Futuristic Chicago 2099 (RP)

[BarkWolfBacon]

Current C.P.D. Detectives 1. GhastlySquash as - Mary 'Jill Chapel' Dawson - Sex Crimes
2. BarkWolfBacon as - Solomon M. Glass, Sex Crimes
3. Epiphany as - Kestrel Ambrose, Biotech Crimes

Current C.P.D. Undercover Operations 1. Stickdom as - Roxanne "Rosie" Skinner
2. Chen Gong as - Edward Fallthorn

Current C.P.D. Scientists 1. Voland as - Dr. Theodore Kraine, Forensics
2. RyanDiaz as - Dr. Albert Ezra, Crime Prevention & Surveillance

Chicago 2099 (OCC)

Chicago 2099 (Character Sheets)

C.P.D. Database

• Biotech Companies
• Leads & Clues
• Important People

• 
  
  Tyr Corp. - Creates most military grade prosthetic and anti-biotech weapons. Their nonlethal models are offered to law enforcement and first responders. They have dubious business ethics and have been subject to several international investigations against allegations of human rights abuses and war mongering.
  
  Lilly Medicine United - A not-for-profit research firm that seeks to actually improve mankind's condition through the use of biotech. They mostly create spinal and optic biotech, with a few generic lower cost prosthetics for the general public. One of the few actually benevolent corporations still around, but under constant threat of acquisition from more aggressive firms.
  
  Google - Primarily optic implants, top of the line for research. Mostly creates media or internet devices that interface with biotech.
  
  Sumil Limited - Genetic engineering megacorp, has mastered gene splicing, gene therapy, and even genetic mutation more recently. They sell their skills to the highest bidder, no matter their allegiance or intentions.
  
  PharmiC - The maker of most publicly available gene therapy and gene tech products. Mostly for the middle class.
  
  Gene Boutiques - Private labs that cater to the super wealthy. Want cat eyes? Pointed ears? Want fur? Want to live almost forever? Want to change your gender? Eye color? They can do it all.
  
  
• 
  
  This is where you will find important information for reference as your story progresses.
  
  1. Tyr Corp seems to have a mole in the C.P.D. There are no leads as to who that is at this time.
  
  2. Tyr Corp has secured 'The Doctor' (See Important People). Identity currently unknown, has developed some sort of exclusive unknown procedure.
  
  
• 
  
  This is where you'll find Names and files on important people. If your character wants to 'request' a file on a particular person, PM me and I will add the entry to the database.
  
  Zander Corbin
  Chief Informatics Officer
  Tyr Corp.
  
  
  Spoiler

  
  
  Corbin grew up in New York City, the son of a prominent corporate lawyer and the New York State Senate Chief of Staff. He excelled academically his entire life, eventually going to MIT for Biotech Systems Coding. He specialized in Military research and applications, eventually being recruited by DARPA in his mid twenties. His files are confidential during this time, but he was honorably discharged from DARPA's service ten years later, and was promptly hired by Tyr Corp. His husband, a prominent actor/director, is best known for making artistic films about the acceptance of biotech into modern society.
  
  He has no known implants.
  
  Arietta 'Arie' Florence
  Chief Security Officer
  Tyr Corp
  
  
  Spoiler

  
  
  Arie Florence is a Chicago native, a street brat who enlisted with the Marines when she was 18. After 5 years of service, she was dishonorably discharged for civilian casualties. She only escaped conviction of war crimes because Tyr Corp surprised her by providing a lawyer, a very expensive lawyer. She walked away a free woman and was employed by them the next week.
  
  Her military service is classified, but her training documents show she is an exceptional counter intelligence asset and assassin, who excelled in sniping and recon.
  
  She has a Tyr Corp N3rv3 implant that increases her reflexes, two optic implants (military grade / model unknown) and an artificial bladder from Lily Medicine United that allowed her to remain in the field without worrying about the bathroom for days at a time.
  
  'The Doctor'
  Tyr Corp
  
  
  Spoiler

  Appearance Unknown. History Unknown
  
  Barnabas Murphy
  Extra-Judicial Emergency Specialist
  CIA
  
  
  Spoiler

  
  
  Barnabas is a seasoned hitman for the CIA, recently back from spending almost five years in Northern Ireland fighting the IRA. He was recruited and trained from the time he was 18, and is chocked full of experimental tech that seems to be completely hidden to the naked eye. He is cocksure and sarcastic, often making jokes at bad times.
  
  That being said, he loves his job, and he loves feeling like he's making a difference. And deleting bad guys from the equation...thats the most rewarding work there is. Follows orders almost without question, and loves american food. Most of the world doesn't have access to meat anymore, but america...america refused to give up its love of grease.
  
  
  [/spoiler]

Spoiler

This is a cyperbunk noire RP, where you will be a member of one of Chicago's detective units, who end up being forced together in a grand conspiracy. It will be dark, gritty, sometimes humorous, and definitely adult in nature. Genetic experimentation and biotech advances allow for just about any humanoid/anthro character you want to play, within reason.

Global warming and economic trends have forced most of the world to urban areas for survival, unfortunately overpopulation and a lack of food brings about its own challenges. Most rural areas left are owned by the government in order to feed the masses. Technology has advanced tremendously, with genetic mutation, genome alteration, and biotech interfaces common amongst the population. It is almost necessary for modern work and life to have some sort of biotech implant.

