Perched on the back patio, my feet nonchalantly propped up, I cradled a tumbler of Kentucky bourbon in my hand, a liquid sunrise to kick-start the day. A cigarette, was slowly burning its life away in the astray. I lifted it to my lips, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs and the cool coastal wind caress my face. I was sitting in a wicker chair, a relic that my roommate had salvaged a few months ago to add a touch of rustic charm to our patio.
The ocean, a vast canvas of shimmering blue, lay just beyond our back door. It was a sight to behold. Old Wheyt, once a beat cop navigating the trailer trash city of Oceanside, now living on the coast with a fine Kentucky bourbon warming his lips. If only the boys back home could see me now. My bourbon, of course, had to be on the rocks. I know, sue me. True bourbon drinkers would argue that it should be enjoyed at room temperature, but I’ve never been one to play by the rules.
My fingers danced around the glass, tracing its rim, the cold condensation a stark contrast to the warmth spreading from the bourbon. I glanced down at my watch, a classic piece that harkened back to simpler times. Its brown band, black face, and silver hands are a testament to my vintage tastes. It was a gift from my old partner, along with a custom silver cigar lighter, which I still used to this day, I find myself fidgeting with it absentmindedly.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, glancing at the time. "duty calls." Today, I was sporting my black slacks and black button-up shirt, impeccably pressed and ironed courtesy of my affluent roommate’s maid service. I wasn’t one to fuss over my clothes, not when there were bigger fish to fry but if its free and on the house, hell, I'll take it.
Despite my business casual attire, my all-time favorite shoes were the PF Flyers, vintage 1963. They were a masterpiece of design, sleek, timeless, and perfection. I had a closet full of them. Sure, I had a few pairs of Chucks too, but for me, PF Flyers were the real deal unpopular opinion I know. I stubbed out my cigarette in the green crystal ashtray, drained the last of my bourbon, and headed back inside. The sound of high heels echoed from upstairs, a familiar sound in indeed, considering she wore them to work every day. I had even grown accustomed to predicting the color she would wear each day. She was nothing if not predictable.
As she descended the staircase, her hand gracefully sliding along the smooth silver banister, she was a vision in blue floral business attire, paired with black high heels. I marveled at how she managed to navigate in those heels day in and day out. She was a professional, the big time boss of the diagnostics sector at Dyna Corps, the wealthiest company on the western hemisphere, if not the world. There was almost a Neogen X for every ten people in the world, and that didn’t even count the off-world colonies.
As she stepped onto the grey swirled patterned marble floor, I greeted her, “Good morning, Monica. Did you sleep well?” She nodded at me and simply replied, “I rested well, yes Wheyt, and yourself?” I replied, “As good as any other night I suppose.” She walked around me and took a seat on the chaise lounge sofa by the fireplace. There was a blue book in her hand, it looked rather old. I walked closer to her and she lifted the book to her face and began reading. I asked her because I was genuinely interested in what she was reading. “What cha reading, bookworm?”
She peeked over the book just enough for me to see her eyes and she said, “Do you remember when you first moved here, Wheyt? You were transferred out of the San Diego police department’s Neogen division?” I felt as if she was dodging my question, but I let her continue and nodded in response to her. She said, “Well, I met you at that event we put on for the public in regards to the safety of our product after unfortunate events unfolded.” I nodded and said, “Yeah, I most definitely remember that. You ended up picking my brain about my job as a neo hunter for hours. To be honest, it was the first time I’ve ever felt comfortable about talking about what I do for a living for some reason.”
She looked over to me and said, “Exactly, that’s why when you told me you were looking for a permanent residence, I told you you can stay with me because I felt if I had a Neo hunter close to me, I could get a greater understanding of the new Neogen x's, when they are in that distraught state, well before you.” She cleared her throat before saying, “Send them on a permanent retirement.” I looked at her and said, “But you totally dodged my question there, Monica.” I said this, of course, with a slight irritation in my voice. She said, "Well, that’s what I was getting to. She closed the book and held it up, “This is a book written over 80 years ago. It’s called Memoirs of a Neo Hunter. It’s an anthology and it’s said to be fiction, but I’m not so sure. This book is very intriguing.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I never heard of it, but I’ll be honest. I only do this job for the money, I’m not going to go out of my way to read a book about it.” I said, joking with her a bit. “Anyways, you have a good day at work, Monica, I’m headed out.” As I walked out the door she said, “Before you go, let me ask you a question, Wheyt.” I said "sure, ask away", she says, “Do you think NeoGens are born with or without a soul?” I sit there for a moment and truly think about the question, for it was one Ive thought about since being hired for the job back in Sandiego, “I honestly don’t know, Monica. I try not to think about it.” She bid me farewell and I grabbed my coat on my way out the door.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The wind and cold light rain greeted me as I stepped outside. I hopped into my company-issued Zenith Glider. Imagine a sleek, low-profile car with an aerodynamic silhouette that cuts through the air like a blade. Its body was coated in a reflective, midnight black nano-paint that subtly shifted color under the neon city lights. The chassis had angular lines and sharp edges, giving it an aggressive look. OH and the ion thruster propulsion system is a thing of beauty. We had nothing of this magnitude back in San Diego.
