“Like I said: I can't comment on anything until we know more, Miss.”
While Officer Lorrie circled the area to maintain what confidentiality the scene still had left, Officer Hughes and Officer Cainhurn struggled to form their own explanations of what had occurred.
“Did you see the guy's stomach?”
Cainhurn scowled in disgust. “Nah, man, what makes you think I wanna look at that shit, Hughes?”
“I'm just sayin', it looks like someone really fucked him up in a fight—but who would get into a fight with that thing?” Hughes asked and nervously waved around his baton to hold back the coming crowd.
“Fuckin' gang crime is what this shit is; Zone D's become just like one of the Quadrants, man. No funding, no order…” He turned to look at his friend and displayed a more serious expression. “Less cops and way less patrols—they even cut my hours back again.” He breathed heavily. “Like I work some kind of part time college job.”
Officer Hughes sneered. “Ain't that some shit. But,” he smiled and winked, “the only way to go from here is up. Hey, we've been sticking out for this long.”
Instead of offering a response, Officer Cainhurn moved closer to Ekwueme's corpse and kneeled in order to inspect it further.
“Since when did we start getting cyborgs in the city?” he said above a murmur, “Is this from the military?”
Officer Hughes tried to stop him at first: “Ay, you can't get that close! We already called it in—and you can't touch evidence!”
“Not my fault they can't find time to check out a real crime scene. What, with all the computer games and coffee breaks they take. Shit.”
Officer Hughes slouched in defeat; he wasn't known for having a strong personality and seemed to go along with whatever arguments presented before him.
“You've got a point; detectives should've been here an hour ago, man! Tch.” Hughes smoked out of a small, metallic device shaped in the likeness of a pipe and looked away from his partner as he ruminated. “I mean, what do they expect us to tell these people… there's no way we could be this shorthanded.”
While the officers' attention was focused elsewhere, L had steadily waded through the crowd and into the scene so that he could view his old boss.
He wanted to see that it was real.
I didn't think a monster could be killed, L thought to himself upon viewing Ekwueme's form exposed as what it truly was: a horrid synthesis of blood, bone, and steel.
The same day some dick knocks us around, the boss turns up dead… no—he couldn't! Ekwueme didn't let nobody fuck with him; he's the only boss I know who could make Magellan nervous. Dude was cold as hell—plus he was like… half android.
“Hey! Stop right there!”
Officer Lorrie noticed L stepping in far too close and confronted him. He got in the boy's face and raised his voice in an overly fierce attempt to intimidate him. Lorrie was already flustered by dealing with such a large mob of people.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you're special? Comin' in past everybody else—that means you just fuckin' disobeyed an officer, kid!”
“Shit! I didn't disobey nobody!” L stared back at him with disgust. “What secrets ya'll got that we can't look at one of our one? I already know you think we're fuckin' lower than you anyways!”
Officer Lorrie shoved him. “I don't have time for some street kid to give me attitude right now.”
L didn't react but simply stood his ground. “Wait, what makes you think I'm 'street,' Officer? You discriminating based on my clothes, how I look?” L gazed at him in shock and shook his head in disbelief before continuing, “I'm too poor for your tastes, huh? It’s because I don’t dress like some yuppie.”
I'm sick of these fools thinking I'm some thug because I don't come from the lifestyle that they're used to.
“Why'd you assume I was some criminal when I walked up just now?”
“That's it” Lorrie responded angrily while glaring downward. “Go stand against the fucking wall.”
“What?! Why?”
Officer Lorrie grabbed L by his collar before slamming him against the outside of a closed antique shop.
L wasn't exactly a good fighter.
Lorrie positioned his face only a few inches from L's and bared his teeth in an aggressive grin. “Looks like we're gonna need some 'possible suspects' for this one, and right now you're the perfect candidate to take back to the office. Not just that, but you're also a good excuse to get the hell out of this goddamn place!”
