The police had progressed tremendously since their inception in the Victorian era. Filing and paperwork were more organized digitally and people were more willing to use the files and increasingly chaotic forms because inputting became simpler.
Because papers were organized so neatly, people were managed and laws were enforced with a similar neatness.
Yet, in the puddles of poverty that lasted, even digital paper became soggy and even the ones and zeroes ran as the ink once did.
Nevertheless, superintendent Dawk was far from a puddle – he was in the centre of the organization. He could follow every paper trail and see anything. He was omnipotent and omniscient. All it took was the filing and approval of the correct form.
Form 0xacffb102490fe (a 'hexadecimal' id that made things simpler for the computers, he was told) was the form he would have to fill to have Hernandez get an undercover squad.
0xacffb102490fe, instance 0x00005, was the item his visor beamed to the undercover squad's office.
The office would reply with a 0xacffb102490ff with the approval and the team member's id numbers.
The reply took five minutes to arrive.
3 undercover detectives were being briefed and would have to find the location of the venue before leading Hernandez in.
Shadis was once a contracted security agent. The police then gave him a different contract – one where he would be training agents. He hated the job, preferring the field over the filing he ended up doing. His office showed this lack of care. There were neat, unorganized piles of papers everywhere. The printer and a computer were the only breaks in that. Even points on the floor were covered. The metallic desk he was at and the grey cabinet to his right were covered in unrelated stacks. But they were neat stacks.
"Leonhart, Hoover and Braun!" He called out across the office that morning, having read instance 0x00005.
The three, having experienced their commander's rage, stood crisply to attention at his door only a second and a half after his shriek. "Yes captain!" They returned the shout in unison.
"Prepare for briefing."
"At what time, sir?" Braun called out.
"Ten minutes. Dismissed." The three stiffly turned and left to their desks. Shadis sighed, happy that the recruits were not retarded, but annoyed that he would have to brief them – that required the preparation of a brief and that was paperwork.
He furiously compiled all the data he had and prepared a rushed brief for the threesome.
In that time, the ten minutes expired as well and the trio were outside the door. "Briefing room 1." He said curtly, collecting the print outs and following them to the boardroom-like office that was labelled "briefing room 1."
The briefing room was not intended to be welcoming. It was bare. It was a coffee table with six chairs – six plastic chairs. There was neither a screen nor a computer in the room – only the chairs, the table and the people.
Shadis dropped the paper onto the coffee table and each of the recruits picked up one. They quietly read the brief brief.
Mission:
1)Locate 'the basement' – an underground rave site supposedly run by Kenny's gang.
2)Infiltrate the above with detective Hernandez to locate Petra Ral and Levi Ackerman. Custody of Ral and Levi is Hernandez's prerogative.
"You can assume identities as you please." Shadis said as all three looked up. "I shall review them and give you clearance to leave."
"By when should this be done?"
"Fifteen minutes." Shadis glanced at the clock, noting that they would be at his office by 3 pm. "Also, the brief is tentative – you may be called in order to add to it."
"Yes sir." All three rose.
"Dismissed." The three left and Shadis sighed, returning to his paper jungle.
Hunters had it hard. Hunters hardly looked back, though they should have many times. Hunters were usually over-confident. Prey, on the other hand, had some advantages. As prey, victims could defend. They could hide. They could decide. They could see the hunter's first move. Hunters had to dive into murky waters while the prey, when smart enough, could be the murkiness.
That was Ralph's living – being intelligent prey. He preyed on the police, who preyed on him and his bosses.
Ralph was an old man, giving him an advantage over most younger officers. His square, wrinkled face looked impassive with or without his trademark sunglasses. His white hairs stood as if in fear of what machinations they heard from his cerebrum. He could have dominated a room to silence with his presence, but chose to skulk in the shadows, stalking the police.
At 3:15, he saw three teenagers leave a nondescript office building. His hover-car whirred on. These teenagers were already cross-checked by his visor and found to be undercover agents. He would learn of their mission in short order. Even on an empty street, these average hunters were no match for the intelligent prey.
From his visor he sent a brief message to his bosses: "If any of you have anything to cover, tell me. New London PD has dispatched three teenage undercover agents. I am following them." He attached pictures. The police were hopeless.
"Erwin has only one friend in that area." A technician said to the manager.
"Now you tell me?" The manager glared, hissing.
"Sorry, sir, we only pursued this avenue a few minutes ago."
"Find the friend."
"Yes sir."
"And make sure we learn where Erwin and Peter are."
"Will do, sir."
"Good." The technician exited the office, still amazed at the number of screens contained in the small room in the REEBS building. That was the building from which Levi and Petra escaped and the days the manager wished to forget began. They were continuing as the week was coming to a close and no new leads were made. The day after would be a Friday and then police help would drop.
The visor interrupted another of the manager's reveries. "Yes, Mr Reiss."
"I've unearthed something interesting."
"What would that be, sir?"
"This Levi we're after may just happen to be related to Kenny."
"The Kenny?"
"Yes. In fact, Levi may be that missing son."
"What?"
"And now, Kenny may have found his missing son."
"We must broker a deal then, I'm afraid."
