by T. C. Edge
He’d even managed it, to some degree, with the least trusting girl in the world.
The men turned as Dax came forward, dressed in his dark suit and with a pair of glasses nestled upon his nose. They were an odd affectation too. Glasses were a fashion choice and little more these days. No one with any money had any real use for them, given how cheap, easy, and effective it was to correct any ocular problems. But, they did make Dax appear smarter. That was, perhaps, something that had always been the case, and always would be.
As he ventured forward, the men turned and lowered their heads.
“Sorry, boss. Just teasing the girl. She ain’t got no business here.”
Dax smiled at Chloe, who couldn’t help but smile back.
“Actually, she has very important business here,” he said. He looked to his guards. “And you two are lucky you didn’t go beyond teasing.”
The men didn’t quite know what to make of it. They looked at Chloe again with fresh pairs of eyes, as Dax reached out and gestured her forward. Chloe left a snarl on her face for the mens’ benefit, before replacing it with a bristling look of relief as soon as the door was shut, and she and Dax stood alone.
“I’m sorry about this,” she breathed out when she thought it was safe. “I thought I’d got the wrong place for a second there.”
Dax laid his hands on her shoulders.
“Not at all. You’re just where you need to be. Now, Chloe, come with me.”
Chloe and Dax sat at a table in his office, a floor down from the parlour that was, as Chloe had imagined, nothing but a front. Having spent three months below ground, she didn’t expect to be back in a basement so soon. She found it oddly comforting being shut off once more from the outside world.
The office was a place of electronics and modern tech, with the table they sat at one of the few pieces of furniture within. There were monitors everywhere, devices to track and hack and steal information. It seemed that Dax was quite aware of Chloe’s new predicament, having quickly gotten wind of the situation over in Sub-Level 12.
When Chloe showed some surprise at the fact, Dax merely shrugged it off nonchalantly.
“My currency is information, Chloe,” he said. “And the value goes down the more readily available that information is.”
In this case, it was extremely valuable information. Around here, Chloe’s capture was actually worth more than over in the Northern Democratic States. There, the reward was a cool ten million. Here, it was fifteen.
Chloe didn’t know that until Dax informed her. She looked at him with a sudden worry, and the basement office took on the feel of a cell.
“You’re not going to tell anyone…”
As she started, Dax swiftly shut her off. With a wave of his hand he attempted to put her concerns to rest.
“Fear not, young lady. I won’t be giving you up today,” he said with a smirk. “This place might not look much, but fifteen million isn’t a great deal to me.”
“Still,” murmured Chloe. “You could…”
“I could, yes,” nodded Dax. “But I won’t. And I can see you’re wondering just why? Well, it’s simply, really.” He smiled brightly, his teeth neat and tidy and overly white. “I enjoy the game too much. I have no love for the government, whether here or elsewhere. I would never take a reward from the likes of them.”
“But what about others? I’ve had bounty hunters try to catch me before who worked for private tech companies.”
Dax raised his eyes.
“They revealed their employers identities willingly?”
“Well, not willingly,” smirked Chloe with a devilish grin, her fingers crackling blue. “In any case, you could take me to one of them if you wanted.”
“Not so, Miss Phantom. There’s more to the puzzle than that. Suffice it to say, I greatly admired your father and the magical webs he spun. To this day, I still hardly believe the things you can do.” He looked at her fingers, still fizzing, and shook his head. “Remarkable,” he whispered. Then he righted himself, and took a breath. “Your father was a great man, and I won’t go giving up his daughter. I know you have trust issues, Chloe, but I would never betray you. I may be a criminal, yes, but I have my code of conduct. I will help you whenever you need me. That is a promise.”
Chloe, though her heart had calcified through her years of difficulty, was rather touched. She blinked away a gathering drip of dew and coughed away her discomfort.
“Thank you, Dax,” she said. “I just wish you had some answers for me.”
They’d spoken of it before, of course - the very reason why Chloe was being so mercilessly tracked. Dax, though a purveyor of secrets, hadn’t yet been able to unravel that one. Any bounty hunter or tracker sent after her never knew exactly why they were given the task. Their remit was purely to bring her in, and to do so alive. That part was always paramount.
The conclusion Dax had drawn was the same as Chloe’s. He believed that Chloe had information they wanted, information that would be lost to the grave if she were killed. It was the only real explanation, although Chloe’s suggestion that the tech in her body was what they were after was also a possibility.
Dax had had the same reservations on that issue.
“Your father wouldn’t do that,” he’d once said, as if he’d known him personally. “He adored you, didn’t he? Why would he put the nanobots in you if you were only to be hunted for it?”
Chloe couldn’t figure it out either.
“And,” Dax had added, “depending on how you died, the nanites could still be harvested from your body post-mortem. So, there would be no sense in so desperately trying to take you in alive, if dead would be easier.”
It was true, though only partially. Neither truly knew the extent of the tech in Chloe’s blood, and unfortunately Dax didn’t have the capability to do any investigating of his own. There were procedures that might yield answers, but all were controlled by powerful forces. Forces that wanted Chloe for their own.
