(( Right, since I can't get into the right frame of mind for writing more of this, I'm posting this part of a story I was writing which is to restart the plot involving Seven and the weird drug test. ))
(( If I get my brain around the rest of the story, I'll post it later, maybe in Creative, but the remainder isn't really relevant to the plot anyway. ))
Monday 22nd September 2008, 09:30, New York State
Seven looked out of the window of the 737 and estimated they were at about 7000 feet, and on approach. Her visual tracking systems calculated their speed at 607 miles per hour. They were on approach to Newark after the short flight from Paragon City.
The flight had gone well. As best she could tell, no one had determined that she was a synthetic. Her new face, without the built in monoptic, made her look suitably human, and she had gone for a more business-like set of clothes rather than her customary combat outfit, or the abbreviated tops and jeans she favoured when she was off duty. She had been off the communications grid since the plane took off, so the people back at Section 19 were unaware of her successes, but then Needlebaum had proposed this little expedition as an exercise in seeing how she managed without back-up from human operators. They would not re-establish communications with her until her return to Paragon City, where they had access to a higher bandwidth wireless network, and she was not allowed to call in except in dire emergency. Her biggest problem had been going through the metal detector at the airport, but her PPD ID and the fact that they were used to dealing with heroes there had helped.
The bump of the landing gear hitting the tarmac of the runway roused her from her reverie and she looked out, estimating the time from now to disembarkation. She was correct within acceptable parameters and was getting into a taxi within thirty minutes. Please take me to this address, she said to the driver, handing him a card.
Isn't that the 26th Precinct building? You a cop, lady? The driver pulled away as he spoke and soon they were heading for the city.
In Paragon City I am, Seven replied. Here I am a private citizen.
Here a cop's a cop, lady, and I'm a man that always respects a cop. Seven's stress level analysis suggested that he was telling the truth. She suspected, considering that he continued talking almost non-stop until they were pulling up outside the precinct building, that this was another form of 'banter.' Yeah, my pop brought me up to respect the cops on the street and I taught my son the same. 'They're there to save your hide, boy,' he said to me, and after 9/11 and the Rikti all I can say is... And so it went on.
She consulted her internal chronometer as she walked through the front door of the precinct building and stepped up to the duty sergeant's desk. Good afternoon, she said, I have an appointment to meet with Detective Thomasino.
The man did not look up, and his lip was covered by the largest bar moustache Seven had ever seen, so she was glad she did not have to read his lips. Name? he said, shortly. She had to admit that the PPD seemed to produce politer officers.
Seven, she replied and pushed her PPD ID under his nose.
He looked at it, and then up at her. He was middle-aged and of Italian ancestry. His nose suggested he drank a little too much when off duty. I'll buzz you through. Second floor, room 209. He indicated a door on his left and she heard a buzz as she reached for the handle. Various officers, uniformed and plain clothed, looked her over as she passed, but thought nothing of it after they spotted her ID, which was now visibly folded into her jacket pocket. Well, one or two of the younger males seemed to look a little longer and her spatial awareness system noted that they were paying attention to her back as she passed. Perhaps, she thought, I should have gone for a longer skirt.
Detective Thomasino was in his early thirties, a well built man who looked permanently uncomfortable in his off-the-peg suit. He carried a Glock 9mm under his left armpit and he had a strong handshake. Possibly a little too strong, but Seven's chassis was an impervium alloy so she was unlikely to suffer any damage from his grip. His partner, Detective Shaffer was a petite, pretty young woman, with a delicate handshake and no visible side-arm until she turned her back and revealed a Kimber SIS in a holster at the back of her belt. Her muscle-tone and physique suggested that she did dancing or martial arts, Seven suspected the latter.
Well, thanks for coming down here on this, um, Seven, Thomasino said. He seemed uncomfortable with someone having only one name. This case had us stumped enough that we asked the FBI for help, and they suggested we contact you because you had a somewhat similar case.
Seven nodded. I have reviewed the case files you sent and there are several similarities. Perhaps if you went over what you know, however, something may come to light which was not clear or reported in the files.