"We can't."
"Why?"
"Ackermans never forget."
"Forget?"
"REEBS has had a long past."
The manager knew better than to pursue his line of questioning. "I understand sir, but short of declaring a war, I see little that we can do."
"Then we declare war."
"Against?"
"Kenny Ackerman."
"If you don't mind, I'd first like to see if my agent can infiltrate the rave site."
"Best of luck." Reiss returned shallowly.
"Thanks." The call ended. The manager was quick to update the team with the new plan. Hernandez and the undercover agents would pay Erwin's friend a visit and then find Levi – who the team still only knew as Levi the guinea pig, not Levi the gangster's son.
Any other chauffeur would have been trembling. Kenny knew this from experience. He knew that his presence carried an aura that scared people. He was not sure whether it was an intrinsic property or the weight of his name, but he did not like it much. It had been useful, but he preferred confidence in the men he trusted his life with.
This chauffeur, however, was experienced. And this chauffeur had spoken to Kenny and felt more comfortable around him as a result. It was nice. Kenny wondered why the universe was being nice to him.
Of course, things were hardly perfect. His son had racked up some baggage, he heard. He'd need to discuss this.
That aside, things would be fine. He did get to skip out on most of parenthood and found a decent son delivered straight to him. Maybe the son would not resort to crime. At best, the son would inherit the organization. Of course, there was the matter of the family secret, but it was a trifle.
That's when his visor was pinged with a call. "Yes Ralph." Kenny queried, already having informed the informant of his interest in the undercover police agents.
"The agents are after the basement."
"And?"
"They may get the address."
"How?"
"They know an attendant."
"Who?"
"Some Plixis, judging by their heading."
"How do you know?" Kenny knew that this much information about police missions was unusual – usually only agents and whereabouts were known and motives stayed hidden.
"I intercepted a call between them and somebody very special."
"A special somebody?"
"Some chap in the REEBS corps. A Mark Nager."
"What?"
"Turns out that they're after your Levi for some reason."
"Silence this Plixis."
"Forever?"
"Do what you have to."
"Alright. Once that's done, how would you like to handle the police?"
"What can you do?"
"At best, eliminate."
"Too extreme." Kenny pondered as the chauffeur approached Trost's main highway – the fastest way out of the Walls region. "Maybe get us the one who talked to Nager."
"That will be done." Ralph sighed after hanging up. Gangsters were too demanding. He had his job. He was already in the position to silence Plixis – he was there pre-emptively, in case Kenny was inaccessible. Gangsters loved initiative, so it would not have cost Ralph anything if he killed Plixis unnecessarily. Now killing was an option. But Ralph was more creative.
Meeting Hernandez was not hard for the three teenagers. What was hard was getting him to comply. Somehow this Hernandez already knew where to go. If he knew all this – more than anybody else in the police force – why didn't he just do everything himself? It would have saved time, risk and manpower.
Now, on a tube train to Stratford – where they would find Plixis – the foursome were looking at Plixis' bio-data. He seemed to be an ordinary old man. He had had a lot of potential until alcohol robbed him of it. He was on his own – unmarried and without children. He only had friends – a small group of fellow old men who all had potential in the older days, but lost it through some trick of time.
"I guess we could start off as interested teenagers." Bertholdt said.
"Of course." Reiner seconded.
"But you should probably stay out of it." Annie pointedly told Hernandez.
"I'll wait outside the building." Hernandez agreed passively.
The train slowed for Stratford station. They exited to a parking lot – one Hernandez was too familiar with thanks to the events of the day – and exited through the rightmost street in front of them.
The road was a residential one, much like most of the roads. It had houses on either side for what the undercover agents estimated to be 450 metres and then an apartment building stuck out. It was brick and of a faecal, brown hue. It was hardly taller than the neighbouring house, having only three floors. It looked like poverty, like a place the real estate agent would put at the bottom of the list and call "an option."
The closer the four got to it, the more apparent the decrepit state became.
By the time the four approached the door, they had given up on enjoying their sort stay. Annie glanced at Hernandez, reminding him to stay outside.
The door opened to a small, dark hall, lit by an ancient flickering tube light. There were nine rectangular boxes on the left wall, next to which a door revealed an office for the building manager. As expected, nobody was there. Flat 8 was on the third floor and that meant that the agents would have to use the staircase which was next to the empty office's door. The steps were creaky, as expected, and dust was everywhere.
After two flights of creaking, the three reached the second floor's landing. Flat 8 was in front of them. The three stood with Annie in the middle and a step away from the door – in perfect form according to training.
An old man in a suit and tie – ready to go to work, seemingly - opened the door. It was not Plixis. "Excuse me sir, we're looking for Mr. Plixis." Annie did not miss a beat.
"I am he." The old man said as naturally.
"You look nothing like you did in the pictures of my uncle Plixis." Annie whined.
"Sorry sweetie, your uncle has mental problems and can't remember everything all that well. It's all the drinking, you see. But I got a makeover recently – hence the different appearance." The man's tone elicited an unfathomable umbrage in Annie.
"I'm Ann." She sighed, masking her anger.
