2:13 pm Initiate manual Black Box Recording
Thomas Ken, age 47, alias: Tom Tom. CEO of the Brass Moth company.
To the Uppercity, his company leads the medical research field, finding ways to improve the lives of the citizens with a new serum or a miracle pill. To the Lowercity, his company logo is branded on every bottle of brilliance sold and he assures them that his amber liquid is perfectly safe and 100% synthetic.
Synthetic brilliance would cost almost as much as catalyst, according to the price he charges in the lowercity, it is definitely not synthetic. More expensive than the street "organic eye oil", but far too cheap to live up to his claims. No one is willing to go through the trouble of investigating; I would have never looked into it, there was nothing to gain in such an endeavor.
But her.
The drug itself is legal, it is the harvesting of it that is against the law. Whoever wrote this legislation must have been coerced in some way. Such an obvious loophole, pathetic really.
Three long months of compiling evidence, bargaining with courts, scraping together every resource I could. All for this one cause, something that could destroy my reputation if we lose. All of this, because it is important.
To her.
In one weeks time, four squads of officers, two units of special ops, air support from six zeppelins on a single raid of the Brass Moth main facility in the Lowercity. Three squads will press from the front while the one of special ops units will infiltrate through the sewers. A squad and a unit with drop from the zeppelins above.
This is how it will go
There will be at least 20 casualties on both sides, the forces have been informed of this and they stand ready. Goodbyes are being said, half-hearted bets are being made. Last moments shared.
They had personally volunteered for the mission.
There are some good men and women left in the Uppercity.
All the case files are neatly organized in manila folders with brightly colored tabs pasted on each of them. In her hand sits a folder with a green tab that she has been staring at it for 10 minutes, not reading, simply staring. It is the folder holding papers on Tom's connection with the Zaun, particularly his undocumented donations to the Emerald Chasm Orphanage.
The place where she escaped from.
Her shoulders are tense, nostrils slightly flared. The bridge of her nose wrinkle while her brows are drawn down. She is uncomfortable, obviously, but why?
The folder is almost slammed onto the table, her hands shake. It is not anger, no, if it were her lips would be turned down, her eyes would lean ever so slightly to the left. A deep breath, she runs her hand through her hair. She is gathering her nerves. Perhaps she wants to tell me something, confide? Confess?
"Cupcake," She mutters it so nervously, so quietly like a child. She doesn't trust herself, or does she not trust me?
Eyes dart down and back up, a low hum comes from the back of her throat. Ah, she is trying to say words she have not yet formulated in her head. Always leaping in before looking.
Adorable
Smile softly, comfort her, show her patience. I am here for her, for as long as it takes. Bring her close, hold her. She stiffens at first, surprised, but then relaxes into my embrace. Her hands no longer shake, instead they clutch onto my arm as her brain works and works at whatever is troubling her.
Think, a case regarding a man with heavy connections to both brilliance and the testing facility. No doubt brings back terrible memories, she has already told me this. What else does she want to tell me? Something personal...She never said she stopped using brilliance, never confessed. But I know already.
Pause
Usually at this point a voice would chime in, a voice that even I could mistake as my own.
The black box would have told me to tell her that I know she does brilliance, that I have know all this time. It is logical, a calculation made by machine; to comfort her with the concept that I have always known and I still accept her. She will not react too kindly to this, it is not...human.
A compassionate response would have me wait until she tells me herself. To play the ignorant part and give her the sense of control over the secret. It is an exchange of trust, the concept is an odd one, but it is what she needs.
Ease into it.
"Something is bothering you Vi."
Cogs, it sounds more like a statement than a question.
"I…"
Tell me
"Fuck Cait, I don't know how to put this."
Trust me
"You know I used to do this stuff back at the orphanage. Well, I never really stopped."
She avoids eye contact, ashamed, fearful to see my response. A pang of disappointment that she didn't tell me sooner. It is not her fault, it is not my fault. Calm, no one is to blame, trust comes slowly.
Kiss on the forehead, lift her chin, look into her eyes and assure her that I am here for her.
Pause
Her eyes are not glowing
no scent of sunflowers
How could I overlooked it?
Eyes full of vulnerability. Fear. Tears.
A hand wraps around my own, she nuzzles into both of them.
"I kicked the habit ever since you opened up this case. Cait, I know how much you are risking for this mission, everyone's against you, fuck it took you two months to find a judge to even consider the case. You spent so many resources, it reminds me of the first time we met."
Recall
What I told her that day.
"Why? Why me, all this shit for a single person?"
"You're an anomaly, Ms. Vi. I've been watching you, no doubt you've noticed. You have very little to give other than kindness and the services you provide with your gauntlets. You risk your life for the people of the lowercity more times than anyone I've seen on my police force. You punish the criminals, albeit harshly, and care for the victims, there is no fame, no reward that you do this for; nothing but the satisfaction of helping others.
A decent human being
"I don't know if you're doing it for yourself, for the lowercity, or, logic forbid, for someone like me. I know I should've told you sooner but…"
But what?
No, it is not important.
Slow down
Kiss on the lips, do not judge. Whatever the reason, it is her own. She doesn't tell me.
"So where does this put us?" So adorable, like a lost puppy.
She doesn't know how I will react, she most likely expects the worst; for me to reject her, throw her out. That's all she knows of uppercity folk, but she should know more about me. Humour is her song.
"It puts us in a situation where I, as your girlfriend, forgive you for keeping this secret." A smile, she responds well, the relief she feels shows. "And as your boss."
She stiffens, a smirk of my own.
"I say we put this man behind bars and clean up the streets of the Lowercity."
Strong arms envelope me, a warm face presses into my chest. She is crying, my heart aches for some reason I do not understand. Out of pity, awkwardness, compassion? The feeling is new and different.
Lips move against my skin. A whisper, a vow.
"I love you."
A promise
"I love you too."
2:39pm End manual Black box recording.