Pretty much everything is there, Shaffer said, sounding a little affronted.
My apologies, Seven said, smiling, I did not mean to suggest you had neglected anything, merely that hearing it 'from the horse's mouth' can reveal insights which are not conveyed by the written word.
Uh, yeah, Thomasino said, looking confused that a police officer had a vocabulary like that. The apartment building where this took place is full of students and resident staff at one of the universities. Apparently they got it into their heads to kill each other one night. The ones with guns shot their neighbours and then went hunting. Those without seem to have holed up with whatever weapon they could find to wait for someone to attack them. There was one survivor who was taken to hospital with gunshot wounds raving about them all being out to get her.
And she later died? Seven interjected.
Internal bleeding, Shaffer supplied. But then it gets weird since her body mysteriously vanished from the morgue before an autopsy could be performed.
And the other bodies? Seven asked, nodding.
Well, Thomasino's face darkened, while we were going over the place, forensics found some gadget plumbed into the water main feeding the building. It exploded while they were examining it. The building went up in flames. We lost pretty much all the evidence, along with two officers and a crime scene investigator and almost a lot more. We managed to get a hold of one blood sample taken from the survivor while they were working on her and that showed up this weird drug in her system.
Something like LSD, Shaffer said, but bigger and more complex.
A variant form of ergotamine, Seven said, a statement, not a question. Yes, particularly the attempts to cover up the drugging and use of the water system for delivery appear to fit with the case I am working on.
One of your local gangs moving into new territory? Thomasino asked, sounding annoyed.
Seven shook her head. Our 'local' gangs do not have the expertise or ruthless efficiency to carry out something like this. And we have had no intelligence to suggest they were spreading to other cities. I suspect one of the more international organisations. Nemesis, the Malta Group, the Council.
Oh great, Thomasino snarled, that's just what we need.
If it is of any consolation, I suspect that calling me here to consult on this matter has likely eliminated any chance of any form of repeat occurrence. Seven absently straightened her skirt as she spoke, an action her socialisation system suggested looked 'natural' and assisted in her integration.
How come? Shaffer asked, smirking. They scared of you?
On the contrary. I do not think they consider me any viable threat to their operations. However, your case and mine share the feel of a test of the system they are using. I suspect they have moved this mass test to New York in the hope that the two cases would remain unconnected. Since we have connected them, their plan has failed and further tests will resume in Paragon City, or in another location. I will request that the FBI issue a watch notice for any other strange crimes. Would it be possible for me to see what is left of the crime scene?
Thomasino blinked at the sudden change of direction, but nodded. I've got a meeting with the boss in about thirty minutes, but Shaffer can take you down there. Not that I think you'll be able to find anything new.
Considering the thoroughness with which this group perform clean-up, I suspect you are correct, Detective, but I should still like to see the site for myself.
Seven and Shaffer pulled up across the street from the burned out husk of a brownstone apartment building beside the Hudson. Seven scanned the street and then turned her attention to the far shore of the river, scanning the buildings there. We determined that they usually watch what is happening from a remote, but relatively close location. Are all these buildings apartments?
Most of them, Shaffer said, and the population is transient. It would be hard to spot if anyone had used one of the apartments as a base.
Seven nodded, taking off her jacket and dropping it onto the passenger seat in their Ford sedan. Let us take a look, she said, checking both ways before crossing the street.
You don't carry a gun, Shaffer said. More an observation than a question, but their was a puzzled tone to her voice.
When on duty I am required to do so, and have a revolver for that purpose. However, I don't use it. She pushed open the door, which was barely hanging on its hinges and ducked under the police tape to gain entry.
Not that good a shot? Shaffer was smirking again.
I can shoot the wings off a fly at one hundred metres. It was true, a tech had once bet one of his colleagues that Seven's targeting software was not up to repeating scenes from a film called 'Wanted.' It had taken them a while to find the wingless fly as it crawled around the floor of the test range. I do not generally need a handgun and the criminals I often apprehend pay little attention to bullets.
