Serious Let Sleeping Dogs Die

[Garda De Fier]

Let Sleeping Dogs Die

Chapter 1:​

Bones in the Closet, Skeletons in the Dirt

August 3rd, 2074​

The sounds of stones underneath shoes echoed through the silent night, it was early morning and that reddish pastel sky loomed over the backyard. A zipper hissed and the sound of crackling on pebbles bellowed loudly through the dawn. He peeked about, hoping that nobody was staring at him doing his business. In the blackness of the backyard loomed a black figure, six and a half feet tall, eyes are white as the purest Peruvian marching powder and a figure blacker than the soul of a sinner. He stared at the figure, absolutely jaw-dropped, gulping in fear. He stared down the figure fearfully, slowly and slowly it grew closer. He stepped back slowly, on all fours it ran at him and grabbed him. A crooked creature with legs bent like hooks and multiple arms bending like stork's legs, it held him by the throat and elevated him high. He was helpless and soundless. The creature burrowed into him, looking him in the eye and screaming to the top of its seedy little lungs in primal anger.

His eyelids shot wide-open, he looked over at the alarm clock: 5:45 A.M. Eyes as wide as craters, a scruffy dark-haired man sat up, sweat dripping from his forehead. That nightmare again, the one that would scare any man. A nightmare hobbled underneath the failures of the lost times and the inevitability that those lost times will mean nothing. He refused to lift his swollen, heavy swollen head in fear. The dusky light poured in through slim Venetian blinds. He peeked his head out of covers, squinting in irritation at such a dim but yet blinding light trespassing in his eyesight.

The sky beamed yellow tinted stratocumuli, illuminating a dark violet-teal, putting such illustrations in your head would be unjustified to the real thing of waking up in a hazy fit of fatigue and adrenaline and seeing a sight so grand pour over the Ohio landscape, a sight that everyone from Huntington to Ashtabula could witness if they weren't fast asleep. The man got up, bed was a restraint, bed was a prison, bed was a gulag. A gulag which himself was a prisoner, a zek, Solzhenitsyn turned in his grave and wept. He stepped up from his velvet sepulcher and reached for his house-coat, a slow start to an even slower day. The first mind-boggling mystery of the day 'French press or espresso?' Children starving on the streets of Nanking and his first-world problem was what coffee he was going to have, better them than me.

The kettle steamed, two scoops of sugar, some milk and a bit of Jim Bean, Irish-Coffee was always a nice awakening. His onyx suit jacket was lobbed over the arm of the davenport, he reached into the pockets, finding his badge: 'Skyway Patrol Robotic Affairs, Supervisory Special Agent Harrison Woods, #24601', his picture glistening in the laminated ID badge. 'Damn, that shot doesn't do me justice.' Harrison sniggered to himself, he shoved his badge back into his flannel suit pocket. Harry poured the steaming hot water into a mug, stirring it briskly with his teaspoon. He lifted up the cup to his lips, sipping the rich roasted Colombian delicacy. Harry sighed, reclining back in his chair with a big shit-eating grin on his face.

The neon lights outside vaguely contrasted against the morning sky, the facade of Felix the Cat, the monochrome monolithic structure created as an ode to a time of old, constructed by a people who have witnessed sights unlike any other underneath a regime of a nation that just couldn't take anymore, a nation that never felt so much pain. Inside the art-deco and the retro-futuristic frame of the building was the diner. 'Mezmer's' A grimy, filthy little dungeon down in Tremorton, a little seedy podunk town down in the boondocks that was always never and always will be.

Harry looked down at the table, a scrumptious club sandwich with the appeal of a Vogue cover and a barista-style cappuccino...Italian blended, perfection was the word for such a spectacle. "Oh Frank, it's just you…" Harry mumbled, his voice throaty and guttural, wrapping his hands around the club sandwich, biting his teeth into the doughy, chewy bread and tearing it off, mulching it down his throat. 'F. Carbuncle' was imprinted on the Officer's nameplate, he was not plain-clothes like Harry, he was a full on blue blood, a red-headed jovial man in his early thirties…Frankie was really something, optimistic through the dark, his voice was slightly adenoidal and softly-spoken. An extremely buoyant human being, not even Death himself could bring him down.

"You alright there, Harry?" Carbuncle wondered in astonishment of how a dead man could lift himself out of bed and make coffee for himself and then go out on a beat of a Rustbelt city which had seen better times and then go back home again and do the same thing again. "Yeah, yeah. Just…feeling a bit under the weather." Harrison looked behind Carbuncle, Frank turned his head around. Harry snuck his flask of Jameson, opening the tab and pouring some into his cappuccino. "You look a bit pale, you get a good night's sleep?" Frankie swallowed some cola from the can, darting his eyes over to Harry.

Harrison looked up, caught off-guard. It was a late night and he didn't get much sleep, especially when you have nightmares like his. "O-Awh just a bad dream I had…It's always the same frickin' one." The same one that kept him up at nights, the same one that destroyed his ability to have a good night's sleep. Frank dropped the can down onto the table, leaning in. "The ones about the screwed up figures?" Harry stared out the window onto the street, zooming along was a black Volkswagen T2, the perfect car for a flower-child who wanted to make something of herself rather than living out of the box. "Yeah…that dream scares the shit out of me every goddamn time, when will it fuckin' end?" Harry poured the coffee into his mouth, biting angrily in remorse that his night sleep was ruined and he was left with his happy-go-lucky partner.

Frank shrugged, oblivious. Oblivious to the fact that what he had said was blasphemy to the church that is the ears of Harrison "You might want to see a shrink bout' 'dat, y'know?" Harry scoffed into his coffee cup in sincere disbelief that such a suggestion would ever be put forward by such a guy like Frank. "Yeah, get myself a lobotomy while I'm at it, would look really good with my spit drippin' from my freakin' lip." Frank folded his arms, defeated and downtrodden at a suggestion for the welfare of his friend. "Hey man, I'm just concerned is all…" Harry sighed, lifting his coffee mug to his lips. "I don't mean it like that, I appreciate the sentiment…I'm jus-…I'm just…I just need to focus alright, ye' get me?" Frank shrugged, he just shrugged. There was little he could do but bite into the last of his sandwich. "Yeah, I got you." Harry nodded gracefully, acknowledging that his friend got his meaning. "Glad you understand…We goin' out on patrol now Frankie?" "Yeah, of course." Frank wiped his face with a napkin and stood up from the booth, placing his jacket on him. Harry lunged up, buttoning the top of his flannel shirt and following after Frank. "Yo, wait up." Harry opened the passenger seat door, climbing into the black, glossy Tsjaika Gorki. A beautiful, retro legend of a car imported all the way from Soviet Russia. "On the beat, yet again…Ey' Frankie?" Frank turned the keys in the ignition, strapping on his seat belt. "What would Tremorton do without us?" Harry looked over and smiled. "Keel over and die."

The car took off down the street, heading towards the residential district. Harrison switched the radio on. "This tune is the bomb." Harrison proclaimed, rocking his head softly to the tune. "Can't say I am much of a Heron fan..." Harry scanned Frank up and down as if he had two heads. "You don't like Gil Scott Heron?" "It's not that I don't like him, Harry, it's just not my type of music." Harry stared at Frank frustrated "And what do you listen to?" Frank switched gear. "I like myself a bit of adult contemporary…a bit of pop." "Pop? I ain't going to judge, who d'ya like?" "Spitney. I heard she is coming out with a new song with WillEyeAm from what I know." Harry reclined his chair, laughing his ass off. "Really? Spitney?...You always took me for maybe a RnB guy or maybe a country rock fella'…Spitney?" "Well I mean, you can't say much buddy. You listen to fuckin' Gil Scott-Heron, like seriously!" "And? What's so bad about Gil Scott Heron?"

Frank turned to Harry, "Well the first thing I-" "Watch the road!" An incoming car sped down the road, Frank swerved into a yard and the car collided with the back of an Ice-Cream truck, Harry and Frank smacked the dashboard, the airbags enabled. 'Ugh…Fuck…' Harry opened the door and climbed out, clutching his bleeding nose. He was in a daze, objects spinning around him, the phosphenes in his eyes swirling as if he was shocked by a lightning bolt. 'Fuck it-…Ah!' Harrison stepped to the driver door, forcing the door open for Frank and pulling him from the wreckage. "You alright?" Frank's head was bleeding, woozy and in a stupor, completely inattentive of what was going on around him. "Ugh, yeah…Yeah, I'm fine…what the hell?" Harry shook his head, looking up at the wreckage, clutching his bleeding nose and spitting out bloodied bile, "What the fuck?" That was the only thing on his mind, how seconds of conversing in a car could lead to him bleeding on the side of the street. The Ice-Cream truck was smashed into the tree, Harry scraped off the dirt and glass, limping over to the door. Harry stood upon leaking ice-cream and soft drink, kicking open the hinges of the door of the Ice-Cream truck, he found a bald driver unconscious. Harry pulled the guy from the Truck around his arms like a fallen soldier who wasn't to be left behind. "Frank! Call a paramedic, we got an injury!" "Aw shit, you got to be kiddin' Harry, the Chief is already on my ass!"

Harry laid the man down on the pavement, a puddle of water stained the relatively dry ground which was odd, there was no rain and no sight of a fire. 'Something's wrong…' Harry stretched up as Frank called for an EMT with the car radio. Harry glanced over to the source of the leak, closely examining it…a fire hydrant? Harrison walked across the street to it, noticing the pattern of the spillage...a spray, a spray like a hose in a fire. This was intentional, something was going on, this was relevant to the case somehow. Harrison observed the sightings around him, still shocked from the impact of the car. "Yo Frankie!"

"Yeah?!" "Dispatch on the line?" "Yeah, of course!" "I need a list of fire records from the TFD, think you can get Dispatch to copy out a sheet?" "Sure, I'll ask them!"

Harry folded his arms, pacing up and down in contemplation. 'Something fits, it all fits…We probably want to wait for the ambulance to come, see if I can get a description on what caused that truck...' Sirens lit up the sky, the sound screeching through the air. 'That must be them.' The ambulance braked outside the wreckage, An EMT exited the ambulance, he jogged up to Harry, and in a silvery way, he said: "Got the call, you alright Agent Woods." "Just a bad nosebleed." The EMT took out a pen torch and shone the light in Harry's eyes, "Look into the light." Harry swiveled his head from side to side, his pupils dilating. "Yeah, you are good. Here, you'll need this." The EMT took out a tissue and handed it to Harry, Harry wiped the blood and ripped off a bit, shoving it up his nose to clog the wound. The EMT sprinted over to the body, fixing it into position and checking the pulse. "Bradycardia's set in, the guy's unconscious…He's fine though, just a concussion…We got some blunt force trauma from the car getting overturned, but other than that he's fine…Oh here is the man of the hour." The EMT snapped his fingers in the conscious man's face. "Alright there Mr. Frosty, you suffered a bit of an injury…Do you know what date it is?" "3rd of August…isn't it?" "What year is it?" "2074?" The EMT smirked. "Good, good…The Gumshoe would like a word…" Harry hobbled over to the Ice-Cream vendor, kneeling down. The EMT moseyed over to Frank and overlooked him.

"Alright, my name is Skyway Patrol Officer Harrison Woods, do you know me?" "Yeah, you're the cop who's always in Mezmer's." Harry nodded his head in acknowledgement, looking over the broken and bloodied man. "Yeah, that's me. You took a bad hit, your truck is totaled…What happened?" The Vendor lunged up and gripped Harrison by the lapels and brought him closer. "It was a twenty-foot tall ROBOT! It grabbed me by the bumper and toppled my truck on this goddamn tree!" Harry beamed his eyes in fearful astonishment at the man, jaw dropped. The Vendor started to breathe heavily. "It was huge! There were two kids with it, I drove past…" "Two kids?!...What did they look like?!" Harry pulled the Vendor by the scruff in a startled rage. "What the fuck did they look like?! Tell me!" The Vendor huffed and puffed. "Two kids…black hair, short…The other was a red-headed kid, as tall as the robot…Wore a waistcoat, what fuckin' kids wear waistcoats nowadays?! What kind of kids?!" Harry released the Vendor from his grip, sighing in futile vitriol. 'Fuck…'

The EMT waltzed over to Woods, "Is Frank alright?" "Sergeant Carbuncle just has a scratch, got out pretty good. I'm surprised the wheel didn't ram through him but other than that…As for Mr. Scoops…The biggest problem we have to deal with is all the poor, poor children who have to lick ice-cream off the pavement and get Toxocariasis, the poor little bastards." "Alright, enough about dog shit worms. Did yo-did you see some kids while driving down here?" "Kids? Y'mean Brad and Tuck? I saw Brad standing down the road…as if he was…waiting? Did you hear about that Class 4 Meteorite?" "Thought it was Class 5?" The EMT shrugged indifferently, nothing meant anything to him. "Pfft, I am not a meteorologist." "No shit...It's going to burn up in the atmosphere from what I've been told." "I was told that it wasn't and it would crash into Lake Erie." "Trust me, if that was the case Skyway Patrol would be on that meteorite like Bob Marley on a blunt." Frank staggered over to the two, his head freshly treated with a bandage. "Hey, Harry...I know that shit, he drives past Brad and Tuck all the time...What did he say?" "He said he saw a twenty-foot robot and two kids fitting Brad and Tuck's description." "Tucker and Bradley? A twenty foot fuckin' robot?!" "Mhm…I can make a guess where it came from." Harry and Frank looked at each other sternly, they both turned to the Wakeman House.

