XXXXXEarly in the 21st Century, The TYRELL CORPORATION advanced robot evolution into the NEXUS phase - a being virtually identical to a human - known as a REPLICANT.
XXXXXThe NEXUS Replicants were superior in strength and agility and at least equal in intelligence to the genetic engineers who created them.
XXXXXReplicants were used Off-world as slave labor, in the hazardous exploration and colonization of other planets.
XXXXXAfter a bloody mutiny by a NEXUS combat team in an Off-world colony, Replicants were declared illegal on Earth - under penalty of death.
XXXXX Special police squads - BLADE RUNNER UNITS - had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing Replicant.
XXXXX This was not called execution.
XXXXX It was called retirement.

XXXXX Ian McKay sat on the low wooden bench outside Harry Bryant's office leaning forward with his arms on his knees. He glanced up at the high ceiling and watched the fan blades cut a swath through the thin blue smoke that gathered up there. He tried to ignore the muted yelling from inside the small room, when suddenly the door was yanked open from inside, startling him.
XXXXX A tall man with short, dark hair stormed out of the office. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his long woolen coat as he stormed across the vast open floor of the Los Angeles police department.
XXXXX The short, fat shape of Bryant appeared in the open doorway. "I need you, Deckard.", pleaded Bryant. "Rumour has it that Tyrell's got some new type of skinjob out now. Hard as hell to detect."
XXXXX The other man paused a short distance across the large room, and turned to address Bryant. "That's your problem, not mine!" Deckard turned again and resumed his brisk pace.
XXXXX "Deckard! God damn it, get back here!"
XXXXX "Deckard!", shouted Bryant one last time as the other man disappeared at the far end of the station. He looked over and noticed McKay. "Get your ass in here."
XXXXX Ian entered the small room and shut the door behind him. Bryant walked around behind his desk and sank into his chair. "I've got an easy one for you.", he began, not waiting for the other man to sit.
XXXXX "A skinjob has set himself up as a small store owner downtown.", continued Bryant as McKay seated himself in the wooden chair opposite him. "I want you to go down there and air him out. Do it quietly. We don't want a scene."
XXXXX McKay nodded, acknowledging the statement. "What has he done?"
XXXXX "Nothing . . . yet.", answered Bryant.
XXXXX "He doesn't sound like much of a threat.", commented McKay.
XXXXX Bryant flashed him an angry glare. "What's the fucking difference? He's a skinjob.", he growled.
XXXXX Bryant slid a thin manila folder across the desk. "Here's the file. It's name is Rob Evans. He and a bunch of others were being shipped to the launch facility where they were going to be sent off-world, when the transport was hijacked by the rep-symps. The whole shipment was stolen. This is the first one to turn up. Get on it, A.S.A.P.."
XXXXX McKay nodded, took the folder and began to stand but stopped. Bryant looked as if he had something more to say. "Anything else?"
XXXXX "Yeah.", said Bryant without looking up. "Deckard's out. Tell the others."
XXXXX "Rick Deckard quit!", thought McKay. "Sure.", he replied. He rose and walked out of Bryant's office, shutting the door behind him.

XXXXX McKay entered the station's locker room just as Dave Holden was about to leave. He waved to the other blade runner and walked over to Holden's locker.
XXXXX "Holden!"
XXXXX Dave glanced at the younger man as he straightened his tie. "McKay, what's going on?"
XXXXX "I just came from Bryant's office. Deckard quit."
XXXXX "He quit?", exclaimed Holden. "Good riddance. That sorry bastard was so far over the Curve it's a wonder he's still alive."
XXXXX The 'Curve' referred to the Wambaugh Curve, commonly known as the index of self-loathing, when blade runners begin to feel guilt and remorse for the Replicants they are assigned to kill. If you go too far over the Curve, you can no longer do your job and you begin to hate yourself. Some blade runners had even committed suicide as a result.
XXXXX Holden shook his head in disbelief. "He always was second best."
XXXXX "You going home?", he asked Ian.
XXXXX "Nah. I've got a live one.", replied McKay, meaning that he'd been assigned a Replicant to 'retire'.
XXXXX "Good luck.", said Holden as he left.
XXXXX "No problem.", replied Ian. "No problem.", he muttered to himself.

