roger giggled and John met his gaze again. "Thanks."

*****

The elevator in the rainy foyer came to a stop at the top floor, and Freddie sashayed out onto the balcony platform, his worn out clogs splashing through the puddles as he slowly made his way down the wet and dirty corridor.

*****

"How did your wife die?" Roger asks John.

Caught off guard by the blonde haired man's sudden question, John looked up at him with a sad look then quickly changed his expression with a clear of his throat. "Oh...umm, she died giving birth to our first child who also didn't make it."

"What was her name?"

"Her name was Veronica," John says, looking down at his ring. "She was very kind and sweet."

The replicant mirrored his look by staring down at his own fingers. "Sorry to be asking you all these questions."

John waved off his apology. "It's ok...I like talking about her."

Roger reached down and took hold of the young man's hands. "She sounds like she was a lovely girl," he says with a smile. 

John gave him a small smile and looked into Roger's eyes, noticing that the low lighting in the laboratory was giving the replicants blue eyes a faint yellow glow.

Suddenly Roger looked past John, his face lighting up with excitement. "Freddie!" he squeals.

John looked over his shoulder to see a man with shoulder length black hair, wearing a white long sleeved jumpsuit standing in the doorway. 

*insert dramatic entrance from Hyde Park here* 😂😂😂

Freddie smiled and threw his arms out as Roger bounded over to him for a hug. "Roger my darling, I missed you so much!" he gushes.

"Come say hello," Roger says, guiding the older man over to the work table who was gazing around the laboratory with wide awestruck eyes.

"Goodness me, there's quite a lot of nice looking toys around here."

"This is my friend I was telling you about," Roger says to John. "Freddie this is Deaky, the man who saved me."

Freddie smiled at John before quickly hiding his large front teeth with his top lip. "Deaky? I thought your name was John."

"Deaky is his nickname," Roger explains.

"Oh," Freddie says. "Well Deaky, thank you darling for looking after my dear Roger. I hope he wasn't too much trouble for you," he adds with a wink.

John laughed, feeling a bit nervous and intimidated by Freddie's sudden presence but at the same time he found himself admiring the older man's exotic facial features from his dark alluring eyes to his incredible looking jawline. Even with his eyeliner smudged on his face from the rain, it made Freddie look quite attractive. 

"Oh no, he wasn't any trouble at all," the young man says.

"That's good," Freddie says, looking longingly at Roger who turned and gazed back at him.

John watched them look at each for a long moment before Freddie brought a hand up to the back of Roger's neck and pulled him into a deep kiss, tongues and all, and Roger's hands found their way to Freddie's exposed chest in the opening of his jumpsuit, his fingers raking through the older man's dark chest hair. Freddie's hands were beneath Roger's kimono, slipping into the blonde haired man's lacy panties, stroking and kneading his bare buttocks.

Feeling his cheeks turn red from embarrassment, the young man turned his head away when he realized the two were getting into a dry humping session, and he quickly began to undo Kaiser's jaw. "Would you guys like anything for breakfast?" John announces.

Freddie and Roger break apart, watching as the stunted animatronic dwarf marched past them towards the door with John following behind him.

"Breakfast time, breakfast time, jiggidy-jig!" Kaiser choruses.

"Breakfast does sound quite lovely," Freddie says to John's retreating back. He looked back at Roger and grinned cheekily, eyeing up his fashion. "Darling you look positively gorgeous in my kimono."

Roger giggled and wiped away the white foundation from Freddie's chin and the lipstick stains from the corner of his mouth that had come off his face during their intense make out session.

Freddie pulled him in for another kiss, then began to ravish his neck with playful licks and bites until Roger backed away a bit and glanced expectantly out into the main room towards the door.

"Where are the others?" he asks.

Freddie suddenly looked visibly upset. "Paul and Mary, they..." his voice falters and he turns away.

Roger frowned. "Freddie, what's going on? Where are they?"

Freddie heaved out a shaky sigh and finally turned back to look at Roger, his face taking on such a distraught look that the blonde almost thought Freddie would burst into tears.

"What is it, Freddie?" Roger asks. "Please tell me."

"I went down to the fourth sector and when I arrived...the place was full of cops. There had apparently been a couple shootings before our rendezvous time. I was greatly delayed. I was supposed to meet up with Mary at the nightclub, then wait for Paul, and when they didn't show up, I started asking around and found out some bastard Blade Runner got them both..."

Roger's eyes widened in shock. "But that means we're the only two left and we're too bloody stupid and we'll die," he whispers.

The dark haired man gave Roger a reassuring optimistic smile. "No we won't, darling because I won't let that happen. I'll protect you. Besides we're both the strongest and together I'm sure we could defeat that stupid little policeman."

Roger smiled evilly, the faint yellow glow in his eyes becoming more brighter. "So what do we do about, Deaky?" he asks, bringing his voice down to a tiny whisper.

Sounds emanated from the kitchen and Freddie glanced out the doorway of the laboratory, his eyes landing on a chess board across the room on a low table. "Don't worry, darling. I have an idea. Come."

Leaving the laboratory, the two men made their way to the dining room where Roger sat down next to the untouched chess board that had all the pieces set up as if a game was in progress. 

Grabbing a couple of eggs from the fridge to put into the flask above a bunsen burner full of boiling water, John turned to see Freddie and Roger studying the board for a moment until the dark haired replicant moved a white chess piece in front of the black horse.

"No, the Black Knight takes the White Queen, so that's no good, y'know," John says to him with a grin.

"Oh I see," Freddie says, moving the piece back. "Deaky darling, why are you staring at us?"

John felt himself blush even though Freddie's eyes were still focused on the chess board. "Sorry it's just that I couldn't help but admire you. You're so...perfect."

This time Freddie looked up and met John's gaze. "Perfect? No one's ever told me that. I certainly don't feel perfect."

"What generation of NEXUS are you?" the young man asks.

Freddie froze and glanced over at Roger.

"It's ok, Fred, he knows," the blonde haired replicant assures him.

"We're both NEXUS 39," Freddie says to the younger man. He gives him a quizzical look. "How could you tell?"

John shrugged. "I could just tell right away. You really are quite perfect and the only reason I knew is because I did a lot of the foundation designs for Freestone Enterprises. If you think about it, in a way I sort of created you two and there's even some of me in the both of you."

