Neo Tropolis Police Department
Case File #1: A Storm Raging Through
by Justin Swartz
Neo Tropolis Police Department: Case Files are copyright
Justin Swartz 2002. Any reproduction of
this document for purposes of publication, data storage, archiving, or
adaptation, without the expressed consent of the author, is strictly prohibited
and subject to proper legal action.
Yes, this means you. And by the
way, all rights reserved.
Clouds the shade of midnight evil stared down on the rain-soaked path of Camp Street, concealing the moon from its nightly vigil and plunging the surrounding businesses and institutions into shadows. Many of the large electric signs and their individual lights, inside and outside, had already been turned off. The only true light came from the large yellow and blue sign advertising the Stallion Motel, an aging number that was scheduled for a major overhaul in a few months.
Bathing the road in its neon light, the Stallion was soon the witness to a frightening vision: a vision that was the absolute worst-case scenario for the criminals that ran in terror in the alleyways and back doors of the city known as Neo Tropolis.
From the opposite end of the long stretch of Camp Street, past the various fast food joints, pizza shops, entertainment rental stores, and the obligatory super market, a parade of green lights flashed through the thick, lazy rain and began to dance across the building surfaces.
There were four vehicles in total, and each of them was of the sportier variety, with two doors and sharp angular designs. The headlights off, the fog lights on each corner of the front bumper on full blast, the green on black paint job allowed the convoy to blend in with the shadows from the midnight clouds.
Emblazoned on the hood was a golden circle, with a black trim in two concentric circles. In the fashion of the ancient western days, a five-pointed star was inside the trim circles, and inside of that were a set of four black letters. The letters bespoke of those who placed a life in the hands of God every day, and perhaps had sent many to the great beyond in the individual’s pursuit of grandiose dreams or mistaken conceptions.
The four cars of the Neo Tropolis Police Department were traveling down the four-lane street, two cars in each of the two southbound lanes. A street lamp changed from red to blue, clashing with the green of flashing lights. Couples out for a late-night drive pulled over and turned into gas stations, stepping out into the rain and shouting encouraging words for the saviors of their fair city.
The lead car changed lanes and flashed his turn signal once, indicating for the rest of the convoy to follow him. They blinked their turn signals twice in response, and the cars soon turned into the parking lot of the Stallion Motel, parking in a diagonal lane that ran almost perpendicular to the north side of the motel. The doors flew open, and eight officers emerged from the rain-soaked cars that continued to flash their lights of justice against the midnight clouds.
Dressed in black caps with the police department logo on the front, a matching black jacket with green trim, and black slacks, they could have been mistaken for a very eccentric team of bank robbers. Each of them wore an earpiece that had a microphone attached to it, and as they reached beneath their jackets and removed their personal armament, a storm bellowed in the distance as if protesting their actions.
One officer broke away from the others and entered the door labeled as the main office, flashing his badge to a sleepy desk clerk. The clerk nodded, yawned, and returned to her latest romance disc. The other officers gathered around a single one, obviously the leader of the unit. By the small markings on the jacket collar, he had earned the rank of lieutenant. The young Japanese man next to him had earned the rank of second lieutenant, and kept one hand on his earpiece, his eyes scanning the motel.
His superior spoke in crisp and clear tones, the storm raging across the heavens, trying to drown him out. He raised his voice, and as the officers nodded, the second lieutenant motioned with his pistol for the others to follow him. They trotted across the parking lot, dark shoes clapping against the damp asphalt. The basking light of the motel sign soon died out, and only darkness filled the area.
Several officers broke out small flashlights that fit on the top of their pistols, the attachments glowing a deep cream color. The motel itself was longer than it was taller, and featured a design that wrapped around the triangle-shaped area that it existed in. Above it were tall hills that lead to a luxury restaurant and the Hilltop Theater. Both of the chrome-lined structures were dark now, shadows keeping a watch on the events below the midnight clouds and flashing green lights.
The second lieutenant signaled for the group to stop by pointing his gun to the ground. The lieutenant stepped forward and flashed his gun light at the royal blue door with the slight rusted lock mechanism. The digital numbers by the door were plain enough to read in the darkness, and the lieutenant nodded to his squad.
They gathered around his back, weapons ready for confrontation. The lieutenant kept a relaxed posture and rapped on the door politely. No response came from the door, and he rapped again. Still no response was received. He raised the butt of his pistol and slammed it against the door, almost popping the lock mechanism off.
