The Bay Police headquarters were a poorly run shithole but Bradley felt right at home.
He had gotten a job as a record keeper. The whole station database run on his electric brain. He could remember every single crime, warrant or unpaid traffic ticket that had ever taken place in the city. Cops could store and retrieve any record from the terminals at their desks, but most liked to talk to directly Bradley to get the data.
And he loved the chats.
He loved helping detectives piece together clues, uncover patterns, retrieve details from old cases. The more gruesome the better. He loved processing detainees and hearing their stories.
Specially he liked the violent criminals most, and he liked being there when they were still hot from action, while their adrenaline was still pumping and their tongues were most active.
“I swear, Bradley, you would be a sonafabitch serial murderer if you weren’t a robot,” they would tell him.
Like other cops Bradley took the work home.
But unlike other cops he liked it.
The Bay Police HQ were truly a poorly run shithole but Bradley had never felt more at home.