by T. C. Edge
“I do, sir,” said Ragan, cutting him short again. Wexley might have bristled were it not for Ragan’s next words. “I know where Chloe Phantom’s gone.”
“You do? Where?”
“No time to discuss now, Commander. I’ll update you momentarily. I’ll be coming up on the location in a moment.”
As Wexley began speaking, Ragan reached back up and shut his communicator off. He didn’t need the distraction right now. It was time to bag his trophy.
Setting into a pace, he followed the tattooed man’s directions, hurrying around the corner and down the lane. Immediately, the blinking sign of Ink-Alive began glowing above a door ahead, the entrance appearing unmanned.
Perfect.
Reaching into his inner left jacket pocket, Ragan drew out a sleek pistol, the latest design from the CID and undetectable by most scanning technology. It hadn’t been noticed at Sub-Tower 12, and he hadn’t even been patted down for arms.
Amateurs.
He held it secretively in his hand, the design small enough to remain mostly hidden to any possible onlookers, and flicked a small dial to turn it to non-lethal mode. He began slowing as he approached the door, wary of what might lie within. Any criminal using a tattoo parlour as a front for shady business was likely to have certain security measures in place, and it wasn’t necessarily smart to just go barging inside without due thought.
As he cooled his step, a bellow sounded from down the street behind him.
“Hey, you! You can’t go in there!” Ragan turned and saw the tattooed giant lumbering after him, panting hard under the strain. “Bruno,” he went on. “Bruno, stop that guy!”
Ragan turned his eyes in the direction of the man’s command. He seemed to be shouting to an ally. From across the street, another sizeable figure sprung to action, slipping away from a group of unsightly women ogling his tattoos. He appeared to be another security guard and ‘living billboard’.
For goodness sake, Ragan thought. This is the last thing I need.
He stopped at the entrance as the man called Bruno stepped towards him, inflating his chest as if to appear more intimidating. Unfortunately, Ragan was used to such behaviour, and far, far worse. These two were flies to him and nothing more, an irritant that needed to be dealt with swiftly and in the correct manner.
“Stop right there, you!” called Bruno, hurling his large body forward.
From the other direction, the first man was still hurrying. He piled towards them until he reached Bruno’s side.
“Who is this guy, Dale?” asked Bruno. “What’s going on?”
Ragan had little time to deal with these men, and didn’t want to cause a scene out here in public. He quickly concluded that his best bet would be to rush inside the parlour, have the men follow, and then deal with them in there.
In private
So, that’s precisely what he did. As the two men stood before him, Dale panting heavily and Bruno looking quite bewildered, Ragan spun on his heels and darted through the door. The bouncers, as expected, were quick to follow, grinding back into first gear and thundering forward.
“Oi!” wheezed Dale. “You can’t go in there!”
Ragan disagreed, pushing through the door of the tattoo parlour as a technician looked on quizzically, surprised by his sudden arrival.
“I suggest you leave,” growled Ragan to the man. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”
The technician, heavily tattooed himself, though rather more slight and weedy in appearance, disappeared into a back room. Ragan turned as Dale and Bruno bore down on him, the two men hurrying through the door and joining Ragan inside.
“I told you not to come in here,” boomed Dale. “You deaf or something!”
Ragan’s eyes worked from one man to the next. A smile hovered on his lips.
“Sorry about this, guys. I’ll leave no lasting damage, promise,” he said.
Dale and Bruno shared an indignant look, then began huffing loudly.
“Are you kidding, little man,” said Dale.
The smile on Ragan’s face must have been disconcerting. Or further rage-inducing, depending on the person. For Dale, it appeared to engender the latter, and he was the first to move, stamping forward and balling his thick fingers into a hammer of a fist. Bruno stood back, imagining that his friend would be sufficient to do the job.
He was wrong.
