Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned) (5 page)

I didn’t know it then, but at the time, things were not what I thought they were. Forces unknown were conspiring against me.
It wasn’t till some time later when I learned that the following is what happened as soon as Frank and I got done talking.

“Are you happy?”  Frank said, with only a slight tremor in his voice. “He took the assignment. I told you he wasn’t E3.”

Frank
was still in his office, sitting at his desk. The office was big. He was after all an important man within the company, running the entire North American division of Inquisitors. But the space seemed a whole lot smaller than usual. That was because there were four men in the room as well. They’d been there during the entire conversation between Frank and myself, hiding on the other side of the camera.

“Yes, he did take the assignment,”
said one of the men. “But we noted some…oddities, during your conversation.”

His voice wasn’t natural. It was enhanced. Clean and crisp. Robotic. But that’s because he was.
The man was completely encased in unblemished, shiny white, cybernetic armor. It put him at 198 cm (6’6”) tall, and made him nearly twice as big as most men. With his augmented limbs he was at least five times as strong.

Frank had never seen the
true face behind the metal mask. Neither had I. Very few people had. Rumors said he’d lost his jaw, and half his face was horribly disfigured. It’d happened before cellular regeneration and reconstruction technology showed enough promise. He’d opted to go the cyborg route, and replaced his damaged self with metal.

“
Such as?” Frank said, and poured himself some more wine.

“For starters, there was a
delay in his accepting the case,” the man said.

“Plus
he asked for considerably more than what you offered,” said the cyborg in dark red armor. He was a couple centimeters taller, and bigger than the man in white.

“Don’t forget his inquiry
into whether Inquisitor Noble was also assigned,” said the cyborg in black armor. He was several centimeters shorter than the other two, and not nearly as bulky. If they were all large cats, white would be a lion, red a tiger, and black a cheetah. “The fact you’ve requested we look into that one, does not bode well for Inquisitor Yan’s innocence.”

Frank gulped down the alcohol
and looked at the last of them. The one wearing the pale, greenish-yellow armor. Compared to the others he was child sized. It was like he wasn’t wearing any armor. Like his body itself was the metal encasing. Frank wondered if the man, if he even was a man anymore, would end his vow of silence at that moment.

He didn’t
.

He just
stood there, unmoving. His facemask didn’t even have eyes, so you couldn’t tell where he was looking. There was just this feeling like he was weighing your soul when his head was turned your direction. It made you want to run away. To keep running, and never look back.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all those actions,” Frank said, trying to defend me. His friend. His charge. “He said he was having a bad day. He was distracted, that’s all. And as for those other matters, he takes his job seriously. He’s the best in this division for a reason.” Frank said that last bit with complete confidence.

“Yes,” the cyborg in white said. “Thank you for bringing that up. It would seem Inquisitor Yan caused quite a stir this morning. We received several reports from the local authorities in regards to his
behavior
. Quite inexcusable. Even though Inquisitors are granted considerable luxuries and leeway in regards to most laws, they are supposed to be discreet. We have footage that he brandished his badge in public, and for what, just to be able to sit in a booth rather than at a solitary counter.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “It was stupid of him, but that still doesn’t mean he’s E3.”

The white armored cyborg nodded. “True, but behavior like his is becoming a problem amongst Inquisitors. Mr. Richards isn’t happy. Several countries have already expressed concerns about Inquisitors becoming more powerful than local authorities. We have enough problems dealing with groups like Human Purity and E3. The last thing we need is countries to start turning against us. If Inquisitor Yan weren’t already under investigation, his actions today would warrant one.”

Damn it, Trav, what the hell have you gotten yourself into, Frank thought.

“I still don’t understand,” Frank said. “Why have me assign Travis to Mr. Beit? If they are working together, won’t it give Travis the chance to warn him?”

“If he does, we’ll know about it, and he’ll
seal both their fates.”

“There is a problem with your plan though,” Frank said.

“And what would that be Mr. Grenadier?”

“You’ve had me send Travis to a place where personal matters might conflict with his job.”

The cyborg in white smiled, which was disturbing. “We are fully aware of the matter.”

Exiting the diner, I was once again struck by the sun. Someday I’d remember to properly deflect its blows. I paused, closed my eyes, reached into compartment 19, and pulled out my
aɪ-ware
. My custom pair of polarized
photochromic
computer lenses, a more mobile visual interface, as opposed to the cube. I put them on.

With my digital eyes activated and the sun knocked down a few shades to match my own disposition, I looked around, not having been in this part of the city before today.

I wasn’t impressed.

These old cities should just be torn down and harvested for resources. They were such a fucking eyesore. Gods, they couldn’t even keep up with fresh coats of paint. Or patch the cracks in the façades. Why the hell didn’t the people just move to DenverMega already? They’d have been better off, and this shithole city could have returned to mother nature.