You character works for the Chicago Detectives Unit, one of the few remaining human run law enforcement programs in the city. Turns out while AI is great for weighing split second rational choices, they lack the gut feeling and raw ability of a human mind. You've been called in for an all hands meeting at the very start of this, and that is NEVER a good sign.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

NARRATOR

C.P.D. HQ
October 19th, 2077
​

It was a chilly autumn morning in downtown Chicago, the morning fog stretching well into the second horizontal glidecar traffic lanes, which meant rush hour was even more of a bitch than usual. The city was bustling, people going to and from work. Some were on street level, wearing facemasks to breathe safely through the smoke and pollution that hung in a constant cloud over the lowest levels of the city. Those pedestrians were headed to warehouse jobs, restaurant jobs, or worse - a criminal job.

But the worst criminals in the city never had to deal with the smog. They lived far above the air scrubbers, in gleaming towers with private glidecar garages and designer drugs. They ran the businesses these poor folk worked for, they stole their tax dollars, they abused their human rights.

Just another morning in Chicago.

The C.P.D. AI system, code-named 'Gideon', chirped over the P.A. system in the dingy and outdated office that housed Chicago's finest. The budget for building repairs grew smaller every year, as the politicians choked the life out of the very defenders who would hold them accountable. And yet they couldn't completely shut it down, public safety numbers did make for good election statistics after all.

They were everyone's shit rag here at the C.P.D.

"Good morning, Officers. Today's traffic is slower than normal thanks to a freight crash in H2 Addison Way. No injuries. New missing persons reports filed in the last 24 hours..15. Cases will be assigned shortly. Today's briefing is in the Obama Conference Room. Thank you, and have a nice day." Gideon said, her voice sultry and pleasing.

Many officers stopped to listen to her briefing before continuing on their way.

Shortly after Gideon's page, the Captain sent out an email to a select group of people.

Send New Email

New Email Received

Jill, Glass, Ambrose, Skinner, Dr. Kraine, Dr. Ezra

Task Force Briefing, All Hands

If you have received this, you have been added to a special task force I have created. Your operational title is Task Force 19. We will discuss the purpose of this task force after the briefing this morning. Tell no one except the others on this email.

- Captain Sihng

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Gideon glitches and begins to play the classical song "Fuck the Police" by N.W.A. many officers laugh.

she then stops and announces, "Terribly sorry, someone seems to have rewritten my music protocols as a joke."

 

[Chen Gong]

Systems Active.
Power Core charging. 10. 25. 47.5. 80. 100.
Kinetic Prototype Joints unlocking.
Activating TYR.CORP.SPRINGSUIT.ORGANIC.EXE
Edward opened his empty dead eyes, staring at the wall he was opposite, not even noticing the fact that he was slumped on the floor, "Wait...How the...hell?" He had a killer headache...Or was he damaged? Fuck it. Being techno-organic was bloody and confusing. Yes. Blood often seeped from his joints. Yeaahhhhh. That's gross, even Edward himself didn't like it happening. Getting up from his slumped position, he moved around his arms and legs, grinding anyway any gathered minor rust from his nightly sleep only to hear a rustling in the next room, wait. WHERE THE HELL WAS HE ANYWAY? The building he was in was old and...partly burned down...Why did that unsettle him? WHATEVER. Back to see what that rustling was. Edward walked into the next room to a disgusting sight, a small, childlike, nightmarish droid was clawing out the brain of a corpse, "What...the fuck?" He whispered, watching the nightmarish droid fully clawing out the corpse's brain and scamper away while holding the organ, "What...Either...I'm high, I'm having a nightmare or I smelling Tyr. Corp bullshit..." Edward said, walking over to the corpse and began to investigate.

This was going to be interesting...

 

[Epiphany]

Kestrel Ambrose

The Kennedy Towers
182nd floor
1240 North Stone Street
​

Kestrel's living room wasn't living up to its advertisement.

"See unparalleled views of Lake Michigan! Enjoy the spectacle 60 foot windows afford with no buildings in the way!" She chuckled without humor as she sipped her coffee, feet tucked beneath her on the tan leather sofa as she let her eyes drift over the horizon instead of her morning schedule. The high-rise penthouse she shared with her wife put them above the fog layer at least but it just meant her view was largely comprised of an endless sea of fog stretching out to the horizon. Rather like being in a plane, only all the time.

"Goddamn Chicago," she muttered before finishing her coffee and finishing her case review.

Thankfully, Kestrel had cleared two cases last week, both turned over to CorpPros where they'd likely wallow for the next fifteen years. She'd been on the force for eight years now, three of them as a detective, and she'd yet to see the inside of a CorpPros court. Big organizations had big money and big rights. It'd be easier to save her energy for boostergangs, for illegal chop shop operations or the occasional overjuiced underground gladiator. At least those people saw a jail cell in the meantime.

She frowned slightly at the dark, depressing turn of her thoughts and shrugged them aside as she shrugged into her black coat. It was dressy, much like the jade high necked blouse tucked into an always fashionable black skirt. Given her investigations often took her into privileged places, dressing the part went a long way to easing witnesses and suspects up.

Besides, she kept a pair of jeans in her department glidecar, just in case someone decided to make her run them down.

