F hung around for a bit and filled me in on a lot of useful things that first time out.

Under the pretense that I still might need a hand, we moved off to handle a second case together. That one was a little weird, I have to admit. At that point, I wasn't really that gung-ho about my signature move, the pickup truck or cargo van.

I was leaning toward it! I was! I had actually picked out a 1997 Dodge Ram Van and was looking for a suitable meatsuit to drive it.

To be fair, when the Dao of Vehicles sent me all the information about the van I was looking at I was a little frustrated. It occurred to me that, yeah, I might be able to see the specs of the vehicle, but did I really understand what all those specs meant?

Moments later? Of course I understood them... The Dao of Understanding Minutiae is not only available to my department at all hours of the day, but we are also encouraged to use it even if time is stopped.

Transmission: 4-speed automatic

MPG: Up to 15 city / 17 highway

Fuel tank capacity: 35 gal

Curb weight: 4,415 to 4,737 lbs

Engine: 5.9 L V8

Ooh! I sent my globe body around the side of the van and, once I wasn't looking at it head-on, realized that this was an Extended Cargo Van. I could probably whip the wheel to the side and tail check someone to death with the rear of the vehicle if I had to. Since it was ungainly and empty, I might even be able to hit the emergency brake after swiping the wheel to the side and just overturn the thing on my target.

The van would, of course, stall out once it was on its side. There would be a finality to the situation as the engine turned off. Like 'boom', it's over! Relocated!

I was interrupted from my daydreaming of rounding a corner on a busy street and just upturning a truck onto a dude in the middle of a crowd when F mentioned that the particulars of this mission meant that a truck might not be the precision tool that I needed.

Our target, one Satoru Mikami, 37 years old, no girlfriend. The last part of the information provided to me would have had me scratching my head if I'd had arms, fingers, or a head. Did the Dao of Pertinent and Relevant Target Information feel it really necessary to 'single' this guy out? Heh.

"I'm just saying that he isn't supposed to die immediately," Fei began reasonably.

Son of a bitch is riding along for my second case and she is already nitpicking.

"Is it really death if I'm just moving him around?" I asked vaguely, trying to buy time so I could point triumphantly back at the cargo van as soon as I figured out a reason to use it. So far in my imagination I was just suddenly shouting 'aha!' and pointing at it like that made a lick of sense.

"Satty here is going to be reborn," Fei scoffed doubtfully. "In order to be reborn, he has to be dead or something."

"It might seem that way but we're just--"

"Hey, Susan, I'm going to stop you right there. If this conversation is important to you, then you do you. I apologize for presuming to know the actual and perfectly correct terminology to describe what we're doing and acknowledge your right to believe we're not a bunch of wandering light murder hobos. Your mental health is important to me. Your mental health matters. You matter."

"Fuck you," I said with a laugh. It was surprising how much dry condescension F was capable of projecting without vocal cords.

"Anyway, I can tell that I'm starting to wear your patience thin. If you really want to get the van and use that then I'll... hold on... did you pause time?"

"No?"

"That explains why there is a guy moving to the van now. Oh. He's stealing it. That's... amazing. Wow. Our timing is so good. I mean, being invisible sure helps with people doing sketchy things in front of you but, just wow."

I turn around and sure enough, there's a fellow with a dark hoody wearing khakis trying to slide a piece of wire between the window and the door frame. Is this guy really stealing my cargo van? "Oh, hell no."

I had not really thought it out.

The next thing I know I'm wearing this guy. I drop the wire and stare down at my hands.

I look around and mutter. A moment later F materializes in front of me, helpfully making herself visible so I can direct my words toward her and look less like a crazy person if anyone were to see. Well, anyone seeing me talking to a glowing ball of light might not think I'm the crazy one at least.

"This guy is a piece of crap. Just a casual look through his memories. Wow. I think... yeah... look at this!" I reach behind my back and pull out the knife that was held to my waistline by a belt loop.

"Holy shit, is that a kitchen knife?" F sounds understandably disgusted and amazed in my head.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"I guess? It's not even very scary." I give it a few swings experimentally and am almost embarrassed. What was this guy going to use this for, making sashimi? The blade was a bit too long and thick to even be good for that. It was practically a low-budget cleaver. It was the kind of blade that someone buys because they're up late watching television infomercials and the time for good decisions had come and gone, and somehow it seemed like a good investment to order a piece of garbage item for the low cost of something ninenty-nine.

"Why is he stealing the van?" F at least still seems fascinated. It is kind of nice. F, to me at least, has been this cool and collected smartass of a veteran who I couldn't surprise because she'd already seen it all. Here she was asking about this random chump with a hint of curiosity.

Maybe he was a bit fascinating.

"He uh, didn't really have a plan? It feels like... yeah. The exact thought process was something along the lines of..." I was having a hard time articulating his thoughts because they were a mess and didn't make any sense to me.

"Does it make as much sense as having a knife tucked into your pants?"

"Y-yeah! Exactly!" F had pretty much nailed it. The guy was stealing the dodge because it seemed like a good idea to him. FOR REASONS.

"Well, now what? Are you going to have him drive?"

"Huh." I flex the fingers of my free hand and then look at the knife, a weird sort of half-plan starting to form in my head. I suppose I could just open the dodge and have him drive it over Satoru Mikami, 37 y.o. girlfriendless virgin-

WHY? Why did I need to know that he is also a virgin?

Now that I had a face again I must be making a horrified expression because F asked me if I was alright.

"I'm fine. I think there's something really wrong with the person in charge of the Dao of Pertinent and Relevant Target Information."

"Oh yeah, he/they have been fighting the system for a long time. What's the extra information?" F spun and vaguely seemed to be pointing herself in the direction of Mikami. "Oh. No girlfriend and has a thing for elves."

