Chapter 3: The Men In Hats

I didn't have to put on work clothes, since I slept with them on. I stepped in front of the mirror, checking out what exactly Paul did to me. I looked for any scars on my face, any marks he left. He didn't do a single thing to me other than tucked me to bed. I straightened out my coat and shirt, not to look so disheveled, tucking in the white shirt, and brushing out my hair to its usual professional look. I pulled up my gray slacks, straightening them out, made sure my trenchcoat was nice and smooth. No creases. I had to make sure my day out in the city looked normal. Checked to make sure I had my gun. The sheen of my standard-issue Gungnir Energy Emitter gleamed off the barrel. It was still here, resting in the holster. I take it out and inspect it, look at the matrix, the energy projector, the power cell, everything in the blaster. Still got that new gun smell I preserve so well.  Wallet, badge, ID. Everything I brought with me was still on me. At least he didn't loot me. I check the time on the digital clock to see it was 10:19 A.M. I was definitely going to be late.

I walked out of my apartment, and hailed a taxi down when I reached the sidewalk. My vehicle is still parked over at the precinct, so a taxi would have to do. At least I get a nice few from Level Two. Not much, since I just see some small buildings and the people are still in view, but it's good enough. Level Two is where public transport mostly is. Taxis, buses, whatever the public can use. Level Three belongs to the delivery, professional, and occupational transport. Vehicles. Level Four is to the luxury class, belonging to private transport, and other high-class vehicles, and it's the highest traffic level there. I know it was one of those ideas to help control the flow of traffic and all that, but it's an unintentional self-esteem killer on the little guy, and how much they won't ever get to experience the greater pleasures of life. I don't really care on living fancy, but I know some people do. I arrest them on a daily basis.

 

I look out from the tinted windows to see the sun hovering in the blue sky, ready to meet with the tallest building in Solyssia; the Solar Spire. It was mathematically located and built so that it would go through the sun every time it reached its zenith. It’s a symbol to humanity’s creative potential, and how it has brought humanity as close as it can to reaching the sun. If you lived in the outskirts of Solyssia, you’d see a thin, black line going over the sun as it slowly crawls in the sky. That’s the Solar Spire. The construction of the spire was funded by Novasphere, and has been their corporate headquarters for days. I think it’s funny how Novasphere tends to spend a lot of money just to boast.

 

The taxi goes into landing speed as it docks by the dropoff point of the Hyperion Police Station. I handed him my card, he scanned it, and the fare was fulfilled. That's another good sign. My bank account was still good. I got out of the taxi and stepped on the Level One dock. The Hyperion Precinct was the biggest building on this block. Certainly wasn't as tall as those skyscrapers that seem to literally pierce through the atmosphere, but the Precinct was still intimidating. Serves as a symbol of power the law has in this massive city. Of course, this wasn't the only one. There had to be at least ten or more stations in the busy streets of Solyssia. 

 

I went inside and presented my ID and badge to the security outside. Then I went through the standard check-up; retinal scan, handprint scan, saliva check, a pat-down, threat detection and survey, and questions about my personal life. Had to make sure I wasn't a flash clone or I wasn't hypnotized. Whether I'm Natural or not, the branches of trust don't reach out far to anyone.

 

After the routine check-up, I made it to the first floor, where most of the action took place. Everyone was taking emergency calls about different crimes and incidents happening in Solyssia. The desk clerks, either augmented or not, kept expert track on each and every little thing in this large city, like they were the eyes and ears of this town. I looked around for Paul, my eyes scanning the environment, sorting through the faces. No sign of him. I decided to skip the small, gossipy stuff with everyone down here, and went straight to the chief. I boarded the elevator up to the tenth floor, to the chief's office. It was a crowded car, stuffed with either officers in their black, clean-cut police uniforms, detectives in their suits, and assistants carrying folders filled with paperwork. 

After I reached my destination, I walked out of the car in a casual manner, but then something caught my eye in the chief's office. I saw Hampton talking to two guys in suits and hats by his desk, and warning bells rang off. These guys wore suits so black, they absorbed light, and their eyes were covered by sunglasses of the same black. They stood with the utmost discipline and authority they projected in that room, intimidating to the point where it even made Hampton sweat. I even saw the fear that was written on his face. It was like seeing a tiny mouse scrunched up in a corner, staring down two hungry dogs, looking for a meal. I saw Hampton keep his composure, try his best to look strong, but every so often he'd take a deep breath, he'd wipe off the sweat of his brow, and he couldn't even stand still. The guy was known for being tough and strict; he was the chief of the Hyperions, after all. But as I see him right now, he was afraid. Of what, I don't know.

 

My mind deliberated as I saw the three talk out of earshot. So I hid and read their body language, thinking they were looking for me. Who were these guys? Were they here to arrest Paul? They can't be. Hampton wouldn't be shaking like a rattlesnake if they were. Something scared him, terrified him to the point where he was taking a bath in his own sweat. Could they be after the Reject Paul and I saw? No, if they were, they would handle it themselves; they wouldn’t tell him about the Reject, and that guys like these would be sent to cover it up. Then who are these guys? Why are they here?