XXXXX Rob Evans had no past. That is to say, he had no past that he could remember. the earliest images in his mind were of the Van Nuys Pet Hospital on the outskirts of L.A. At that time, he'd awakened lying on his back in the street, while several men stood over him, asking if he was all right.
XXXXX One of them, a man named Isidore, told him amid frequent stutters, that he'd been hit by a careless spinner driver who had badly misjudged his landing perimeter. The pilot, upon realizing his mistake, had flown off, leaving Evans unconscious on the hard asphalt.
XXXXX Isidore was the doctor at the Van Nuys Pet Hospital who had bandaged his wounds. When Evans could uncover no information about himself in the city records, Isidore helped him find a job and a place to live. He'd even lent Evans some money so he could buy a small business to run. Every time Evans tried to pay him back, the money was immediately returned to his account.
XXXXX Isidore had set him up in a small apartment in one of the not-to-dilapidated high rises of downtown L.A. His thoughts drifted back to his mysterious benefactors every morning when he woke up and surveyed the sparsely furnished, yet functional, studio apartment, just as they did on this day.
XXXXX Following his daily routine, he triple-locked the door and headed down to the street. Once there, he glanced up at the light brown-gray sky. The hot, dry summer months were just beginning, though the sun rarely broke through the smog-choked sky. The air was thick with heat and pollution but still breathable.
XXXXX He inhaled deeply and headed down the street to his shop. Since the people at the pet hospital had told him that he'd been in a spinner accident, he avoided traveling via the small flying craft, not that he could afford it anyway.
XXXXX The streets weren't very crowded at this time of day, so it didn't take long to reach his shop. He managed a small store that sold cheap clothing to the masses of poor people that swarmed through the streets. Business was usually best during the rainy season, but at this time of year, his shop was often empty for hours at a time. Which is why he was immediately wary of the well dressed Caucasian man that came into his shop fairly early that morning.

XXXXX He spotted the man through the flimsy curtain that separated the sales floor from the stock room in back. He was talking to Emil, the young man he'd hired to help around the store. Rob had hired Emil during the busy season last year and didn't have the heart to fire him when things slowed down. The young man was probably the closest thing Evans had to a friend.
XXXXX Evans couldn't hear what was being said, but something told him not to be seen by this stranger. He stayed in the back room and after a few minutes the man left. Emil rushed into the back room, talking excitedly.
XXXXX In the mixed up blend of ethnic languages known as cityspeak, Emil told Evans that he had misinformed the man of Evans' whereabouts. Emil didn't trust the man, even though he claimed he was from the L.A. police department. Rob asked Emil to run the store for a few days and got permission to use Emil's apartment, in case he needed a place to lay low.
XXXXX It took a few minutes for Rob to convince the young man that he was not in trouble with the law and that he'd be okay. He patted Emil on the back and let him return to work. He didn't want his friend to see how nervous he was.
XXXXX He sat down heavily in a small wooden chair as his mind raced. He couldn't imagine what the LAPD would want with him. Then again, he wasn't really sure the guy was a cop. He hadn't seen the man show any kind of identification. He wanted Rob for something and it probably wasn't good. He had to find a way to hide out for a few days and maybe this psycho would forget about him. He decided he would go to Emil's apartment for a while since the guy would probably be waiting at his place. Then he could figure out what to do next.

XXXXX McKay sat in his spinner which was parked in the narrow alley behind Evans' shop. He kept a close eye on the back door about half a block away. He'd seen the Evans replicant hiding in the back room and knew that any minute now, the guy would come out the back door and try to make his escape through the alley. Replicants were so damn predictable and this alley would make a nice, quiet place for a retirement.
XXXXX Sure enough, the door to Evans' shop soon opened and a head peered out into the alley. But it wasn't Evans, it was that greasy little bastard, Emil. The kid looked around but didn't appear to notice the police spinner concealed behind a refuse bin.
XXXXX McKay checked his gun one more time and waited. Evans should be coming out any minute now. After a short while, McKay's smile turned to a frown. Where was Evans?
XXXXX On a hunch, McKay bolted from the spinner and ran around the end of the block to the front of the row of shops. He spotted Evans about two blocks away, walking quickly down the street.
XXXXX "God damn it!" muttered McKay as he ran down the street after Evans. He was less than a block away when the replicant turned around and saw him. Evans broke into a run and within minutes, he had outrun McKay and disappeared into a crowded shopping plaza.
XXXXX McKay paused, breathing heavily for a few minutes, before making his way back to his spinner. He would go to Evans' apartment and wait for him there. Replicants always think their home is the safest place to hide. McKay shook his head. Replicants are really pretty stupid, once you know their behavior patterns.

XXXXX It didn't take long to reach Evans' apartment and pick the locks to get inside. Once there, he pulled up a chair close to the door, put his feet on a nearby table, and with his gun in his lap, waited for Evans to come home.