In the end, Dax had little to offer but his support, and the iron-clad identities he fashioned for her. He was a forger and hacker of great skill, and had, like Remus, saved her skin more times than she could probably count. He could turn her into someone brand new overnight, and let her slip under the radar for a time. Eventually, her true identity would be discovered, of course, but without him, she’d have been lost.
And so, yes, he really did deserve her trust.
The topic as they sat at that table was, therefore, the same as always.
“So, let me see,” said Dax, massaging his chin in thought. “Ah, yes. Layla Trayfoot. That was the identity I set up for you last time, yes?”
“Yeah,” nodded Chloe. “And a good one too. Got me a job, a box apartment, everything. I almost felt like a normal person for once.”
“Ah, Chloe, you’re far from normal,” smiled Dax warmly. “And nor should you be. I don’t believe you should be wasting your life hiding away in the shadows.”
“Dax, we’ve been through this before.”
“I know we have, but I stand by it each time. The covers I provide never last long, Chloe. The blankets are always torn off eventually, exposing you to the cold, harsh world. But you don’t have to keep running and hiding. There’s a place for you here, if you want it.”
The offer came each time, one that kept Chloe on guard. It seemed selfless, a promise to take her in, give her sanctuary, help her find the answers she was looking for. But, there was a caveat, and Chloe always had the niggling doubt that Dax wanted to use her power, take advantage of what she could do. Perhaps even study her for his own ends, or else lure her into a false sense of security, and then give her up as he’d promised never to do.
Such was Chloe’s inability to trust anyone, that no matter how unlikely or ridiculous, she gave such weight to her negative thoughts. Dax had shown himself to never be anything but loyal and helpful, often going out of his way to offer her aid. And yet, still, she couldn’t accept his offer, so tempting as h
e made it sound. She preferred to return to the road, to her life alone, rather than handing the keys to her fate to anyone but herself.
So, she closed up as the offer came again, pursing her lips and looking away. Dax was used to that by now. He merely smiled warmly and pressed on with the conversation, sparing Chloe the awkwardness of lingering on the topic any longer.
“Right,” he said, “so it’s a new identity then? Obviously, you can stay here tonight while I sort it out for you. There’s a bed in the back that’s free if you want to catch some rest. There’s food and water too, or something stronger if you need it.”
Chloe felt guilty as he spoke. Her head dipped.
“You’re too nice to me, Dax. I don’t deserve it.”
“Sure you do, doll. You’re the last Phantom. You deserve some support out there.”
He stood and moved to a cabinet, opened a drawer, and pulled out a bottle of something brown.
“If I’m going to be up all night, I need some sustenance,” he winked, pouring a glass. “Fancy some?”
Chloe shook her head.
“Best not. But, thanks for the offer.”
Dax took a swig, coughing a little as the liquid worked down his neck.
“It’s strong,” he wheezed. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”
He looked in some discomfort.
“I’m sure,” remarked Chloe.
“Right, so any preferences, then?” asked Dax, moving to a counter and taking hold of a tablet shaped electronic device. He returned to the table and placed the device down, tapping a button. A holographic image of Chloe rose from the screen, rotating slowly. “So, hair?”
Chloe looked at the image of herself, looking as she did right now. Shoulder length black hair, sparkling blue eyes, a punky sort of appearance with her gloves and jacket, cap and jeans.
“Any change of colour?” went on Dax. “Shorter or longer?”
Chloe shrugged.
“I kinda like the black. It’s my natural colour.”
“I think you’re a fetching blonde,” returned Dax. “Best change it…”
Chloe shook her head.
“Not this time. I’m sticking with it.”
“Suit yourself,” said Dax, raising his brows. “And length?”
“I’ll alter it a bit,” said Chloe. “But generally the same.”
“Sure.” Dax was tapping away at the tablet, logging the details. Anything he changed caused an immediate alteration to the image, the hair shortening and then growing longer as he settled on something that felt right. “How about eye colour? I’ve got some new scan-blocking lenses you can have. Green, hazel, brown, other shades of blue? Any preference?”
“Just gimme blue eyes in the I.D. Dax. I’m gonna keep pretty much the same look this time.”
Dax stopped, withdrawing his fingers from the tablet.
“You sure that’s sensible? The search for you is going to heat up again now, for a little bit at least. You want my advice? I’d say change your hair and eyes completely. Different clothes. Get some surgery done to reshape your face. The works.”
“It won’t keep me hidden for long, whatever I do,” said Chloe, feeling a wave of hopelessness spread through her. “I’m done looking in the mirror and seeing someone I don’t recognise. I can do enough to hide from facial scanners. That’s plenty.”
Dax looked at Chloe with a measure of pity.
“I understand,” he whispered. “You want to stay ‘you’. I get it.” He returned his hands to the tablet. “Look, why don’t you get some rest. I’ll figure you out a name, backstory, and everything else, and get you set up on the systems. You look spent. Leave this with me, OK. I’ve got my trusty friend here to see me through the night.”
He tenderly tapped the bottle of liquor to his side, and drew his glass back to his lips, taking another cough-inducing sip. Chloe smiled, and nodded, wishing suddenly for the peace of her own company. Solitude had become her natural state of being. She realised, at that moment, that she hadn’t spent this much time with someone for a long, long while.