Kestrel swept up her gun holster from where she'd left it hanging on a chair while getting coffee. Then she stopped by her wife's office and planted a kiss on the back of the other woman's black-haired before heading out. Allegra's chin lifted slightly, the best acknowledgement she could give, plugged into an East Coast product review meeting as she was. Their mutual long hours didn't leave a lot of room for a lot of relationship these days but Kestrel made a point of putting in the effort.

She stepped out onto the penthouse balcony and met her department glidecar as its autopilot rolled it out of its private parking garage a hundred stories up and dropped it down to meet her. Kestrel stepped in, strapped up and leaned back as it sped her on to headquarters.

C.P.D. HQ
​

The walk from HQ's glidecar parking garage always pleased Kestrel. It reoriented her, put her feet back on the ground where they belonged. Being the wife of a Senior VP in Lilly Medicine United meant a lifestyle ridiculously out of touch with the average cop, to say nothing of the average citizen. The walk down old concrete, bad lighting and faded paint markings always put her head back in the game. Money sucked for everyone, the police included.

Kestrel perked an ear up for Gideon's sexy little alto, always amused at the developer's choice for the AI's voiceover. Not that she'd complain, of course. The briefing had been moved to the Obama Conference Room a few hours ago, judging by her handheld's calendar, so she made her way there. The blonde spared a look at the other officers she passed, enough of a look to notice most either had their handheld wired in or fed into some internal optical implant.

Pity hers didn't play well with others. It was a good thing the CPD had shit for funding. Otherwise, she might find herself falling further behind as more cops augmented utilities like calendars and search engines, leaving her to have to manually type shit in. With her TARSNS Implant regulating all nervous system traffic in her body, chances were it'd either refuse to carry another device's signal or it might just hijack another implant, chewing it up for spare parts.

"Huh?

Kestrel glanced down at her handheld as it flagged an email from the Captain. She briefly inspected the recipients out of habit, then reread them again more thoroughly. The subject line wasn't wildly unusual but none of the people addressed in the email were Biotech Crimes...and most were fairly unfamiliar to her given the enormous size of the CPD (given the enormous size of the city it protected).

She considered responding, then tucked her handheld away and headed for the briefing room. The Captain wouldn't drop clues in advance so there was really no point in wasting the keystrokes trying.

So the blonde walked into the briefing room and took advantage of her early arrival to pour herself a little more coffee. Lousy compared to Allegra's aficionado tastes but Kestrel was a lot less picky. Claiming a chair, she craned her neck and waited for anyone else to show up.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Solomon Glass
Sol watched the sunrise from above the smog layer, way high up on a bank tower skyscraper. Sure, his glidecar was illegally hovering far above maximum altitude safety standards, but no one was going to question a cop. He drew a hit from his Cig, the nicotine and smoke filling his lungs. It was quiet, and peaceful. At least this high up.

At least it was until the man he was dangling over the edge of the building let out a scream. "Please, god, please - I don't know anything else."

Gideon's voice chirped in his head, his optic implants were wired directly to the C.P.D. system. 87% chance the subject is lying, Detective Glass.

"Gideon says you're full of shit, Max." The detective held the man further out, almost half of Max's body was now over the edge. If Solomon let go, the man would not be able to right himself in time.

"You're don't want to follow this, Sol. I'm telling you. You've chased up some big dogs over the years, but I'm telling you, as a friend, let this one go."

"Max, how long have you been an informant for me? Like three and a half years?" Solomon's voice was husky, a throaty and resonant baritone honed by years of smoking.

Max nodded.

"Have I ever once let something go? Do I look like the kind of guy who lets something go?"

Max shook his head no. "Sol, just this once...man...listen to me."

Sol pulled him up and threw him onto the concrete roof. "Give me one thing, Max. One thing, and I'll see if I can't get some more money for Shelly's college fund."

"We have the money, Sol. We can't get her into the program. She keeps getting passed over for the kids of CEO's and Senators."

"I can change that too, I can get her in, Max. Just give me one thing to go on."

The informant sighed, and adjusted the Sumil badge on his chest. "You want a lead? Look at your own Unit."

"What?" Solomon raised an eyebrow and ashed his cigarette.

"Mary Dawson."

"There isn't a Mary Dawson in Sex Crimes."

"You sure about that? Maybe you know her by another name. That's really all I can say, man."

Sol threw his cig on the roof and walked over to his glidcar. "I'll take it. And I'll get Shelly into that program."

"I know you will."

The detective got into his glidecar and pulled away, leaving the man standing on the roof. It took Max a minute to realize he was now stranded up here. He pulled out his phone and called his own vehicle. It would be here in fifteen minutes. Guess he would be late this morning.

"Asshole." He muttered under his breath.

***
Solomon walked into the Obama conference room, his head muddled with the name Max had given him earlier. But it cleared up when he saw Kestrel. The beautiful blonde was one of the most impressive women Solomon had ever met. She was also married, and disinterested in men. But her beauty was the least impressive thing about her, by far... and that was saying something.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down next to her, "Corporal," He called her by her military rank, partly out of respect, also because she had about twice the combat training of the average detective. Calling her anything else seemed silly. "I spoke to Max this morning, he sends his regards. Says he hasn't heard from the biotech unit in a while. Must be a good sign."

He winked at her and settled in. "How's things in the high rises these days?" They all gave her flak for her wife's status, but it was all in good fun. They all wished they had a spouse that made that much too.