The cockpit was a fusion of luxury and technology, with seats made of synthetic leather. Holographic displays projected from the dashboard, providing a 360-degree view of the surroundings and a myriad of information from the car’s AI system, also known as L.I.S.A. Logical, Initiate Supplement Archive. She was the smartest AI the LA police department could afford. I pulled out my data pad and gave LISA control of the Glider. I cycled through my data pad to see what was going on in the city. Nothing was out of the ordinary at this time as far as NeoGen Cases go, so looks like I'll be working cold cases this afternoon, but I was sure I would be briefed on anything new once I arrived at the station.
Lisa dropped me off at the front of the building and I commanded her to check into the garage. I walked up the steps to the main lobby of the department. As I passed the front desk, Desirae and Leanne waved and said good morning, which was always routine. I waved back and said, “Good morning as well.” I headed back to the main office and signed in to start my day. I felt a tap on my shoulder as I was sitting down going through files of some current cases I was working on. I turned my head and it was my good friend Donovan Sanchez, but I just call him Sanchez.
“Sanchez, what’s the word?” I ask, my voice echoing in the dimly lit room. "Can we get some decent fucking lighting in this place." I shout out before he could even answer me. He glances at me, his eyes heavy with a seriousness that sends a chill down my spine. "What is it bro?" I sigh expecting bad new. “We need to take a stroll man,” he replies, handing me a case folder. It’s an odd sight, considering back in San Diego we dealt with data pads only. But the Captain, he had a thing for the old ways - hard copies and data pads were both required, less risk that way.
“This,” Sanchez begins, his voice barely above a whisper, “happened this morning. Thorn, it’s… it’s Mindy.” He stumbles over his words, the weight of them hanging in the air. “Your best friend, Mindy. She’s critical Whyet. Multiple stab wounds.” The world around me slows to a crawl, my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach hearing the news.
“Mindy? Mindy Lawrence?” I manage to choke out, my voice barely a whisper as I try to escape the truth. “You’re sure? And you’re on the case?” He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, Thorn. You are. They think it’s a NeoGen X that's responsible, So this is NeoHunter terriory.” I stare at him, my face a mask of confusion. “Why a NeoGen? She was in intelligence, dealing with gangs in the factions division. What am I missing, Sanchez?”
He looks away, his gaze distant. “You know about the Iron Dawn, right? The NeoGens and their human allies, fighting for NeoGen rights. Your girl, she was a supporter. That’s why they want a Neo Hunter on the case. The event she was at, it was one of their rallies. The Captain wants to see you before you dive into that case file.” I grab the case file and start heading to the captains office.
I crack open the case file, my mind racing. “What did I just say?” Sanchez asks, but I’m already lost in the details of the case, my hand absentmindedly flipping him off over my shoulder. “That’s cold, man,” I hear him mutter as I make my way to the Captain’s office.
Without missing a beat, I was ready to dive into the facts of this case. It was personal, and I wasn't letting this one slide. This case had a scent and I'm the hound that's going to track it, I approached the Captain’s door, rapping my knuckles against the cold steel of the door knob before stepping in. There he was, busy in a call. He gestured for me to wait, so I moved over to his desk, leaning against it.
Once he hung up, he turned to me, his voice cutting the silence in the air. “You’ve heard the news, haven’t you?” I met his gaze, my voice flat, “I have, Captain. I’m taking this case.” I declared. “I thought as much,” he replied, “You’re one of my best Neo Hunters, Thorn. But when things get personal, they can get messy. I need to know you won’t lose your head. Promise me that, and the case is yours. Slip up, and it goes to Kerry.”
I took a deep breath, irritation flashing across my face. “You’re right, Cap. This is personal. But I’m a professional. I won’t lose my head. Give me everything you have on the case.” I demanded with respect. He leaned back in his chair, simply saying, “Done.” As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me in my tracks. “She was one of us, Thorn. I’m just as angry as you. But remember, we are professionals. We must always act as such when on duty.” With that, I slammed the door behind me, making my way towards the crime scene.