[This is actually a part of a round robin exercise, but since the character's not really used in the rest of the series and I kinda created him, it works well enough as a self-contained story.]
“Explain this agency, how may we help you?”
“It’s THE Explain this agency, Carla!” said Simon Banks, the agency’s owner but Carla wasn’t listening to him. Once again her eyes rolled upwards as she started to type furiously.
Simon sat down at his screen to see what was coming in. This time it was his turn to roll his eyes. Yet another member of the Great British Public had failed to ‘get’ the point of his investigation agency.
Paul’s face brought more attention than his run-in with yesterday morning’s terrorist event. Standing outside the local hospital wing, the skylight felt harsh, domineering. Checking the time, he found himself to be in the middle of a shift change, he’d have to wade through about a million or so eddies of humanity to get home. A long walk was ahead of him. One positive, people actually got out of his way, if only to bring their trex’s into focus range. Why all this publicity couldn’t score him some raisins, Paul didn’t know.
He awoke to see the visage of the Detective glaring down at him. “Idiot,” she intoned.
“Good to see you toof, detectif. Fleebus Marley, waffs wrong wiff me.”
“That’s something I’d like to know, truth be told. You’re on assignment, Paul. I should have you retired for obstruction of justice.”
Paul could feel his sweat starting to evaporate. If that was happening, it meant his disguise was fuming into air as well. He had very little time to get out of the arteries the Detective was plowing through. He looked desperately for some place of salvation. The buildings in the business district of the Expanse were like forced bubbles with cylindrical bottoms. Various doors and windows of transparent spongiform glistened in the skylight, style shops with a trickle of customers at this hour, none of which seemed too appealing for a fellow that was about to transform into something else.
Link to part 1
Through the hole in the casino wall went the Detective, followed by Paul and four officers. The detective flashed her spectacles at the building’s superintendent and the group of six were ushered into a quite backroom.
She is tall, just over six feet, with mouse brown hair swept back into a tight bun. Her piercing green eyes use her full pouting lips to their distracting advantage. She would be beautiful if she wasn’t so severe. The robes and spectacles of her office do not detract from this.
Link to part 1
Paul was running full speed now, a, something he hadn't done since he was a younger man, since the Games during school, and he was pleased with himself how well he was doing, nearly catching up with the boy. His trex was primed, ready for vid capture.
Breaken the Younger rode the lift down underneath the Industrial tower alone, and silent. His mind dwelt momentarily on his sister, Maggie. He had taken her life, in a way. Tossing her like a piece of scrap meat to Diego after he had learned of her treachery, her “love“ for Jordan. Deep inside he sneered. He had felt an inkling of remorse as he walked away from his dying sister the night before, but he discarded it as vestigial emotion he no longer wanted or needed. Another Maggie could be made, Clare she would be called this time. Indeed, he himself had been grown just as she had, as had his other brothers and sisters. As had his “father” and “mother”. He had, once, contemplated the implications of his family. The same two people being grown and re-grown in perpetuity, but he had no fondness for philosophy, so implications didn’t particularly matter. What mattered was that the Breaken clan were strong, and would last until the end of time. He would make sure of that, just as his predecessors had, even if it meant destroying your own blood.