Intrigued by this information, Freddie raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin on his face as he sat down behind Roger. "Oh yeah?" he asks, pulling the blonde haired replicant into his lap who giggled when Freddie's hand disappeared underneath the kimono and went between his parted legs.

"We've been meaning to talk to you about that," Roger says, smiling over at John.

He looked at Freddie and Roger quizzically as a sudden awareness of where this conversation was headed, something he could feel himself beginning to dread so instead he changed the subject.

"Can you guys show me something?" John asks them.

Freddie's brow furrowed as if he didn't quite understand his question. "Like what?"

"Like anything, really."

Freddie laughed. "Lovey, we're not computers. We're physical beings with living tissue."

Roger untangled himself from Freddie's lap and went to stand next to John and placed an arm around the younger man's shoulder. "I think, therefore I am."

"Very good, dear, now show him why," Freddie says.

Letting go of John, the blonde haired replicant tied the sash of the kimono, and like that of an Olympic gymnast, Roger bent himself backwards with his arms raised and did a perfect back-flip. Both John and Freddie clapped. Behind him, the water in the flask above the bunsen burner boiled like mad, giving Roger another idea. He walked over to it, and giving the other two a cheeky smile, they watched as the blonde haired replicant pushed the sleeve of the kimono up, then stuck his entire hand and arm into the boiling water and pulled out one of the eggs. Turning he tossed it in John's direction who caught it with a laugh then immediately dropped the egg when he realized it was burning hot in his hand.

"The tough cell structure to where my skin won't burn or blister is your work, right?" Roger asks John.

The young man nodded. "Yes. I've unfortunately never seen it in action though as I'm not really involved in the manufacturing process. Dr. Freestone only gives me specifications of what he needs."

"It seems we all have a lot in common," Freddie says.

John looked over at Freddie, the darkness of his gaze chilling. "Oh yeah?" he asks, trying his best to sound casual. 

"We're all young, but we're aging," Freddie says darkly.

Roger strolled back over to the dining room table. "But at a faster rate," he adds. "And he designed us with it."

John suddenly felt a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach at the turn of the conversation. "No no no," he quickly says, shaking his head. "That's bio-mechanics you're thinking of. I'm a genetic designer which is an entirely different department."

Freddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "If you know nothing about bio-mechanics, then how did you design us then?" he asks sarcastically.

"Freddie, you don't seem to understand that you have a built in termination gene which has nothing to bloody do with me!" John argues back.

Freddie's arm quickly shot out and he grabbed John by the collar of his jumper. He pulled him in close, their faces just mere inches apart to where John could feel the replicants breath on his face.

"We need your help, and if we don't find it soon, Roger and I won't have much longer to live," the dark haired replicant snarls in a low voice. "Do you understand what I am telling you?"

John swallowed nervously and nodded, his eyes wide to how close Freddie's face was to his. He felt his heart rate pick up and breathing quicken when Freddie briefly glanced down at his lips. Then he pushed him away and glanced over at the chess board.

"Is he any good?" Freddie asks, his voice back to it's normal soft tone.

The young man blinked in confusion to Freddie's sudden change in mood. "Who?"

"Your opponent, Dr. Freestone?"

"He's a genius," John tells him. "Like the Einstein of genetics."

"Maybe he could help," Freddie says.

"I-I would be more than happy to pass the message along t-to him," John stammers.

Freddie smiled and stood up, and placed a hand on John's shoulder. "Darling, I think it would be better if I were to talk to him in person. I hear he's not easy to see nowadays."

John's stomach churned with dread and fear as his mind screamed at him to just get the fuck outta there and never come back, but his instincts had him back away from Freddie and into Roger sitting on the edge of the dining room table where the blonde haired replicant wrapped his arms around the young man's chest then wrapped his legs around his waist in a warm embrace, trapping him in a strong hold that he couldn't escape from.

"Will you help us, darling?" Freddie asks.

"I...I can't."

"You can us help can't you?" Roger whispers softly in his ear. "We're your friends."

"I'm sorry, I really would like to, but I just can't," John says in a weak sounding voice.

"Come on, Deaky...you can trust us," Roger says, his raspy voice becoming seductive in John's ear.

The scent of Roger's perfume was overtaking John's senses, making it hard to concentrate. Then the blonde haired replicants lips were on the side of his face, trailing kisses down to his neck and John felt his pulse quicken. His resolve was beginning to melt and he found himself caught in some sort of spell as he turned his head and Roger's lips found his own. The kiss deepened and became more heated to where the young man could feel butterflies in his stomach. All the while Freddie watched noticing that the pleasure model's charm was actually working.

Finally John broke away from the kiss, his cheeks burning red. "Ok," he says in a breathless whisper. 

Roger released his hold on the younger man. "So you'll help us?"

Avoiding eye contact, John nodded down at the floor and walked away with a small sniffle. Roger looked over at Freddie who gave him a triumphant teeth showing smile and a wink before sauntering after the younger man. 

*****

Suggested on Freddie's behalf, John and him left for Freestone Enterprises at dusk with the dark haired replicant figuring it would be way easier to get in to meet his maker at a later hour when all of Freestone's employees went home for the night. John didn't argue with him. In fact he couldn't. He felt extremely guilty and felt like he had betrayed his late wife's memory by letting the dark haired replicant take advantage of him, using him in such a cruel way. He tried so hard to resist Freddie's charm. 

The higher the elevator rose, the more the young man felt the anxiety building within him. Freddie stood at the left side of the elevator box, leaned up against the wall, looking at the far off view of San Francisco's skyline which gave off an orange and yellow glow against the nighttime smog covered sky. It didn't hold his interest since he's seen much more impressive sights so instead he kept his eyes on John, the expression on the younger man's face making him cheekily grin.

"Deaky darling, there's no need to be anxious," Freddie says to him in a soft and soothing voice. "If he's such a genius then he's bound to accept us into his home with our plan."

John visibly tensed to Freddie's voice. "Maybe...but we're not in the clear yet."

Freddie gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean, dear?"

"You'll see in a moment," John mumbles.

The elevator suddenly stopped and Freddie looked over at John questioningly as a voice came over the PA.

"John?" Freestone's voice asks, sounding a bit irritated. "Why are you visiting at such a late hour?"

John looked over at Freddie. "Queen to Bishop six," he says, causing Freddie to nod in approval. 

