A few days before...
The loud man paced across his office, his notes shaking in agitation. Ninja watched as he tried to soothe his indignation enough to tell her what was going on.
She could have found out by simply reading his thoughts, but his head was a cluttered place, filled with stone bricks and old-timey bells and briefcases. Besides, she always enjoyed the interactions that accompanied his voluminous lectures.
He stopped abruptly. “The kidnapper has fled the country,” he blustered, “and he’s taken the kids with him.”
Ninja clenched her fists. If she had known that, she might have been more willing to search her briefer’s mind to find out quicker what she could do about it. Three months prior, over half of the children from the San Tanoga orphanage had disappeared. Ninja had graduated from the orphanage two whole years ago, and though her experience there had been less than ideal, she still felt an obligation to help those kids. “Do we have any idea where he’s gone?”
“Minnesota.”
“What? That’s not out of the country! It’s here in the States!”
“Oh, no, not that Minnesota. Minnesota, Wales. We were able to trace him there because of the size of his party, though at the time, the transit officials seemed to think he was just leading a field trip.”
“Do we at least have an ID yet?”
“No,” the loud man growled. “He used an alias.”
“Pickled pinto beans,” Ninja breathed. “So what do I do?”
“We have arranged for a Welsh agent to meet you there to help you pick up the trail. Find the kidnapper, and make sure he is extradited back here.”
“Are you sure we want him in an American prison system? We’re pretty soft over here.”
The loud man squinted at her. “I’ll get back to you about that.”
Back in Minnesota (Wales)... SAOTJSOGB HQ
“So do you have any idea where he could be hiding,” Ninja asked, “Or whether he’s still around?”
“Unfortunately, no. But I know who we need to ask to at least find a trail to your guy”
“Alright. Meanwhile, let’s put out an alert for any large, travelling parties. Identities need to be verified, etc. He used an alias to get here, he might have more up his sleeve.”
“We did that as soon as the report came in, now do you want to talk to the guy or not?”
“Yes, let’s go. Who is he?”
“I didn’t think that mattered too much. He just told me he worked for someone coming into town. But follow me. He’s in our dungeon.”
“Dungeon?”
“It’s really more like a block of holding cells. Calling it a dungeon makes us sound cooler.”
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“Right…” Ninja wondered if the whole case would be this confusing. Spicy’s “bubbly” thought patterns made it difficult to tell what she meant when she said anything remotely strange or sarcastic.
From Spicy’s view, this is what then proceeded:
Ninja followed her down a dark hallway to an even darker elevator. They go down. Creepy. Squeaky. Not a fun ride. Death. Doors open, they walk out. Talk to guy through bars
Guy is not sane, but gives information anyway because not smart. Memes. Halp
Spicy: heh heh. Prison shock collar go brrr
Guy: ows
Ninja: O-o
Ninja’s point of view was a little more detailed:
The way down to the holding cell was not lit very well. The elevator was missing a lightbulb and the doors seemed to need oiling. The elevator paused on its way down, and there was a thump overhead, then the sound of something moist and slightly flexible falling down the elevator shaft. Spicy’s eyes widened behind her sunglasses (yes, she was still wearing them in the dim elevator) and the “bubbles” that echoed inside her mind grew in volume so that Ninja had to close off her own mind to outside noise, which ironically made her ears work better.
“Nooo! My hamster!” echoed down from above them.
Spicy’s eyes widened so much that Ninja could actually see them around her huge sunglasses. “His hamster,” Spicy whispered, as if it were something profound.
They reached the bottom, and the elevator doors squealed open.
She led Ninja to a guy in a barred off cell. He had the smug look of someone who thinks they know everything.
“Hello there,” Spicy said. She was about to continue, but was cut off—
“General Kenobi. You’re a bold one,”
“Um, okay. We have some questions for you. Tell the truth and we might let you go.”
“YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”
“Well, what can we give you? We need to find a kidnapper, and you know how to find him.”
The guy pulled out and donned sunglasses before he spoke, pressing his fingertips together, “What if I told you… I knew all the criminals?” Ninja noticed that there also seemed to be a reflection of someone with a gun in the glasses, but there was no one else behind them. Could invisible people cast reflections? She didn’t think so, and she didn’t sense any consciousnesses there, either.
“Is this guy speaking in memes?” Spicy asked, turning to Ninja.
“Seems like it,” Ninja said, thinking…
“Yes, I am pretty despicable. I didn’t choose the thug life, the thug life chose me!”
“What do we need to do to get you to help us?” Ninja asked him, patience wearing thin.
“I will tell you in exchange for... 12 bamboo.”
“Hmmmm,” Spicy said. “I think I’m learning this guy’s language.” She thought for a long moment. “But have you seen Ariane Ghandi around?”
“Liar, liar, pubs on fire! Cats walking electric wires!”
“Oh, pubs are on fire? Tell me all about it,” Spicy said, resting her head on her hand like Willy Wonka.
“This doesn’t sound anything like the kidnapper we’re looking for,” Ninja said.
“Wait, just a minute—” Spicy said. “How many beans does she have?”
“No, just Cats, such a jellicle Cat!”
Spicy turned again to Ninja. “So this isn’t the kidnapper he’s talking about, but she’s connected to the kidnapper.”
“You got that from this nonsense about beans and cats?” Ninja asked, incredulously.
“Yes, now let’s go to the Fire department and talk to them,” Spicy said.
The guy, whose smug demeanor had not changed throughout their conversation, now looked sad, then angry. “Abandonment issues,” he said, then charged at the cell bars. “AYE CARAMBA! DONDE ESTA LA BIBLIOTECA!!”
Spicy pushed a button, and he stopped, stung by the shock collar.
“This is fine,” he said, voice shaking.
Ninja backed away slowly.