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Part 7
When I made it to the office the next morning I hurt like hell. My back
was sore from being slammed the ground a bunch of times, my face had a
bunch of cuts on it and there was a piercing pain in my side every time
I reached above my head. I guess it was from the shrapnel that I used to
call my car.
To top it all off my head really hurt from Mitchell's bizarre behavior.
Or maybe the smack on the head. I couldn't really be sure, especially
this early in the morning. My usual one-cup of coffee wasn't cutting it,
so I made a stop by the food court. It was pretty calm, stuck in the
slow period between breakfast and lunch, but the Starbucks was open and
sidled into line behind a meter maid.
As I passed under the arch I couldn't help but notice the 'subsidiary
of Genom' label in the corner of the sign. I sighed. Figures they'd make
a buck off my headache somehow.
"Cup of coffee," I told the boomer in the window.
"Small, medium or large," it replied in a tone calculated for maximum
customer satisfaction.
"Large," I said, rubbing my eyes. I was wishing for aspirin and praying
for death as I sat only inches from my salvation.
"Decaf or regular?" the boomer replied, oblivious to my growing
distress.
"Regular."
"What flavor?"
I buried my rage, and a serious urge to drop the boomer where it stood
and replied "Regular."
"That will be seven hundred yen," it reported, apparently quite happy
with itself for completing the transaction. I passed over the debit card
and tried to wait patiently. Apparently I failed, as I head a giggling
noise behind me. Turning towards the sound I picked Nene out. She was
sitting at one of the little tables looking out into the faux courtyard.
The boomer carefully handed me the debit card and I walked over to
Nene.
"Sir," I head the boomer say from behind me. "You've forgotten your
coffee."
"Fuck," I muttered, half-aware I was saying it out loud. "Maybe I did
get a concussion."
"Oh, Leon-chan, are you okay?" Nene asked after I took my seat. As I
reflected on the question for a moment, I realized that Nene's voice was
going to shred my already fragile head.
"My head hurts," I responded.
"Rough night at the bars?" she asked, nibbling on her cookie.
"Work related," I managed. "You know Nene, you're always eating, every
time I see you." I was proud of myself for managing a vaguely
intelligent comment. I hoped this day was going to end as quickly as
possible. Nene wiggled her nose like she always did when I made a
comment. I couldn't tell if the emotion she was conveying annoyance or
plotting a rebuttal.
"You know, Leon, you're a real charmer," she responded. "I can see why
you get all the ladies."
I chewed on that for a minute, sipping on my coffee. Nene drifted back
into her reading, absently breaking a chunk of her gigantic cookie. I
glanced down at the collection of print outs, finding the title and
author, written, oddly enough, in English.
" Sympathetic Motivation of Adjoining Actuatorpackets by K. Stingray.
Sounds interesting." Actually it sounded anything but, but I felt like
talking to Nene for a minute.
Nene blinked in surprise. I loved the look of confusion she realized I
could read English. "Where exactly did you think I came from, Germany?"
I said as she slid the papers back into her backpack. She seemed a
little spooked by the fact I had caught her reading something that
seemed extremely nerdy.
"Why the interest in Sympathetic Artificial whatever?" I asked.
"Nothing really. Nothing at all. Still in the college mode, I guess,"
she said nervously. "I've got to head back to work, my lunch break is
about over."
"I should head up to my office," I muttered as I rose to my feet. "I
might as well head upstairs with a cute girl."
"I'm more than just a pretty face, you know," Nene said, "I've got a
great head on my shoulders."
"Sure you do, Nene, sure you do," I said, using that condescending tone
that made her so angry.
"Cut it out, you big meanie." I grinned as a response. We'd just made
it out of the food court when the unexpected happened.
"Detective," a familiar voice called from behind me. Nene and I turned
and what I saw made my jaw drop. Mitchell stood against a wall, looking
as if last night's adventure had been a trip to the home of 31 Flavors,
Baskin Robbins.
His presence was enough to make Nene let out a little shriek of
surprise and drop her reading material. The papers scattered across the
floor, and surprisingly enough Mitchell beat me in the race to pick up
the spooked girl's notes.
"I see I haven't lost my touch with women," he said, a little sadly.
"Here you go Ms. Romanova."