There was a shuffling sound of what John assumed was Freestone climbing out of bed, and then his voice was heard again as he mumbled to himself. "Nonsense...just a moment. Queen to bishop six...absurd."

Freddie and John waited, then...

"Ah I see what you've done," Freestone says over the PA. "Knight takes Queen. What's on your mind, John? What are you thinking about?"

John looked over at the dark haired replicant, awaiting an instruction on what move to make next. Freddie grinned, the slight darkness of the elevator making him look all the more evil.

"Bishop to King seven, checkmate," Freddie mouths to him in a whisper.

"Bishop to King seven, checkmate I think," John says in a rush.

Freestone chuckled. "Got quite a brainstorm, huh mate? Cheese on toast and milk keep you awake all night? Let's discuss this. Come on up." 

The elevator resumed going up, and with a sigh, John put his head in his hands as he felt an overwhelming urge to scream bloody murder at the top of his lungs and tear out his hair. Freddie smiled and patted him on the back causing John to move away from him to the opposite side of the elevator.

When they reached Freestone's penthouse apartment, the doors slid open to a small foyer that led to a set of large wooden double doors. They walked along the black marble floor with John wishing that he could turn around and flee but Freddie was directly behind him blocking any hopes of retreat. He paused at the door for a brief second, then reaching out he slowly pressed down on the handle and the door opened silently. From it's perch, Freestone's owl turned it's head in the direction of the strangers.

Leaned over the chessboard with his back to the door in a big white fluffy robe, Dr. Freestone stood across the large darkened room, which was bathed in the glow of candlelight that surrounded the entirety of the room.

"Dr. Freestone," John says, stepping into the room. "I...I brought a friend with me."

Freestone turned and smiled at John, unable to read the younger man's facial expression in the glow of the candlelight, then his eyes landed on Freddie in the shadows.

"I'm surprised you didn't come to visit me sooner," Freestone says to Freddie.

"Well it's not easy to meet your maker," Freddie says to him, slowly stepping forward. "We had to enlist the help of little darling Deaky here."

"We?"

"Roger and I," Freddie says. "We're the only two left."

Freestone felt a tremor of fear run down his spine from the replicants chilling voice. "And what is it he could do for you?"

"Can the maker repair what he has made?" Freddie asks.

"Would you like a modification?" Freestone suggests.

Freddie stepped forward again while keeping his face somewhat hidden in the shadows. "Stay," he commands John, then turns to Freestone. "I had in mind something a bit more different, my dear."

Freestone took one step back. "What uh...what seems to be the problem, my son?" he asks in the tone of a medical doctor.

"Death," Freddie simply states.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Death. I'm terribly sorry, but that's out of my jurisdiction, you--"

Freddie finally stepped forward from the shadows, the pupils of his dark eyes glowing a bright yellow against the flicker of candlelight as he glared at Freestone. "I want more life, father," he growls. 

From his spot, John looked alarmed and wondered how Dr. Freestone was managing to keep his cool from Freddie's menacing stance.

"The facts of life," Freestone says with a proud smile. "To make an alteration in the involvement of an organic life system is quite fatal. A coding sequence cannot be revised once it's been established."

"And why ever not?" Freddie questions.

"Because that is a requirement. We are required to incorporate the termination gene so that by the second day of incubation, the cells that have undergone mutations give rise to reverted colonies."

"What about EMS recombination?" Freddie asks.

Freestone looked into Freddie's face with an apologetic smile as all the failed experiments came into his mind. "We've unfortunately already tried that. Ethyl methane sulfonate as an alkylating agent, a potent mutagen that it created such a lethal virus the subject was dead before leaving the table."

Freddie moved past him and sat down with a look of suspicion. "What about a repressive protein that blocks the operating cells?"

"It wouldn't obstruct replication, but it does give rise to an error in replication so that the newly formed DNA strand carries the mutation and you've got a deadly virus again," Freestone explains to him. "But, uh, all of this is academic. You were made as well as we could make you."

Freddie frowned and lowered his head. "But we were not made to last forever," he adds in a sad sounding voice.

Freestone nodded. "The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long, and you have burned so very, very brightly," he says, approaching Freddie. "My word, just look at you!" he adds with pride, stroking the replicants mane of soft dark hair and causing Freddie to look up at him. "You're the prodigal Queen. You're quite the exotic prize."

Freddie sighed and looked back down at the floor in guilt. "Dear father, I've done...questionable things."

Freestone sat down beside the dark haired replicant and put an arm around him in a comforting gesture. "But also extraordinary things...revel in your time!"

Freddie giggled softly and looked over at his creator with a small smile. "Nothing the gods of bio-mechanics wouldn't let you in heaven for."

The dark haired replicant reached up and placed his hands on either side of Freestone's face. He looked deeply into the kind faced doctors eyes, then leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Freestone suddenly began to struggle to break free from the iron grip that Freddie had on his head, and in that moment he sensed the malevolent indifference in Freddie's expression. He was simply no match to the replicants incredible strength. He screamed out in utter agony as Freddie's thumbs pressed down into his eye sockets with so much force that blood began to spurt out. As Freddie's face contorted with pure rage, he increased the pressure on Freestone's head and eye sockets until veins ruptured and the doctors nose and mouth began to squirt out blood, and then he felt the sickening crunch of the skull cracking beneath his hands. Freestone's screaming ceased.

All the while there was the sound of hysterical crying and screaming coming from John who had remained standing where Freddie had told him to stand.

"Bloody hell, Freddie, what have you done?!" he screams as tears ran down his face. "FREDDIE!"

But the replicant had not noticed the noise the entire time. His face then relaxed from it's rage contortion and Freddie released Freestone, letting his dead body fall to the floor like a sack of potatoes. He glanced up at the artificial owl sitting on it's perch who had watched the entire scene with curious glowing eyes, then he looked over at where he had left John. The young man's eyes widened when Freddie turned towards him and began to slowly saunter in his direction with an evil teeth showing grin and yellow glowing eyes. The replicants hands and the front of his white jumpsuit was covered in Freestone's blood.

"Come to Freddie, darling!" the replicant says to him in a taunting sing song voice. "There are to be no witnesses!"