The inside of the building was more of a mess than the outside. Seven estimated that the staircase would be unable to take her weight. The floorboards under her were creaking alarmingly. So there were some disadvantages to having a virtually indestructible skeleton. She opened a ground floor apartment door and found herself looking down into the basement.
That's where the bomb went off, Shaffer supplied. Blew right up into this room and the fire caught rapidly from there. Fire department says someone placed canisters of some kind of accelerant based on hydrazine in several of the corridor ventilation ducts.
Hydrazine? Seven turned and looked at Shaffer questioningly.
Yeah. Another weird and dangerous addition. Stuff's highly volatile. They use it in some bits of the engine of the Space Shuttle. Oh, we only got that test result this morning, so it wasn't in the reports yet.
Seven smiled. As I said, it is always useful to go over things. Hydrazine was also the propellant used in a German fighter during World War Two. It is corrosive, several pilots died due to fuel leaks in the cockpit. She turned and stepped casually into the void, her shock systems detecting the fall and adjusting her leg positioning to absorb the impact.
Hey! Careful, Shaffer said, surprise making her sound more concerned than she meant to.
I assure you that I am in no danger, Detective, Seven replied. She reached into her one and only bag for the trip and removed her visor. Placing it over her eyes, she activated the magnetic latches and it locked itself into place over her eyes. The more normal looking eyes helped her with socialisation, but the technicians had been unable to cram the array of systems into the smaller space. Instead, the visor provided a detachable version of her original monoptic, feeding data to her 'brain' via blue-light LED lasers directly into her new eyes. She switched into low-light mode and scanned the basement.
It's Helen, Shaffer said from above. If I have to call you by your first name, you might as well know mine.
Seven located the central point of the explosion and began to scan the surrounding area. Seven is my only name, Det... Helen. Her socialisation routines interrupted her factual ones to suggest it would be insulting not to use the name, now that it had been given. She located a number of pieces of mangled pipework, a boiler which had been reduced to a torn, near unidentifiable mass of metal, and a pump with a chunk of something else wedged into it. She took the pump and walked back to the hole in the basement ceiling.
Should I get a ladder? Helen asked from above, smirking again. I know the PPD has a few of those kheldians in it, and one or two other heroes, but I thought most of them came with the normal supply of names.
Seven bent her legs and jumped, stepping lightly onto the edge of the hole with no apparent effort. She unlatched her visor and tucked it away into her bag. I am an artificially intelligent cybernetic unit, Helen, Seven said. My designation is Seven.
Helen looked surprised, which was good, Seven thought anyway, since the object was to appear human. However, there was no actual point in keeping her nature secret either. Well, Helen said after a second, that does explain your speech. Never heard a cop talk like that except on TV sometimes.
Seven nodded. Noted. I will attempt to use more vernacular in my speech patterns. She lifted the pump and examined its embedded intruder. This foreign material appears to have a part number on it. With your permission, I would like to take this back with me to be examined.
Helen produced an evidence bag. Put it in here. We'll log it and then ship it to you. Frankly, we would love to get this case off our hands, especially if it involves people like Malta. They carried out a hit operation downtown a couple of years ago. Sixteen dead cops and no resolution. I'd rather an artificially intelligent cybernetic unit went up against them than me, if you don't mind.
It is my job. Seven replied. I was designed for handling situations where specialist groups are involved, though I currently doubt my capability to deal with Malta operatives. If they are involved, I may have to engage some of Paragon's more powerful heroes in any confrontation. She dropped the pump into the evidence bag and Helen sealed it, taking a pen from her jacket to write up the label.
Anything else you want to see? Helen asked as she wrote.
No. Thank you. Would it be possible for you to take me to my hotel. My flight out is not until tomorrow. I thought I might do a little 'sight seeing.'
Helen grinned. Yeah, sure. We can contact you if we need you, right?
Seven smiled back. My 'cellphone' is internal. You can reach me at any time, day or night.
(( Later that evening, Seven will gather up the evidence she has collected and send it to her three contacts in Paragon City via secured email. ))
(( Any questions, comments, or actions to be taken, please let me know. ))
(( Seven herself will actually arrive back in Paragon City on Wednesday after having been delayed in New York. ))