Nene took back her papers, looking as if a snake touched them. I was
still shocked at his appearance. This guy could barely limp off to
whatever cave he slept in last night, but today he looked like he could
run a fucking marathon.
"I've really got to get going," Nene stammered, taking her chance at
escape.
"Pleasure talking to you," Mitchell offered. If I hadn't known better,
I'd've sworn there was a shred of sincerity in his voice. "Nice girl,"
he added after she'd left earshot.
"What do you want, Mitchell?" I said, the Inspector's presence causing
my head to start throbbing again. "Some more cryptic carrots to dangle
in front of me?"
"I told you I'd tell you today. We've also got a plan to discuss."
I took a moment. "Want to talk here or at my office?" I asked.
"Office is better," he replied, a hand in his trench coat. I tensed
until I realized he was only taking a pack of cigarettes out. "Smoking
is all right here, isn't it?"
"Yeah, its Japan," I responded. "Follow me."
Mitchell was looking at me through a wisp of smoke as I sat behind my
desk. He'd taken the seat in front of me without waiting, leaving me to
step over the piles of paperwork and settle into my big pleathor chair.
He seemed to take the room in with a glance, not bothered by the mess or
clutter. Instead he looked at a picture of Jenna and me from my first
days in the ADP.
"Pretty girl," he said. "You date her?"
"Nope. Well, not really. We shacked up a couple of times though," I
added with a little pride. Jenna really was good looking, though the
chrome arm was a little intimidating. "I'm going to call Wong," I said,
picking the phone up.
"Don't bother. Detective Wong isn't quite ready to believe what I'm
telling him. After all, he did miss last night's show." Mitchell did
something surprising at this point. He sighed dejectedly. It was
astonishingly human.
"I don't generally keep secrets from my partners."
"But you didn't tell him about Starfall, did you?" Mitchell asked. If
he was gloating over my surprised expression, it didn't reach his face.
"Oh, I know all about Starfall, Detective. I analyzed the incident at my
old job."
"When you worked for the US government," I said, trying to get some
control of the situation.
"In a manner of speaking. The people I worked for were extremely
interested in the potential for truly self aware boomers, so much so
that I eventually ended up here to check on Genom."
"They made you a Tokyo Police Department Investigator for that?" I
asked. "Seems a little excessive when you could've just come for a
visit."
"In my line of work very little is excessive." He looked around again.
"I didn't expect to run into you on this case, but from the moment I saw
you at Akuto's place I realized you needed to stay on this. There's a
lot happening in Tokyo that my bosses are completely unaware of."
"Are you offering me a job?" I asked, completely baffled by this turn
of events.
"Yes. There are a lot of things I can't tell you unless you sign on."
The way he said it made me think he was going to burst into flames if he
let the slightest thing slip. Thinking back to last night, I wasn't
ready to dismiss that possibility.
"Look, Mitchell, I don't like you. I also know you're into some serious
shit, which I'd be much happier not knowing about. Thanks, I guess, but
no thanks." Nene's reaction to Mitchell scared me, and there was no way
I was going to end up scaring people like that. If nothing else, I have
enough trouble getting a date.
"I understand," Mitchell responded. "Believe me, I've thought about my
signing up a few times, and sometimes all the answers it gives me isn't
enough. Here," he said, passing a small card to me. It was blank except
a phone number. "If you ever reconsider, give them a call."
There was an uncomfortable pause then, and I'm convinced that all the
discomfort fell entirely on my shoulders. Mitchell looked exactly as he
had the first time I met him, looking at me with a glance that now had a
certain air of inhumanity about it. I swallowed, absently wishing I
stopped at the water cooler on the way in.
"Now, here's the deal: the research boomer is working for a cult group
that originally hails from a little town called Innsmouth, on the shore
of the Atlantic. This cult group has been active for several hundred
years, in various locations and forms. The people I work for have
opposed this cult for a very long time, and I've been working on busting
the cult up for the last ten years. I came here to investigate something
completely separate and this boomer starts rampaging around the city."
He paused again, looking at me. I was quiet, trying to hold any
expression off my face. I wasn't having too difficult of a time
accepting the story, as much of it resembled the story Wong was
stumbling across.