"Wakeman?" "Wakeman."

The EMT stepped in between the two. "The old spinster involved in this?" "Maybe…" uttered Harrison.

Harry darted his eyes over to something at the side of the Wakeman house, he bit his lip in anticipation as he waddled over to the shattered window, picking up a piece of glass. 'Somebody broke Wakeman's window.' A ball sized hole where the glass should've been was smashed through, it was evident what happened. "Get over here!" Frank and the EMT sprinted over to the window, staring into the dark deep abyss of a broken window, inside they saw their darkest fears and they were terrified, absolutely petrified at what they saw. "Well…" said the EMT, "I think we got ourselves a mystery on our hands eh gang?" "Looks like Wakeman has skeletons in her closet..." Harry turned to the field, forcing the bloody napkin from his nose. Harry bent down examining the footprints on the dirt, small ones...the size of a seven year old's foot. The EMT lolled back in the garden seat and smiled smugly.

Harry paced the field, examining the Kombi sitting patiently outside Wakeman's house. She had gotten back to the house just before the Truck crashed. Harry clutched his shirt pocket, taking out a flask of bourbon. 'So Brad and Tuck do their shit, the window gets smashed and then we have the Ice-Cream Truck fender bend…So that leaves us with the hydrant.' 'I got the call back from the Fire Department, no call about a 10-80 within' the last week.' Harry sipped from his flask, shuddering as the sour drink poured down his throat, he cringed. Harry turned back to Frank. "That means we got ourselves someone with access to a fire pipe with a Fire Department suction couplet and the only person who has ties to emergency services is our prime suspect…"

"Noreen Wakeman." The EMT answered. "Bingo." Harry drinking from his flask. "But why would she use the couplet..." Frank rebutted. "...I don't see Wak-" An explosion rocked the sky. Harry looked up to the skies, blue laser beams, and flashes. The EMT held his hand to his face, shielding himself. "Well looks like the Great Gig in the Sky is on…" "That's unrelated isn't it?" "It ain't Skyway Patrol, we didn't get the call for the meteorite. I think it's our unsub…"

Harry sprawled out on the living room sofa of the Carbuncle residence, staring up at the ceiling completely mesmerized, absolutely shell-shocked. It was a feeling of euphoria and orgasmic high. Adrenaline seeping into your head and the DMT from your brain draining into your skull. The phosphenes came back, the prisoner's cinema came back, this concentrated energy that flew around in his brain as he contemplated not just the case that had just opened, but the entire scenario, the entire world. It was marvelous, ecstatic, orgastic. Frank slumped over the leather chair, slack-jawed and completely brain-dead. Both of them completely still, left alone with nothing but their thoughts. Frank then slumped back up and glanced over at Harry. "The EMT took away our witness, I reported it into both Skyway Patrol and TPD."

Harry blinked, he just blinked. His frontal lobe was not working, he turned it all off and focused his spiritual energy on repairing his broken soul. He raised his head up at Frank in...not apathy, not indifference but the opposite...He cared too much about what Frank was talking about. "What they say?" "They said our witness was no good, brain trauma, we don't have a warrant to search the Wakeman house." "Fuck…" Harry lowered his head in a depressed haze of thoughts. "I know…You want a beer?" Frank stood up, darting his eyes up and down the man who was reclined on his Chesterfield. "Sure, say you still got that Burning River Ale?" "Of course, I do!"

Frank reached into the fridge, taking out two brown glass bottles filled with frothy beer, he grabbed his keys, taking out his bottle opener. Frank popped a cool one for Harry and himself, he sat horizontally on his couch in such a relaxed and nirvanic way giving one to Harry, he leaned over and smiled sincerely. "To the Cuyahoga!" "To the Cuyahoga!" The glasses clinked and they both downed the cool drink, laying on the couch and enjoying the atmosphere that they had.

"I'll tell y-" Tucker walked into the living room covered in black dust, Harry and Frank turned to him. "What the hell is on you Tuck, where the hell have you been?" "Ugh, that's a lot of questions Dad…I was at a bonfire." "You were at a bonfire?" Frank looked at Tuck in awe, he knew he was lying, it was obvious. You could tell it on his face that he was hiding something. "Yeah, Brad went with me." Tuck had a source of false assurance behind him. "Where the hell did you go, Salem? You look like a goddamn. Guess you just came out the toaster and scraped the burnt off yourself." "Well it got pretty smoky, ya know?" "Oh I know, I know just well…Say, Tuck?" "Yes, Dad?"

"Do you know who broke Wakeman's window, or who toppled the Ice-Cream Truck?" Tuck cringed at such an obvious question that was to be answered with an obvious answer, "I'm going to take a shower." Tuck twisted the knob of the door and left the room, going upstairs and away from the truthseekers, leaving a drunk and an ignoramus in the living room, looking like the biggest idiots of the town.

"I told you shit was goin' on…Say what time is it?"

Frank examined his watch, staring at the little and big hands. "It's 3:45". Harry sighed in disbelief of how fast the day went. "3:45? Jesus, I'm fuckin' locked this early, well that's fuckin' great." Frank turned his head to his hand, staring silently at his fingers, a microcosm in his grip. "My car is still totaled…" Frank swiveled his head over to Harry, replying instantaneously. "I called a mechanic, it should be good in a day or two." Harry hoisted himself up, sucking on the neck of the bottle like an infant to his mother, heading out towards the door. "I'm headin' back to PD, I need to set some stuff up and begin my investigation." Frank stared back at his hand, completely abstemious of the situation around him. Harry shambled down the street, guzzling down his grog, contemplating what the hell he was doing with his life and why he was so concerned about a used hydrant and a toppled Ice-Cream truck. Harry snuggled himself down on a bus seat bench, his head slumped back against the glass and his eyes fixated on the roof of the bus stop, void, nothing but black, uncomprehending void.

Harry snatched a cigarette pack from his pocket, placing it in between his minor diastema teeth. Harry shook his head, attempting to get back into reality. He reached his hand into his jacket pocket, lifting an Electric arc lighter from his pocket, pressing the button and lowering his cigarette down to the beam. Alcohol and nicotine were enough to get Harry through the day, a short-term solution to a long-term problem. Harry took a puff, inhaling the cigarette and exhaling softly, his eyes closed, soaking in the atmosphere. The sound of screeching sounded down the street, wheeling, and wheeling as a big white bus emerged from the corner of the street and slowly advancing down the street. Harry took the last puff of his cigarette, tossing it to the ground and stomping it out with his oxford shoe, his thumb stretching out to get the Bus' attention. The bus steered into the driveway for Woods and the doors rolled open ajar, Harrison snuck the drink into his jacket and nodded to the Bus Driver.

Harry seated himself down at his mahogany desk, holding his arms out obliviously at nothing. "Where the hell do I start?" Harry asked out loud to no one in particular, completely helpless as to where and what he was going to do, placing both of his hands on his head, tugging his hair and mumbling 'What the fuck am I gonna' do?' Harry surveyed the telephone in silence, he gripped the receiver and with his index he inputted digits. "Hello, Operator? I need to be put through to BCI."

"Of course, a moment sir."

"…Bureau of Criminal Investigations Office, rank, name and number?"

"This is Supervisory Agent Harrison Woods, badge number is 24601, I need to be put through to the Investigations Division immediately."

"Yes, of course, hold."

Muzak played, Harry gripped the phone harder impatiently. "Hey, Harry!" Sergeant Morgan entered the room, looking down at him. "What'cha need Morg? I'm on the line with BCI." Morgan was a short, fat Irish guy, a fat Leprechaun with a cup of tea in his hand. "I heard you and Frankie crashed into an ice cream truck today, just wanted to say congrats." "Fuck off plastic paddy, I'm busy."

The phone clicked, "This is Appellate Assistant Oswald Courtney, how may I help you, Agent Woods?"

Harry lifted his jacket off his shoulder, tossing it up on the coat hanger.

"Yeah, could I get a call into OHLEG? I need you to shoot me over a file on Noreen Wakeman."

"Is he the Russian guy?"

"Not Oleg! OHLEG! O-H-L-E-G, The Ohio Law Enforcement Gateway!"

"Oh, OHLEG! Yeah, sure...Norman Acheman?"

"Noreen Wakeman!"

"How do you spell that?"

"November, Oscar, Romeo, Echo, Echo, November. Wilco, Alpha, Kilo, Echo, Mike, Alpha, November."

"Oh…I see, Noreen Wakeman...It looks like her file's been redacted in regards to her behavioral sheets and performance records in Skyway Patrol. The only file I can get you is news-clippings. I can get the classifieds but you are going to need to get through a helluva' lot of red tape to get 'em...We're talking sextuplicates."

"What if I send over two I-2Xs and a 952, I'll also brush over a 2-X5 to make it all legal."

"Uhm, yeah, sure that should work. Send me over those in the mail, I should probably have your files in by…today is Friday so…I should have them in two days' time, hopefully. I'll send over whatever I can get now, the station commander will print it out for you. Right, is that all?"

"Alright, that'll do, that'll do just great. You send me a copy of them over and I'll have those forms sent over, thanks for your help."

"No problem Agent Woods, have a nice day."

"You too Mr. Courtney."

Harrison slammed the receiver down, placing both of his hands on his face. "What kind of name is Courtney?"

Harry chugged down his coffee, a gang of Tremorton's boldest babbling around him, gorging on donuts and downing coffee. Harry blocked it all out, he heard all these kinds of stories. 'The perp did this, the perp did that…The perp tried to get away and in the end, we all won and the baby got her candy back.' Harry read the headlines of the Tremorton Examiner 'TREMORTON AMUSEMENT PARK COMING SOON.' The article talked about an event taking place in a few days and supposedly that the kids were going to love it. "You see that freaky-ass light show, Will?" "Shit was crazy, I think Skyway Patrol is coming out with a report on that...Speaking of which..."

"...Ay Harry!" Harry shot his back, finding Morgan and a couple of cops sniggering.

"Me and the boys are talking about your old partner Brikowski, you know the fat lazy guy?"

Harry squinted at Morgan, vitriol running through his veins, irritated at this tumor that polluted the department. "This coming from you? You call Mike a fat bastard but yet here we have a fucking whale running through the department. I didn't know Tremorton hired Shamu to protect and serve." The other cops busted their asses at Morgan, his cheeks blushing up in embarrassment and rage. "You think you so goddamn good eh Golden Boy? You are a fucking bad apple Harry, a bad fucking apple! Internal Affairs is on your ass and y'know it!" Harry took a drink from his latté macchiato, he was getting agitated sitting around that fat piece of shit. "Buddy, I'm not in the mood for this charade and neither am I in the mood for you. Now you can kindly fuck right off and stop talking about Mike and do something productive, like your fucking job? Mike was twice the fucking cop you ever were and I don't give a fuck what you think of him and he would say the same, so shut your FUCKING mouth and leave me the FUCK alone!" Morgan folded his arms, an annoying smug grin on his face. The kind of shit-eating grin that would make you want to punch his fat face in as a makeshift nip and tuck. Harry stood up angrily, shaking his head frustrated.

'Frank…C'mon pick up…C'mon…'

The phone was picked up. "Ugh…Wh-who' this?"

"It's Harry."

"Harry…It's f-It's two o' clock in the fuckin' morning and my head hurts like a bitch. W-why are you calling me?" Frank was stripped in bed, his half-naked wife just across the way. Harry paced up and down the car park, scratching and staring around extremely paranoid. "Because! I figured the shit out, Noreen is hiding something from us. She's got something up her sleeve! Brad and Tuck know about it too, they're in on i-" "Slow down Harry, my kids aren't involved in Wakeman's crazy schemes.' Misses Carbuncle placed her arm around Frank's neck. "Oh come on baby, who is it?" "It's Harry, I'm just taking a call." "Don't take too long, I like a man with scars." Misses Carbuncle yawned and scratched softly at his back.