Epiphany

GhastlySquash

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Gideon to all TF19
<Dispatch to TF19> /CONFIDENTIAL/ <Extra-judicial bug #001913> Approval ID- R.SIHNG...

audio activity detected....
activating sub-routine [private group=TF19]....
activating privacy ghost protocol...
WARNING : DATA WILL NOT BE SAVED TO DATABASE //G:CPD_MAIN
data will be wiped after <24 hours>
...connected...

Timestamp - 0817
Bug Location - Conference Room 3
Tyr Corp Chicago Headquarters
Tyr Tower

Vox 1 (Identified as Zander Corbin, CIO)

Vox 2 (Identified as Arietta Florence, Head of Security)

Vox 3 (No match in system)

***
Corbin: -nks for coming here today, I know you all keep busy schedules.

Florence: Please tell me it isn't bad news, Mr. Corbin.

Vox 3: *cough* Quite the opposite, Arie.

Florence: Oh, well thats good for a change.

Corbin: Someone has been...interrupting our street level operations.

Florence: Yes, I am aware. We've done our best to capture whoever it is, but they're unpredictable at best, downright insane at worst.

Corbin: Indeed, and you've done a remarkable job. But actually I'm not referring to the man in the Springsuit this time.

Florence: Then who the hell are we talking about?

Vox 3: The C.P.D.

Florence : Well I can't go blowing up the police station, so tell me what the good news is.

Vox 3: We now have someone on the inside.

Florence: What? How? They don't even let ex-PMC or security contractors in the door for that exact reason.

Vox 3: They don't know they're on the inside for us.

Florence: Like they have an implant they don't know about, doc?

Vox 3: No.

Florence: Wait you're saying you've...thats impossible...

Vox 3: No, its not. I've been doing it for years, for all sorts of clients and companies.

Corbin: As far as we know, the good Doctor here is the only one who can perform this procedure, and has done it for a small and exclusive list of clients.

Florence: My god...this is incredible, I thought it was just a myth.

Corbin: He's ours now, he has agreed to join Tyr Corp. exclusively going forward. I wanted you to show him around the security operations so he could get a feel for all aspects of what we do here.

Florence: Absolutely, follow me.

/ END TRANSMISSION/

Voland RyanDiaz Epiphany GhastlySquash Stickdom

 

[GhastlySquash]

Jill Chapel - CPD Sex Crimes Division

She was standing over the girl, knife in hand and a sickening grin on her face.


Jill woke up with a start, her pillow soaked with sweat. Tossing it in the laundry, she quietly prepared a cup of coffee for her morning routine. Recently, her nights had turned rather sleepless. The doctor told her that it was a side-effect from the medications being taken off. These dreams of alternate realities were just figments in her mind.

And yet, they didn't feel like it. She'd dreamed of sitting in a nice, luxury patio, sipping on tea while an old man smiled at her from across the table. She remembered running through a dark alley, adrenaline in her veins as she hid from the red and blue lights of the CPD. She remembered a lot of things. She thought you were suppose to forget dreams. Lose them to memory.

Why then could she bring them up to the last detail?

Her apartment was about as normal as one could expect. Her diplomas and pictures of her parents laid strewn about the walls. A certificate of completion with an internship at Tyr. Corp. Apparently she'd made a few friends and that's how she'd gotten her way in. It all felt...reasonable.

Her doctor told her the crash had taken some of her memory away. Things would feel foreign, but it would get better with time and medication. Jill had obediently followed the prescription to the letter, until her doctor told her she needed to get off.

She'd asked her doctor if she'd ever known a Mary Dawson. Apparently the name was one she recalled quite well but didn't know where it was from. It felt...personal somehow. Like an old friend or family member.

From the research she'd gotten, the last Mary Dawson had been brutally murdered by a gang led by Mr. Forge, who was suspected of being Paper. It wasn't a big case, and if anything, it didn't fit her. The news didn't even bother to put a picture. Mary Dawson was, like the countless others, just named on a long list of victims. The few articles written described her as a sweet girl but a closed casket and closed case. Her remains were apparently being disposed of in an incinerator.

Still, she wondered if perhaps they were good friends before. It was...worrisome to say the least that perhaps she'd missed an important opportunity there.

--------------

She re-read the email again. Jill didn't like the smell of Task Forces. They were...always a bother. She'd read about a few in the past. Usually they were set up in times of dire emergencies. Drug cartels that had gotten out of control or serial killers that were on a rampage. Often, they ended with little results to show.

Heading into the Obama Conference Room, Jill smiled at Solomon Glass and poured herself a cup of coffee that was suitable for the more desperate types at the office. Still, she expected this to be a long meeting.

"Hi Corporal!" Jill waived at Kestrel. "How's your wife?"

Turning to Solomon, she sat down and planted her head on the table. "Ugh I really hope this isn't going to take all day. I've been living off 5 hours of sleep a week and my doctor said I was going to have more withdrawal symptoms from my medication."

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Solomon Glass
GhastlySquash

Solomon turned to face his partner, Jill, on the right and watched the woman rest her head on the table. Poor thing had been through some shit, and he knew what those meds could do. He'd been on some himself after his accident, and knew that getting off of them was an experience he didn't want to repeat.