Feeling helpless, John began to sob and looked around helplessly for a way to escape. In a panicked state he ran to the door that led to the foyer but Freddie was faster and seemed to come out of nowhere just as the young man reached the elevator. Freddie grabbed him by the throat and John's screaming, crying, and begging echoed throughout the entire room. The owl simply looked on as Freddie disappeared into the elevator alone.

Chapter Text

In the deep of the night, the wind howled as the harsh rain continued beating down on the city. Even from inside his apartment, with Chrissie sleeping soundly in his arms, her head resting on his chest, Brian could hear the rain and howling winds rattling and tapping away against the bedroom window. He listened for a few moments, not realizing that Chrissie had awakened until he felt her small soft hand caressing his cheek.

"What's wrong?" she asks in a soft voice.

"Nothing, love," he says to her.

Softly grasping the hand which rested on his cheek, he placed a soft kiss to the palm of her hand as she sat up to gaze at him, the blanket falling away from her naked body. She leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow and tender kiss, but their moment of peacefulness was suddenly interrupted by the shrill beeping of Brian's vidphone from the darkness of the living room. 

"Be right back," he says to her.

Locating his boxers from the floor, he quickly slipped into them and headed out into the living room.

"Brian May," he answers.

"Brian, it's Jim. There's been a murder tonight over at Freestone Enterprises. They found Freestone himself at the scene with his eyes gouged out and his skull caved in. Another body at the scene was identified as a twenty five year old male, Caucasian, named John Richard Deacon, a freelance employee of Freestone. Address is Bradbury Apartments down in the ninth sector. NM46751. I want you to go down there and check out the place."

Brian sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Alright, I'm on my way."

"And Brian, please be careful, mate," Jim says. "We suspect the last two replicants may be hiding out there."

"Don't worry, I will," he says, and ends the call.

Going back to the bedroom, he dressed himself as Chrissie watched.

"What happened?" she asks.

"Freestone's been murdered," he informs her. "Another body was found at the scene so they need me to go check out the address of where this bloke lived at."

Chrissie remained silent, watching as Brian finished dressing, the sudden news of Freestone's death hitting her like a bucket of cold water. 

Grabbing his now dry rain coat, he threw it on and tucked his blaster away into the holster underneath his coat, then trudging back to the bedroom, he pulled Chrissie into his arms.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he says to her. "When this is all over I want you to run away with me. We can go some place where the sun shines all year round."

"You mean that?" she asks.

Pulling back, he kissed her as she ran her fingers through his curly hair. "Yes. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together."

Sharing one last kiss, Brian turned and left the room, and shortly thereafter, Chrissie heard the click of the front door closing.

"I love you, Brian," she whispers out into the silence.

*****

The rain pounded away as Brian drove along the lengthy highway that led towards the ninth sector, his windshield wipers doing very little to help keep the window clear. Thankfully with a borrowed police vehicle, which had a self driving GPS, Brian was able to get there with zero problems. As he made his way down the deserted streets of the ninth sector, a low flying police Spinner hovering just above the road stopped him with a booming voice over a PA system.

"This sector is closed off to ground traffic," the voice says. "What are you doing here?"

Brian rolled his eyes and pressed a button on the communication radio. "I'm working, what are you doing?"

"Arresting you, that's what I'm going to do," the voice snaps.

"I'm Brian May, Bohemian Blade Runner. Two sixty three-fifty four, I'm in the system if you would just look."

"My apologies, sir, I almost didn't recognize your voice," the other voice responds. "You're all clear. Have a good night, Mr. May."

"Thanks, you too," Brian says.

The Spinner rose up, the whirling rotors causing the trash in the street to blow all over the place, and as the vehicle disappeared into the rainy night sky, Brian thought about the cop telling him to "have a good night." With his previous encounters with Mary and Prenter, he knew Freddie and Roger were going to be much more worse, so much so that there could be a possible chance of this ending very, very badly. He immediately pushed that troubling thought away and just hoped Freddie wouldn't be there as he was the strongest one of all.

Parking just a few buildings away from the Bradbury, Brian cut the engine and put a call in to John's apartment on the vehicles vidphone. The line beeped for a few moments until an out of focus and up close face appeared on the screen.

"Hello?" the voice asks in a raspy high pitched tone.

"Yeah hi is John there?" Brian asks in his undercover American accent.

"Who is this?"

"I'm Chris Mullen, an old friend of John's," Brian says. (A/N: Fun fact, in real life Brian used that name to remain anonymous when on tour when Queen stayed in hotels. Another one he used was Brian Manley. Freddie's was Alfred Mason, Roger was Roy Tanner or Rudolph de Rainbow, and John was Jason Dane or Judge Dread. 😁)

The person suddenly hung up and Brian raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm...that's no way to treat a friend," he says to himself.

He powered off the blank vidphone screen and glanced up at the Bradbury building through the rain streaked windshield, a shiver going down his spine at just how creepy and abandoned the place looked.

Finally summoning up his courage, Brian stepped out of the car, immediately getting wet from the heavy downpour. A heli-car passed by overhead as he hurried across the street and underneath the stone canopy of the building. 

*****

Tensed and alert, his blue eyes wide, Roger froze as he finished with the re-touches of his makeup. He turned his head towards the door and sniffed the air like an animal would when something doesn't seem quite right. He then let out a low sounding growl.

*****

His blaster raised, Brian stepped inside the shadowy foyer of the old building. The entire ground floor was flooded in an inch of rain water and it made him wonder how this John Deacon fellow could live in a place like this. He looked around and spotted the elevator but decided to take the stairs, not wanting the noise of it to give his arrival away. 

Reaching the dark and gloomy stairwell, he could hear the noises of an advertisement blimp passing by overhead, it's dancing spotlights illuminating the inside of the old building. He looked up at the roof of the large foyer as it passed by to see a female Japanese geisha playing an instrument and singing in a way that made this whole situation all the more eerie. Very quietly, Brian began to climb the stairs, his blaster ready and raised as the noises continued.

*****

At the sound of footsteps, Roger slowly backed away into the living room, keeping himself hidden among the mannequins and animatronic dolls. With his super sonic sense of hearing, he focused on the sound, watching and waiting, his eyes glowing with intention to kill.

*****

Finally at the top floor, a sudden noise of what sounded like a low sounding giggle alerted Brian, and he quickly turned in the direction of where it came from but found that nothing was there. He immediately felt a sense of unease to how creepy this place seemed. He couldn't back down now though. He needed to get the job done so he could retire for good and get the hell away from this city.