"Harry, let's calm it down before you start making accusations, I need the method behind your madness." Harry groaned, clutching dossiers in his hand firmly. "Here-Here's my idea of what happened…Tuck and Bradley were playing baseball, one of them accidentally smacks the ball off the window, Wakeman was driving her T2 when we were at Mezmer's so this shit happened around the time we left after our coffee…So that means that we got there just a few moments after the Truck got smashed and after Wakeman came home…One of your kids went in to get the ball and shit went down, Wakeman comes home and finds out what happens and the Truck gets smashed in a tree. We arrive on scene a few minutes later, Tuck, Bradley and the unsub meet up and…I don't know how to correlate that shit to the light show we saw earlier but the pieces are there Frank! They are there!'" "Jesus, it makes so much sense now. So ugh, what do you suggest? We don't have permission to get a warrant on Wakeman." Harry opened up the trunk, picking up his shotgun he loaded the chambers in, holding the phone with his shoulder. "Your sons are obviously in bed with Wakeman's pet, so we got to keep eyes out for when they ever want to visit the place." "Ugh, shit Harry. Tuck and Brad said they are going over to Wakeman's tomorrow to do some laundry or somethin', do you think they are going over there to meet with our unsub? Hell, who the hell is our unsub?" "Ice-Cream guy said he saw a "twenty-foot robot", maybe he wasn't joking. We're looking for a tall android, my idea is Wakeman might be hiding Cluster Sleeper Cells or something like that."

"You think Wakeman's a cluster sympathizer, I mean she was Skyway Patrol just like you are Harry." "She's nothing like me. You get the idea, Frankie? I want you to meet me at my apartment tomorrow, pick me up and we'll stake out the place." Frank soothed his sore, swollen eyes with his fingers, grunting. "Yeah, sure Harry, c-c-can I go to bed now?" "Yeah sure, I'll see you tomorrow Frankie boy, I'm going down the rabbit hole and you're coming with me." "Yeah, we'll see just how it leads." "Yes, we will. Frankie?" "Yeah, Harry?" "Tell no one about this and I mean no one, as far as they're concerned he accidentally swerved into a tree. You GET me?" "Yeah, I got you...Goodnight Harry." "You too."

Harry hung up the phone, placing it back in his jacket pocket. He thought to himself, "Well, well Noreen…" Harry opened the dossier, taking out a dossier: Noreen's Skyway Patrol portrait smack bang in the middle of the brown envelope. '…We'll find those bones in your closet…and all those skeletons in the dirt.' A devious smile appeared on Harrison's face.

 

[Garda De Fier]

Chapter 2:

The Communist's Daughter

Harrison Woods drank himself into an ugly, intoxicated stupor that he would only get into on a tough night, drink the nightmares away…drown them in the whiskey river, Jim Bean and Jack Daniels were Harrison's psychologists while John Jameson was his bedside buddy. He came home from the parking lot as drunk as a skunk, disheveled, he looked like a dead man and that's exactly what he and what all his friends and family wanted him to be. He threw himself down on his chesterfield, face first into the shiny leather and cringed with the cold. Tired, paranoid and drunk were the devil's threesome. A broken down shell of a man who used to be the golden boy was now sat fetal on his couch, eyes open wide, fear running through his blood. Sleep was not an option, not the nightmares again, not the fucking nightmares. Fire-hydrants, ice-cream trucks and broken windows beaming images and electrical currents through his cerebral with no capacity to think about what exactly Wakeman was hiding and what she would do if he found out. Harrison was completely static, his jaw dropped like the heaviest bomb and he had the weight of Atlas upon his back.

Harrison slightly moved his fingers to the T.V remote, pressing the big red button. The TV shot on and monochrome images of violence and bloodshed played. "Last afternoon in Johannesburg, outside the Mfecane Café a bomb went off killing twelve civilians, three of whom were children. The bomb was suspected of being planted by Spies van die Nasie, a militant arm of the African Tripartite, their leader Christopher Rani, a fifth columnist from Cape Town was found in a farmhouse outside Ventersdorp by Boerweerstandsbeweging volunteers and was sent to Pretoria for trial. Sympathizers met outside the courthouse and attempted to siege it in order to rescue Rani. Police used automatic weapons and armored vehicles to disperse the crowd and one-hundred and forty-two Rani Sympathizers lost their lives, Rani was sentenced to conspiracy to overthrow the South African government under Prime Minister Leblanc." Harrison's eyes sifted through the hazy lethargy he so desperately aspired for, he laid his head on the dossier like a pillow.

Harrison awoke in a different bed in a different house on a different planet far, far away from the burning rivers of Ohio. 'Fuck...' Harrison leaned up off his bunk, covered in army fatigues from neck to toe. '...Where the hell am I?' The question was simple, he was where he was twelve years ago, in a foxhole deep within the galaxy fighting for dirt. The barracks were dirty and desolate, nobody was still there. He stood up. "Hello?! Anybody?!" He was alone, just like he was in the present. Harry slowly stepped towards the door, he turned the knob slowly and it opened to a field of gray dust and mortar smoke. A black figure lunged out at him, just like the ones in his nightmares and strapped a black bag over his head. Harrison's screams were in vain, muffled, muted. He started to breathe in and out, thoughts spun around in his head were the figure was going to take him. He was pushed over to a wall along with the other masked and scared, huddled where a smoldering barn had been, deep robotic voices said with respect 'Lieutenant Smytus.' Smytus, that evil smug bastard, one of the most malicious officers in the Cluster Military. He had that rank in the First Intergalactic War, making a name by brutally murdering civilians and sending them off to the Concentration Camps. Smytus walked up to Harrison, breathing in his face the hot sulfuric smelling diseased crater of a mouth of his. 'On my orders...' Smytus notified in such a merciless, apathetic matter, indifferent to the alien lives he would end that day. 'FIRE!' Lazers and bullets riddled the crowd, Harrison took multiple bullets to the torso and slumped over the other dead bodies. The digger crews came and lifted their thin, bloodied and motionless bodies over a pit and tossed them right in. A large scoop of dirt and muck poured down, sealing them in their tomb. Knock knock...Knock knock. Knock knock.

August 4th, 2074​

Harrison shot up off the couch, coughing and gasping for air. "Fuck!...Who is it?!" The knocking on the door stopped and a loud voice rang through the letterbox. "It's Frankie!" Oh, it was just Frank. Harrison strolled to the door, pulling the handle down and opening it. "Ugh...Oh, hi, Frank. What's the problem?" Frank walked into Harry's apartment room, "Turn on the news, now." Harrison reached for the television remote, flicking it over to the news. "Yesterday afternoon, a mysterious array of lights was emitted above the exosphere, this may have been involved with the NOAAs meteroite alert but experts deny any action taking place, we go live to the Chief of Skyway Patrol." Skyway Patrol's Chief was standing at a podium, addressing news reporters: "As I said before, this little light show event yesterday is unknown as of yet. We have no reports of alien activity from Cluster Prime but we are going to co-operate with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Agency to determine what occurred, I'll take one last question." A news reporter held up his hand, "Yes, sir. Can we correlate the light-show to the string of vigilante actions taken world-wide by the unknown perpetrator." Skyway Patrol's Chief pointed at the reporter, "As of now we do not have any proof that this is correlated neither is there proof that these vigilante actions have been taken by a single entity, Skyway Patrol's finest agents are doing their best to track down what is going on and this will dealt with swiftly...that is all."

​

Woods sighed, putting his hands up to his eyes. "That goddamn international shit with that fuckin' assailant, ugh. We'll find that bitch one day." Frank paced around the living room, "I mean, what if this shit actually is all connected? The truck, the light show and the vigilante?" Harrison sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "You're preaching to the choir. This shit is way too coincidental, too circumstantial. Y'want some coffee?" Frank nodded and smiled that signature shit-eating grin. 'Yeah, please.' Frank reclined on Harry's couch, looking over at Harry. "Brad and Tuck went over to Noreen's house." "Of course they would, you told me. Obviously seeing our little unsub." Frank nodded, pursing his lips. "They brought their racing games with them." Harrison shot back to Frank, eyebrows raised. "I thought they were going over for chores?" "So did I." Harrison reached his hand out, grabbing the espresso from the cupboard and pouring it into two cups, mixing a bit of sugar and milk into each. "You still take sugar right?" "Yeah, two spoons." The kettle boiled and Harry poured the water into the cups, taking a whiff of the fine smelling drink. 'Beautiful.'

Harrison gave a cup to Frank and sat down alongside him. "So, Brad and Tuck are over at Wakeman's with their racing toys?" "It seems that way, I thought it was pretty peculiar." Harrison took a swig of his coffee, it was dark and richly roasted, the scene would drive a man to ecstasy. "How's our witness in the hospital doin'?" Frank crossed his arms, shaking his head in defeat. "Courtney, the Appellate Prosecutor called up District Attorney Jones and got Noreen's dossier for you and I picked up your car from the mechanics. However, for some reason...He doesn't like you continuing the case. Called me up and said: 'It's too circumstantial, not enough evidence neither do you got a reliable witness', y'know the bullshit." Harrison shrugged, either way the dominoes were in place. "Well, sometimes you win some and sometimes you lose some. That's evident in my case. Anyway, we should probably get over to the Wakeman house and stake the place out for anything suspicious...Brad and Tuck are most likely doing more than just chores, there must be something in Noreen's that appealing and most of all she is letting them on it, I doubt she'd let them in on a Cluster agent so it must be something." Harrison stood up, swirling around his mug of coffee, snarling. "I'd be lying if I said I knew what it was, but goddamn I'm going to find out what the fuck it is and I'm going to eradicate it no matter what it fuckin' takes." Frank's eyes shot open, Harry was terrifying him. "Don't you think you are getting a bit too involved in this? I mean, what if it is just circumstantial?" Harrison sipped his mug and elevated it to a glug, he finished off his coffee. "Either way she is definitely hiding something." Frank crossed his arms, "Well, I'm just not making assumptions until I see hard evidence that there might actually be something going on, this could all just be a big misunderstanding. What if Tuck and Brad did throw the ball through the window and they're going over to Wakeman's to work back their debts...Maybe they brought their toy over because she sympathizes with them?" Harrison looked blankly at Frank, the bullshit dripping from his lips was spectacular. "Well, we're going to find out what happens tonight...C'mon, we best get on the beat."

Harrison turned the keys in the ignition and peddled out of the driveway slowly, the Gorki turned on the busy main street. Harrison stopped at a red light at an intersection, "So I'm sayin' is Frank, we're dealin' with a rogue element that's established itself as a fifth column inside the city, but why ice-cream trucks?" Frank pondered, that question was pretty difficult to answer. "If I was a Cluster agent, I wouldn't be attacking ice-cream trucks, I'd most likely be attacking shit like power plants and telecommunications or infrastructure...What if what Wakeman has i-". The red light turned green and Harry gently pressed down on the accelerator with his foot. "...As I was saying, what if Wakeman's pet has some kind of friendship with your sons? Bringing the toys over, the ice-cream trucks. Brad and Tuck used the 'pet' to take some ice-cream...you said yourself, he drives past the kids all the time." Frank blinked, Harry's theories had some sense to them. "And ugh...What about the fire-hydrant and the ball through the window?" Harry squinted his eyes, contemplating. "That's going to be a tough one to answer, the fire hydrant being used without a fire? Unless this thing we're hunting after was having a water fight...with Brad and Tuck." The car turned on the corner and was now on Wakeman's street. "Say, Harry, I just realized...why ain't I driving?" Harrison scoffed mockingly. "Last time you had the wheel, you nearly got us killed." The Gorki pulled up outside Carbuncle's house, Harry reached into the glove box and took out some Binoculars.

​

'Hmm...' "You see anything Harry?" "No, not yet atleas-Oh shit, we have something.' A black silhouette appeared in the window, it's head was a perfect circle with large jagged objects sticking out of it, its head appeared to have just twisted off. "Jesus! There is something in there! I knew it! I fuckin' knew it!" "Here let me see!" Harry gave the binoculars over to Frank, he stared through them jaw-dropped. "Oh my god, you were right!" "I know I was fuckin' right!" "Brad and Tuck are over in that house, we got to get 'em!" Frank attempted to unbuckle himself. "No! You are going to ruin the investigation! Noreen will find out something is up!" Frank got out of the car and sprinted over to the front porch of the Wakeman House, Harry got out of the car and ran after him. "For fuck's sakes man! Stop!" Frank started bashing the goddamn door down. "Open the fuckin' door, Wakeman! Do you hear me, you dumb bitch? Open the fuck up!" Harry grabbed his arms desperately trying to pull him back. "Keep it down! You're going to get us compromised!" Frank started to scream, Harry clasped his mouth over Frank's face. "Shut the fuck up!" Lazer beams started going off, Frank and Harry stood still. "Oh...Oh fuck...Here! Let's go around the neighbor's side!" Harry let go of Frank and they both scaled the neighbor's fence. Harry reached into his holster and took out his pistol.