Gently, he put a hand on her back and wished he had some sage advice to give her. He didn't. The process just sucked.

"You got this, J. You've got the heart of a lion and we're all here for you. You've been working too much, too. You clocked in your last report at like 3 am last time. Don't push yourself so hard."

Take your own advice, old man. Sol thought to himself. He couldn't remember the last time he slept more than 5 hours.

 

[Chen Gong]

Systems Switching To Boost Scanner Effectiveness
Edward stared at corpse, his eyes glowing dimly as they entered scanning mode, he looked the corpse head to toe, his eyes noted two things. A bullet wound on the chest. And a C.P.D badge. Edward leaned down and tore the badge off the man's shirt, he allowed his mind to remotely tap into the police database and identify who this badge belongs to, thankfully he wouldn't put the place on alert due to a 'HAXXXXXXXX' alert. Him accessing it would only notify a few detectives. Solomon Glass was one if he was remembering correctly.
Searching
...
...
Data Match.
Officer John Anderson, poor bastard. Wrong place, wrong time from what Edward could tell. Edward was just about to go and tip off this location when he heard...something else. Footsteps. He noted a pattern. One footstep sounded metallic, the other like a boot. "...?" Edward quietly looked into the next room, watching a heavily augmented man walk out of the entrance of this building, Edward quietly tailed the man until he got into a unmarked van and drove off, "...This day just keeps getting more interesting..."

 

[GhastlySquash]

BarkWolfBacon Epiphany

Jill turned to see Solomon's hand on her back. "Aww thanks Solly. If I recall though that sounds a little hypocritical since I found you literally asleep at your desk...what was it...at least four days in a row?"

She still remembered stacking cards on his head during that week. That and the can of Neutro-breeze did absolutely nothing.

"Still, the sentiment is appreciated." She smiled at Glass. He was just trying to be nice and at the end of the day, she knew he'd look out for her. It was difficult finding a partner. Jill had extreme tunnel vision but Glass was always there to help her through it.

Considering the reputation most CPD officers left on the public, Jill always figured Glass was one of the good guys. Especially in a world where she felt every turn could be her last. She'd seen so much of the criminal underworld that it made her sick.

Combine that with the terrible dreams and she was coming to work sleep deprived and barely with enough energy to keep going.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Solomon Glass
"Hey, at least I nap...maybe it shouldn't be at work, but still." He laughed. "I'll get payback for those cards though, somehow."

His eyes glowed green as data flashed across them. His smile quickly faded.

<Database access, Field Asset 'Fallthorn', Officer I.D. Request.>
<Data retrieved and sent. Personnel file on ...John Anderson>
<Badge # 3976-4123 entered as search parameters.>

"Whats wrong?" Jill asked.

"Our barely together killer robot friend just pulled a data record on a cop...by searching a badge number. Which means he either killed him or found him dead. Both of those are a shitty way to start the day."

He pulled out his phone and sent Fallthorn a text.

"Gideon," He said while he was typing, "Please do a vitals check on Officer John Anderson."

"John Anderson had no implants, I am unable to remotely test his vitals or opti-cam history."

"Fuck." He gritted through his teeth as he finished the text.

Fallthorn

me

Please tell me you didn't kill that cop

me

Where is the body?

GhastlySquash Chen Gong

 

[Epiphany]

BarkWolfBacon GhastlySquash

Kestrel tilted her head up when she heard someone else enter the Obama Conference Room. Clipping her handset back around her wrist, the blonde twisted in her seat and watched Solomon Glass taking his life in his hands by drinking bureau coffee. Not that she'd avoided her own certain death. "Any port in a storm," she muttered to herself as he approached and took the seat next to her.

"Detective," she returned his greeting with a bit of a smile. One eyebrow arched. "Max, huh? I haven't hit him up lately. Been too wrapped up with that Gene Solutions corporate espionage case to get my nose back in the weeds. Makes me a little nervous if no one else's been in touch, though. Yeah, could be a good sign. Or a sign we're tapped out dealing with corporate level shit, meaning we're not dealing with the street level shit."

Kestrel took a swallow of coffee, sighed and leaned back in her chair a little. Even when she made an effort to ditch the military posture and 'blend in' with her colleagues, the blonde never quite lost that sense of coiled tension though. Might be because, thanks to her TARSNS Implant, her carbon iron muscle fibers were always taut and ready for action.

"I guess I shouldn't sweat it, though. We've got patrols and God forbid witnesses call shit in. Maybe it really is a good sign." Her tone suggested disbelief but her face looked pensive.

At the personal inquiry, Kestrel straightened a little and eyed the other Detective. Just being friendly, she decided. Fair. "Foggy as hell up there, like it is everywhere. Makes me think Alley got robbed buying our place. And I say Alley because it was her money and her decision that landed us in Kennedy Towers." Kestrel briefly remembered their old place in Seattle, back when she was still military and Allegra was still making her mark as a rising implementation manager. Her nose crinkled as she smiled at the fond memory. "Can't complain though. Commute's nice even if the view's worthless."

Always best to play that kind of thing lightly. Fact was, no one joined the force for the money but even altruists felt those good intentions rub off a little when the city routinely chopped their raises every year during the union's wage negotiations. Opinion was, the only people who probably saw a bonus were those considered high-risk for going dirty otherwise. With everyone's finances tapped, it was always best to not draw too much attention to the fact that her salary was less than 10% of her household's income. Made folks uncomfortable when they remembered, herself included.