Officer Lorrie spun him around while in the view of multiple cameras and began patting L down for anything he could confiscate as further evidence.
“Oh, what's this?” He retrieved L's bowie knife from a sheath strapped to his left leg. “So,” his smile echoed ill intent, “you didn't know that carrying a blade over .1016 meters in Zone D is enough for me to really fuck up your world? What did you need this for, anyways—you just another mobster running the streets?”
“Fuck you, pig,” L responded with his head turned.
Officer Lorrie reached into the young man's pocket to uncover a bag containing a little less than a gram of weed.
Lorrie smiled. “You just made my day, buddy; what's your name?”
“They,” L barely managed to utter, “they call me…”
“What, you stupid punk?! Spit it out.”
“Your wife's favourite Zone D.”
The Officer snorted. “Oh yeah, and why they call you that, huh?” Lorrie slapped cuffs tightly around the teenager’s wrists.
“Cuz she ain't been having yours!” L snickered.
“G-get in the fucking car, punk.” The beat cop responded by asking his colleagues to shield the public's view as he knocked L's head against the wall before pushing him toward his patrol cruiser.
“Hey Lorrie, what's up with this guy?” Officer Cainhurn shouted.
Lorrie opened the door to the back seat, hit L's head against the roof of the cruiser, and shoved him in before replying: “Punk wanted to mouth-off so I searched him—had a little bag of weed and a knife that's out of regs, so I'm about to book him for the night, fellas.”
“Ah hell no!” Hughes piped up. “You can't just leave off like that! –Let me take him in; I'm not finna stay here all night!”
Officer Lorrie laughed. “Find another potential suspect and maybe you can go home, too. As for now, one of you fools gets to cover crowd control while I'll be trying to find something else to do and taking credit for a solid bust.”
“It's not gonna be solid if one of those reporters writes down that you assaulted that motherfuckin' kid. I mean, he looks like he's barely outta grade school, Lorrie!” Cainhurn replied.
“Tch, it look like I give a damn right now.” Officer Lorrie gave the two of them a brief, blank stare before winking at them as he took to the driver's seat of the cruiser and hastily exited the scene.
Hughes sighed. “That just leaves us then… and we gotta get a handle on fifty motherfuckers tryna force their way through us just to get a peep.” Hughes placed his hands on his hips and frowned. “I swear, the day I work for a real department is the day Executive Tomas Gostra starts strippin' his clothes for cash.”
“Ay, partner,” Cainhurn put a hand on his shoulder. “Remember, buddy,” he smiled and winked, “I still love you. You can work for me any time you like.” Cainhurn broke out into laughter.
“Shut the hell up.” Hughes brushed him off and took Lorrie's prior place as designated crowd control.
A reporter started in on a question, and he responded with: “Just go home—w-we got this! Stuff's gonna be on the news anyways so let us do our jobs here. I really don't need any more questions at the moment—thank you.” He smiled fakely.
And while Officer Cainhurn stood looking through a series of texts on his Kom Cell from a random girl he'd met off a dating site and Hughes continued hopelessly stonewalling the crowd, a stranger emerged from the darkness outside of the scene.
Wra
pped in a somewhat eerie silence, he strolled quietly into the area while wearing the familiar, dark uniform worn by someone belonging to the Zone Police Department. An unknown entity but shouldering a power unlike any other, he made his way through the crowds, and something about his presence immediately caused the onlookers around him to immediately cease speaking and gaze at the stranger in perplexity.
He sported the rank of Major on his uniform, and his gait conveyed the walk of someone with incredibly swaggering confidence, someone with a type of strength untouched by time while bearing an unparalleled exuberance.
Officer Hughes spotted him as he smoothly shouldered a reporter out of his way. Almost instantly, the Officer's demeanor changed to that of an obedient subordinate. Hughes put his heels together, placed his open left palm at the small of his back, and rendered a salute with his other palm facing outward and tucked in close to his side. He bowed.