As Dale got closer, Ragan took his opportunity. His strike was like that of a snake, far too fast for an oversized oaf like Dale to see coming. With a slashing attack, his fist flew up from his side and connected firmly with Dale’s jaw, causing his eyes to juggle about in their sockets for a moment, before falling off to one side. The man’s great frame followed, crunching heavily to the deck with a loud thud.
Bruno stood back as his friend was toppled. Now, Ragan’s smile made plenty of sense.
“I don’t want any trouble,” said Bruno, raising his hands in defeat. “This is your beef with Dale, nothing to do with me…”
As he backed away towards the door, Ragan shook his head.
“Sorry, big man. I can’t have you leaving. Don’t want you calling the cavalry.”
Bruno began his protestations and promises that he’d let things lie, but didn’t get far. Ragan was upon him in the blink of an eye, dishing out a similar punishment. Fist met jaw, and body met floor.
And moments after Bruno’s oafish frame sank to the ground, sending a heavy tremble through the floor, a voice came from the door leading to the back.
“Agent Ragan Hunt, I presume?”
Ragan turned, lifting his gun on instinct, and pointed it right at the face of a spectacled man of modest proportions.
He knew immediately that it was the forger named Dax.
14
Chloe ran down the dimly lit passage, hoping that Dax would delay whoever was on her trail. The commotion above them in the parlour had held the familiar tone of a fight, the two heavy thuds those of large bodies hitting the floor. Chloe thought back to last night, and the two bouncers she’d encountered at the entrance.
No doubt, right now, it was Dale and Bruno lying unconscious above.
And, most likely, Agent Ragan Hunt had administered the beating.
She didn’t exactly want Dax having to deal with this situation, but he seemed adamant that he’d keep the intruder off Chloe’s trail. The more time he could give her, the better.
Hurrying through the short tunnel, she quickly came upon the ladder at the other end. She climbed right up, pushing open a trapdoor, and entered into the small, ground floor apartment that Dax had told her about. It was empty, hardly ever used, just another route from Dax’s basement office to use in emergencies.
This was certainly one.
Shutting the trapdoor, she looked for a way to block it off should anyone follow. There was no lock attached to it, the opening just fixed to hinges and hidden beneath a small carpet. She quickly scanned for something heavy, and saw a large cabinet by the wall. She gave herself a moment to try dragging it over, but found the sturdy pile of wood and shelving too heavy and awkward to be moved. Instead, she made the snap decision to reach to the top, and tip it over, the trapdoor being close enough to fall under its weight.
With a few shakes, it teetered on its edge, before gravity did the rest, hauling the large cabinet down to the wooden floor. Only when it hit did Chloe realise she might have made a grave mistake, the resulting noise far louder than she’d expected it to be, echoing off through the apartment and, probably, down the tunnel below.
Shit.
With the raincoat Dax had given her billowing in her wake, she paced swiftly down the corridor, heading for the exit. Reaching the front door, she twisted the handle, unlocking it from within, and stepped right out into the cluttered streets about a block from the tattoo parlour.
Her natural instincts had her looking left and right, searching for peacekeepers, soldiers, or grim looking men hidden among the crowd. She caught sight of the former, a little huddl
e of peacekeepers working their way from the south end of the street, scanning the people as they went.
Chloe turned her eyes north, wending her way up through the maze of alleys. She pulled off her cap as she went and tossed it to the floor, drawing the hood of her raincoat over her head as a replacement. Glancing to the sky, she noted the gathering blanket of dark clouds, and prayed for them to empty. During any chase, rain was a great aid, providing additional concealment and interference for those on her tail.
With Dax’s advice to head east fluttering about in her head, Chloe ventured in that direction, always careful to hunt for any peacekeepers as she went. Any time she saw them, she’d change course, forced to backtrack on occasion and find another route.
Stopping at the mouth of a narrow alley, linking two larger shop-lined lanes, she quickly drew the envelope Dax had given her from her bag, rummaging through the files to find her new documentation. The peacekeepers she’d seen appeared to be scanning suspicious looking girls of her proportions, age, and general look, checking their I.D.