He slowly walked along the dark and shadowy corridor until he spotted a set of double doors that had been left open a crack with a little bit of light pouring out. Keeping his gun raised, Brian quietly slipped through the opening and found himself in a large main hallway of a well kept apartment. He looked up at the chandelier and the intricate patterned high ceiling. The sound of stomping caught his attention and he looked just in time to see a small dwarf like figure in a brown uniform and spiked helmet march across the foyer. 

"Home again, home again, jiggidy-jig!" it sang.

Brian kept his blaster trained on it until it marched straight into the door frame and made a squeaking sound before continuing on it's way into the next room.

*****

Sensing his arrival, Roger smiled evilly then prepared himself as he sat perfectly still and listened to the approaching footsteps of the visitor.

*****

Stepping deeper into the apartment, Brian entered a large living room which was filled with animatronic dolls and mannequins, many of which were life sized. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as a shiver ran down his spine. If there was one thing he hated the most, it was life like dolls. Some were giggling and whispering to each other, while another was repeating a line of "more tea my darling?" over and over again, keeping Brian on edge. He stepped in between the cluster of dolls, passing by a small old man shaking with loud hysterical laughter and up to a female mannequin dressed in a Victorian style dress, sitting by the window.

He looked around at all the rest of the dolls until his gaze landed on one sitting on a chaise lounge, wearing a flowery pattered kimono with a semi opaque white bridal veil over it's head. Brian's interest piqued and he slowly walked over to it to get a better look. He kept himself at arms length as he pulled the veil away revealing long bright blonde hair and a pale white face that was done up in makeup like a geisha with pink eye shadow and bright red lipstick. Around the neck was a silver choker. The eyes, which were staring straight ahead were bright blue, the jawline rounded, and then there was the distinctive dimpled chin that Brian remembered seeing on the Roger Taylor model. Could it be?

Bending down to get a closer look, he studied the face with a strong sneaking suspicion of it being the Roger Taylor replicant when suddenly the blue eyes moved and locked onto Brian's face, and in one blinding split of a second, Roger let out an almighty roar and kicked Brian in the face so hard it sent him flying backwards across the room and into the main entryway where his head smacked hard against the floor. Through his dizzying consciousness as he tried to get up, Brian saw Roger coming at him and before he had a chance to dodge out of the way, the replicant attacked him furiously by landing hard kicks and punches to Brian's face, his chest, and in the ribs.

Brian fired his blaster but each shot missed and hit the wall or ceiling every time. Roger then came at him again with another hard kick to Brian's face to where he immediately felt the bone and cartilage of his nose give way from the blow, followed by the feeling of warm liquid oozing down his face. 

In a haze, he saw the replicant coming at him for a third time, flying through the air in a series of wild back flips and defying the laws of gravity as it screeched out a death attack. Managing to roll out of the way, Brian raised his blaster and fired, hitting Roger in the shoulder and sending him into the opposite wall of the foyer. He landed on the floor on his back, screaming in a high pitched blood curdling, pain filled screech as he slammed his body and limbs about in a temper tantrum that looked like something straight out of a horror film. 

Shocked by the scene in front of him, Brian fired the blaster again at Roger which only increased his twitching tantrum and his high pitched shrieking to rise to a higher volume. Yelling out, Brian fell forward on his knees, clutching at his head as he felt blood oozing from his ears from the frequency of Roger's screaming. Through the intense pain, he managed a third shot, this time hitting Roger in the torso. The replicants screaming and flailing immediately ceased, leaving Brian to stare, bloody and stupefied. His ear drums were ringing and burning as he tried to catch his breath and breathe through a broken nose but found it impossible as every little breath he took sent sharp searing pains through his chest and ribs. 

The sound of the elevator suddenly caught his attention and Brian winced as he climbed to his feet and stumbled towards the doorway to see that the express box was slowly ascending to the top floor. He instantly knew who was coming. Freddie. His fight or flight instincts screamed at him to find somewhere and escape. The elevator then stopped and Brian retreated back into John's apartment, toward another door leading into one of the large bedrooms that directly faced the main entryway and living room where he waited.

*****

Freddie sashayed into the apartment, his hair soaking wet from the rain and his clothes still covered in Freestone's blood. His eyes landed on Roger's dead body sprawled out on the floor against the wall in a pool of blood. With a blank expression on his face, he knelt down and peered into his lifeless blue eyes. He reached out a hand and touched Roger's cheek, dragging his fingers down his face. He leaned forward to kiss him on the lips, smearing lipstick and white makeup on his own face as he shoved his tongue into the blonde haired replicants open mouth. But the lips were cold, confusing the dark haired replicant and making him wonder why his lover wasn't returning the kiss. Then as if sensing another presence, Freddie turned and glared in the direction of the all too familiar scent.

*****

From the doorway, trying his best to concentrate over the burning pain in his entire body, Brian waited with his blaster raised. He'd have one chance to do this and he wanted to do it right. The slow sound of footsteps were heard and then Freddie appeared from around the corner. 

BAM!

Freddie jumped out of the way of the blast, disappearing into the shadows as the bullet hit one of the animatronic dolls in the other room. Silently cursing at himself, Brian moved away from the door and ducked down by the wall to reload his clip, then instantly froze in fear as Freddie's soft and chilling voice broke the silence.

"Darling, it's not very nice to fire at an unarmed opponent," Freddie taunts from the darkness. "I thought you were supposed to be a perfect gentlemen."

His heart racing like wild, Brian stayed leaned up against the wall, keeping his blaster trained on the doorway.

"Come on out, Brian and show me what you're made of!" Freddie calls out. 

Brian's eyes widened in horror. How the bloody hell does he know my fucking name?!

"You killed Roger," the replicant whispers, his voice sounding close as if he were on the other side of the wall. "And now I'm going to kill you."

Freddie's fist suddenly slammed through the concrete wall, grabbing Brian tightly by the wrist of his firing arm and Brian tried to fight him off as his whole arm was pulled through the wall and held in a crushing grip by the dark haired replicant.

"Are you proud of yourself, darling?" Freddie growls, prying Brian's fingers off the blaster. "This is for Mary!" 

CRACK!

Brian cried out as Freddie broke all of his fingers and his wrist at once.

"This is for Paul!" 

SNAP!