And yet, no response was received from the royal blue door. The lieutenant took two steps back and raised his right foot, cracked the door hard with his extremity. The weak hinges broke under the force of the blow and the door fell inward, the gun lights penetrating the darkness inside.
The lights caught a gleam of something metal, and soon that something was charging forward. The lieutenant ushered his squad away as the something rammed into him, threw him to the soaked asphalt. The lights trailed the officer, illuminating the barely humanoid form of the metal being that had attacked the lieutenant. He shouted an order, shoving his pistol into the being’s neck and firing. The blow had no effect, and the being began to claw at the lieutenant’s face, the crude fingers drawing blood quickly.
Two of the officers darted inside the motel room while the other kept their weapons trained on the metal assailant, waiting for an order to open fire. One of the officers emerged from the room with a small female in his arms, wrapped in a bed sheet and the officer’s jacket. The other officer followed the first one back to their vehicles, tapping his earpiece and shouting to an unseen correspondent for backup.
The lieutenant had managed to roll on top of the being, and unloaded his weapon into the being’s spherical head, shattering the optical sensor and scraping the sheen of the metal skin. They were just scrapes, however, and the being soon had the lieutenant by the throat, the grappling fingers tightening upon the officer’s larynx.
The pressure of the being’s grip caused the lieutenant’s voice to escape him, and as the other officers stood at the ready, unsure of what to do next, the being made the choice for them.
Something inside the shattered eye flashed.
The lieutenant used the last of his breath to scream a scramble order.
The being blew itself up.
The roar of the explosion was drowned out by the horrendous thunder of the coming storm. The rain began to fall in untapped kegs, almost drowning the remaining officers in its explosion of power. They were scattered across the parking lot, and as motel doors opened and slammed shut at the sight, one of the cars came to a stop near the explosion, carrying the two officers who had executed the rescue.
A large indentation had been made in the parking lot, a series of intricate cracks and webs of smoke that were blocking any one’s view of the scene. The second lieutenant was helped to his feet, and he was the first to make his way over to the aftermath, underneath the torrent of wind and rain and the midnight clouds.
The rain was keeping the small fire under control, and as the sirens of fire crews penetrated the thunder of the storm raging through, the second lieutenant’s tears were mixed with the rain that soaked his face.
A small piece of the being remained, the coating around it impervious to any means of destruction.
No piece of the brave lieutenant remained.
As the other officers gathered around the undeserving grave of their leader, the midnight clouds of evil were darker than ever, the rain threatened to swallow them all and their sorrow, and the thunder appeared to mock them with its bellowing laughter.
3:30 am, June 5th
Year 2012
“At least we were able to save the girl.”
That fact was the last thing on Yuki Kamizake’s mind as he stared endlessly into the brown swirl of his coffee. That had been the point of the operation, he knew, but what had been the point of David being killed?
He looked up at the squad members and knew that their depressed faces and sorrowful eyes were only a mirror of his own feelings. The recreation room of the N.T.P.D. was rather Spartan in nature, and at the time in the early morning, was devoid of any other occupants.
The only light was from the soda machine behind their table, proudly displaying the logo of a cola company. The light was a pure white, a stark contrast to the dark feelings that hung over the officers.
“I’d like to know what a neoroid was doing in that motel room with a thirteen year-old girl,” Mia offered. Yuki looked at the amethyst eyes and golden mane of David’s—his now, he realized—communications expert. She had been with Marcus when the two of them rescued the girl from the motel room, but had not been present when the neoroid had self-detonated. Thank God for that, Yuki thought. I don’t think Mia could have handled seeing someone vaporized.
I don’t think I’m handling it well either.
“Neoroids don’t abduct teenage girls,” Marcus said, playing with his empty Styrofoam cup. “I mean, they could probably be programmed to do it, but why waste a neoroid on abductions?”
“Someone could get a neoroid to abduct the girl, and then the owner could commit the rape,” Jake interjected, rubbing a hand against his forehead. His brown hair was still damp from the rain, and his bangs hung slightly over his normally innocent green eyes. “The neoroid wouldn’t know any better, since it has no morals.”
“That would make it the perfect target, wouldn’t it?” Marcus remarked, removing his orange-tinted glasses and placing them on the cheap plastic table. “But in this case, it was not only programmed for abduction but also for assault. I’ve never seen a neoroid wrestle with a human being.”