Chloe took out her new identity card, listed with her new name of Felicity Randall.
Whether it would be enough to throw them off her scent she couldn’t be sure. Over the years, her face had so rarely been spotted, that people didn’t know exactly what she looked like anymore. Though she was much as she was when she was 16, before she went on the run, she’d managed to reshape her features ever-so-slightly, her nanobots capable of plumping her lips or cheeks, deepening her brows, and adding some blush to her complexion. They were minor adjustments, but enough to fool facial recognition if ever a good image of Chloe came out. After all that happened back at Sub-Tower 12, she felt pretty sure they’d now have a better idea of what she looked like.
If they caught her now, and scanned her new I.D., she wouldn’t be sure whether or not she’d pass the test. Overall, it would be best to avoid detection completely. Only when the dust settled would her new identity become usable, and right now, here in the heart of LA, it could only be considered a last resort.
Avoidance was best, therefore, and so she kept moving and kept alert. To facilitate things, she commanded Remus to slip from her pocket and maintain a vigil above her, hovering a dozen metres over her head and keeping a bird’s eye view upon the streets. Everything his sensors picked up were immediately relayed to her, giving her a view of the world ahead and behind, and some warning of anyone rushing her way.
Veering eastwards, she gradually began to escape the throbbing central districts, moving out of the shadows of the grand towers looming above her. It was a strange sensation, really, when you actually took the time to look up. The street at ground level was so hectic and busy, so full of vendors and shoppers, residents and refugees alike, the murky gloom peppered with colourful lights emanating from shop signs and advertising boards. Yet up above, it appeared quiet and still, the thick grey towers shooting skyward and disappearing into the low clouds. And below, Chloe could still feel that hum and rumble, her nanites picking up the throb of electricity spreading through the many earthscrapers hidden from sight.
It was a city unlike any other, a vast metropolis that dominated the earth and sky, every square mile so densely populated and cluttered with an ever-expanding throng. Within the space of a minute, Chloe saw more people than she had in months. And to her, no eyes were friendly. Any stranger could become an enemy.
So on she went, fighting her way east, gradually putting the most packed provinces of the city behind her. The towers grew smaller, and streets quieter, the eastern districts less popular among the people for their proximity to the dangers beyond the mountains .
The people here, no matter what the government told them about the impregnability of the city, always seemed to choose to reside closer to the clotted core, the eastern areas providing a buffer should the war spread this way. They gathered in their swarms, seeking work and the safety of their numbers, and all the while these outer suburbs began to grow quiet, a strange tranquility settling here when compared to those to the west.
It suited Chloe just fine, though she would never let down her guard. Moving east, she came upon wider roads working through old tenement blocks, dotted with overgrown parklands long since untended. The sight of lights dotting the blocks told her that life went on around here, and she imagined that, perhaps, the area would fill up come evening when those working towards the centre returned home.
The sight of roadblocks then began to appear, the net surrounding the outskirts of the city tightly bound and watched. The peacekeepers and WSA soldiers grew more prolific in their numbers, though perhaps only because they were now more visible without the masses to muddle them up.
Most major roads appeared to be blocked off, any passing vehicle searched, though smaller passages were left unattended, the city not having the manpower to cover all routes. Chloe had banked on just that, and knew that with some time, patience, and reconnaissance work from Remus, she’d be able to find a break in the cordon and slip right through.
As she silently slipped closer towards the distant extremities of the city, she began stopping occasionally to search ahead, and behind. Remus, ever active, now took in a wider span, rising higher and activating his cloaking tech to ensure he remained hidden. The outer surface of the many thousands of bots that made up his structure turned reflective, mimicking the environment around him and concealing him from sight.