Brian let out an agonizing scream as the replicant dislocated his arm from the shoulder bone. Freddie giggled and Brian felt the blaster being placed back in his damaged hand. He quickly pulled his arm back through the hole and stared in shock to the weird angle of his fingers and wrist, and how his arm hung limply. 

"Come on, darling," Freddie taunts, putting his face up against the hole. "I'm right here, you just have to shoot straight."

BAM!

He blindly fired his blaster at the hole in the wall, not really sure if he hit Freddie, and the jolt of the gun going off caused immense pain in his arm, causing Brian to lose his grip on it. Gasping heavily, he dropped to his knees as he began to feel dizzy and nauseous. The throbbing in his arm and hand seemed to increase with every second that passed by. He started glancing all around the room, looking for something he could use to secure his arm with when a pair of white worn out clogs appeared in front of him and Brian had just enough time to lift his gaze as he felt a hard strike to his head, knocking him backwards to the floor.

"And this shall be for my dear Roger," Freddie growls.

Brian began to back away, crawling backwards along the floor with his good arm. Freddie followed after him like a predator going for it's prey, his dark eyes glowing an angry yellow and in the lights of a passing advertisement blimp that shined through the windows of the room, he could see blood trailing down the replicants neck from a wound in his ear, an indication that he got a shot in. 

Before Brian was able to dodge out of the way of the next attack, Freddie's foot connected with Brian's stomach in a powerful blow. Yelping in pain, he curled up into a ball, coughing and choking, spitting out dark red blood. 

Freddie crouched down in front of Brian and tightly gripped his chin. Giving no resistance, the replicant turned his head from left to right as if studying Brian's bloodied and beaten face. 

"Darling, I'm going to give you ten seconds before I come," Freddie says, standing back up. "Let's see how much you like to be hunted. I'll even make it a slow count."

Brian looked up at him in confusion. "Wha--"

"Come on now, get up or you'll never get away!" Freddie commands. "One."

Brian struggled to get to his feet and Freddie giggled in amusement.

"Here, I'll even help you," the replicant says.

He stooped down and took hold of Brian's broken wrist and roughly hauled him to his feet, causing Brian to yelp at the sharpness of the pain in his entire arm. Waves of nausea and dizziness swept over him and he stumbled backwards for a moment as he regained his balance.

Freddie backed away towards the door. "Two!" he bellows, disappearing around the corner. "Better start running, my dear!"

Trying his best to ignore the pain, Brian turned and darted from the room, heading for somewhere far away to hide. He didn't know where, he just wanted to get as far away from John's apartment full of creepy animatronic dolls and from Freddie as he possibly could.

*****

"Three...f-four," Freddie whispers, his voice breaking as he ran a hand over Roger's face before moving downward, dipping his fingers in the blood that covered the blonde haired replicants stomach. "R-Roger...n-no. Why?"  

He lifted his hand, his bottom lip trembling as he stared at the blood of his lover with a strange new feeling overtaking him that he didn't quite understand. What is happening to me? 

It suddenly felt as if someone was squeezing his heart inside his chest, making it hard to breathe. He gasped out a gut wrenching sob, his whole body trembling and shaking as hot tears spilled from his eyes. He wiped Roger's blood on his own face like a tribal warrior, then kicking off his clogs and stripping out of his jumpsuit to half naked bare skin, Freddie began to moan and whimper like a wounded animal as he clung to Roger's body.

*****

In his state of pain and disorientation, Brian found himself in a room of one of the abandoned apartments with a collapsed ceiling to where he was immediately blasted with the cold wind and rain, reviving him just enough to realize where he was at and hope he was far away from Freddie. He looked down at his broken fingers, the sight of them making bile rise in his throat.

Squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, Brian took hold of all five fingers and snapped them back into place. He screamed out from the pain, and a few seconds later, Freddie responded by letting out a long animalistic howl that echoed loudly throughout the entire apartment building. 

His howling sounded so loud and clear as if he were nearby that Brian knew he had to get a move on and get out of there fast. But where could he go? He stumbled from the room, the rain continuing to pour down on him from the damaged roof as he headed for a window only to realize it was fenced in with no hope of escape.

"AAAAAAAYYYYYYY-OOOOOO!" Freddie shouts out.

Brian quickly turned and looked around the room expecting to see Freddie but he was nowhere in sight.

"Ready or not, darling, I'm coooooooooomiiiiiiiiiiing!" Freddie sang, followed by loud maniacal laughter. 

In a panic, Brian tried another window which was also fenced in.

"Four...five!" Freddie counts. "Keep yourself alive!"

Cursing to himself in frustration, Brian looked around the room again, his eyes landing on a hole in the roof above a tall cabinet. With his good arm he climbed up, and as he reached about halfway up, Freddie's howling began to sound much closer.

"I see you, darling!" the replicant shouts from behind the chained up window.

He howled out again and ran off, and Brian forced himself to keep climbing upwards and ignore the searing pains shooting through his entire body, knowing that hesitating would only get him killed.

*****

"Wait...not...yet!" Freddie hisses. "Not yet..."

His right hand started to seize up, reflexively bunching into a fist and Freddie could feel the numbness spreading through his entire arm. He growled and bit down hard into his fist to get feeling back but the numbness only increased. He searched around for anything that could help until his eyes landed on a large screw sticking out from the rain rotted floor. He leaned down and pulled it out, cringing from the squeaking sound it made as it came up out of the wooden floor. Then pointing the sharp end to his palm, Freddie gasped in pain as it pierced his skin, the nail going straight through to the other side of his hand.

*****

Clutching his damaged arm, his breath heavy, the curly haired musician leaned up against a porcelain bathtub. Everything in him hurt and with each breath he took, the more it hurt and he wondered just how many internal injuries he had from Roger's brutal beating and the kicks he had received to his ribs and stomach. His ears had stopped bleeding, leaving just the occasional ringing sound with an uncomfortable ache, and he could feel that his nose was bruised and swollen.

Suddenly with a loud crash, Freddie's head slammed through the tile wall just above the sink, and Brian jumped back, his eyes widening to the dark haired replicants evil glare. (A/N: If you notice in the movie, the wall is a black and white diamond patterned design kinda like Freddie's harlequin jumpsuit. 😁)

"You better get it up, darling...or I might have to kill ya!" he taunts with a cheeky teeth showing grin. 