Other than Remus, of course.
Standing, she looked down into her pocket, and her little nanobot drone came flying out into the open. He hovered before her eyes, then flew a little closer to Dax.
“Ah, hey little guy,” smiled Dax. “You been keeping yourself out of trouble?”
Remus spun around a few times like an excited puppy, before fizzing off back towards Chloe.
“You know us,” she said. “Trouble finds us wherever we go.”
She said it lightly, but her words carried a dark undertone.
Dax nodded silently. And as Remus settled upon Chloe’s shoulder, forming himself into the shape of a little bird, she turned and wandered into the back, seeking a bed, silence, and a few short hours of solace.
10
Ragan Hunt was a man who was used to the shadows. He lived and breathed them, and felt comfortable in their close embrace. He was used to adopting false names and operating off the grid. Working undercover, and behind enemy lines, was no strange thing for a man like him.
Right now, he was standing in the early morning light of the industrial district of southern Los Angeles, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and charcoal grey tie. It was an outfit provided by Doc, the CID’s resident ‘fixer’, to go right along with the temporary identity he’d received.
Today, Ragan was playing a role far removed from the real one he adopted. In real life, he was an intelligence agent, spy, and tracker. Today, he remained an agent, though in a rather different capacity.
He smiled at the thought as he faced the domed entrance into Sub-Tower 12, looking upon the various investigators and peacekeepers in the area. He was here in the guise of an insurance agent, representing the company who insured the industrial sub-towers in the area. After an incident like the one with Chloe Phantom last night, security would need to be inspected, and insurers would always stick their noses in.
The cover was ideal, and Doc had assured Ragan that his would get him through the door. Naturally, Ragan trusted the man. He was, after all, a master of his craft.
After setting off last night, Ragan had taken several hours to get here, travelling via jet first before being transferred to a less conspicuous form of transportation as he neared the city. The CID’s pockets were deep, and their technology advanced enough to ensure Ragan’s appearance in LA went undetected. Now, on the ground, he was adopting an official stance, and had little time to waste.
Given the time difference between New York and LA, he’d managed to beat the rush. Word from HQ was that the investigation had already begun, and that the trackers for the WSA would already be working hard to hunt Chloe Phantom down. Ragan, therefore, had little time to waste. He needed to get in and out without delay or hindrance, find what he could, and move on.
If her past was anything to go by, Chloe would be a ghost again soon enough. Whenever she materialised, she would disappear just as quick. They had a window, and a short one only, to catch her scent.
Striding through the smoggy sector, Ragan worked swiftly up towards the grouping of security personnel outside the entrance to the sub-tower. As expected, several caught sight of him, one of whom was swift to lift a palm and ask him to stop.
“Sorry, sir, this building is cordoned off pending an invest…”
“An investigation into the reappearance and possible whereabouts of Chloe Phantom,” said Ragan. “Yes, soldier, I’m fully aware of the situation, and that’s just why I’m here. I represent Marshall and Blake Insurance, and am here to conduct my own investigation.”
As Ragan rattled off his script, he lifted a small identification card and casually handed it to the soldier. The man glanced at it, but appeared quickly won over by Ragan’s confidence and authority.
“Right, yes of course. Sorry. Please, speak to security inside the building. They’ll show you where to go and code you in.”
Ragan nodded sharply and continued on, passin
g through the open doors of the building and entering into the lobby he’d seen only hours before on the security hologram.
So, you were here last night, where you Chloe? he thought to himself, scanning around the hall.
“Sir. Excuse me, sir…”
Ragan’s attention was interrupted as he conducted his initial inspection of the vestibule. He turned to the front desk, just to the left of the entrance, and found a couple more guards manning it. Throughout the lobby, people were taking pictures and samples, conducting interviews and performing other checks.
The shitstorm Chloe Phantom could cause…
Ragan turned to the desk, and immediately walked over, his identification card already aloft.
“I’m here with Marshall and Blake,” he said swiftly. “I’ve been informed I have full clearance to enter the building and conduct my investigation.”
On this occasion, the guard took closer note of the I.D. card, scanning it and taking steps to confirm Ragan’s identity. The card had a photograph, quickly taken by Doc the previous night, a unique reference code, and other details. The name was not, of course, Ragan Hunt, but Ragan Smith.
After a couple of moments, the guard handed the card back.
“Thank you, Mr Smith. The building is yours. Miss Phantom’s box apartment was on sub-level 39, room 48. There may be a short wait to enter, given the interest. The apartments here aren’t exactly large, and can only accommodate one investigator at a time.”
Perfect, thought Ragan.
“And this, um, Matthew Lindon,” he said. “I was told he was the man who spotted Miss Phantom last night, precipitating all this trouble.”
“Correct, sir.”
“Is he here?”
“He is. He’s been conducting interviews for some time, both with investigators and the press. The same is true of the other guards and soldiers involved in the altercation, and residents here who knew Miss Phantom.”
Knew her? No, they knew nothing, thought Ragan. She wasn’t one for getting friendly with strangers.