As I prowled through traffic, I simply couldn’t get my mind off the surveillance footage I received. My investigation into Adrianna Smith’s death was only a day old, and I virtually had everything except the interviews with the staff at Lyiez Systems or the husband.

Each job has its challenges, and with me being an EXiCON, I certainly had my own. As an EXiCON, I couldn’t interview anyone from Lyiez because that was for “real detectives”. I couldn’t even question Adrianna’s husband who, at this point, became my prime suspect.

I didn’t have much to go on other than the stabbing that Adrianna received, but that was more than enough. The challenge was, did he have an alibi and what could’ve killed Adrianna? Did she have an affair? Standard marriage bullshit, but all of this would’ve been narrowed down through the interview with her co-workers.

Was Adrianna close with anyone at work?

Did she spend a lot of time, working with anyone individual in particular?

Did her husband dislike her working late? Was it all a ruse, for her to have her affair?

All of these were questions I had, but I couldn’t ask anything. I simply had to wait for my case officer to follow up with my findings in my report and investigate, as best as he could.

That, is what an EXiCON did, investigate only, whilst the detective interviewed and compiled the information.

“Autodrive Mode, Nova, and pull up the video surveillance for Case Officer 31-AB010, Adrianna Smith,” I told the AA.

The HUD display for the left side of my windscreen went dark for a few seconds. Lines of code then followed. Then, in my cybernetic eye, a notification came through, “Link to Xenotis X complete.”

Adrianna smith walked down the alley, huddling her hands close together. She walked at least twenty meters into the alley before she stopped. You couldn’t see why she stopped until three seconds later when the perp came into the camera’s view.

He wore a fully fleshed-out blackout fit. Hoodie, Pants, Shoes…everything was black. He seemed menacing, especially in the domineering way he walked.

Despite the perp’s initial attempt at trying to scare Adrianna, she regained her composure quickly and tried to avoid him by walking in another direction. However, he wouldn’t have it. He sidestepped into her path, made her stop once more, drew something that seemed to be the size of a bottle from his waist and buried it into her chest, three times.

“Stop. Rewind…Start,” I told Nova. The footage re-started from when Adrianna first stopped. Now, I’d done this multiple times last night, trying to get a better gauge of Adrianna’s face. “Pause. Zoom in on her face,” I told Nova. “Still nothing…are you sure you can’t clean this up any further, Nova? I can barely see her face.”

“I’ve tried many times, Sir, I cannot perform this act, based on my operating system parameters.”

“So you’ve said.”

The artificial assistant went quiet without further response.

“Fine,” I grumbled. I used my cybernetic eye AGAIN hoping that this time it’d work…and it didn’t.

“Ugh…” I murmured, letting the video continue, and shifted between the other surveillance footage, trying to see the perp’s face. However, regardless of how many different times or angles I shifted the footage, he just seemed to know where all the cameras were. Infuriating.

After a moment of ruminating, I finally let my frustration reign supreme for a few minutes before bringing myself back to the task at hand. “Manual Mode,” I said, taking the steering wheel back into my hands to make my way to my destination.

It took me an entire hour and a half to reach Bussa’s Park, it would’ve probably been quicker if I took the Skylane, but I was in no mood to fly. Sometimes, you simply just want to feel the tarmac within your hands as you sped across the highway, and today just happened to be one of those days.

The highway had a gentle curve that mostly led around Bridge City. Once it finally ended, I caught sight of my destination amongst the hundreds of cars buzzing all around me.

The famous Statue of Bussa stood in the distance. Judging from its height I’d say it was at least a hundred meters in length. Bussa was a slave who fought for freedom during the old colonial years of Bridge City’s namesake.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Bussa himself had broken chains slapped across his wrist. He posed in a strained stance as if forced to keep himself up showing signs of his struggle…but ultimately his freedom. It wasn’t aesthetically pleasing to most, I bet. No one liked the idea of slavery, but we lived in a financial slavery era, where the credits you made, would dictate what lavishes you had in life.

I knew this but didn’t care much for it. Everything had its struggles in life.

Even me.

My life was far from pretty.

I killed to get here. I’m not proud of it in the least, but I didn’t regret it. It certainly was better than dying from starvation, something I experienced the majority of my childhood.

The Bussa Monument existed as I sign of Freedom, but for me, it meant something else. “Never be chained to your fate…make your own,” I said aloud. I understand that not everyone could change their lives in a way they’d be satisfied with, but what I hated was their lack of effort in trying to change it, that truly was the difference between changes…but people rarely saw it and gave up early, sadly.