Then Jill showed up.

Kestrel liked Solomon's partner. Besides being cute, she had perk. In this job, especially in Sex Crimes of all divisions, perk was a pink unicorn among detectives.

"Detective," she said, by way of returning Jill's greeting. Kestrel still didn't know where 'Corporal' had caught on as a department nickname. She didn't mind at all, though, especially since it meant people thought of her for her own accomplishments and not as a token rich bitch's spouse playing at being a cop. "Alley's fine. Up to her neck with deadlines. 4th quarter just rolled over a few weeks ago so there's the usual big push for end-of-year benchmarks. I'll tell her you asked, thanks."

Kestrel listened to the two partners catching up before popping open a vial of iron pills and tossing four back, swallowing them down with another swig of coffee. Within seconds, a pleasant sensation settled in her stomach. It was almost euphoric. She didn't admit it to anyone else but she had a sneaking suspicion that damned implant's replacement of her nervous system meant it jiggled her dopamine production when she 'fed' it, as a way of encouraging her to keep doing it.

Then Solomon reacted to a message. Not a good reaction. The following query to Gideon meant the patrolman was probably dead. Kestrel sat as straight as a pole and watched the two react to the news.

"Remind me what the deal is with this guy of yours?" She frowned in sudden thought. "He's not the reason we're all tapped for this Task Force, is it?"

 

[GhastlySquash]

BarkWolfBacon Epiphany

Jill shuddered at the mention of Fallthorn. "Ugh, not him again Solly. You know he's a weirdo and I swear I'm starting to agree with the other girls on the force that wearing combat armor is just safer. Especially with creeps like him."

Turning to Kestrel, her gaze seemed to fall, as if embarrassed that she shouted out. "He's Glass' guy but he's a weirdo. Half-robot kinda weirdo. And a little bit psycho too. I don't know where he was stitched together but..."

For just a second, Jill was about to say something completely different. It was a nasty...almost evil thing to say really. So evil in fact that she was glad her mind woke up and stopped the sentence from finishing.

"...sorry withdrawal still taking a toll." She looked at Glass. "When's the briefing going to start? We better check on him at any case, Glass. He's your guy and I'm pretty sure if the higher-ups hear about this they're going to give you a lot shit like they did last time and then because I'm your partner...they're going to give me shit for not trying to talk to you more or be a good influence or something along those lines."

To be fair, Sex Crimes wasn't the kind of job people took if they wanted a good influence. In Chapel's case, she was already sure of herself. At least, that's what she liked to think. Of all the departments, it was the one that struck out to her the most. The one that appealed to her sense of judgement. The one that...in moments where she wished it didn't...made her feel alive.

She almost craved it. The crime scene. The victims. The hunting of those that did it. She'd begun making origami again, a suggestion by her doctor to help cope with the withdrawal and meditate her mind.

Still, parts of her mind wandered off from time to time, as it did now with her hands absently making an origami crane from the paper on the desk.

 

[RyanDiaz]

Albert Ezra slept alone now, for over 10 years. He was used to waking up alone and getting back to an empty apartment. His place situated on the pro-industrialized part of slum Chicago. Trains and traffic were the drawback, but he was used to it since he could dim his hearing capacity down. The flat was small, around 30 square meters, furnished with few old wooden cupboards, a plain bed at the bedroom side and the kitchen pretty much consisted of a nice rosewood table, couple of stools, microwave, mini-fridge and an oven. He had a morning routine of warming up last night's can spaghetti which he also did this morning. He took out his computer from the bedroom and brought it to the kitchen, where it made an odd futuristic contrast.

He started thinking about last days work and how criminal dispatches and surveillance swat teams have started taking over his job. He opened his email which was pretty much all the communication he used except his eye implant. A rumming gang past by his window. They made a lot of noise and Albert wish they'd be dead. the gang's been graffiting and fighting under his 2nd floor apartment every week. He has dealt with troublesome youths but he didn't care anymore.
Opening his mailbox, a letter drew his attention, standing out of all the police greetings and filings.
"A message from the captain huh" he grunted.
He opened it and it held no surprises. He has been assigned to another gang of "special operation" group. He knew that it always meant him being a support figure for some mentally unstable detectives or searching a gory crime-scene. He checked the other receivers. He knew Glass, he's been working with him on missions before. It was nice to rely on his courage on making decisions, but seeing that Dr Kraine was there it must've been something wide-based.

He got up slowly from the table, folded the nano-screen computer and trashed the empty can of spaghetti. He didn't have time to wash himself (really the matter was his shower was emitting water only brain-freezing temperatures), so he rinsed himself under the kitchen sink. He got a black suit and blue tie from the wardrobe and got dressed. He knew time was a flowing measure so he took enough for himself to get his portfolio ready and get out of the building. He knew where the Obama Conference Room was. And even if he didn't, he quite literally had a map in front of his eyes.

---

It took him about half an hour walk to get there. He walked swiftly when he wanted to, and didn't use much cars. It took him a few minutes to get his documents and retinas checked before he was let in the lobby. He synced the implant database injection program to check the list of people from police files. He saw that 3 people were already checked in. He tried to made his best impression with his uncombed hair and baggy suit. he knocked on the door.