A large splash sounded off in Wakeman's yard, "What the fuck?!" Harry ran over to the side of the fence and found a hole in the picket, he stared through it. "Fuck I can't see shit..." Frank took a peak over the fence, Harry ripped Frank down. "No! They'll notice, just keeps your eyes down and listen." The breeze blew in Harry's face, he couldn't hear a single thing Wakeman or the kids were saying but could identify them by voice. "Wakeman's talking...with a Russian. I can hear the kids too...There's something else there with them...It's a girl." Frank and Harry attempted to listen to the conversation but to no avail. "Shit! C'mon we got to get back to the car!" Harry and Frank scaled the wall again and sprinted over to the Gorki, Harry ripped the door open and pulled the radio transmitter. "Dispatch, dispatch! This is Sierra Whiskey Eight-Niner. We got ourselves a code 42, could you patch into Noreen Wakeman's telephone for the next few moments?" "Actually Sierra, it looks like Noreen Wakeman's put a call into the local animal control just a few moments ago." "I see...Could you divert them around the corner, we need to do a check." "Solid copy.' The animal control van pulled off the corner and stopped, Harry and Frank ran over to the van and thumped down on the van's bonnet. "Yo! We're going to need your van! We need it now!" The animal controllers stepped away from the van. "Hang out here for a minute or two, we'll give it back soon." Harry and Frank got in the back and started to strip off their clothes and change. "Alright, we're ready. Let's do it!" Harry stepped on the pedal and stopped outside the Wakeman house.

Harry got out of the car and walked over to the porch and started to knock. Noreen Wakeman opened the door, looking extremely angry for some reason. "You took your time..." Harrison coughed, he smirked smugly and joked in a Minnesota accent, "Traffic was bad, y'know?" Noreen squinted, analyzing Harrison. "Do I know you?" "Well, you should. I'm the animal control officer, y'know? The one you called. I mean who else could I be, eh?" Noreen looked behind Harrison and found Carbuncle. "And you are his partner?" Carbuncle followed along with Harry and put on his best New York accent, "Uh-huh, you called us up just a while ago. We got a call about an animal problem?" "We have a rat infestation." Harrison nodded in acknowledgment, saying professionally, "Rats eh? That should be no problem. We'll set up a few rat-traps an-" "No! They're not to be killed! I want them to be dealt with humanely, they're for my experiments." Harrison emitted that 'hmm' sound, the one used when you are paying attention. "Alright...We'll get the cells an-" "I have them all locked up in cages, I just want you to bring them back." "Alright, that can be done, eh?" Harrison stepped into the house and examined about. "Alright, Stevie? You move the cages, I just gotta' make sure that upstairs is alright." "It's fine! I checked!" Noreen stated, suspiciously excited. "Excuse me Mrs. Wakeman, but you do realize that we have to search every nook and cranny. We are obligated as animal control experts, I don't tell you how to do your job and you don't tell me how to do mine. You want the homeowner's association to find out you have a rat problem and drive property value down? No?! Then I suggest you shut up and don't tell me how to do my job, eh." Noreen was stunned at such a blatant disrespect attempt but allowed him to go upstairs. Harrison turned and entered a room, there was a bed nicely tucked and toy cars over the ground, posters of Spitney were scattered over the walls and teenage magazines polluted the ground. "What the hell?" Tuck and Brad sat over on the bed playing with the racing set, they both looked at Harrison immediately recognizing him.

"Oh, Mr. Woods! Hi!" Harrison ran over to Tuck and placed his hand on his mouth, he whispered right into Tuck's ear. "Keep your mouth shut." Tuck and Brad looked terrified at Woods as he placed his index finger to his lips, he stepped aside and started to feel the walls with his fist and pounded the walls firmly. He walked over to the Spitney poster and slammed his fist against it, it was hollow underneath. BINGO. The Spitney poster, that's where the thing was hiding. "So...Noreen isn't a bit Spitney fan is she?" Brad shrugged, "Not from what I know Mr. W-Ugh, sir." Harrison nodded, pacing up and down the room. "...This doesn't look like the master bedroom, it's too...girly, too modern for Wakeman's taste...You wouldn't know who sleeps in room eh? Considering the fact she lives alone, eh..." Harrison grew closer to Brad, gritting his teeth. "It'd be a shame if you were lying to me...eh? I want to know what's goin' on 'ere eh, you better tell me when you get home, eh? Or there'll BE HELL to PAY, you get me eh?!" Tuck and Brad nodded as Harry stood up and walked downstairs. The rats were loaded into the truck. "Alright Mrs. Wakeman, it's all clear. We'll handle it from here, call us if this ever happens again." Noreen spat in disrespect and followed Harry outside to the porch, Tuck and Brad followed suit as they both got in the van and drove off.

"You find anything, Harry?" Harrison nodded, he smiled sincerely. The first smile he had ever smiled in days. "We got 'em, hollowed out in a room filled with teen mags and Spitney posters...A bed, it isn't the master bedroom but there are signs of something living in there. You best press Tuck and Brad when you get home because they are indeed in on it." Frank nodded, sighing. "Fuck...You are right, they were in on it...", "I'm startin' to think that we aren't dealing with a Cluster but instead, we're dealing with one of Wakeman's creations." Squealing and screaming emitted from the back. "What the fuck is that?" "Noreen's experiments...She was working on genes with rats, mutated the fuck out of them my god are they fuckin' ugly." Harrison cringed at what horrors awaited in the back, he turned the wheel and stopped at the corner. "You can have it back fellas." Harrison and Frank got out of the van and ran back around the corner to the car, speeding off.

Harrison stopped by the hospital later that night alone, he got out of the Gorki and entered. "Hello nurse, Agent Woods. I need to see a patient. He's held up in the E.R, y'know the Ice Cream guy?" "Oh, yes. He is room five, take the first door on the right turn." Harrison nodded, walking down the hallway. Patients held up in wheelchairs, broken arms and car crash victims pooled the halls. "Yo, Agent Woods, my man!" Harrison nodded to the EMT, "'ey, Doc. It's you." The EMT smirked, folding his arms. "How've you been since yesterday?" "I've been really good, thanks for fixin' me up Doc." The EMT waved his hand in modesty, "Please, my name's Fritz." Harrison nodded, reaching out his hand to shake Fritz's, "It's good to meet you, Fritz. Call me Harry." Fritz shook Harry's hand, "Yeah. Good to meet you too, how's the Wakeman case goin'?" Harrison put his finger up to his lips, shushing Fritz. "Yo, buddy. You mind keeping that stuff on the down low for a while? I can't let the investigation get compromised...I hope you told no-one about it." Fritz shook his head, "Nah, man. It's nobody's business, it's your shit. I'll keep my mouth shut about it, but do tell me how it goes, between you and me." Harrison nodded, smirking. "Well, I can't give you details but let us say that it is getting close." Fritz smiled, "Yeah, I understand. Cloak and dagger shit, I can dig that. Anyway, I'm off duty, I'll catch you later Woods." Woods nodded to Fritz as he left the hospital, Woods continued down the hall and entered room five. A hot-head blonde nurse was checking the man's IV tube, Harry tapped her on the shoudler, giving her a flirting smirk. "That's my kinda' nurse, mind if I have a talk with the guy for a sec?" The Nurse fluttered her hand and gave Harrison a smug smile, "Of course, darlin'. Visiting times are over soon, though." "How're you doin'?" The Ice-Cream man looked up, seeing Woods standing there by the door. "Oh, hello Officer Woods. I've been fine." "Agent Woods, but please just call me Harry." Harrison walked up to the bed, dragging a chair over with him, sitting by the bedside. "So...That concussion gone?" The Driver nodded, "Yeah. I'm feelin' better." Harrison nodded, he reached for his hip canteen and offered it to the man. "You want some?" The Driver shook his head, "No." Harrison opened the tab and took a swig of the whiskey, "Alright. So, you remember anything you forgot yesterday?" The Driver nodded, "That robot was there. I swear to god above Woods." Harrison sighed, looking over to the 'Get Well, soon' cards by the bedside. "Tell me, y'know those kids you saw? Did you ever have previous incidents where you drove off on them?" The Driver looked down in embarrassment, nodding. "Yeah, sometimes." Harrison nodded, "Alright. So you drove past them again, and what happened?"

"I saw something with them, it was a tall mechanical figure, it looked blue and white. I drove past and the fuckin' thing pulled me back with a magnet. Next thing you know the bastards stole my shit and left me for dead." Harrison nodded, "Blue and white?" "Yeah, it had blue antennae coming out of it, a round face." Harrison folded his arms. "Your story sounds like bullshit...I know its true though. What are you doing when you get out of hospital?" The driver shrugged, "I was going to tell my story to the news and advertise my Ice cream business." Harrison shook his head, taking another swig of whiskey, "No, no you're not." Harrison had a big smirk on his face. "What d'ya mean no?!" Harrison bent over the bed, reasoning with the Driver. "Listen buddy, my investigation is going to be compromised if you tell the news about everything. You need to just let it go and say that you forgot everything after your concussion. In return, I'll toss over some scratch for your hospital bills and your truck's repairs. Does that not sound like a good deal?" "Buddy, this shit is important." Harrison paced over to the other side of the bed, "Buddy. I'm helping you here so help me. After we find out what it is and kill it, you can brag to your friends and the news. Can you trust me, please?" Harrison took a swig of the whiskey, the Driver looked up to Woods. "I didn't see anything, I saw a squirrel and I swerved and hit a tree. Thought I saw things." Harrison smirked, patting the bedside. The Nurse walked in, "Agent Woods, visiting times are over." Harrison nodded to the driver and walked off.

​

"Sir! I have proof!" Harrison mumbled into the phone receiver. "I'm telling you that Noreen Wakeman is hiding an android in her house!" The Chief sighed, holding his brandy in his hand as she sat by his fireplace. "You are telling me that Doctor Wakeman is hiding an android in her home...? Woods, this is a serious allegation! Do you have any proof?" Harrison pinched his forehead, sweat dripping like snow on a December evening. "I'm tellin' yeh', I saw something in Wakeman's window, I went in to check it out in disguise and found a wall underneath a poster in a room that looks like someone is sleeping in, what about that fuckin' lightshow sir? You know I have evidence!' The Chief gulped down his brandy, grunting frustrated. "Woods, what you have is a vendor with a concussion. Are you one-hundred percent sure that Wakeman is hiding a rogue element?" The Bartender looked over to Woods, "Eh, Harry. Be quick, you are running up my phone bill." Harrison placed his fingers to lips, "Not now, Ricky." "Woods, I'll cut you a deal. I'll give you a S.W.A.T team and a search warrant, you find something and I'll see what I can do about Wakeman...If you find nothing then you are fired, off the case, I'll put you on fucking janitorial duty and give Carbuncle your job." Harrison gulped, tugging at his collar. "Y-y-yes sir, I am positive." "Last chance, Woods. You in or out, I'll talk things over with Jones." "Yeah...I'm positive if it goes wrong put all the responsibility on me." "Your funeral, Woods." Harrison slammed the phone, he started flailing his arms around angrily and made screaming noises under his breath.

"Ricky...I'll have a snifter of some good ol' Evan Williams." Ricky poured the snifter full of golden whiskey and placed it down on the table next to Harry. Harry tossed the money to Ricky and picked up his snifter, sipping the icy cold beverage. "Nice, it's sweet" was the thought that ran around Harrison's head. "You see that light-show yesterday? Damn crazy shit eh?" Harrison nodded, clutching the snifter. "Yeah, tell me about it." Ricky folded his arms, "You know anythin' 'bout it, a few insider Skyway Patrol secrets?" Harrison shrugged, "That's the NOAA's thing, not Skyway Patrol's. I don't know." He chugged the brandy and wiped his lips with his sleeve, it was late. "I'm off home Ricky, thanks for letting me use your phone." Ricky nodded, "Stay safe Woods." Harry exited the bar and stood on the cold, frosty pavement with big red letter signs behind him, labeling the bar: 'THE COMMUNIST'S DAUGHTER', a unique name for such a down-on-your-luck podunk hellhole of a bar that sold second-rate drinks to second-rate people who had second-rate jobs with second-rate wives who didn't even love them. It was time to go home, it was time to go to sleep, it was time to do nothing while shit was being prepared the next day. The night sky shined down on that sad but yet oh so beautiful Ohio town, all of the people there were strange and had their quirks, but at least they had loyalty and knew from where they came.

