Anton Shastun

The year is 2048. Autumn has descended on the already gloomy city, making it even more gloomy and dull. Cigarette smoke rises in a barely noticeable cloud into the air. Shastun is smoking. He always smokes, but today was a particularly bad day.

Anton Andreevich Shastun is a thirty-three-year-old police lieutenant. A tall, green-eyed man with bags under his eyes, embittered at the world and himself, he hates humanoid robots—androids, that is. But he has a reason for this. His son was killed during an operation by one such machine. The blond man didn't trust and didn't want to trust these "hardware." Speaking of hardware, Androids are robots that exactly replicate the human appearance and thinking. Only instead of neurons in their brains, they have neural networks. High-quality eco-leather, appearance, hair, structure... If not for the round chip on their temple, they would be indistinguishable from living people. These machines are used as housekeepers, workers, drivers, and simply assistants.

But imagine the surprise and outrage when his superiors assigned Shastun to a case involving deviant androids. These were the iron things that malfunctioned and behaved as they pleased. They robbed, murdered, committed robberies, and even blew up buildings. Not only were his superiors unwavering in their decision, but they also assigned him a partner. An RK800 android, created by CyberLife. He was tall, blue-eyed, and dark-haired, wearing a business suit. Only the chip glowing faintly blue on his temple betrayed his lack of humanity.

“I’m quitting, ” the blond frowned, running his hand over his face.

"You have a contract, Shastun," the boss smiled, clapped the man on the shoulder, and left the office, leaving behind the "piece of iron. "