Devil in Detroit | Detroit: Become Human

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈. UNANSWERED

CHAPTER EIGHT

DETROIT, MICHIGAN

( November 24th, 2032 )

THE CHICKEN FEED, AS IT turned out, did not serve chicken. It served hamburgers, health code violations, and the greasiest side of fries that Jacob had ever seen. And it was a food truck—meaning they parked across the street, tried not to get run over, and ended up at the side of the truck ordering food, leaving them open to the public. Jacob wrapped his arms around himself as the chill of early winter began to set in, his nose already stinging from the cold, and listened to Hank order food for them.

It wasn't too long before they made their way to a couple of standing tables to the side of the truck. There were no chairs, and Jacob could barely reach the top of the table, so he settled for having his food at the edge of the table so he could reach it. He glanced up at Hank occasionally as he ate his fries, picking at them when he saw that some were burned or looked a little strange.

"You need to eat. You're too small," Hank said, pushing his fries toward Jacob. Jacob hummed, picking through those too so he could find the good ones. "Chen's working on getting you a social worker since your parents are, ah—"

"Dead," Jacob cut in. "Figured it out at the station. Still don't know how they died," he said, looking up at Hank with prying eyes. "Officer Chen said I was too young to know. I think my— James, I think he killed her, but Officer Chen said they don't know."

Hank hummed, giving him a once over before taking a bite of his burger. Jacob scowled. Hank swallowed and then sighed. "Your mom killed herself last year. Reed thought there might be some connection to your dad since he hated her so much, but then he killed himself too, about a month after your mom did. Reed was bugged about your location for a few months before giving up since your dad said you were staying with your grandparents."

"Who died, like, two years ago," Jacob noted. "You guys aren't very good detectives if you couldn't even figure that out."

Instead of looking offended, Hank shrugged, as if accepting that Jacob was right. "Maybe you'll make a good detective one day," he said. Jacob wrinkled his nose at the thought, making Hank chuckle. "Enough talking. Eat now, and I'll answer any of your questions after." Jacob raised his eyebrows before figuring he could use some answers. He began scarfing down his food, which made Hank sigh. "If you throw up in my car, I'm sending Fowler the bill."

Jacob shoved the last piece of the burger into his mouth and chewed it quickly before swallowing, nearly choking. He coughed, then looked up at Hank. "Where am I going to go after today? I can't live at the station and there's no way in hell I'm going to a group home."

"You might not have a choice," Hank pointed out. "Your social worker will know the best place to put you."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Adults don't know shit," he muttered, crossing his arms.

Hank looked conflicted for a moment, watching Jacob move around before he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "It'll all work out, kid. You're, what, fourteen? You still got some time to make your life right." He seemed to be judging the way Jacob's hands were shaking, probably assuming that Jacob was coming down from Red Ice, Jacob thought bitterly. But Jacob had felt the withdrawal effects while locked in Evan's basement, and now his hands only shook from the cold.

"I dropped out of school before I even made it to middle school graduation. I don't know how I can make things right," Jacob muttered.

"That's what the social worker's for," Hank said with a shrug. "Eat your fries."

"They're brown," Jacob argued, waving a soggy, shit-colored fry at Hank. Hank smiled, and Jacob realized why he didn't do it more often—he looked way too sarcastic like he was waiting to make a dirty joke from anything that you said. Jacob lowered his fry, glowering at the older man with enough malice to make even one of Evan's friends cower in fear. "I want another burger."

"Ain't healthy for you," Hank protested. "You'll throw up."

"I'm hungry," Jacob insisted.

"You'll throw up. You're too small to eat two burgers in less than five minutes. Maybe when you get some weight back, I'll give you two burgers, but until then, the answer is no," Hank concluded, in a tone that told Jacob that he wasn't allowed to argue. But it didn't feel threatening—sure, Hank might be annoyed if Jacob protested further, but he wasn't threatening Jacob. Jacob still felt that he could talk, that he wasn't being suffocated by verbal abuse.

"Fine," he muttered. Hank pat his head, making Jacob jump away, less out of fear and more out of not wanting his hair to be even more messed up than it already was.

"Anything else?" Hank asked, raising his eyebrows almost mockingly like he knew that he had answered all of the questions swimming around inside of Jacob's mind. Jacob scowled, not wanting to admit that Hank was completely right about that line of thought.

Competitiveness made him stupid.

". . . What happened to Cole's mom?" Jacob asked, figuring he would get the curiosity out of the way. He just found it strange that he hadn't seen a woman around the house when his dad— James, when James had told him that a family wasn't complete without a mom and a dad. Jacob didn't believe that for shit, but he figured he would satisfy his curiosity.

"Alright, enough questions," Hank said, wiping his hands together to get rid of any crumbs left behind.

Jacob scowled. "But you said—"

"Enough," Hank insisted, brushing past Jacob as he began to walk away. Jacob crossed his arms, turning but staying where he was. Hank paused when he realized that Jacob wasn't following him and turned back around to look at him. "What the hell are you doing, kid? Let's go."

"You said you would answer any of my questions," Jacob reminded him.

"Except for that one. Let's go, now."

Now, Jay, come on, Evan would whisper tauntingly as he tried to convince the younger to do something. The exact tone of voice Hank was using, the manipulative words dripped with abuse, and Jacob shrunk back, eyes widening slightly. Hank frowned, taking a step back to give him space.

"Sorry," Jacob said, trying to relax his shoulders. "I'll— let's go, yeah, let's go," he said pushing past Hank to go back to the car.

"Kid." Jacob froze but didn't turn to look at Hank again. Hank sighed. "Here," the man muttered, dropping his coat around Jacob's shoulders. Jacob looked up at him, surprised by the gesture. "Come on, Fowler's gonna have my head if we're out any longer."

With a new warmth settling in his stomach, Jacob followed Hank back to the car.