 

[Garda De Fier]

Chapter 3:
​

Rags to Ditches

August 5th, 2074

'The Battle-line between good and evil runs through the heart of every man.'​

That sentence kept Harrison up at night after he came home from the bar. It was the first time for a while he was finally in bed and wasn't fearing for slumber, bags under his eyes drooped so heavily, oh so heavily. What was worse than personal fatigue? Cancer. What was worse than cancer? Leprosy. The malignant parasitoid that clung to Harrison's mind when he just craved to go to sleep but that gloomily wasn't an option. He had awakened from his rest, for the past few days he hadn't a single day of repose, saving the town and I say that loosely was a very malevolent task which the only reward was ingratitude and the bone-crushing fatigue that one experiences when one takes such a role. Harrison, however, did not consider that he would be stuck in a dilapidated apartment fit for a mongrel bitch let alone a man. No human being would sleep on the single bed layered with faded silk duvets and feather pillows with blue naval designs on them. The streetlamps irradiated a red light in the sky that gleamed down a rusted hue of red. Across the street from Harrison's apartment was a 24/7 Chinese laundromat, even though he didn't attend since he already had a washer, it was a still a nice little place that was accommodating. The people who worked in it came from a city called Shenzhen, just on the border of Hong Kong. Harrison didn't recognize their names, he didn't converse with them. That laundromat was a beacon of some sort, a holy lantern that frightened the demons away, alarmed them all away back to the recesses of the Orient.

Harrison got up and left his apartment, strolling down the empty, dimly lit streets. It was a time of contemplation, it was the time for some change. Along the empty pathway lay a Vagrant, a scruffy man who had seen better days, his legs were amputated below his knees. "Ey' Son...spare a dime?" Harrison towered over the man, gazing at him. A green army jacket was coiled around him, keeping him warm. "I know that look...those legs...You were in the war." The Hobo approved, condensation ran from his breath as he spoke. "Yeah...I was...37th Infantry." Harrison pursed his lips, a sympathy ran from his eyes as he peeked down at the downtrodden man on hard times. "The 37th? You were on the Gemini campaign, you fought on OGLE right?" The Hobo squinted his eyes, looking right up at the tall man. "Yeah, yeah I was. How'd ya' know?" Harrison knelt down on the cold rock hard ground and reaches into his shirt pocket, taking out a fifty dollar bill and handing it to the man. "Because I was there too." Harrison stood up, the Hobo looked at the note in his hand and tears of joy ran from his face, "I...I can't thank you enough, brother." Harrison nodded and strolled off into the dead of the night.

Neon was the new crack cocaine on the streets of Tremorton, signs were held up from the skylines and the landscape of old art-deco gods of a time of old who once took the reins who now resided the valley that they had now been forced from once a long time ago. This was the part of the city that God had forsaken a long time ago, sodomy and the smell of failure and teenage angst ran through this part of town, the slums. XXX, Strip, and other flauntingly sexual signs illuminated the walls of the concrete structures that held up the business. Women who were scantily dressed resided in the damned grim gutters who slept by day and earned money off their backs by night. Swing music boomed from the windows, the sounds of dancing and bed springs twanging were the dominant aural emissions that ran from the skies above. Harrison walked down the street, clicking his fingers to the tunes and bobbing his head in rhythm. A dapper young girl, a pretty young thing, something you'd see out of a Roaring Twenties magazine came over to Harrison rubbing her hands down his shoulder. "Would you mind buying a girl a drink?" Harrison-tut tuted, and jokingly said, "I'd be buying for a lot more after the night is through."

The Fontána Ballroom & Hotel was one of the main attractions of Tremorton, a tall twenty story tower that resided in Old Tremorton, a part of the town which was mainly focused on red-light activities and the sick things that the kids in the suburbs would cringe at witnessing. This was part of the city that you probably didn't want to end up getting lost in. Harrison entered the bar room and the sweet sound of music poured through the air. A thin woman with purple hair was singing a slow melody down on the stage with her band, Harrison couldn't take his eyes off her, the serenity and beauty of her voice and face were just too...appealing for a lack of better words, Harrison snapped out of his haze and ordered a cut brandy, the snifter was put in front of him, ice foaming in the lovely golden liquid, Harrison dipped his lips into the snifter pipe and started to sip slowly, his eyes focused on stage. The lyrics to that oh so old melody reverberated in his head, he just smiled. That song was from a time of old, a time of ups and downs and turnabouts.

"Well, if I'll be damned..."

That voice calmly sounded out in a room filled with sound waves of the crowds, it was absolute in a place of decay. Harrison looked over to the voice and saw a man shaded out in darkness and cigarette smoke. Harrison strolled over to the booth and turned his head to the man. "Do you...know me? Do I...know you?" The man bobbed his head up and down and pointed his fingers down on the table. "Sit, buddy." Harrison took a seat down by the man, two women were couched up beside him and hugging his arms seductively. "If I'm not mistaken, you are Agent Woods, are you not?" Harrison reclined back in the booth and folded his arms, nodding to the man. "Maybe. Who are you?" The man took another puff of his cigarette and exhaled the tar-black smoke, he leaned his head out and shook the smoke away revealing a man with auburn scruffy hair with heavy stubble, a dark purple velvet suit jacket clad over him. "Name's Wallace...Wallace Sinclair, Skyway Patrol Narco Squad." Harrison's eyebrows raised. "Wallace. I heard about you. You are on the Esperanto Murder case." Wallace shrugged modestly. "Anything else about me?" Harrison looked down to the bottle of gin by the table. "You dope young starlets up and get your picture taken in the papers." Sinclair smirked, "The business is good when you got friends in high places. I mean, you can't say much can you? You got your five minutes of fame, the same as I do. You get your picture in the paper, you get your medal once in a while. We throw a bone to the good doggie every chance we get." Sinclair wrapped his arms around the ladies' shoulders, their eyes were like a blind snake, jonesing for whatever Wallace was doping them. "So Woods...Or can I call you Harry...?" "Harry's fine." Sinclair nodded, smirking. "Alright, Harry it is then. What'cha doin' in a place like this?" Harrison shrugged, lifting the snifter to his mouth and drank. "Well, can't a hard-working man go see some cabaret?" Sinclair laughed, chuckling violently. "Why, of course. Especially a man who has been in a car accident...I heard about it on the news...", Wallace brought the cigarette down and squashed it in the ashtray, his teeth expressed the seething on his face, both rows clenched together. "Also, interestingly enough...I saw two men this morning driving by in an animal control van who look just like you and Carbuncle, driving away from...Wakeman's House. You don't know who they are, do ya'?"

Harrison sighed, resting both of his hands on the back of his head. "Maybe it was me, maybe it wasn't. Are you accusing me of illegally trespassing on Wakeman's property?" Wallace brought his hands together and smiled. "Oh no, not at all. I'm not accusing you of illegally trespassing on Wakeman's house...I'm accusing you of actually doing your fucking job!." Wallace was jovial, clapping his hands together in pride. "Man, you are actually going to take down that stupid spinster? What she do? Did you find out if that stupid pinko bitch of a sister of her's is dealing out drugs? Something juicy?" Harrison looked away from Wallace, "Something not involved with Narco." Wallace's face turned blank, "You hiding secrets there Woods?" Wallace brought himself back over to the girls and wrapped his hand around one of them, taking out a syringe of some pure, crystalline designer shit and intravenously injected it into her, a tourniquet already wrapped around her arm. "Woods, an honest question. Do you consider yourself dirty?" Woods shrugged. "I don't take bribes if that's what you mean." "You know that's not what I mean." Harrison placed his foot over his leg and turned his head back to Sinclair. "What do you mean then?" Wallace leaned back into the other girl, placing his fingers to her lips. "Good guys don't catch bad guys Woods, you know that. We all gotta' get dirty once in a while."

Wallace placed his hands out on the table, "I mean...You understand that right? Considering about what happened back in Townsville." Harrison leaned into Wallace, looking him dead in the eyes. "What you on about?" Wallace shrugged. "Your former partner Brikowski, when you guys got reassigned. His partner, the ****, ratted him out and put 'em behind bars. Say, do you know what happened to his partner?" "Perez, his name was Perez...His partner. Mike, he ugh...He tried to kill off the Powerpuffs by chaining 'em up and pouring them in a vat full of acid. He didn't win though, Mike got arrested, turned out Perez talked with the Chief...He was an IA rat. From what I was told before I got shipped out was that some boys from the Department found out about Perez and in sympathy with Mike, they brought him out to the woods, tossed a tyre over his head and necklaced him and then hung his burnt body from a tree, bad way out to go out." Wallace looked over to the other girl and took a piece of white powder from his shirt pocket, holding it over her nose as she sniffed it off his fingers. "And do you know who did it?" "I probably would've known who it was if they ever found the guy." Wallace placed his arm over the girl, she looked strung out on whatever the hell he was giving her. "Well, a rat dies a rat's death. The boys who did it were damn heroes. Well deserved." Wallace stood up with both of the girls, both of them huddled on his shoulders as he stepped from the booth. "Well Woods, if you'll excuse me. I have to bring these two girls back to my place." Harrison looked at Wallace sternly. "They don't even look like they're out of school yet." Wallace snagged his hand on one of the girl's derierés. "Age of consent is sixteen in Ohio, pardner." Wallace walked out of the dance-hall with the two girls, Harrison stared into his reflection in the brandy, looking guiltily at his own face.

RING RING, RING RING, RING RING

"H-hello...Who is it?"

"Agent Woods?"

"Yeah, Woods speaking. Who's this?"

"This is District Attorney Jones, I'd like you to come down to the office with Carbuncle as soon as you can. I'm here with the Chief of Skyway Patrol. We need to have a talk, immediately."

Harrison got out of bed, his normal routine every day, the same nauseating routine of being disturbed from sleep either by force or by pure determination. He got his coffee, he got his clothes, he was prepared for this interview. Harrison got in his car, drove to Carbuncle's and picked him up. "Frankie, Chief wants to see us.' Frank buckled his seat belt. "Jones called me." Harrison turned to Frank as he pulled out of the drive. "Do you think it's about the Wakeman investigation?" Frank nodded his head. "Probably. Maybe he is going to give you the green light on that search warrant." Harrison turned on the main street, driving past Mezmer's and turning around the corner. "Well, if he has accepted our warrant. We'll probably want to start getting our evidence straight and search that place top to bottom." Frank extended the newspaper from his grasp and started to read the headlines: 'TREMORTON AMUSEMENT PARK OPENING TOMORROW', "Tuck and Brad's going there, they want to ride the Ferris Wheel." Harrison sputtered in disbelief, taking the cup of coffee from his holder and taking a sip. "I thought Tuck was afraid of heights?" Frank shook his head. "Nah, he is just afraid of large circular objects." The car stopped outside the D.A's office, Harry and Frank got out of the car and both walked in.

"Woods, Carbuncle, sit down." Jones tapped his fingers on the table, Jones was a tall, lanky black man with a straight mustache, a beige suit with a polka dot tie sporting a white fedora. The Chief was a short man who's helmet blocked out his eyes with a regular Skyway Patrol uniform. "So, the Chief of Skyway Patrol has called me. He was telling me about your allegations about Wakeman, about the 'android', about the 'hidden walls'. Now, the thing is...If I find out that Wakeman is hiding something, I'll be elected as the Attorney General, if I find out that she isn't hiding something then obviously somebody is going to have to lose their job and it ain't gon' be me." Harrison sank back in the chair. "Woods, as you know, the Amusement Park is coming to town tomorrow, the biggest in the tri-state area, if this 'android' sabotages it then Skyway Patrol will be a laughing stock and Frank will be taking your job. You need to find out what Noreen is hiding or else I have no choice, you understand...Ah, here's my tea." The Appellate Assistant Oswald walked in, carrying a tray of coffee and tea. He placed two cups of coffee down by Frank and Woods, a cup of tea for Jones and a glass of cognac for the Chief. Oswald took his place beside the Chief of Skyway Patrol. Jones picked up the tea, taking a sip and looking at the two men. "Now, you will unearth something tomorrow when the warrant is made, won't'chu?" Woods nodded, a convinced look on his face. "Yes, of course, sir."

'Just tell me what the hell she is hiding!...JUST TELL ME." Harrison paced around Brad and Tuck, both of them sat down at the dinner table. Frank walked up to Bradley, looking furiously desperate. "C'mon son! We need to know! Please." "What's the use?! They won't fuckin' tell us jack!" Tuck held onto Brad's arm, frightened. "Why the hell won't you spill your goddamn beans?! Why are you not telling us what that dumb bitch Wakeman is hiding? What the FUCK are you both hiding?! Tell me! TELL ME!" Brad looked Harry disgusted, Tuck's eyes were watering with fright. "Mr. Woods. Please, we don't know anything! Why did you disguise yourself over there in Wakeman's? Why are you scaring Tuck?" Harrison slammed both of his fists on the table, "Because we know what Wakeman is hiding! You tell us and we can easily deal with this here and now, but you won't rat out Wakeman!" "Please Mr. Woods! I didn't do anything wrrrrangh!" Tuck shrieked from the top of his lungs, crying heavily. "Please sons, just tell Harry what he needs to know so we can have this over and done with." Tuck and Brad did not say a word. Harrison left Frank's house, kicking a can angrily into the street, he got into his car and drove off into the night.