"Ann… Ann. Yes, I think I remember you. Where's your mom or dad? And who are these other people?"
"They're friends, uncle."
"And where are your parents?"
"I'm old enough to go out on my own, uncle!" Annie released some of her anger.
"Well, I had hoped to see them."
"Isn't your dad downstairs?" Bertholdt chipped in.
"He is?" The old man's face lit up.
Annie sighed. "I'll call him." Hernandez was quick to respond. "Dad! Uncle Plixis wants to see you. I told you he would!" Annie called into her visor.
Annie soon hung up. "Is he on his way?" The old man asked enthusiastically.
"Yes." Annie said.
"You see, they're all equal to me – your parent's generation. I was wondering if you could tell me which one was it that fathered you."
"Uncle! God! I thought you'd remember that. It's Harry."
"Harry! Right! I had the 'H' on my tongue."
Hernandez reached the door. "Harry!" The old man pulled Hernandez into a hug. Hernandez made little effort to hide his discomfort.
"Come on in. All of you!" The old man welcomed the four to his flat. "So, how can I help you?" He closed the door behind him.
"Mr. Plixis, you are under arrest." Annie menacingly said.
"Whatever for, Ann? Come on, you're not even a police officer." The old man whined, taking a few steps towards Annie.
"I'm not Ann." Annie showed her badge.
"Pity, since detective Hernandez has already been injected with pleasant nano-bots."
"What?" Came a surprised cry from the four police officers.
"Well, since you were so willing to give up your cover, I thought I'd do away with mine." Ralph matter-of-factly said. "Not that I'd have recommended it."
"But the nano-bots?" Hernandez said.
"Not exactly. More like a sleeping poison. You have two more minutes."
"I'm calling your bluff. Now where's Plixis?" Annie said.
"No point with the bluff." Ralph pulled out a small needle from under his sleeve. "It's why you avoid family-related lies: there are too many excuses to be made, especially, in this case, for physical contact."
"What do you want?" Annie growled.
"To protect my client since Hernandez and he have a personal connection that I've been paid to manage."
Hernandez moaned. "I don't." He gasped.
"Yes, you see – the effects of the drug." Hernandez moaned more and then dozed off.
"But he said he's-" Reiner began.
"Point is simple: leave." Ralph said.
"No." Annie refused. "Tell us where the basement rave site is."
"I can't and my client will not either."
"Because we all really believe that he hired you."
"The guy maybe a drunkard, but he's not stupid."
"Give us the address."
"8 Heather Court in Barking."
"Really?"
"That's for you to decide."
"Fine."
"And I'm keeping Hernandez."
"No."
"Give me a reason not to." Annie pulled out a switchblade. "I'll require more convincing." Reiner and Bertholdt joined her. "Not yet, unfortunately." Ralph pulled out a gun.
Annie sighed. "Fucking regulations." She withdrew her blade. "Keep the twat. We'll be back later."
"My client will be informed." Ralph paced to the door, still holding the gun. Opening the door, but keeping his weapon trained on Annie, he added: "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."
The trio exited. "I'm calling reinforcements." Annie said.
"He'll have run." Reiner commented.
Annie growled in frustration. "Criminals, I say. Fucking police. The law should grow a pair."
"Calm down. We'll have him at some point." Bertholdt said in an attempt to pacify Annie.
Ralph opened the bedroom door in the apartment. Plixis moaned from behind the tape on his mouth. He was tied to the bed and had passively heard the entire interaction. "Listen and listen well. I am not a fan of repeating myself." Ralph said. The moaning ceased.
"Good." Ralph tested his captive's silence. "Now, hear me. You and the unconscious detective are to come with me to a designated safe house. My clients will meet you there and you will probably get off lightly. I recommend against helping the detective – for your sake." Another pause. "Understood." Plixis nodded the affirmative. "I'll untie you fully when we get there." Ralph pulled out a knife, cutting the tape around Plixis' legs and arms.
Plixis was sat and handcuffed to the back seat of Ralph's car. The detective was soon to join him, though still unconscious. "I wonder what those idiot undercover people got up to." Ralph mused as he pulled off, noting their absence.
Reiss was not expecting a call. Then again, he never expected any of his calls. Then he saw who the caller was. "Mr. Ackerman." He tersely picked up.
"Mr. Reiss." Came a gravelly reply.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I was just wondering how that search was going for those pesky murderers."
"I left it up to the police."
"Intriguing."
"Did you want to make a contribution?"
"Not yet. It just struck me as strange since I would not kill a scientist or have them killed."
"Understandable. I believe we have the same respect for the sciences."
"Oddly enough. I was merely telling you that you have my full support."
"Is that all?"
"At the moment."
"Thank you."
"Please, Mr. Reiss, the pleasure's all mine." The line died. Kenny sighed and glanced out of the window, happy that he was rapidly approaching the distant lights of New London.
(This is my longest chapter yet!
I hope you all have liked every bit of this and I am very sorry for the 5-week hiatus.
All that aside, I hope you loved the new plot that chapter 10 introduced - it will be continued, don't worry!
Please review if you have any comments or desire any say in the fates of any of the characters.
Have fun!)