Brian stumbled back, searching for something to defend himself with and wishing he hadn't dropped his gun. In his frantic search he turned away from Freddie's menacing glare, his eyes landing on the exposed plumbing of the bathtub. With his good arm, he pulled and tugged on a metal pipe and Freddie burst through the door, half naked and only wearing suspenders attached to a pair of tight looking red and white striped shorts. His face and bare chest was covered in blood marks.

(A/N: I don't know about you guys but I'm pretty disappointed he never wore this outfit in any concert videos.)

"Six...seven!" Freddie bellows out, slowing sauntering towards Brian. "Go to hell, or be made in heaven!"

The pipe came loose and with all the strength he could muster in a one handed grip, Brian rushed forward and swung the pipe at Freddie, striking him directly in the head. The replicant was knocked backwards into a window, the glass shattering and cutting into the skin of his arm. Brian swung the pipe again, hitting him in the chest and the replicant laughed. A large gash had opened up on his forehead and blood flowed into his eye, mixing in with his smudged eyeliner.

"Oh yes, darling, yes, now that's what I like to see!" he moans out. "But you see lovey, I don't hurt so easily."

Freddie stepped forward with a menacing giggle and Brian turned and ran for the door.

"Eight...nine!" he hears behind him.

Frantic with fear and adrenaline, he ran with all his might, his lungs burning and whole body aching and sweating as he pushed on, determined to escape. He started to regret ever responding to Jim's call and coming here. He just wanted to get away and go back home to Chrissie. To Brian this all felt like a bad dream, almost like it wasn't real but it was and with each passing second the more afraid he became.

He ran up a flight of stairs to a closed door and yanked on the handle only to find that it was locked. A look of desperation crossed over his face, increasing his heart rate in fear of Freddie catching up to him. He looked behind him and down the staircase just to check. He hadn't heard anymore of the countdown.

Turning back to the door, Brian lifted his leg and slammed his boot covered foot against the wood, making it crack open a bit. He gave it another kick and the door swung open, the sound of heavy rain suddenly on him, soaking him instantly as he stepped out onto the roof. Blinking the rain from his eyes, he looked at all the air condition units and vents scattered about that could be perfect places to hide.

He trudged his way through the ankle high water, glancing behind him every few seconds to make sure Freddie wasn't trailing after him. The rain was loud and the flashing lights from the advertisement blimp danced around the dark rooftop as Brian surveyed the surrounding buildings to see if he could jump across to another rooftop to escape back to ground level so he could call for backup. Seeing as there was no sign of the replicant, he only had enough time to do this. He could feel his heart hammering inside his chest as he calculated the distance in the gaps between the buildings, coming to a conclusion that it looked ten to fifteen feet across. It looked like an easy jump and he felt he could make it...if he had full strength.

Taking a deep breath, he backed up and began a silent countdown. One...two...three-- All the blood drained from his face, a scream catching in his throat as he backed into something hard that gave off body heat. Freddie! Brian's fighting instincts suddenly kicked in and with his good arm, he drove his elbow sharply into Freddie's stomach. The replicant grunted at the impact and the curly haired musician whirled around to take another swing when Freddie seemed to suddenly vanish into thin air.

Fuck! Where's he gone?! Brian spun around in a full circle, his eyes darting around wildly every which way. Then as if out of nowhere, the strike came unexpectedly and Brian fell, his head colliding with the rain drenched concrete rooftop. Pain exploded through his head and when Freddie's foot slammed into his stomach again, Brian grabbed him by the ankle to throw him off balance. The dark haired replicant fell before him which only angered him more and as Brian attempted to break away, he received another dizzying strike to the head.

Brian fell to his hands and knees, his throat burning from the rising bile. He heaved, his whole body trembling as he vomited pure blood. Choking and gasping in pain, he felt a hand grab onto his wet hair and tug his head back with another hand held tightly against his throat. Freddie's voice was soft and soothing in Brian's ear.

"Ten...your time is up, darling." 

Frozen with fear, Brian swallowed hard against the tight grip around his throat.

Freddie giggled. "It's quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it darling?" he whispers into his ear, his breath hot and heavy against Brian's skin. "That's what it feels like to be a slave. That is all you filthy little humans want from us...to be slaves and to do your dirty work!"

The replicant angrily spit the last words into his ear. They sounded muffled as if Brian was hearing Freddie talk to him from a distance. 

With his incredible combat strength, somewhat similar to Prenter's strength, Freddie lifted the taller man and Brian felt himself flying through the air until he hit something hard that knocked the air from his lungs. He gasped, trying to drag air into his lungs and regain the strength to get up. Everything hurt as he forced himself to get to his feet. Having no strength left, Brian ran as best he could towards the edge of the roof. Deep down he knew he wouldn't make it. He didn't care anymore. He just wasn't going to allow himself to be torn apart by the hands of Freddie Mercury the same way he had done to all those innocent people on that shuttle.

The replicant roared like an animal and Brian doesn't make it to the edge of the roof. Freddie's faster. Trying to dodge the hit but failing, the impact sent Brian crashing violently to the side, his head once again colliding with the wet rooftop in a sickening thud. A foot slammed into his stomach and he rolled over into a puddle of cold rain water. Not able to hold back the strong wave of nausea, Brian threw up again, his throat burning with an unbearable metallic taste of thick sticky blood. He let out an agonizing pain filled groan and turned over onto his back, the falling rain hammering against his battered face.

He looked up at Freddie standing tall before him, his dark eyes glowing down at him. Above them, the Off-World advertisement blimp passed overhead, repeating the same message: "A new life awaits you in the Off-World colonies! The chance to begin again in a golden land of opportunity and adventure. So come on, let's go to the colonies!"  The spotlights that flashed and danced across the dark rooftop made Freddie's exotic appearance glow, surrounding him with an aura. Brian couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from Freddie and how the rain glistened on his naked skin. Witnessing his own final moments suddenly became a fascination to him as everything before him seemed to play out in slow motion. 

He watched as Freddie crouched down before him, gripping onto his tie and pulling him up to eye level. He raised his fist and Brian felt a hard blow to his face followed by another, then another, and another until he tasted nothing but blood in his mouth. The replicant seeing the blood seep out from the corners of his mouth released him and Brian stumbled back, coughing and vomiting. He fought to slip into unconsciousness and began to drag his weakened body through the inch deep puddles, away from Freddie and towards what he sensed was the roof's edge. 