 

[Chen Gong]

Edward heard his head buzz, probably old Glassy asking what happened. Edward pulled out his internal messaging and went into the message between himself and Glassy. He quickly typed in a response.

Glass

them

Please tell me you didn't kill that cop

them

Where is the body?

me

No. Found him dead. Body is located at...

He quickly pulled up is map program. It placed him of the outskirts of East Chicago.

Glass

me

East Chicago. Outskirts. Some old burned down building. I'll wait here if you want.

Edward went and leaned against a nearby wall, staring at the scene, trying to figure out what the hell happened...Best wait for Glassy to reply.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Solomon Glass
Sol looked at Jill and Kestrel, "Jill doesn't like him, and I get that. And don't get me wrong, his appearance is...off-putting. But he's also saved my life more than once."

Jill gave him a doubtful look.

"Ok, so one time he killed a key witness. But I mean, that witness was an asshole."

Now Kestrel was looking at him doubtfully.

"...But anyway, no - I don't think Fallthorn is the reason for the Task Force, he's been relatively quiet lately. Quiet for him anyway."

Solomon's phone buzzed.

Fallthorn

them

No. Found him dead. Body is located at...

them

East Chicago. Outskirts. Some old burned down building. I'll wait here if you want.

me

Don't wait, Gideon dispatched first responders, will meet after briefing

me

Try to behave

"It wasn't him, looks like we just lost another officer to the underbelly. Jill and I will check in with him later and try to get more info."

They all turned as Dr. Ezra knocked before entering. Always the definition of polite and together, the older gentlemen entered quietly and stood next to them. His baggy suit betrayed his brilliant mind, and Solomon had immense respect for the man. How in the hell someone of his talents wound up here was beyond Sol's understanding. But he was damn grateful for Ezra's work. Just last year Ezra and Skinner had helped Glass and Jill take down an entire illegal gene therapy ring, and the work had been mostly Ezra's.

They didn't even give the Dr. a bonus that year.

Sol shook Ezra's hand and watched as Captain Sihng entered. It was a few minutes past the start time, but that was pretty normal. Dr. Kraine was absent, but with a dead officer in the field, for all Sol knew the Doc was there already. Sihng was preparing his notes, so they still had a few minutes.

"Ezra, its good to see you, man. Hope you're ready for another shit show, because it's not even 8:30 and I'm pretty sure I already need a drink."

GhastlySquash Chen Gong Epiphany RyanDiaz

 

[Stickdom]

Roxanne Skinner
In a dingy backroad apartment building, the outside covered in spray painted symbols and century-old dirt, an alarm rang on a bedside table. A cheery, nostalgic ringing of bells as a hammer clapped between them, reminding Rosie that her life waited for her outside of her warm and unkempt bed sheets. A hand reached out to clap the clock on its head and acknowledge the day. Unfortunately it was the wrong hand. Almost two-hundred pounds of metal came down in the poor timepiece and crumpled it like a tin can in a flat press, halting both ringing and ticking in an instant. Rosie rolled over and looked at the mess she had made, lying on her back and looking up at her ceiling through metal fingers, 'I've got stop falling asleep with this thing on.' She swept the remains of her clock onto the floor with her hand, metal and plastic and cogs all clattering noisily into the faded and stained carpet that she swears came with the building from 1990-something. She thought she'd be in better places at this point in her life, that she'd have accomplished something worthwhile, that maybe she should go clean and drop the lifestyle she'd dragged herself into over the last twenty years. But then she slid that first chip of the day into the slot in the side of her neural hardpoint, and she knew she couldn't give this up ever.

Two hours later, looking somewhat presentable in actually human clothing, Rosie drifted through the precinct to the conference room for the "big meeting" she knew would follow that uptight email she had received earlier. Right now, she couldn't care less. Partly because she knew she was just an accessory to justice, that all these officers and agents with high ideals and a solid moral compass were trying to play hero in a world that no longer supported them, that the law of the claw had long overthrown actual government and decent society for nearly the last century. But the other reason she didn't care was because the program she had slid into her brain earlier that morning had her tripping balls right now and she was seeing the bland and boring C.P.D. precinct like it was a rave at a wild nightclub where everyone was dressed in crazy oufits or looked like long-extinct animals. "Good morning, Ms. Skinner," said an elephant-headed co-worker and she had to stifle a giggle as she waved at him coyly as she passed by, nearly missing running over a secretary whose skin kept changing colours to match her hippie tie-dye rainbow dress shirt. The announcements over the PA system in the precinct waffled between ridiculously Mickey-Mouse-squeaky and hardcore-death-metal-screaming. Whoever manufactured this chip and got it to Rosie's dealer, this was some good stuff. She'd have to stock up on a few more of these before he ran out.

It was at that moment Rosie burst into the conference room. She grabbed a nearby rolling office chair, sat in it facing the wrong way around, spinning and sliding across the floor singing in a terribly off-key voice, "Born to be wiiiiiiild." She stopped when she ran into the table, a solid thump that shook coffee in mugs and knocked a small stack of papers onto the floor as she kept spinning and looking around at the folk already gathered there, taking a mental headcount, unknowingly blurting her thoughts under her breath for the table to hear. 'One beaver in drag. Disturbing. A set of knight armor with no head. That's sick. A walking pile of potatoes. Aaaaand a scarecrow who has Tom Cruise's face.' Then sitting up straight and looking around the whole room, which was spinning and changing colours like a disco ball decided to pull a pack of Skittles into a dark corner and smash while they are both drunk, and announced out loud to all present, "All of you are much more interesting in my head!"