"Elves now?" Sure enough. Target scheduled for relocation: Satoru Mikami, 37. y.o. Virgin. No girlfriend. Possibly because of an Elf fetish and unrealistic expectations toward women.

"Everyone likes elves," F said after a moment in a low way. I would have said a low voice but she is still speaking directly into my head. I stare at her for a moment, weirded out.

"Of all the things that are happening right now you're choosing the elf fetish to focus on?"

"Just wait until you meet your first elf," F promised. "We don't see, smell, or have a sex drive in this form but they're still pretty. They're like, candy for the imagination."

"Don't make it weird, dude."

"Hah! Weird. You want to know weird?"

I bit back the urge to say that I was possessing the body of a moronic possible serial-killer who was trying to steal a van, talking to an incorporeal ball of sentient light, all the while considering how to kill, no, relocate an office worker with an elf fetish.

Instead, I just said "sure?"

"So we don't have feelings or hormones or sex drives anymore, but the home office gives you the ability to simulate certain feelings. For example, right now I'm imagining the satisfaction of that first hot cup of coffee in the morning. The pleasurable sensation is filling me up. Mm. It's nice."

I'm staring blankly now. I hadn't tried out all the bells and whistles yet but I remember this in orientation. "Uh huh?"

"I've met other co-workers who took it a step further. Since you can simulate, for any length of time mind you, any feeling that you've previously felt..."

My mind immediately perverts this train of thought.

F doesn't help by immediately confirming it.

"More than one fool is floating around riding the eternal O."

"You're kidding?"

"No. Also, as interesting as it is as a thought don't do it. Too dangerous."

"Dangerous? Not that I was going to try that or anything," yet.

"Being able to turn on and off an orgasm? Riding that high? I knew a him/they that just kept it on. They'd been doing it so long that their mental health suffered if they didn't have it on. So even when you were talking to them there'd be a weird flighty note to his mental communication punctuated by weird little shrill happy noises."

That sounded pretty much like the most horrible thing I had ever heard. "That's not... like... against the rules or something?" Here's hoping corporate was on top of this. I had no desire whatsoever to run across, let alone cooperate with, some light ball that was making the magic happen.

"Nope. It's like talking to a sailor who is also a devout believer in a higher power. Intermittent cursing mixed with yelled or screamed--"

"No more..." I don't even remember how we got on this subject.

F paused and went quiet, maybe silently contemplating the same question.

"So, work?" I asked helpfully. I don't know about the van but I had a stooge. Might as well go use him. Something tells me that I'd be doing society a favor by getting this guy arrested anyway.

"Good idea!"

I pulled the black hoodie up over my head and started walking in what I liked to think of as a 'macho guy' strut. People on the street moved out of my way unconsciously. Part of it was because this body hadn't showered in a while. Part of it was because I was actively spreading out a repelling aura.

F was now invisible once again as I walked down the street.

I hate this body. It might be that I hate having a body. They're so heavy and they feel things. It's hot out here. I put my hood down. Now I'm cold. This makes no sense. I put my hood back up because of reasons. I don't really think much about it. Is being in this body making me stupid?

I resolve to hasten my step so I can go murder relocate this fool and be about my business.

I see Satoru Mikami up ahead talking to a younger couple. I vaguely wonder why the younger couple had sought out this wizard for, of all things, relationship advice.

I pull the knife close to my chest and start to move through the crowd at a faster pace.

Then, of all things, Satoru Mikami notices me a ways off. I'm honestly baffled. What sort of sixth sense nonsense made his eyes meet my eyes in the middle of a crowd? Protagonists... am I right?

I start running toward him. The couple is in the way so I lower my shoulders and push the knife out intended to push through the gap between them and get to my target.

Mikami is moving hella slow all of a sudden. His body jerking forward in a stilting and halting fashion like it was moving of its own accord while his brain was trying to get it to do the opposite thing.

I felt momentarily bad as he leaped in front of the young couple.

I glance down as the knife enters his body and pull it out. As he starts to fall to the ground in a dramatic spurt of blood he throws his hand out. To do what, I have no idea. I have a last thought about him as I continue on my way.

Nice scarf.

The horrified screams behind me fade as my feet pound the pavement. This body is not in great shape but I'm only going to be inside it for another minute or two. Seeing what I want, I cross the street after taking care to look in both directions -- still managing somehow to miss-time it and almost getting hit by a car coming from the opposite direction. I wave the bloodied knife as the driver honks.

"My bad!" I yell. His face goes pale and his mouth works up and down silently behind the wheel.

Whistling cheerfully I finish crossing the street and go toward the police box. It's just a small office where a few Japanese police are stationed in this neighborhood. They're very convenient. Easy to find, and perfect for my purposes.

I enter through the door and walk up to the counter, setting down the bloody knife on the counter and smile at the police officer who just dropped a bagel onto the floor. There's a lot of yelling and I can see I'm about to get tackled from the side.

Moments before impact I leave the body of the would-be van thief and now apprehended murderer.

I don't feel too bad for him. To everyone on the street where I've left Satoru Mikami the act of violence might seem random and unearned. Who runs around knifing people on the street for no reason? I hadn't even stopped to try to grab his wallet even though I'm certain that I'll be viewed as a robber of some sort.

I don't feel bad for him because even though I'm the one who relocated Satoru Mikami and the guy was under my control he was by no means innocent. He'd killed before. He was not a nice man. I was really doing two public services.

I floated away and found F. We watched the scene in the police box for a while and then F mentioned something about finding a coffee shop to hover around inside. I decided to take her up on her offer of a little gossipping while we simulated the feeling of having fresh coffee.

I cast one glance back at the police box and looked at the mess and confusion.

"I think I'm going to stick with the truck, honestly."

"Go where your skills lie," F said supportively.