Freddie laughed at him, his voice suddenly full of amusement. "Where on Earth are you going, darling?"

Brian ignored him and continued dragging himself onward despite all the pain it was causing him. He couldn't take the torture anymore. He wanted to die. Hot tears spilled from his eyes and mixed in with the cold November rain as he found himself praying for all of this to just end and wishing he had told Chrissie that he loved her. I'm so sorry Chrissie. I love you so damn bloody much and I'm so fucking sorry...

At last his fingers touched the edge, and ignoring the pain in his entire body, Brian pulled himself over and everything seemed to play out in slow motion again as he tumbled over and started to fall, but only for a short moment. He suddenly wasn't falling anymore. He was suspended in mid air, being pulled up by his arm in a powerful one handed grip. In the next instant, he realized he was laying at Freddie's feet. Trembling from the cold and the pain, Brian curled up, his breathing labored and weak.

"W-W-Why?" Brian stammers, his voice weak and raspy.

Freddie shook his head, a sudden look of pity overtaking his face. He grabbed onto Brian and dragged him over to a small area shielded from the rain, propping him up against a cold brick wall.

"I...I don't know, darling," the replicant says to him in a soft voice, a tired look on his face. "I just don't know anymore. All I know is I simply can't win."

Freddie sat down in front of him and they stared at one another for what felt like a long moment and Brian realized that the replicant was rapidly deteriorating before his very own eyes. His cheekbones looked sunken in and his face was pale and covered in streaks of blood from the gash above his eye.

"My dear, you will probably die from your injuries...you don't look well," Freddie says as if observing Brian's battered condition.

Brian blinked, confused by his own feelings, knowing he should be sad or angry but he felt absolutely nothing. 

"W-Why...w-why the b-bloody hell d-did you s-s-save m-me?" Brian breathes out, struggling to form a sentence and finding it hard to speak as everything inside of him hurt and burned.

The dark haired replicant just shrugged and Brian couldn't help but be in awe of Freddie's features illuminated by the overhead spotlights. Even now as he sat there against the wall, beaten and dying, he thought Freddie was the most beautiful creature to ever be created.

Freddie shivered and crawled into Brian's lap like a small child seeking warmth. "I'm so terribly cold and tired," he says. "Please...will you hold me, darling?"

Brian said nothing and simply used his good arm to hold Freddie close to him. His skin cold to the touch. The replicant shivered and wrapped an arm around Brian's shoulder to support himself and with his other, he reached out to take Brian's hand in his. He curled up in Brian's embrace and rested his head in the crook of the curly haired musicians neck. Neither of them moved for what seemed like a long time and Brian leaned his head back against the wall, feeling himself drift off by the slow breathing of the shivering man in his arms until the replicants soft voice broke the silence. He looked down to see Freddie gazing up at him, his dark eyes giving off a soft yellow glow.

"You know darling...in all my four years, I've seen things you humans wouldn't believe..." he says, his voice faltering. "Battle ships on fire within the seven seas of planet Rhye...I watched C-beams and laser beams glitter in the darkness between the outer galaxies...I've seen vast clouds of ice that lit up the atmosphere in such beautiful, breathtaking colors...The things I've seen with my own eyes, no human will ever see..."

Freddie paused with a violent shiver and squeezed Brian's hand, his eyes fighting to stay open as he swallowed hard, struggling to continue.

"And all those moments...will be forever lost...forgotten with time...like tears...in rain," he breathes out softly.

At a loss for words, Brian just stared down at the dying replicant as he tried to imagine all the things Freddie witnessed out there in the harsh conditions of the outer galaxies. 

Freddie smiled up at him, his grip on Brian's hand loosening. "Brian darling...I think...it's time to die."

With the relentless rain pouring around them, Brian cradled Freddie and comforted him and the replicant realized Brian was whispering to him in a soft tone of what sounded like a prayer as he brushed the wet hair out of his face. His breathing came out slower, the little yellow glow in his dark eyes fading.

Brian could only watch as the two held eye contact until a moment later, Freddie's hand loosened from his grasp and his head fell back as life left him with a final breath, the yellow glow fading out completely. Feeling tears threaten to surface, Brian held Freddie's lifeless body close to him and closed his eyes. Freddie's words from earlier about humans never being able to see what he's seen began to paint images in his mind, and suddenly Brian found himself looking through the replicants eyes, witnessing the beautiful colors of the outer galaxies, the supernovas, the stars, and the vastness of space. As an astrophysicist, it fascinated him to no end. His only wish was that he had more time to appreciate the brilliance of life and had more time with Chrissie. He smiled as he saw her beautiful young face in his mind's eye, wearing a white dress and a crown of flowers as she walked alongside a majestic white unicorn. Then he was suddenly reunited with his parents again and at last he felt no pain and finally felt at peace to dream...

*****

"Stop right here, amigo!" Straker says to the captain as he spots something in a small secluded corner of the rooftop.

Jim maneuvered the Police Spinner to land on a flat area atop the Bradbury. It was nearing sunrise and the rain had stopped in what seemed like forever. The vehicle landed and old captain was the first to climb out with Straker following behind him through the ankle deep waters of the rooftop. Jim immediately spotted the two bodies close together in the corner of a brick wall, holding hands, one being a barely recognizable Brian and the other being the Freddie Mercury replicant sprawled out across the curly haired musicians lap. 

"Bloody hell," Jim mutters, hurrying over. "Oi! Brian!"

The captain bent down and placed two fingers to the side of Brian's cold neck and his eyes immediately closed as he lowered his head. Straker came up beside Jim and already knowing the answer, he took off his hat and stood in a moment of silence.

"My man, I'll uh...I'll go call this in," Straker says to him in a hushed voice.

Jim only nodded as Straker turned and slowly made his way back to the Spinner. He looked at Brian's still body, his injuries almost making him non recognizable. He looked like he had fought hard for his own life and in the end he was a hero.

THE END

*****

I'm like the Quentin Tarantino of Queen fanfics, LOL sorry! 😂 Well anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed. Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. ❤❤❤ In the meantime I have more stuff in the works that I'm excited to get started on writing and hopefully I can get something new out soon. ☺

Now go dry those tears, bye. 😂

~ViceCityfan1986