 

The men in hats walked out of the chief’s office, himself struggling to comprehend what happened, and went into the elevator, the car taking them down. What was scary was how they had the same pace. The same stride. Made me wonder even more, but I think I can find out at least some of the answers from the chief.

I calmly went inside his office and opened the door. His sweaty head shot up and looked at me, and he took a calming breath. He brushed his greasy hair back and sat down. “Where the hell have you been, Hamilton?” he asked, mixing his fear with frustration.

I point my thumb back to the elevator doors and ask him in a polite manner, “Who were they?”

“Not important,” he said harshly. “Why are you late?”

“I was going to ask about Detective Nelson, sir.”

He gave me a strange look. “Paul? What the Hell do you want with him?” he said, almost annoyed.

“When we were looking for the Reject, we found something incredibly strange, sir.”

“What? Come on, tell me.”

“We found out that he was genetically augmented, but…” I struggle to find the words to describe this nightmare. “…But we found out that his body went through dramatic changes. His head was shaped like a rat. Even sounded like one when we took him down with our stun rounds.”

He raised both eyebrows, expressing his surprise. “Really?” he said.

I nod to confirm. “Paul and I were…shocked, to say the least.” That was half a lie. I was shocked. Didn’t know how Paul acted. “But we took him to the car, and I thought he was leading us to the city.”

“Then what happened?” He said, sitting down in his chair, listening intently to me.

“Well, I noticed that Paul had left the boundaries of the city, and I asked him to turn around. Then he shot me.”

I saw another rise of his bushy eyebrows, shooting up as high as they can. “He shot you?”

I nod once again, keeping it short and professional. “Knocked me out with a stun round.”

Hampton put on a thinking face, rubbing his stubble. The only thing I ever heard him say was “Huh…” for about four minutes, while I stood in attention and waited, my feet glued to the floor, my body as still as a tree. Finally, he spoke.

“Okay. Make a police report and we’ll follow up.”

I wanted to look at him like he was crazy. Twist my face up in insane ways, and tell him that he was dumb and insane. Someone just shot me, for Christ’s sake! And made off with an important discovery in the field of genetic augmentation! And all he has to say is “Go file the police report?” I had no idea how scared and how bewildered he might’ve been when he talked to those guys, but he can’t have lost his mind. He’s been in two wars! Exactly how bad did they shake him? How bad did they make him fear? How soft-spoken could he be?

“Are you sure, sir?” I said, trying to be as calm as I can be.

“I’m positive,” he said. “We can’t exactly do anything right now, but soon we’ll find Paul and take care of him, and find out what he did with the body.”

I hesitate to ask another question, so I make one up as kind and as polite as I can. “Sir, don’t you think something like this would be…considered a warning? We don’t know what Paul is going to do with this.”

He looked at me, visibly enraged, his dark eyes glaring up to mine. “Listen, Dave,” he said in a serene, yet deadly tone. “I got a lot of other s**t to take care of. So I’m really freaking sorry that I can’t attend to every one of your petty needs. You want to find him? Go right ahead. But right now, I’m dealing with more important crap than looking for a dead body. Now get out of my office.”

I take a calm, yet heated breath. I know he’s always been so pissed at me. Why he was, I don’t even know. Maybe it’s because he’s secretly pro-augmentation and I’m not part of the club. Maybe, according to rumors I’ve heard, it’s because I’m selected to take his job. Either way, the way he’s been acting toward me so far…it’s strange. It’s like he’s telling me to step away from this case. To keep me out of…whatever he wants me to stay out of.

I just make a small nod, and say, “Yes, sir,” then I start to leave his office.

Before I make it to the doors, he stops me by calling my name. I turn around, making my face emotionless.

He looks at me and says, “Did you see anything you’re not supposed to?”

He must be talking about the men in hats. However, I’m afraid to say something, because anything could get me in trouble at this point. He’s looking at me like he wants me to say the wrong answer; like he’s waiting for me to slip up. I’ve never seen a face like this on him, a face of a cold and calculating measure, like he’s got every card in his hand, and he’s plotting how I’m going to go down. It sent shivers up my spine, and made the hair on the back of my head stand up. It was like my fate would be decided at this moment, depending on whatever I said. But I kept my professional mood and calmly said, “No, sir.”

He looks at me for a good ten seconds, then nods. “Okay. Have a good day, Detective.”

I nod my head back and went to the elevator. But on the way, I couldn’t help but feel like I’m being watched. Like my every move, my every breath is being monitored, and that I was just a mere insect in this grand scheme that I know nothing about, but I soon became involved in it. Whatever is it, whether it’s misplaced paranoia or a fear warning me of something horrible that would land me into something I can’t shake my way out of, I was at the ready. Waiting for whatever danger I was looking for…or whatever danger that was looking for me.

 

Author's Note

I am sorry for the squished text in the second half of this chapter. I typed one half here in WritersCafe, but my forgetfulness was getting the better of me, and I kept forgetting to save here. So I took what I wrote here, and typed the rest in a Word Document, and publish my finished draft from there. I don't have an idea on how to fix it, but I won't be typing my chapters on WritersCafe anymore, and make my drafts in a Word document from now on. Thank you for your consideration.