With the clouds above thickening and churning, and ever threatening to spill, Remus disappeared into the darkness, his reflective surface taking on the hue of dark grey and black. Feeding the information straight to Chloe, he continually instructed her movement, showing her just where to go and when, moving down lanes and through derelict buildings in a bid to stay out of sight.
As it was, the edges of LA still held plenty of places to hide. Yet beyond, the world grew more open and sparse, her presence harder to conceal. She yearned for a vehicle to use to speed away, yet knew that she’d be forced through the larger roads leaving the city limits if she was to turn to the wheel. That would require going through a checkpoint, and doing so would be folly.
She needed to stay on foot. It was the only way to slip through one of the smaller cracks. Then, heading out beyond the city, she’d have to avoid the eyes in the sky, the many aerial drones keeping watch from above. Slip beyond their sight, find a quiet road in the rugged hills to the east, and take possession of a car. She could then use it to seek a more permanent safety, putting some distance between herself and LA under the cover of dark.
It was the only plan she had, and one that made her every nerve tingle. Though weary of it all, the thrill of the chase was spreading through her blood, drawing along a swell of adrenaline with it. And with that adrenaline came a renewed focus, her nanites once again beginning to work up to full capacity. She was ready for whoever might come her way. Fight or flight. She was prepared for both.
The onset of darkness, coming far sooner than expected, was a boon. A great advantage to her cause. As the skies continued to gather into a heavy blanket of gloom above, Chloe knew that it would make spotting her harder. Beyond the veil of the city, she’d find it easier escaping the sight of any errant soldiers still on the hunt. Now, she just had to get through the cordon.
Stopping once more within an old tenement block, she waited for Remus to scan the world ahead and configure a forward route. Hovering above the building, she could see it all from his perspective - the network of streets ahead, the roads and blockades, even the shapes of drones, hovering as Remus was across the skies. They moved about of their own accord, sweeping the lands for undesirables entering the city from abroad. Mostly, their remit was to look out, and spot those coming in. Right now, their focus was probably the opposite.
With Remus’ ability to spot them, and track their patterns of movement, however, Chloe could remain out of their line of sight. Once again, her little nanobot buddy had proven his worth. Without him, Chloe would have been caught a dozen times before. With
out him, she’d be lost.
“OK buddy,” she whispered as she stood hidden at the entrance of that deserted apartment block. “Keep it up. You’re doing a great job.”
One might call her mad for speaking to him. Really, he was just linked to her nanobots, and she could command him via thought alone. Yet, he’d adopted his own personality, perhaps taking some of hers for his own. The playfulness and energy, the spark she once had as a child. Now, those characteristics resided in Remus. They certainly didn’t belong in her anymore.
She wasn’t sure whether it was just her, anthropomorphising this machine, or whether it was a purposeful design of her father, making sure Remus could act as more than just an extension of Chloe, but a friend too. Often, she’s find the little guy forming into different shapes to amuse her when they were out on the lonely road. He’d take the shape of her favourite animals, trying to mimic their behaviour. He’d even once spread out, shaping himself into her father’s face, drawing his lips up into a smile and dropping an eye into a wink.
It was, perhaps, just something Chloe was doing herself. Maybe she was subconsciously commanding him to take such forms, to entertain or comfort her when she needed it the most. Or maybe it was some programming in him, to do it of his own accord, to be the companion Chloe’s dad feared, perhaps, that she might one day need.
Really, the truth was that Chloe didn’t know anymore. Either way, she was grateful. Remus saved her life, and kept her safe. But more than that, he kept her from being alone.
So, she’d speak to him as a friend, as someone might their dog or child. He had an innocence to Chloe, reflecting what she once was. He was ever a reminder of the past.
“OK, buddy,” she continued, “looks like we’ve got a good route east. Come on back down here…”
As she spoke, and Remus began descending from the skies above, she felt a sudden fear. It bristled inside her, a preternatural sense of impending danger picked up by Remus’ sensors and immediately interfacing with the nanites in Chloe’s blood.