Thoughts ran within Harry's mind, thoughts of malice, thoughts of pure rage, he wasn't prepared to lose his job just because two kids weren't going to spill the beans and neither was he prepared to threaten them since they were just children. Harrison needed to just fluke it the next day if he was to succeed. "God fucking damn it! God fuckin' damn it!" Harrison bet his head off the dashboard in fits of rage, "Why?! Why me?! Why me? Is this my punishment? Did I kick puppies in a past life or something?! What the fuck did I do to deserve this?!" Harrison beat his hand off the wheel of the car. "AH! AH! AH!" Harrison pulled into the driveway off Mezmer's. Harrison get out of the car and walked up to the door, Harrison opened the door and Don Prima, a big burly preppie came out of the door, nearly barging through Harrison. "Excuse me." Harrison said politely, "You are excused." Don Prima said as he walked off. Harrison flipped him the bird behind his back and entered. Harrison entered Mezmer's, walking up behind the queue, he took out his flask of whiskey and took a sip. Harrison stood behind the Crust Cousins, these two pompous little brats with Daddy's money, a lot of race-mixing must've been involved for an African-American and a Caucasian Girl to be cousins. "Hey, isn't that the cop who crashed into the ice-cream truck?" Harrison shot his head down to the two, raising his eyebrows. "Ugh, no. You're thinking of Carbuncle." Brit scoffed, "Ah, that Carbuncle. Brad's father. Brad, what a disgusting little goblin." Tiff nodded in agreement, Harrison looked at the two of them furiously. "You want to stop talking about my partner's son behind his back? You girls always think you are so confident, I dare you say that to his goddamn face." Harry took a swig from his canteen. "How dare you talk to me like that you brute." "That doesn't answer my challenge, until you grow a pair of balls don't dare talk about Brad to me or to your little cunt friend." Brit and Tiff looked at Harrison completely shell-shocked, Mezmer walked over to Woods. "Hey Harry, what can I get yeh?" Harrison lifted his fingers into his shirt pocket, handing Mezmer a ten dollar note. "Get me a Polish boy, with ketchup." Mezmer nodded, smirking. "You are my favorite customer Harry, y'know that?" Harry looked down modestly, "Hey. You are my favorite cook, Mez." Mezmer winked, "Sit down, and I'll send it over to your table." Harry sat down, the time passed and Mezmer walked over with the food. "Here you are, Harry." Mezmer placed down the plate with the kielbasa sandwich, "You are a good man Mez, a good man. Thanks." Woods took the sandwich in both hands, lifting it up to his mouth and biting down.

August 6th, 2074​

S.W.A.T teams sat in the back of the van, loading their assault rifles with magazines and fastening their goggles to their heads. Woods climbed out Gorki and rushed up to the main door of Wakeman's house, sirens wailed throughout the afternoon. Woods ran up to the door and started to smack hard against the wood. No answer. Harrison retrieved his nickel-plated pistol from his holster and started booting the door down. CRACK. The door opened off of its hinges, Woods ran in with several S.W.A.T members and a few Skyway Patrolmen. "Search the bottom, Williams, Johnson, with me." Williams and Johnson rushed up the stairs alongside Harrison, Harry turned the staircase and tossed his weight against the door. Wakeman was sat down at her desk, looking extremely tired. "Oh...Do you want something?" Harrison ran over to Wakeman, kicking a swivel chair to the other side of the room, pulling her by the scruff. "Alright, you dumb bitch! You're coming with me!" Harrison dragged Noreen by the lapels and lobbed her over towards the door, aiming his shiny pistol at her. "C'mon bitch! Move!" Noreen held her hands up, Harrison escorting her into the room of girly stuff. Harrison pushed her over by the Spitney Poster, he tore it off the wall and placed the gun to her temple. "Now! Unless you want the sun to shine through your head I'd suggest you open up the wall." Noreen shrugged, sighing defeated. "There's nothing there, want to see?" Noreen placed her finger to the button, the wall opened up revealing...a barren closet, nothing in it. "What the fuck? Wh-What?" Noreen looked at Harrison and smirked. "See, nothing." Harrison felt crushed, his career from that point was non-existent.

Williams placed his hand on Harrison's shoulder, "Sorry sir, it looks like you're up shit creek without a paddle." Harrison looked back at Williams, completely heart broken. His entire life was shaken upside-down and twisted into a glob of vitriol and bile. Courtney walked up to the room, hands in his pockets. "Mr. Woods, you found nothing. As you know, from this point you are no longer in Skyway Patrol from this point immediately." Noreen gazed at Harrison sympathetically, "Oh no, is there something wrong? Has Agent Woods done something wrong?" Harrison stood there slack-jawed, tears just on the borderline of bursting out. "Mr. Woods made an allegation that you were hiding an android, we had to enact upon it immediately according to the Roark Act as you know." Noreen stood in front of Harrison, in an attempt to plea. "...She's...Gone out! She is out there with Brad and Tuck! They both went to the Amusement Park! You need to get them now!" Harrison stared at Noreen. "What the fuck do you mean SHE? Goddamn it! Frank! FRANK!" Harrison barged past Courtney and ran down the stairs, sprinting towards the car. Frank stood by the Gorki. "Frank! We have to get to the fucking park now!" "What do yo-" "I SAID FUCKING NOW!" Harrison and Frank jumped into the Gorki and sped down the road.

"Car-Sierra Whiskey-Eight-Niner, please respond." Frank picked up the radio, "Copy Dispatch, this is SW. What's the situation?" "We got ourselves a signal nine, down by the amusement park. We've got ourselves a Code 42, a Code 60, description: 'Red hair, tall, ugly, female' has been spotted at the Amusement Park accompanied by your sons. You need to respond ASAP." Harrison glimpsed at the radio, gawking gob-smacked. "Copy that Dispatch." Frank slammed the radio down. "Drive fucking faster! That thing has my fucking kids, Harry!" Harrison turned to third gear and swerved around the corner, drifting past a couple of cars. The sirens blared, cars moved out of the way and the Gorki grew closer to the park. "C'mon! C'mon!" "I'm fucking trying Frankie!." The MARCS radio started to whizz, "Sierra Whiskey, they've got a goddamn mob after the red-haired unsub. It is imperative you get down there, now!" Smoke fumed from the nearby park, probably the pitchforks and torches. Harrison swerved down the road, dodging car after car. "Shit, we're nearly ther-HOLY FUCKING SHIT." The Ferris Wheel had come loose and started rolling down the plains, Harrison put his foot to the break and smashed sideways into a car.

'Fuck...' Harrison took deep breaths, Frank was clutching a broken nose. "G-g-ge...get...after it." Harrison tugged the keys in the ignition and twisted them, the car huffed and puffed before it took off after the Ferris Wheel. Harrison started talking to himself as he drove over the grass. "Goddamn it, a fucking Ferris wheel. The D.A is gonna' have my fuckin' ass, ugh...Goddamn it. Like seriously, why does everything bad have to happen to me?! I'm not a bad fucking guy, but Jesus H Christ, why am I the one being persecuted by fucking Wakeman." Harry put his pinkie finger in his ear, taking out a ball of earwax. 'Disgusting.' Harrison flicked it out the window, taking his nickel-plated pistol from his shirt pocket and aiming it out the window. The car suddenly shat itself, it died and stopped right there behind the Ferris Wheel. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Harry got out of the car, clutching his back, opening up the bonnet, the carburetor had overheated. "Frankie! Drive the car, I'm going to have to give you a fresh push, keep the bonnet open!" Harrison got to the back of the car and started to push through the grass, Frank tried the keys and the car shot back to life, driving off away from Harry. "Hey! Fucking wait!" Harrison ran after the Gorki, stamina was something not required in a job like his, but now it was a virtue that he had not followed for quite a while. There, Harry dropped to the ground panting, angrily tossed against the dirt, the muck, and the grass, looking up to the yellow evening sky, frustrated that his own partner betrayed him. Brikowski wouldn't have done that to Woods, the 38th wouldn't have done that to Woods.

Wallace Collection played in Harry's head as he drifted into unconsciousness, the grass was more comfortable a bed than his own home. It was a hard day, the devil may care what happened to the Ferris Wheel. In the distance sounded wheels screeching over grass, stopping beside Harrison's head, a figure got out of the car and looked down at Harry. "Harry...You're gonna' wanna' see this." Harrison got up off the grass, patting himself clean, he turned to the car and got in the driver's seat, not looking back. "Well, Frankie. What happened to the Ferris Wheel?" Frank opened the passenger door and leaned on the roof. "She saved it." Harrison reached into the dashboard, taking a packet of cigarettes out, he put one of them in his mouth and lit with his electrical arc lighter. "Who's she?" Frank pointed to the back of the car, "You might want to see for yourself." Harrison took a puff of his cigarette, and exhaled it out the window, he peeked back to the seat, identifying a tall, blue-haired robo-girl. "Hello, I'm XJ9. But you can call me Jenny." Harrison's cigarette fell from his mouth as he looked in awe at the robot, he stared back to the steering wheel. "Frank. Get the fuck in the car now." Frank got in the car, looking back his two sons and Jenny smirking.

The car drove down the road, Jenny conversed with Frank. "So, Mr. Carbuncle, I thought you were an animal control officer?" "Oh, that was a thing Harry cooked up when we were investigating you. It was his idea." Jenny turned to Harrison, "Wow. I really liked your accent, it was pretty good. Have you and Frank been partners long?" Harrison was face-forward, livid and bitter, in no mood for her jovial attitude. "Don't talk to me." Frank pointed his thumb, reassuring Jenny. "He's just bitter he nearly lost his job." Harrison shook his head. "Fuck you, Frank." "See what I mean?" Jenny nodded, "Well, I'm sorry about that Mr. Woods, I didn't intend on firing you." "Didn't I not tell you to shut the fuck up back there?" Harrison stopped at a red light. "Mr. Woods, I am not trying to be y-" Harry turned back at Jenny, pointing vindictively at her. "You best shut the fuck up..." His finger turned to a fist. "...Or I'll make you shut the fuck up." Jenny gazed petrified at Harry. "That's more fucking like it, silence. Silence from all you fucking pricks. Frank, you little fart-knocker, you left me back there in the fucking dirt. You two little fucking dickheads didn't rat XJ9 out and you nearly had me fucking fired." "Don't talk to my goddamn kids like that, Harry!" 'My name's Jenny!' "I couldn't give two tits what your fucking name is. I have been working my goddamn ass off, trying to defend this fucking town and you little bastards have been collectively ruining my fucking career inch by inch." "Mr. Woods, it was never my intention." "Good intentions don't equal good acts, you dumb bint. Now keep it down there, talk with Brad or something, just don't talk with me..." Harry pointed to Frank. "And as for you, you fucking Judas, you don't even look at me crooked tonight. I don't want to fucking look at you, traitor." This was a side of Harry that rarely came out, a side that showed how heartless and how vitriolic his entire persona was.

Harry stopped the car outside Wakeman's where a large crowd had congregated with signs, celebrating XJ9. "Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me." Jenny put her hands to her cheeks, screaming in excitement. "Wow, there's so many of them!" Harrison slumped back in his car. "Get the fuck out of my car, all of you. Every single fucking one of you." Brad, Tuck, Jenny and Frank got out of the car, Frank gave him the most disdained look out of all of them, he looked at Harry and shook his head disappointed. Several news reporters came up to the Carbuncle's and XJ9, one of them walked up to Harry's car. "Excuse me, Agent Woods? Is it true you were the one who instigated the investigation into the robot vigilante?" Harrison looked at the news reporter, he blinked and drove off.


Back home, Harry got locked on Irish Whiskey and angrily smashed his fists against the wall, screaming in anger and rage. The bare-chested, bitter man sat down on the bed and cried. The phone rang and he picked it up.

Harrison sniffed, "Who is it?"

"It's Santa Claus, goddamn it man you know who it is...Are you crying?" It was the Chief of Skyway Patrol.

"No...Just...Why are you calling me?"

'What the hell do you mean why am I calling you?"

"You are not my boss anymore, I am done my investigation, I am done with my career. You don't have anymore use for me, give Carbuncle my job. I found nothing, remember?"

"Woods, I was watching the TV with my kids and I see this new robot vigilante XJ9. You blew the case of the century wide open, you are going to get a damn medal for this!"

"You can't give a medal to an unemployed man."

"Jesus...Woods, will you stop being so damn spiteful? You found out who the robot was and you were right all along. Son, you did a good job."

"Yeah, I did. When do I sign my Re-55?"

"You aren't signing no Re-55 son, you aren't resigning on me yet."