It was a mandated gesture of respect handed down from the traditions established by President Derek when he was a mercenary warlord; as such, its origins were rooted in a long-forgotten war god once heavily worshiped by the President himself before the beginning proper of the Dawn Federation.
“Sir,” Hughes invested too much effort in trying to appear obedient. “We've secured the area as regulations dictate! There was some commotion but nothing our small team couldn't handle—right, Officer Cainhurn?”
“Roger!” Cainhurn saluted and bowed as well.
The Major returned the gesture to both of them nonchalantly, his offered palm facing inward, and breathed rather spoke, “Relax, brothers.”
It felt as if a sense of serenity engulfed them, striking their consciousness in a wave. The stranger's hypnotic voice continued to swim throughout their thoughts; he binded them collectively and said: “Well, it looks like you cats got this covered, and I'm much appreciative—but, real quickly now, give me a picture of what's going on. Give me the rundown, ya dig?”
Hughes, surprised at the Major's mellow method of speaking and carrying himself, began with what he knew.
“Uh,” He stuttered for a moment. “Major. Sir, we got multiple witnesses saying they saw a man fall to his death! From what we've gathered, it looks like he was already battered and possibly thrown from the site—and we've got information that points to a violent pursuit that took place that's definitely linked to the murder of this Isaac Reaver and his son!” Hughes nervous excitement caused him to be quite short of breath. “We've questioned several of the witnesses already, Sir,” He smirked unconvincingly. “And we've already booked a possible suspect who we believe was involved, b-but as of now we're on standby for Zone homicide detectives.”
They done made this gig too easy for me.
The Major—whom the officer wasn't aware was only wearing the guise of a Major—simply smiled at Officer Hughes. “All right, my man, you done good. You mind if I go ahead and take a look at the victim myself?”
“Of course, Sir! You don't even gotta ask me.” Officer Hughes smiled nervously.
“Groovy.”
Very righteous.
The Major strolled past the two Zone Officers and began an investigation of his own.
This is one ambitious mo’fucker. The death toll this cat's incurred in such a short time…
Mild fear broke his train of thought.
A demon perhaps?
Ekwueme's corpse was, and this is putting it lightly, a grotesque conjunction of human organs with some odd, durable steel. The bullet he'd sustained to his throat remained lodged mostly within in the thick upper roof of his mouth; his decimated extremities were mere electronic fragments.
Ekwueme's lifeless eyes gazed toward the clouds. Patches of skin had been burned away and revealed charred metal soaked in blood as well as enlarged muscle tissue folded around sections of his combat-focused enhancements. The crime lord's other leg and nearly obliterated midsection were broken open to showcase mechanical wiring connected to organs that had amassed swarming families of flies over a period of hours.
The lifelong soldier was now a mere shell of his former self; a dark story that would remain untold as his name faded into the pages of history. To the Citadel, Ekwueme was just another dealer on the streets who'd become too ambitious for his own good—but what else is new? It's possible that he might have built a more memorable legacy had it not been for the intervention of Tavon. The Angelos assassin was strong, enough of a challenge that Ekwueme felt driven to fight Tavon himself.
Cat got sloppy.
Hmm… The stranger pondered, an aura of levelheadedness about him.
Isaac's death looked a little more smooth:
After stabbing him, the assassin somehow generated heat intense enough… to burn the evidence? Evidence he was even there and still had time to chase down Ekwueme. The stranger touched his thick beard in a thoughtful manner. Ten straights kills almost back-to-back. I've gotta admit this guy’s committed, and I can dig it… but this time he left DNA. I already swept up the remnants from the chase; the cops will follow a different route and get mixed up, but Ekwueme still has blood, skin, and hair fragments all over him. Damn damn, were it anybody else I'd have to leave 'em to deal, but this one's different; he shows a different kinda potential I ain't never seen before. Because of that, Imma cover him this time.
While the two officers struggled to appear busy before someone they believed to outrank them, the “Major” knelt down to attach a controlled explosive device onto the inside of Ekwueme's abdominal cavity.