"I've figured out what I the boomer's been working on. Let me tell you
a little something about what its building: if finished it'll be far
more dangerous than your buddy from Starfall getting into Genom's
central computer. It'll be more dangerous than losing control of one of
the orbital defense platforms."
I was sitting behind my desk looking at a madman, I decided. "More
dangerous than a rouge defense platform?" This guy was talking like the
research boomer could create a weapon that could humble the massive
X-ray lasers holding position above Tokyo.
"Do you remember when your car exploded in front of that bookstore?"
Mitchell asked.
"Yes." He'd been watching us since we showed up at the scene, I
realized. A tribute to my detective skills, apparently.
"You do realize that the creature you faced was far from the finished
model. It was a couple of hours old and if we hadn't been there to
fatigue it, it might have stabilized and finished growing."
"Look Mitchell, I'm not going to argue with you over the danger
involved. I'm all for destroying the boomer, you don't need to convince
me." Or make me think you're even more fucked up than I already do, I
added to myself. "Tell me what this trap of yours is."
"The boomer is looking for the data it needs to finish these machines.
Its also looking for spare parts to build the thing. According to the
logs from the Shiny Happy Robot Emporium and the forensic data recovered
from the last couple of boomers it should be close to out of materiel to
build with."
"A sting operation on all the boomer shops in Mega Tokyo?" I asked. "Do
you realize the number of shops selling boomer parts or completes?"
"Three thousand six hundred and thirty five in the greater Sprawl area.
A further two hundred and six within easy travelling distance. Plus ten
warehouses run by various corporations that could possibly provide the
equipment necessary to construct the creatures."
"Exactly. How are we going to keep an eye on all of them?"
"We're not. Last night's attack is the key to setting a trap. I thought
the boomer had all the information it needed, but when it showed up at
the bookstore I realized it had to be missing some pieces. Pieces that I
have." Mitchell revealed a book that he had hidden in his long coat.
The book was small, perhaps fifteen centimeters by twenty, and bound in
dark leather. A curious face marked the front, not drawn or painted on,
but constructed from the leather of the cover itself. As soon as I
looked at the book I felt a chill fill the room, and I could've sworn
condensation formed on the inside of one of my windows. I didn't want to
check though.
"What's that?" I asked, managing to keep the sudden fear I felt out of
my voice.
"Our bait."
Mitchell left a few minutes later, apparently preparing for tonight's
mission. I stayed at my desk, resting my head on the pile of paperwork
some office lady dropped by a moment after the Inspector from Hell left.
My headache had reasserted itself as the most demanding element of my
day, allowing me to not think about Mitchell's proposition or the trap
we were planning.
I was just drifting towards some kind of sleep when Wong bounded
through the door, face alight with excitement. He had some of his books
in his hands, and was a little out of breath. He'd probably ran here
from his office, a floor above me. He was incredibly chipper for a man
that was knocked unconscious the night before; though he still had a
bandage wrapped around his head and a slightly glazed expression in his
eyes. I momentarily thought of calling first aid, just in case he had a
concussion.
"Leon," he said before he realized I was partially passed out on the
desk. "You okay?"
I groaned. Wong was the last person I wanted to see right now. Fuck,
there wasn't anyone I wanted to see right now.
"What do you want Wong?" I asked. I was sure I was going to regret not
playing dead.
"I think I found something really important out. Really, really
important." He was talking fast, like a kid who just found some really
cool comic book. "Those things we've been fighting, I found out what
they really are."
"Minions of a dark god no doubt," I half muttered.
"In a way, yes."
"Go away, Wong," I said, feeling my head about to split.
"Look at this, Leon." He held out one of the book, opened to a
dog-eared page. It showed a blob, vaguely humanoid in form, standing in
the center of a bunch of men in cloaks. I looked carefully at the
picture, noting the picture's similarities to the last boomer. It was,
according to the scale, around the length of a freight train.
"Shoggoth," I read from the caption. "Servants of the Elder Things." I
was quiet for a minute. "Fuck me."
Author's Notes:
Well, it took a while. I've actually gotten part of the next part
writeen. I'd like to take some time to thank my prereaders, especially
Stardragon, for theirr insightful comments on this part. Thanks for
reading
Jerico
fNorD