I was glad my new assignment was taking me away from this gods forsaken place. Question was, where was I going?

“Kali, what is the #2 resort on this continent?”

‹
That would be The Regency
.
›

That name. I knew it somehow, and it wasn’t just because of its status.

“Kali, why does that sound so familiar?”

‹
It is probably because that was the resort Sam’s firm was working on when the two of you parted ways
.
›

Damn it, I think I’ve been set up.

“Kali, what is the likelihood of me running into Sam during this assignment?”

‹
It is almost a certainty. Sam is a shareholder of the resort and maintains a permanent residence there. Her firm has also been working with Mr. Beit’s on the design of the new capital, of which The Regency is hosting the conference of its public unveiling this week
.
›

Damn it, Frank. What the hell are you up to?

Just when I was going to have Kali contact Frank to tell him the charade was up, I got distracted by a beauty to behold.

She easily stood out among the several dozen citizens who were mulling about, going to and fro, undertaking the various menial errands of their everyday lives.

Every single one of them was trying so hard to look different from anyone else, with all of them together, it was a damn eyesore. With all their colors and insane styles of dressing, it was like an ugly painting brought to life. Half of them were in costumes of sorts. I couldn’t recall when the practice had become fashionable. Halloween was practically every day. Just without the candy and tricks.

Most were unworthy of even a glance, but
one woman
in particular drew my attention. So much so, I removed my shades just so I could see her better.

She was the perfect proportions of thin, athletic, and yet still curvy enough with some meat on her bones. She wore sandals and a long white linen skirt which waved in the wind as she walked. Nothing adorned her above the waist save a silver necklace, hanging between her bare breasts. Her long, curly, reddish blonde hair trailed behind her, and in the reflected sunlight her hair looked like fire dancing on a beach at sunset. The tips of her locks were like fingers composed of flame, enticing and beckoning a person to follow.

She was the epitome of an urban nymph - those women who lure men, and other women, into their domain and take those poor wayward souls for all they’re worth. She radiated sensuality and I gave half a mind to follow her.

I was instantly hard. It’d been days since I’d had a good fuck.

I stood there, just outside the diner, staring as she continued on down the road. It wasn’t until she turned a corner stepping out of sight that the spell became broken, allowing me to return to my senses.

I heard shouts coming from the opposite direction. I turned and saw a mass of citizens marching down the street directly towards me, yelling at the top of their lungs a multitude of slogans which were also on signs they were carrying.

“Jesus loves you! Repent! Salvation is yours! Exorcise the demons INSIDE you! Remove the TECH! Baptisms by GOD, not by Richards!”

Blah, blah, blah.

I wondered if my actions earlier had sparked this mob.

Not wanting to find out, I turned away and went to get in my p
ad. It wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Kali, where is my pad?”

‹
There is no parking allowed on any streets in this area. It is currently in a parking garage several blocks away
.
›

So much for the day getting better.

I contemplated standing my ground against the oncoming manifestation of my antithesis, but decided a drink was a more worthy cause.

“Kali, get me a list of open establishments of spirits and make it quick.”

Without waiting for her response I started walking in the same direction the mob was heading. The same direction the woman had gone. Maybe if I hurried I could catch up to her. I picked up the pace.

Within a few footfalls, a list of open bars and gentleman’s clubs appeared on the lens of my aɪ-ware. I scanned the stats on each as I briskly walked to the alley the woman had turned down.

“Hey, mister,” someone shouted behind me.

Not wanting to be disturbed in any way I extracted my Nobility badge from inside the vault and affixed it to the front, openly displaying it for all the world to see.

I wasn’t of noble birth, not by any means. I had one though, because it raised a lot less questions than my CI badge. I realized then that had I pretended to be Nobility back in the diner, I probably would have gotten what I wanted without any lip. Actually, I probably would have gotten the kind of lip I did like. The kind wrapped around my dick.

Oh well, what was done was done, and there would always be more opportunities to use my position and all its perks in the
future.As I made my way to where I’d last seen the woman, civilians parted before me like I was Moses before the Red Sea. Those citizens who weren’t completely distracted by their own aɪ-ware, and even those who were, were notified to make way for me by their CerAs. They were more than willing to step out of my way in order to avoid the potential wrath of a noble.

“
Yo, mister, wait up,” that same voice shouted again.

I turned briefly and saw the man from the diner I had audited, waving in my direction as he tried to catch up.

What the hell did he want? I wondered.

I looked back towards the alley. I was so close. I ignored the lowly man and kept walking at a brisk pace.

When I turned the corner the woman had taken, I found it to be a dead end. There were a few doors leading into each of the buildings which formed the alley, but I had no idea which one she had used. Unfortunately, she’d been too far away for Kali to ping her Chrono. Not that I had even asked her to.

Damn.