“That’s against the law,” Mia pointed out after a sip of coffee. “The shame of it is that we can’t arrest them for it…or anything.”
“No sentience, no citizenship,” Jake mumbled. “Wasn’t that the protestor’s slogan last year?”
Yuki put his elbows on the table and rubbed his face with his fingertips. He was numb all over, and coffee wasn’t what he needed to make it go away.
“You okay?” Marcus asked, his bright green hair finally coming into the view of the soda machine’s light.
“Are any of us, really?” Yuki wondered aloud. “We’ve got a case none of us understand and a dead superior. Even if we find where the perpetrator acquired the neoroid, and the program that it was running, we can’t get justice for David.”
“You should focus on the abduction,” Jake suggested. “It would take your mind off the lieutenant.”
Yuki chuckled. “Yeah, and it’s just so easy for you, Jake.”
Jake frowned, a tad hurt by Yuki’s statement. “I resent that. I was only trying to help you.”
“I think we’re all ticked off fight now,” Mia said. “We should try to get some sleep.”
“Who’s going to sleep with this on our heads?” Yuki said. He cracked his neck and then returned to the staring at his coffee. It didn’t help his headache or his numb body, but it helped him think about something besides the crater that had once been his boss. “We can’t arrest the perpetrator, and the human accomplice is no where in sight.”
His mind shifted gears, but it was a grinding and painful one. “What’s the low-down on the girl?”
“Name’s Kristen Barnes,” Marcus answered. “Thirteen, student at Camp Hill Junior High School. Lives with her mother and grandmother about ten minutes from the school at a housing development on Oak Lane.”
“She wasn’t too far from the crime scene, then,” Mia noticed. “Camp Street and Oak Lane are only five minutes apart.”
“It gets better,” Marcus said. “She was supposed to have her first date tonight. Poor guy was worried about her, and watched us from the Quick Fix across the street.”
“So she goes to meet this guy for some fries or something and gets picked up by a horny neoroid instead,” Yuki said blandly. “Neoroid takes her back to the motel room that was agreed upon by his programmer, and waits for the guy to show up.”
“Kristen said she was picked up around nine o’ clock. We received an e-mail from the D.A.’s office that they received an anonymous tip, outlining where the neoroid and Kristen were,” Mia supplied.
“We borrow three guys from squad two,” Jake finished, “and head over there at two o’ clock in the morning.”
“The girl had been tossed around a bit, and her clothes were a mess, but otherwise she was unhurt,” Mia added. “Poor thing, probably have nightmares the rest of her life.”
I know I’m going to have some nightmares for a while, Yuki thought to himself.
The gears churned in his head again. “The neoroid was set up.”
Mia blinked. “Excuse me?”
Yuki’s lethargy was melting away with the surge in his cognitive ability. “The neoroid was set up! The guy never showed, someone tips off the district attorney, we get the mail, we run out there to save the day…set up!”
“Kristen may have just been a distraction,” Marcus suggested. “Sounds more like our perp hates neoroids and wanted to see one get turned into shreds tonight.”
“But why go to the trouble of reprogramming it?” Jake asked. “You’ve got a good theory Yuki, but it has holes.”
Yuki could have tossed his coffee on Jake then, but was too tired for it. Jake had the nasty habit of shooting down anyone else’s ideas, especially Yuki’s. In fact, there had not been a single incident when Jake had actually accepted a theory of the second lieutenant.
“And what’s your take on it?” Mia quizzed, always willing to come to Yuki’s defense.
“Weirdo had a preoccupation with how the neoroid got turned into toasted munchies, that’s all.” Jake shrugged. “Chalk it up to a hate crime and move on.”
“That’s a little harder than it sounds, Jake,” Marcus said quietly. “Some of us actually like our jobs, and our boss.”
“You losers can do what you want,” Jake huffed, and threw his coffee into a nearby trash receptacle. “I’m going home to get some sleep.”
He left the three officers in silence, and Yuki closed his eyes, trying to erase the piece of film that was flapping his mind’s projector. The same image, over and over again: David caught in the grip of the neoroid’s arm, the broken eye sensor, the last shouted order, then the orange fire, the red and black blood—
Yuki could feel his eyes growing heavy, and warm from tears he thought he would never have to cry. Blissfully, but reluctantly, he fell into a much-needed rest, and his mind turned to the strong emotions he held for his superior officer.