"I can leave whenever the hell I want."

"Yeah...well what if I told you that you aren't leaving for a good while...Turns out this Wakeman character needs some guidance, and you are going to give it to her. From here on out, you are her babysitter, you are going to watch her back. Twenty-four-seven. Goodnight Woods."

The phone hung up on the other end, Harrison slammed the phone down and screamed to the top of his lungs. "AH!" Harrison thumped his fist off the wall until it start to hurt, he clutched his pained fingers and fell back into bed. Bottles strewn all around the floor, alkyl nitrite tablet broken open and poured over the bedside compartment. Harrison looked up to the ceiling high on poppers, he closed his eyes and he fell asleep.

 

[Garda De Fier]

Chapter 4:

"Baptism Of Fire"

Townsville​

​

The Summer of Love, 2067​

The car pulled up towards the curb of the suburban street, the streetlight dimly lit the pavement below. Arbaroj reached his grimy fingers into the glove-box, retrieving a dirty nickle-plated pistol and a roll of duck-tape. Arbaroj inserted a hollow point magazine into the gun's receiver, he pulled the slide back; Full magazine, locked and loaded. Arbaroj got out of the car, the moon beamed a dark blue with the tinge of red from the light of the city of Townsville. Arbaroj strolled up to the door of the white house, tightening the makeshift oil filter suppressor around the barrel. He walked up to the doormat; 'Home Sweet Home' embellished on the cover. He lifted it up, retrieving the key to the door. Arbaroj placed the pistol up to the wooden door-frame, slashing the key into the lock and turning it...The door burst open with a slam. 'AH!' A young Hispanic woman screamed as the door burst open, holding her hands out as a beg of mercy. Arbaroj raised the pistol, pulling the trigger and delivering a couple of rounds into her face. Blood smeared over the walls and all over Arbaroj's cotton balaclava. He kicked down the door into the dining room, a young teenage girl cowered underneath the table, he jumped up onto the table and shot five rounds into her back. A baby cried, clinging onto the baby seat in fear. Arbaroj picked the baby up with one arm and held out his gun in the other. "Honey! Honey! What's going on?!" Perez took his gun from his holster, aiming it at the door way from the kitchen into the dining room. "Put your hands up buddy, whoever you are!" Arbaroj shot off a couple of shots into the kitchen, Perez fired back at the wall. 'What did you do to my family?!' Arbaroj held the baby out with his other hand, Perez climbed from the cover of the Kitchen worktop and fired off a shot...The crying stopped. 'What did I do?!' Perez screamed out in instant regret. Arbaroj tossed the lifeless baby away, rushing from cover and pulled the trigger, it hit Perez right in the arm. Perez's pistol fell to the ground, Arbaroj ran and kicked it away from Perez. "You fucking bastard! You made me kill my little boy!" Arbaroj lunged on top of Perez, bringing his fist down upon his face, he just kept hitting him. Arbaroj slapped some duct-tape over Perez's face and kicked him in the stomach. Perez was dragged by the hair as he was led along the bloodied tile floor, over the dining room carpet and out of the wooden boards of the parlor, tears flowing from his eyes as he witnessed the destruction of his entire family. Arbaroj tossed Perez into the back of the trunk, slamming the lid down.

Tremorton, Ohio​

​

August 7th, 2074​

Harrison woke up, his bloodshot eyes focused up on the bright light looming above him like a chandelier. No, nothing like that would be in that slum of an apartment, it was just an incandescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling. 'Fuck...', the light was bright, stinging his eyes. He lifted himself up out of bed. 'Goddamn it!' Harrison reached his hand over towards the bottle of Alkyl nitrites, pouring them into his hand and chomping them down with his teeth. The clattering of the pills against his teeth sounded like the chimes of a clock. Was last night a dream? Harrison stood up, still clad in the suit he worn the night before. Muck stains and a torn suit, no time for a change. Harrison walked out of the bedroom, strolling over to the door proceeding to leave. Harry opened the door to a blond man, he had thick brown stubble contrasting against his hair. He wore a burgundy suit with a woolen winter coat. 'Excuse me...do I know you, sir?' The man leaned in closer, pulling a cigarette from his mouth and offering it to the man. "Agent Voods?" He spoke in a weird foreign accent, most likely European. "Yes, that's me. Who're you?" He lifted out his hand for a shake. "Please, let me introduce myself. I am Special Agent Metzger, I'm from the South-African jurisdiction of Skyway Patrol's Robotic Affairs Division." He spoke with a thick South-African English accent, he didn't sound like a full-on Afrikaner. "Alright Metzger, what're you doin' 'ere?" Metzger sternly informed Woods, "They called me ovah' from Johannesburg. The Chief, he said something about a 'teenage robot' and you were on babysit detail. I was called over to help you." Woods put his hands on his hips defensively. "Because I am incompetent?" Metzger shook his head rapidly, "Oh, no! Nothing like dat! He just called me in to help is all, the more hands the bettah." Harrison shrugged, patting Metzger on the shoulder. "You can help, just don't get in the way of the investigation, you got me?" Metzger nodded, "Oh, of course Meneer."

Metzger and Harrison got in the Gorki, he pulled out of the parkway and sped out onto the street. "So, you got in Robotic Affairs huh? You fight in the War?" Metzger shook his head. "No, I vas in the SADF fighting in the Namibian Revolution." Harrison raised his eyebrows, looking over at Metzger. "Namibian Revolution? That shit back in the 60s? I saw footage on the TV while I was up on that space rock." Metzger looked out the window, brushing his hair back. "Yeah, It was tough times. You fight in the War?" Harrison darted at Metzger, looking back to the road and back again. '"The First Intergalactic War? Yes, I did. I was with the 37th Infantry, was in a recon squad...We fought on Polyphemus...OGLE...Some really bad hellholes, killing the Clusters. I was First Sergeant, was only in my twenties...I got promoted fast considering the fact I was the luckiest bastard who didn't die, but sometimes I wonder if that is such a good thing." Metzger folded his arms, glancing over to Harry. "I can relate bru...That shit's crazy, fighting on a rock in space against a bunch of fucking alien robots. The future didn't turn out so bright after all." Harry shook his head defeated, "No. No it didn't." Harrison drove the car up to the pathway near Frank's house. "C'mon, I'll introduce you to Frankie." The Gorki stopped dead in its tracks, Harrison and Metzger got out of the car. 'He should be getting ready.' Harrison knocked at the door, Brad and Tuck were standing in the parlor room with their school bags. "Oh...Mr. Woods...How are you doing? Better than last night?" Brad asked sincerely, Harrison shrugged. "They got me on babysit duty for the robot." Tuck nodded up to Metzger, "Oh, hello...sir." Metzger smiled, reaching his hand out. "Hello, little guy. I'm Dawie Metzger, I'm Harry's new partner." Harrison put his index finger in front of Metzger, smiling smugly. "I wouldn't get used to that position if I were you.' Frank walked out into the parlor sternly. 'Oh...Harry, it's you...Who's the new guy?'" "This is Metzger, he's a transfer from South Africa. Guy's Skyway Patrol." Frank shook Metzger's hand, "Nice to meet you. Frankie Carbuncle...Yo Harry, drop my kids off at school, will ya? I got to write a report on the Ferris wheel thing." Harry nodded, motioning for Brad and Tuck to get out to the car.

"You a good driver, Metzger?" Dawie shrugged, "I was in a mechanized infantry company back in South Africa, I drove jeeps." Harrison reached into his shirt pocket and tossed the keys to Metzger, Dawie caught them with a single hand and got in the car with the others. Metzger turned the keys in the ignition, in the corner of his eyes across the road was two figures getting into the Volkswagen. "Yo, that's them. Dawie...Dawie!" Metzger looked over the road, Jenny and Nora got in the car and pulled out of the driveway. Metzger stepped on the accelerator, turning on the road. "Jesus H Christ!" Metzger started swerving on the right-hand side of the road, an incoming car came towards them and Metzger drove out of the way. "Fucking sunday drivahs! Watch where you are going!' Harrison shook Dawie, "We drive on the right hand side you crazy shit!" Metzger drove onto the right side, following behind Wakeman's car. "Fine then, jeez..." A large truck speeding down the opposite lane came just seconds too late to crash into Metzger. "Y'know I don't see why everyone drives on the left. I mean, they do it in Britain..." The Volkswagen turned the corner, Metzger shifted into second gear, kicked the clutch up and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The car drifted around the corner with a screech. "Holy hot hell! What they teach you in South Africa?!" Metzger smirked as he turned the signal indicator and overtook Wakeman's car.

The car peeled down the road, Harrison reached for his canteen flask and took a swig, he darted back to Brad and Tuck. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I said some things I shouldn't have said, can you forgive me?" Tuck smiled, reaching for a chocolate square from his bar and handed the piece to Harrison. "Ah, thanks buddy." Metzger approached the corner from the school from the outside and skid to the inside, slamming the car up against the pathway unharmed. "Alright, off you kids go to school." Metzger stared back to Brad and Tuck, "Oh god..." Tuck had urinated himself, but a large smile was on his face. "THAT WAS COOL!" "Jeez...Get him a tissue or something." Harrison opened up the glovebox and tossed a packet of baby wipes back to Tuck. "You-ugh...You have a nice day at school now." Brad and Tuck got out of the car, the Volkswagen pulled up behind them, dropping off Jenny. Wakeman drove by the Gorki, giving a death stare to both Metzger and Harrison. "Guess she don't like us, eh?" Harrison nodded. "Hates our guts."

Harrison sat down at his booth with Frank and Metzger, Harrison was chomping down on a Reuben sandwich. "Frank, I-I'm sorry for yesterday. I shouldn't have snapped at you." Frank put out his hand for a shake, Harrison reached out his hand and firmly shook his hand. "It's fine Harry, I understand. I'm sorry for driving off without you." Metzger shrugged, "What you guys on about?" "Nothing, it's nothing. Let's just get on the task at hand shall we? The robot, XJ9. Looks like we're going to have to watch her back til further notice. So, we just got to make sure she doesn't blow anything up right?" Metzger nodded, gripping the chocolate milkshake, sipping from the straw. "Well, Harry. I don't think Jenny is like tha-" "You don't think that XJ9 is like that." "I said Jenny and I mean Jenny...As I was saying, I don't think Jenny is going to do anything bad on our watch. She saved my kids for Christ's sake's." Harrison tapped his foot to the tune from the Jukebox.

'The look of the cake it ain't always the taste, my ex-girl she had such...such a beautiful face.'

"So, here's the ragtag band eh?" Sinclair had slunk into Mezmer's, he was drunk as a skunk...smelt like one too, he looked disheveled, more than Harry. "Frankie, my boy! How are yah?!" Frank looked up to Sinclair, "Do I know you?" "You should! I'm your partner's best friend!" Harrison scooted over the bench for Sinclair to sit down, "Yo! Mezmie my boy! Want to get me a fuckin' cheeseburger! American grilled baby." Mezmer, an old fart of a man walked over to the table. 'My name is Mezmer.' Sinclair tugged Mezmer by the scruff and spoke quietly into his ear, "I am too rich and too hungry to give a fuck what your name is, now get me my fucking sandwich." Sinclair tossed Mezmer away, Mezmer ran for the kitchen and grilled up some food. "So, what was I saying? Awh yeah! Did ya' hear about the new body?" The trio looked at Sinclair surprised, Frank rose his voice, "A new body?" "The Esperanto Killer strikes again, they found the vic with their wrists slit...face down in a bathtub. Looks as if the guy force-fed her a last meal of rainbows and tranx before silting her open like a biology class experiment." Metzger looked up to Harry suspiciously. "Isn't that the language you speak Harry? Esperanto?" Frank answered for Harry, "While he does speak Esperanto, they proved he didn't do it. No forensic evidence of him at the scene, plus we caught a few copycats who had their prints all over the body, woke up in fucking blood didn't know what the hell was going on."

"I was lead investigator on that case, all those damn messages on the walls...Dio lin forlasis nin, dio lin forlasis nin. God has forsaken us. Kept me up at nights knowing there is someone out there cutting up poor women..." Harrison turned to Wallace, "I am also kept up at night that there are teenage girls getting doped up and violated by a man nearly twice their age." Wallace smirked, "It keeps me up too, one way or...another..." Wallace tugged at his crotch with a large smirk on his face. "...Body's on Grover Street, just adjacent from Chairman Chow's, y'know the Peking place?" Harrison stood up, straightening his tie. "Yeah! East Tremorton, it's down by East Main Street." "Where the fuck are you going? Aren't you going to pay for your damn burger?!" Wallace asked angrily. "I thought we were friends, you take the tab." Harrison rushed out the door of the diner with Frank and Metzger.