I turned to leave and found myself face to face with the man in the coveralls.

“You need to get out of town
asap, mister,” he said.

“Is that a threat?” I asked.

The man held up his hands. “No, sir. But that man you had an argument with back in the diner, he was the wrong guy to piss off.”

I laughed. “I wasn’t afraid of him then, and I’m still not.”

“It’s not him you should be afraid of. It’s who he works for.”

“Oh really?” I said. “And who does he work for?”

“Van Horne.” The man said with a look like I should know who that is and be shaking in my boots.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Derrik Van Horne,” the man said with more emphasis. As if a first name would suddenly make the non-existent lights come on.

I shook my head.

“Derrik ‘the Devil’ Van Horne. The devil of Pueblo. He only owns half the city. That guy back there, that’s one of his lawyers.”

A devil, huh. What does an Inquisitor fear? This guy is telling me the devil.

“So what?” I said.

“You really don’t know or even care?” He said, astonished.

“Why should I?” I shrugged.

“Are you really an Inquisitor?” he asked, catching me off guard.

“Look, it’s been a rough morning, and I could use drink. You can either buy me one, and maybe I’ll let you explain why I should care who that guy works for, or, you can move along and mind your own damn business.”

“A drink, I’ll buy you a drink,” the man said enthusiastically.

Was this some sort of game? Did he send that message? Wait a sec, I thought. That’s not possible. This guy was in the diner before me, and there’s no way he could have known who I was beforehand, and there’s certainly no way he could have known what was going to happen between me and that lawyer.

What the hell. A free drink is well… free.

I nodded and motioned the man to lead the way.

He started to speak but I told him to be silent until there was a drink in my hand.

Deciding to be productive, and trying to glean any validity to my supposed assignment, I brought up the vitals of the case I was going to be investigating. I’d almost brought up the stats on whoever this Van Horne fella is, but figured the man would tell me when we got to the bar.

The information of the case and Mr. Beit came up on my
aɪs.

NAME: Julius Illiam (Orrik) Beit

REAL AGE: 87

APPARENT AGE: 40

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Blue

HEIGHT: 183 cm (6’ 0”)

WEIGHT: 80 kg (176 lbs.)

FITZPATRICK SKIN TYPE
: 3

OCCUPATION: Co-owner of Social Arches Urban Engineering and Design – Municipal and Urban Design Engineer

I sifted through photos, interviews, lectures, financials, everything Frank had sent me, and then some.

Forget the Pope, this guy was as clean as Mr. Richards himself.

Wait a sec, I thought. Could this be what that weird message was about? Maybe the fink in the message was the one who pointed the finger at Beit. And if he was lying, was the other person Frank? But what did the rest of it mean? What was I supposed to protect? ‘Protect
what you’ve sowed,’ that’s what the message had said. Sow your wild oats was an old expression. Damn, that’d turned into a long list. I didn’t even have names for half of them. Wait. Sam! If she was going to be with Beit, was I supposed to protect her? Yeah right. More like she’d be protecting my ass.

I’d gotten so caught up in reviewing the case, it was nearly eighteen minutes and approximately two kilometers later when the man and I reached the door of a place called The Shady Day Saloon. No longer wanting the prestige and to be noticed I removed the badge from the front of my jacket and put it away. Kali automatically ceased notifying others of my false elite status.

Crossing the threshold UV lights bathed my body in a cleansing light.

Stupid fucks, that’s what the mytes were for.

I inhaled. There wasn’t the slightest hint of a recreational fume in the air. In addition, it was far too fucking bright, even with my aɪs on.

Shady my ass. I might as well have walked into a
Methuselah
Center
.

From the look of things the only alcohol they used in the place would be of the sort to sterilize the surgical steel counters. I shook my head and was seriously contemplated leaving.

“What the fuck kind of place is this?” I asked.

He smiled uneasily. “It’s a Purity bar.”

“What kind of game are you playing, boy?”

“Like I said, Van Horne owns half the city. This is the only place I could think of that wouldn’t have any of his demons.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Are you really an Inquisitor?” he asked again.

“You want answers? Well so do I and I better have an alcoholic beverage in my hand in under a minute, otherwise I’m leaving.”

The man went to the counter and ordered something.

I looked around and went to a booth with black leather cushions. At least I didn’t have to argue with anyone here on where I sat. The place was practically empty.

The man returned with a pitcher of beer and two glasses.

“Beer. You brought me beer?” I shook my head.

“They don’t serve anything above 10% alcohol. It was either beer or wine. Do you want me to get wine instead?”

I sighed. “The beer is fine.”

Heaven help me.

‹“Kali, who the hell is this guy?”›

Since Kali had already pinged the man’s Chrono she instantly brought up his stats.

NAME: Paxton Jackson Thrass

REAL AGE: 19

APPARENT AGE: Actual

HAIR: Brown