Chapter Thirty-Five - Outfoxed

“Samurai and law enforcement go together like matches and open containers of gasoline. It’s generally a terrible idea to mix the two, unless your intent is to light a bonfire.”

--Chief Jeffrey Waters, Winner of Most Corrupt Cop, 2046

***

It took over half an hour for all of the local police to show up, but when they did, they did in force. Twenty-odd guys and girls in full body armour with taser guns, pepper spray, and LMGs came barrelling onto the floor. Soon anyone wearing jumpsuits was pressed to the floor, hands tied behind their back.

They weren’t being gentle about their arrests, and I found it hard to care.

I spoke for a minute with some sergeant sort who was accompanied by a lawyer in full SWAT gear. They assured me that everyone would be punished to the full extent of the law, and then some.

I told them to chill the fuck off about that, then let Myalis handle the charges. A few of these idiots were in for a rather terrible rest-of-their-lives, but most of them would come out of it alright. I didn’t need this many people having a heap of resentment against me.

Once everyone was cuffed up, I walked into the nearest elevator and up. Myalis had done what she could to track the truck that had left with my shit, but that trail went cold far sooner than I would have liked.

If I was going to track down my stolen crap, then I’d need to spend time going after it. Time and maybe some resources.

I decided to do something entirely different instead.

The first step was calling See-Three. “Hey,” I said as soon as the line clicked.

“Hello?” See-three said. “Any luck?”

“Some,” I said. “Tracked the goods down to some group called the Janitors a few floors down. They sold everything to some third party already and things went cold. I think the clinic should be safe for now. We might want to take a serious look at upping our security. Or... yeah, let’s talk about this later.”

“Alright,” See-three said. “One of my friends agreed to stay here for the night. I’ll be returning home to get some shut eye, then I’ll be back before we’re meant to open. Someone needs to explain to our first clients that we don’t have their limbs.”

I ground my teeth. “It didn’t take long to make the first batch, right? Try to delay things like, six hours? I’m sure we can at least get half of their things made again.”

“That would be nice,” See-Three said. “The last clients we were supposed to meet tom--today were all warned that the first operations might go long anyway.”

“Cool.” I said. So, things weren’t entirely a disaster.

“Thank you, Stray Cat. I don’t know about anyone else, but I, at least, appreciate what you’re doing.”

Well, didn’t that just warm me up? “Yeah,” I said. “See you around. I need to talk to someone about something.”

We said our goodbyes just as I was arriving in the parking garage where my bike was waiting for me. I hopped on, flicked on the engine, then roared out of the building in a rush. I had somewhere else to be right then.

My first step was to send the next person I’d be chatting to a quick text, asking them if they were even available and awake. I got a reply within seconds. It was wordy, but it made it clear that they were willing to at least discuss things.

So I turned my bike towards a mega building in the distance. House Four Three. This time I parked where it would be easiest to get to where I wanted to go, got off my bike, and I strode through the building without a care.

Within a couple of minutes I was standing before the muscular frame of the Barber Shop’s bouncer. The same full-borg that I’d passed with Rac a while ago. “I’ve got business with Millenium Animal,” I said.

He looked me up and down. “You were with Rac,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Didn’t recognize you, last time,” he said as he stepped aside. “Go on in, Miss Samurai.”

I nodded then slipped past and into the Barber Shop proper. The place was a little less lively, probably owing to it being... almost six in the morning. The sun was going to come up soon. The sort of person that liked to party late was gone by now, and even the early partiers hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. It was that magical time of day where everything is at its calmest, and it showed in the choice of music.

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Some softer jazz was playing, the lights were slightly dimmed, and the only people in the main dance area were a pair doing a little swing routine, with frequent stops as one showed the other how to do some specific moves.

I found Millenium Animal in the act of standing up at the bar. “Hey, Myalis, what’s the sitch with this guy?”

How deep do you want me to dig?

“Surface level shit,” I muttered.

Millenium Animal, born in 2001, has been a Fixer in New Montreal for twelve years. Before that he has a record of mercenary work extending back another ten years, mostly specialising in information gathering, corporate spywork, and private detective work. He has a few black marks on his file, but nothing egregious or which I think you’d have a moral issue with. He does seem fairly reliable.

“Let’s see about that,” I said as I walked over to Millenium. He extended a hand to shake, his left, and I reached out and shook. “Hey,” I said.

“A pleasure to see you once more, Stray Cat,” Millennium said. He smiled, and with his face looking like a fox’s, it came off as exceptionally sly. “I like the new look. Intimidating without being terrifying. It’s a fine line to walk.” He let go of my hand and grabbed onto the lapels of his suit.

“Thanks,” I said. “So, how does a tired samurai go about getting you to help her with a problem?”

Millennium chuckled. “First, a drink? Or at least a seat?”

I nodded and followed him to the bar. We grabbed stools at the far end of the bar, where we weren’t under any lights and where it was surprisingly a little quieter. The bartender glanced our way, then kept on minding their own business. If I wanted something, I could order it via a local aug-app. I didn’t.

“So, how can I help you?” he asked. “I would usually keep on with the pleasantries, but I have the impression that you’re in something of a hurry.”

“Not exactly a hurry. It’s just... I have better things to do than look after this, and you seem like someone that I can maybe trust with my little problem.”

“Certainly,” he said with a nod.

“Right, right. So, some fuckwits stole from a clinic I opened up. A place to hand out basically-free prosthetics to people that need them. Nothing too good, but still basic samurai tech, even if it’s the mass-produced printed sort.”

“I imagine they stole something valuable?”

“Just some prosthetics. Like I said, 3d printed. I can make more. But it’s the thought that counts. Those were meant to help people, not be yoinked away the night before they were gonna be installed. It’s a bad look for my clinic, and it kind of just pisses me off, overall.”

Millennium Animal nodded along, seeming entirely sympathetic with my problem. “Do you need help making an example of someone?”

“Nah. I need help tracking the goods. Myalis, can you package what we have up and send it over?”

Certainly.

Millennium Animal blinked a few times, his fox eyes lighting up as he checked out something I couldn’t see. “I received the information,” he said. “But it will take some time to review.”

“Look, all I need is someone who can track things down, figure out where they ended up. And maybe someone that can get my shit back too.”

“That’s two jobs,” he pointed out.

That was fair. “Okay. So what would that cost?”

“Hard to say without verifying everything. Retrieval will, of course, depend on who has your items, so that’s even harder to predict the cost of.”

I worked my jaw. “Ten points to find the prosthetics. Ten more to retrieve them, negotiable if it was actually hard.”

Millennium Animal froze up for a moment. “That’s generous.”

“Twenty is what I’d make over two days, which I’ve got the impression is what I’d lose if I did it all myself,” I said.

“Ah, buying time. That makes sense. Twenty points of anything? Or from pre-existing catalogues?”

“Pre-existing,” I said. “And I’m holding veto rights. If someone wants a plague bomb from my Esoteric Explosives catalogue, I’m saying no.”

“That’s eminently fair,” he said. “I can think of a number of people who might be interested. It’s not as worthwhile monetarily, but mercenaries tend to crave getting their paws on samurai tech.”

“Uh-huh. One last thing, if it’s possible, keep my involvement on the down-low?”

“That’ll be complicated, but I think I can manage it,” he replied.

***