He waited for a period lasting only for a brief few seconds before sprinting up to Officer Cainhurn and ordering, in a much more stern manner of speaking: “Establish a cordon right now. Push these people back.”
“Yes Sir! But why?”
“We've gotta unexploded ordnance on our hands, Officer!” the stranger responded.
Cainhurn's eyes grew wide as he fought to comprehend what had just been said.
“W-what?! What do you mean, Sir?!”
“Motherfucker, DID I st—” he relaxed, “now did I stutter? We need a team down here to disarm a bomb I found inside of the damn victim! MOVE!”
“Roger.” Cainhurn dashed to spread the information to Officer Hughes, who quickly freaked out in a similar fashion before turning to the crowd to scream: “Everybody get back!”
Cainhurn and Hughes took to directly opposite sides of the crime scene to begin removing barriers in order to push out the cordon radius further and simultaneously called up the sudden discovery on their communication systems.
In response, the crowds began to disperse in a mostly reckless panic and all but trampled each other in an attempt to escape as far away from the scene as possible. After the area markers had been removed, the two officers moved their cruisers far away from Ekwueme's body and set up a larger surrounding area while the stranger—who acted according to procedure—put down his own marker to identify the location of the bomb. The Major then walked ahead to stand by Hughes and instructed him as followed: “Make sure no one comes within less than two hundred feet of the victim, do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir!” Hughes replied without skipping a beat.
“I'm parked a few blocks down the street.” He shrugged. “Happened to be grabbing some coffee before I overheard what was going on here. I'm about to drive back to headquarters to ensure Zone D's department is doing their part to fix this bloody mess—and you'd best believe some fuckin' heads are gonna roll when I'm done with whoever overlooked this kind of shit happenin’! Sending a few cops to deal with a situation of this scale is some scandalous shit, my brothers, and I vow to fix this the only way I can!”
“Roger, Sir, we've got this covered! Godspeed, Sir!”
As the “Major” briskly made his way from the scene, he smirked to himself.
The poor fools are about to get the biggest scare of their lives.
Once he'd finally reached his own private cruiser, the stranger changed from the disguise into a simple sweater and pair of trousers before
retrieving a remote he'd designed and built for the occasion.
“Too bad I won't be around to watch the fireworks.” He pressed his thumb to the detonator.
In the background, a large explosion could be heard as it erupted with tremendous pressure. Ekwueme's corpse would be reduced to literal scrap metal; police attention towards Tavon's antics would lessen slightly, but not nearly enough to stop Tavon from walking the path Fate had already chosen for him.
Now, hopefully, he doesn't get himself in a bind like this again. The stranger sighed before driving off into the night.
The underdog will finally get what he wants; the man might as well be rewarded for being so persistent. He deserves an interview.
12
All The Way Around
WITHIN THE CITADEL, there was one individual attempting to guide the Federation into a different kind of future; a future entailing untold misfortune for many…
-
Executive Tomas Gostra of Zone D awoke in a cold, sparse room by himself. But there was something not quite right about this room. It was mostly empty, a spacious chamber with walls painted in a pale shade.
Hours earlier, he recalled sleeping next to his mistress after having another drawn out fight with his wife that very night. Dressed only in his maroon robe and a pair of black briefs, Tomas rubbed his eyes and slowly rose to prop himself against a bare, white wall.
Seemingly out of nowhere, “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” began playing at a volume high enough to thoroughly pierce the Executive's ears and forced him into the realization that there was something horrendously wrong with this place. He also remembered drinking heavily, but—
As the Executive searched nearby and fought back a rending headache, he noticed no visible door or exit and rapidly became confused. This confusion turned to a sudden fear, and he jumped to his feet so fast that he nearly tripped over himself as blood surged toward his head. Not so far away, he was surprised to view a barred window revealing a dimly lit exterior.
What the hell? Where am I right now?
Angelos Odyssey Page 21