"Yo Morg, the vic inside?" Frank asked casually. "Yeah, she's in the bathtub. Got the place cornered off...Who's the new guy?" Morgan pointed to Metzger, "Metzger's a Skyway man from South Africa." Metzger nodded, "South African, huh? You one of them Apartheid guys?" "Maybe, you got a problem with that?" Morgan stepped up to Metzger, staring at him. "We're all equal, buddy. Lady Justice is blind." Metzger bent down to Morgan, "This coming from the same man who lives in a country that slaved blacks for 400 years and you dare judge us for apartheid? This isn't about black or white, this is about communism. Those communist bastards in the Tripartite are trying to exterminate us while you try to lambaste us? Fuck you." Metzger pushed Morgan out of his way, walking with Frank and Harry into the house. "Smells like shit in 'ere." Metzger held his nose, officers walked around the house looking over items and potential pieces of evidence. "Harry, yo bro." Fritz stood there behind Woods, smirking. "Oh, Fritz. It's you. Why're you here?" "Well, I side-staff it as a paramedic. That's just my day job, turns out my Dad's The Coroner, I'm deputy when we are short on people." Harrison nodded, walking over towards the bathroom door. "You probably don't want to open that door unless you are really ready." Harrison shook it off and reached for the door's knob, opening the door. Music was playing from the cassette player on the bathtub.

'Sed vi venas al mi kvazaŭ estus mi superbazaro. Kion vi volas de mi, kion vi volas de mi Mi ofertu ĝin tuj.'

The incandescent light-bulb was replaced by a red photography darkroom lamp. Harrison stepped on a barbiturate, looking in horror at what was strewn over the bathtub. A young woman, in her late twenties was tossed over the bathtub. The liquid inside the bath was stained red, her body profuse with blood, tangled in concertina wire, her body had been electrocuted, a cut rope with a release mechanism that dropped a toaster plugged into the socket right into the bathtub, she was shocked and the jolts of it ripped her skin to pieces. "Jeez, damn way to go out." Metzger entered the room, holding his nose. "Awh, Jaysus! It smells like a fokken slaughterhouse in 'ere. Oh god." The walls were splattered with blood, black writing in Esperanto: 'Kio estas farita en la mallumo estos alportita al la lumo.' Metzger pointed up to the writing, "What's that mean?" Harrison took a deep breath and sighed, "It says: 'What is done in the dark will be brought to the light.' No shit, we're going to find the ugly bastard who did this and string him up before the gallows..." Harrison paced himself up and down, looking up to the wall, talking to himself. "What we are witnessing here is a Herpetarium. Some sick reptilian bastard slit this poor girl and left her for dead. You've got to be some...cold, sick motherfucker to do something so malicious, so fucking amoral. I'm starting to think like this guy, maybe he isn't amoral, maybe he is immoral? Maybe he knows what he is doing is wrong and he knows better." Harrison pointed to the ground, trying to make a point. "We are witnessing his gift to world, La Mondo. He is cutting up these women as an art project, solidarity. Bastard is trying to convey some goddamn message. Look at what he wrote: What is done in the dark will be brought to the light, he is obliviously trying to either present his murders as some kind of revelation or these murders are the catalyst that leads to him being brought to the light. The bastard wants to get caught, the unsub wants to present himself and his twisted bastardization of an ideology as legitimate if we punish him." Metzger crouched on the ground, bending over he picked up a small golden rod. "Black lipstick...It's nearly empty..." Harrison took the lipstick tube off of Metzger, "He used it to write the message on the wall, it was a clue. He plays games with these people. He was expecting her to climb out, that shit isn't barbed, it isn't even piano wire...Concertina, this shit was used to keep entire platoons of enemy soldiers at bay. That bastard wrapped her in it and gave her jolts of electricity so she would cut herself to ribbons. Goddamn it, what a fuckin' monster."

The door opened from behind them, "Who're you?" A clean-cut man in a laboratory coat with a suit came in, he was ginger with a beard and glasses. He took a laminated badge from his lapel and showed it to Harrison. "Doctor Money, Jamie Money. I am with BCI's Identification Division." Metzger sniggered, "What made you want to get into the forensic investigation business?" Jamie smirked, "The pay of course." Money walked up beside Woods, "Fritz called me about the liquid in the bath, it isn't water." Harrison folded his arms, "How do you know?" Money took out a plastic test-tube filled half-way with liquid, Money took off the cap and scooped some of the liquid from the bathtub and shook the tube, the liquid from the bathtub disappeared. "It's an emulsion test, suspend the sample in ethanol and it eats away at the liquid. As my guess was correct, the liquid in the bathtub is not water." Harrison held out his arms in suspense, "What is it then?" Money flicked the test-tube, smirking. "It's Photographic Fixer, it is a mixture of Sodium Thiosulfate and Ammonium Thiosulfate. It's used to remove the silver salt on the photographic film negatives. Identifying it is similar to the Catalysis of a reaction between sodium thiosulfate and Iron (iii) nitrite. Y'know when you put that stuff in the conical flask and wait for it to cover the X marked paper?" Harrison and Metzger nodded to each other before staring over at Money, "Well Doc, what does this have to do with anything?" Money knelt down, crouched on his feet. "Well, I am only a scientific forensic examiner, I am a not a goddamn criminologist, that's your jobs...But my unfounded theory would be that this sick cunt took photos and developed them here. Get Fritz in here, would'ya?" Metzger held his hand up to his mouth, "Fritz, get in here!" Fritz walked into the room, "Alright fellas...I see you've met the illusive Doctor Money." Fritz rubbed his hand over Money's hair like a dog. "Yeah, very funny Fritz, haha. Now, can you estimate the time of death?" "Well, by color of-" "I don't want color of anything, did you take a rectal temperature?" Fritz smacked Money over the head, "Show some respect, you fucking dickhead. Poor girl didn't deserve this and neither does she deserve to have a fucking thermometer shoved up her ass." Money held his head, looking up at Fritz. "Now as I was saying Money, I can estimate 2 A.M by temperature of her liver and her skin color. Cause of death is electrocution and if she didn't die from that then she definitely died from blood loss due to the barb-" "Concertina Wire, they use it in the military. There's a difference." Harrison interrupted, "Alright. She died due to the concertina wire if she didn't die from electric shock."

"Alright, so what about the other murders? Was this the same M.O?" Harrison shook his hand side-to-side in an explaining way, "Not in the same fashion, usually it would be the girl gets drugged, goes back to her house and he sets her up in a death trap. Puts in her the goddamn thing, writes the messages and leaves." Metzger rubbed his chin, "And vat about de' copycats?" Money scoffed, "Between you and me, I think the real guy set those poor bastards up. They all didn't know what happened the next morning, it was too good of an act." Fritz chimed in, "The neighbor called in the body when she didn't receive an answer, she knocked on the door. Vic's name is Patricia Tenenbaum, she was twenty eight years old, a recovering heroin addict. You can identify by the pustules on her face and the pock marks. Her back is extremely corroded from the photographic fixer...I called the Watch Commander and they identified her next of kin, her mother. She lives down in Belpre on her own, no husband. According to the Watch, she's a poor widow who slaved over a mop for the past thirty years to give Patricia a good life. Damn shame knowing you raised a child just so she could get cut up and dumped, nobody is going to remember this poor girl but this Esperanto bastard is going to make the papers and is going to have books written about him and we'll only be footnotes..." Frank walked in the room, "Harry, I got a call off the Fire Department. The High School caught fire, it's Jenny."

"Metzger, you are driving." Harry tossed the keys to Dawie. Metzger, Frank and Harry got in the Gorki and the car peeled off onto the road, sirens wailing. "What the fuck happened, Frankie?" Harrison took out his nickel-plated pistol, loading in a magazine, he pressed down on the slide release to load a new round into the chamber. "I don't know, Dispatch only told me that they believe that Jenny did it." Metzger swerved off onto Old Main Street, the streets were relatively empty. "Shit! You see that? It's smoke!" Harrison pointed up to the plumes of ash that arose from the center of the suburbs. "Drive towards the ash-cloud! Step on it!", the car belted off speeding into the distance. Metzger spun the Gorki onto State Street, driving around other cars and turning on Mill street. "It's right here! Just past Jefferson Street!" The streets became hazy, fire spread around the High School. Metzger turned on the windshield wipers, washing away the cinders of the fire from the windshield. The car pulled up to the exit behind the school near the football field. Fire Trucks put out the fire. Harry got out of the car with his pistol and ran up to the First Responding Officer. "Did I get here in time?! Where the fuck is XJ9?!" One of the police cars drove away with Brit and Tiff in the back,

"She's over here Agent."

Vice Principle Razinski pointed to Jenny, Harry looked over and saw XJ9 covered in smoke, "Hello Mr. Woods." Harry pointed his pistol at her, "Hands up! Get the fuck on your knees!" Jenny held her hands up and did as she was instructed, Harry came up behind her and slapped his hands behind her back, attempting to cuff her. "You have the right to r-" "What are you doing, Woods?" Harry looked at Razinski as if he was an idiot, "What are you on about? She caused the fire didn't she? I got the call!" Razinski shook his head, "Miss XJ9 as much of a nuisance as she is did not cause the fire. It turned out to be Brit and Tiff framing her." Harry's jaw dropped, he pulled Jenny by the armpit up to her feet and walked over to Razinski completely dumbfounded. "What? Why?!" Razinski put his hands on Harry's shoulders, "Son, I think it's been a long day. XJ9 is a goddamn hero and saved those two girls, you might want to go home and get some rest." Harry shook his head, he turned and walked off holding his head in his hands. Harry sat on the bonnet of the Gorki, his face resting in his palms. "I hate my fuckin' life." Harry said. "Why does everything bad have to happen to me?" Jenny walked over to the car, looking sympathetically at Woods. "Oh, I'm sorry for making you feel sad Mr. Woods. I didn't mean it." Harry sighed angrily, Metzger opened the door to the car and leaned out. "Harry, stop sulking and let's go." Jenny looked over to Metzger angrily, "Excuse me Mister, but Mister Woods' feelings are hurt!" Metzger pointed to Harry, "Hierdie verdoem robot...The bastard is tough, I don't see what the problem is!" Jenny reprimanded Metzger in his native language, "Hou jou bek! Hierdie robot gee eintlik om oor die gevoelens van ander, nou voetsek!" Metzger's teeth clashed together angrily, "Harry, get in the fokken car now." Harry got off the bonnet and sat down in the passenger seat, buckling up.

Metzger sped the Gorki and clutched before he could hit her in an effort of intimidation, he proceeded to reverse out of the school grounds and onto Jackson Street. "Tellin' me to shut up...The fuckin' mouth on her, I'd fokken kick her fuckin' ass...Motherfuckin' motherfucker, I'll show you facking samthing." Metzger spoke to himself angrily, he turned off Jackson and onto Wakeman's drive, stopping outside the Carbuncle's home. "This is your stop, Harry, Frank. Out of the car." Frank shrugged, "What the fuck man? What about the Gorki? Why is this Harry's stop?" Metzger pointed to Woods, "I forgot to mention your house is done fumigating. I need the car to drive to my hotel out of town. I'll pick you two up in the morning. Now stop arguing and get out of the fokken car." Frank got out of the car with Harry, the Gorki sped off out of town. "Well, I guess we're neighbors again." Frank nodded to Harry. Jenny had flown herself back home, she landed back outside her house, noticing Frank and Woods looking at each other. She waved to the both of them, Frank waved back over but Harry looked disdained. "Hello Mr. Woods, Hello Mr. Carbuncle." Woods crossed his arms, "Yeah...Neighbors. I'll see you tomorrow, Frankie." Harry hugged Frank, patting him on the back. "See you tomorrow too buddy." Jenny smiled seeing their comradery before entering her home with a smile on her face. Harry popped over to the house next to Carbuncle's, it was his own home. A large reentry permit was slapped on his doorway, Harry opened the door, finding the house spotless with the furniture still where he left it. No signs of powder-post beetles.

Harrison walked upstairs to his bedroom, above the king sized bed laid a green diploma-esque piece of paper that was framed, "KER-ekzameno", Harrison's European Exam test. He got a hundred percent. Harry put his fingers over the frame and frowned, thinking 'Until I find that bastard, I will never be proud of you.' Harrison took off his clothes and took a shower, pouring shampoo in his hair and washing himself with the sponge. That night he had a nice glass of hot milk with some Irish cream with a little tint of scotch. He went to bed drunk, but he went to bed with a smile on his face.

 

[Garda De Fier]

ILLUSTRATIONS ARE IN PRODUCTION​

 

[Plankster]

it's so LONG i admire your effort

 

[Garda De Fier]

it's so LONG i admire your effort

Thanks Plankster, I appreciate it. Though this is most likely going to be the last chapter, I would like to add some illustrations to it to give it an extra touch.