Novel & Cerita Detroit Become Human Fanart

"I'm exceptionally petrified. There's a distinction." We climb the marble steps together. The cameras detonate. Reporters howl Julian's name. He doesn't acknowledge a single one. He simply keeps his hand bolted flat against my spine, steering me through the pandemonium like a vessel slicing through rough water. The Rivera Court engulfs us. The murals tower overhead, Diego Rivera's painted laborers glaring down at the glittering swarm with their flat, omniscient eyes. Industry consecrated as art. Detroit's muscle immortalized in fresco while the people who possess the factories now sip champagne beneath it. Edsel Ford commissioned these walls, back when Detroit still believed it was indestruc

Detroit ~ The child flinched. Detroit’s jaw tightened. Elias stepped in lightly, voice gentle. “She’s been working on that painting for months. Wouldn’t let anyone touch it.” Madam Helena waved a hand, sharp and regal. “The real question is, does he care?” Detroit met his grandmother’s gaze, unreadable. Then his eyes dropped to his daughter, still half-hiding behind her canvas. “You’ve been painting,” he said at last. She didn’t answer. Just looked up at him with those sharp silver eyes that mirrored his own. Something in her expression wavered between longing, terror, and disappointment.

No, Newhaven was a beast—hungry, oppressive, and impossible to escape. The graffiti etched into the walls added splashes of rebellion to the otherwise muted tones of the Human Quarters. Most of the symbols were crude: clenched fists, X’s slashed across drones, the occasional curse word scrawled with hurried defiance. But one design caught my eye. It was subtle yet intricate, a phoenix rising from a nest of gears, its wings half-erased by an Enforcer’s laziness or by someone bold enough to restore it after the purge. Its presence made my stomach twist, the sharp pang of something unspoken. I slowed my pace, my boots crunching against stray shards of broken glass and ash.

Yes, Damien still lived here. I know it sucks and everyone hates him, but I needed him. He was my only access to the human world. The one who went out and got the technology and science things for me. He gave me updates about what's happening in the world... And he was the only one I knew well enough to handle stuff like that. That didn't change that every single creature that lived in Lunaria hated his guts. He was still an abomination to us, a liability and a waste of our non-polluted Lunarian air. They still despise humans.

His face looks so terrible, his mouth is open until saliva is flowing out. “HEY HUMAN BRAT! WHAT IF YOU RETURN MY ARM WITH YOUR MEET!!! I SWEAR I’LL MAKE IT PAINLESS.” “What?” “MANY OF YOU HAVE FALLEN IN MY STOMACH! AND SOON YOU’LL MEET YOUR COMRADES! HAHAHA HAHA AHA…” “You mean you have fought another devil hunter?” “SO WHAT? NOT EVEN ONE OF YOU CAN DESTROY ME.. BUT I APPRECIATE YOU BECAUSE YOU COULD MAKE ME LOSE ONE HAND, NO HUMAN HAS SUCCEEDED TO DO IT.”

My weightless body was dragged across the ruined city and down into an underground fortress. The place was brightly lit and buzzing with life. A massive party was underway, thrown to celebrate Beckett's recovery. In an apocalypse ravaged by zombie attacks, they had somehow managed to find colorful ribbons, balloons, and a massive cake. Dad stood on a platform, beaming as he raised his glass to the crowd. "A toast to our hero and the future of humanity, Beckett! We have successfully extracted a perfect antibody from his blood." The crowd erupted into deafening cheers.