I parked my car and made my way to the centre of the park where Bussa was. Luckily, I caught a spot in Bussa’s shadow, but not as it mattered. If the sun shifted, so would his shadow, but at least my car would be cooler once I returned.

The park was green, stony and had an aura of tranquillity. Rare in Bridge City, but not non-existent. I funnelled my way through the large crowds passing food stands, dog walkers, lovers, private eyes and patrolmen, walking through the park itself. Freedom Park, it was called, and rightfully so.

One of the few places within the city, where who you were couldn’t be judged. And by judging, I meant the scorning of people.

Cybernetics was widely used in Bridge City, often seen as an enhancement, but other groups didn’t fancy them. The Trans-human population and The Purist, people despised any form of alteration made to the human body.

There were different groups from both, some aligned, some didn’t, and some were even Radical, but nothing of the sort was tolerated at Freedom Park.

It had three rules: Peace. No Protest. No Violence. Simple, but effective.

As I made my way down the walk-through, feeling the wind tussle at the back of my neck, I felt a brief sense of peace. That was rare for me, but not unexpected. A couple with matching cybernetic arms passed me by, smiling as pretty as anyone ever could.

A little girl with a cybernetic leg ran past me, chasing a floating balloon whilst her parents chased her. She giggled happily, sticking out her tongue whilst the father laughed and the mother had fright written all over her face.

It was good to see.

At least some folks can be together I thought ruefully. A bit of melancholy struck me, but I forced it down, noticing a Cynocephalus-Man and Nekomusume sitting on a bench holding each other’s hands, to my right.

The Nekomusume’s ears were curled downwards, whilst the other’s own was pointed to the sky. They didn’t wear matching outfits but had charm bracelets on opposing hands. Not being one to pry, I zoomed in on the bracelets, noting they each wore opposing symbols. Cat and Dog…cute, but not farfetched.

I finally made it to the centre of the Park and stared at Bussa at his best. The area smelt of green, sweat and possible faeces. I circled the statue and finally saw who I came to meet, sitting in a corner below a tree with dozens of pigeons swarming around.

“Jix…you bastard it’s been a while,” I said strolling across the stone pathway. Jixafon didn’t answer, but kept his permanently scowling face attuned to anger then finally turned to me with a hint of aggression.“You’re late, Cypher,” He barked, tossing flaked bits of bread to the ground for some pigeons to eat.

“You know how it is with this lunchtime traffic.”

“Traffic?…right.” He scoffed.

Jix wore a business suit, a complete contrast to the military fatigues he usually wore, with a digital camo outlay. I couldn’t say the suit matched his stocky figure, but it made him look sleek when he stood up to greet me.

The suit was grey, with an upside-down V-like design starting from his black and white polka dot tie, slashing into the form of a jacket, weird design, but quite elegant. The vest cut he wore, was tightly fitted and buttoned right up. The pants were also tight but seemed to sag at the bottom. “Not fitted,” I noted. The black shoes he wore, were simple. “Yeah…a complete contrast for sure,” I told myself.

“I’ll keep this short, Cypher,” Jix said, tone sharper than a knife.

“I see, straight to the point. Alright. What is it then?” I asked.

“Come back to CSS with me. We need you.”

“Jix? We’ve been through this. I’ve done my time with CSS. I’m not interested.”

“You’re 45, what in the Imbibe do you mean, retired? You got plenty of years left!”

“You know why Jix…let’s not act coy.”

“That’s not enough for me or you, you know it.”

“That’s why we’re at this impasse, brother, it’s not about you, and it’s about me. Drop it.”

“Whatever, Cypher! You’re wasting your gifts!” He snarled.

I felt numerous eyes zoom in on us as if multiple snipers were ready to aim for at least five hundred meters, ready to take the kill shot. Some habits don’t leave you I thought, bitterly.

I approached Jix, cupping his shoulder with a tight squeeze, then smiled. “They aren’t gifts bud, they’re just skills We’ve acquired through the years working. I ain’t special. You know this.”

“That’s all you say.”

“…because it’s true.”

The echo of silence resonated between us, making me feel the weight of my words. They weren’t meant to sting, but to disarm. However, with these past couple of months with a lack of an income, I might’ve been icier than I wanted to be.

“Is this why you called me out, Jix? I swore you wanted to have a drink…kickback, talk of the old days,” I said, mellowing my tone as best as I possibly could.

“I did call to have a drink, but you know how things go…at times.”

“I do know, but that’s not how you greet friends. Hell, Jix, I came dapper'd up and all, but you came here to fight. Business attire and all. This is not how we do it.”

“You’re right.”

“I know…now let’s have a drink, alright?”

“Fine…”