BarkWolfBacon Epiphany GhastlySquash Chen Gong RyanDiaz

 

[Chen Gong]

Switching Back To Basic Procedures
Mapping Way To Home
...
...
...
Location Designated Home: Funzone Party Place
Home Status: Abandoned: Closed Down 3 Years Ago Due To A Murder Scandal
Edward chuckled at the hearing of the scandal. He lured multiple children into a off camera room and slaughtered them, easily putting the place out of business. The company tried to do a coverup so Edward started to give tipoffs regarding where to look in the building for the corpses. Edward basically orchestrated the closing down of the place without ever being seen by the police. Which was a good idea if you're a killer robot man thing with strength to tear down a concreate wall. Edward pulled out a pack of cigarettes as he walked and lit one using an old fashioned lighter, taking a long drag from it, he coughed. Why the fuck did he smoke? It did barely anything and it fucked with his throat systems. Edward threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it, grinding it into the ground with his metallic foot before looking around, now he remembered why he smoked. That shit really passed the time for him. Considering he was already at his home. Stepping inside, Edward reached up to the ribbon around his neck and untied it before throwing it on a nearby table, he then removed his waistcoat and top, seeing as self maintenance regarding his top half was hard with those bits of clothing on. He sat down on the stage and began to fiddle with his chest techno organic systems, fixing and maintaining them.
Systems Switching To Repair Mode
Power Diverted To Emergency Stockade
Power Diverted To Overlaying Senses
Power Diverted To Mental Parts
Repairs Beginning...

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Solomon GlassSol was about to talk to Ezra when Rosie came in. Well, came in is really an understatement. She more burst in. Which was more her style, sliding across the floor in Captain Sihng's chair and coming to a thudding halt next to Solomon and his group.

She muttered some truly Lovecraftian shit and then blurted out that all of them were more interesting in her head.

But the officers present weren't glaring at her, they'd gotten relatively used to the red headed step child of the C.P.D. No, they were glaring at Solomon. Which, was fair, he was the one who had brought her on. Had convinced Sihng to authorize this insane project. Between Skinner and Fallthorn, Solomon's 'stray cats' had become a department joke, only no one was laughing.

Except the Internal Affairs department, who hung over his head like a fly on shit.

And then came the complicated emotions Skinner stirred up. She was everything Solomon found unattractive. She was careless, loud, an addict, mostly metal, had no real identity other than being able to be anyone she wanted. She got him in trouble, she drove him up every wall she could find.

And yet no matter what face she was wearing that day, or how much he wanted to dangle her off a building like he had Max thismorning...

He thought she was possibly the most enticing woman he had ever met, sans his dead wife.It made no sense to him, and maybe that pissed him off even more.

"Sorry...sorry.." He said to the room, and leaned in to whisper to her. "What the fuck, Rosie? You couldn't wait 15 minutes to pop that shit? Even I can manage not to drink from my flask until lunch."

He pushed his coffee over to her and pointed at it forcefully. "Drink it, and ..." She was looking at him, her eyes different than the last time he'd looked at them.

But they were still her eyes. Somehow. Damnit. He couldn't scold her, he was incapable. He sighed heavily and looked up as Sihng came over.

"Skinner, you're goddamn lucky I need you around. And you're also lucky that the good you do far outweighs the shit you put me through." He leaned in close, his graying hair and beard inches away from the heavily augmented woman's face. "But if that ever changes, I'll send Solomon to hunt you down, and if that fails I'll do it myself."

Sol just put his head in his hands and thought of an old saying, almost a century old actually, his grandpa used to say it when he was irritated.

"Fuck my life." he muttered to himself.

Stickdom RyanDiaz Epiphany GhastlySquash

 

[RyanDiaz]

Ezra took a seat quietly, nodding, and saying "Hello, Mr Glass, Mrs Chapel and Ambrose, and hello captain"
She didn't really know what to say to Rose so he fell silent. The atmosphere in the room was tough. He cleared his voice and said "is this another inside homicide case? if thats the case you can just lead me to the looney copper" He noticed that Dr. Krain's . "And I see that Theo is.. absent?" He didn't really know where Krain usually was, since he managed to program his implant screen computer so Ezra wouldn't read information from it. Little privacy clause like Theo used to say. He got a glass of water and looked every member of the team slowly.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Narrator
Captain Sihng's tone changed dramatically when he spoke to Ezra. The Captain clearly respected him.

"Kraine is on site at a crime scene called in this morning." Then the captain returned to the front of the room and cleared his throat. The room instantly went quiet. Save for Skinner, who was tapping incessantly on the table.

Sihng's appearance -

Spoiler

The aging half Indian man pointed at a map of Chicago's upper level districts. "In the last 2 months, we've closed more cases on the ground district than in the cloud district."

The officers applauded. But Sihng quickly quieted them down. "The problem is that last month experienced a spike in break ins up in the cloud district, and now the press is saying we are intentionally leaving them to 'rot'."

Many laughed, Solomon included.

"So, I'm assigning ten more officers to those beats, starting immediately. You'll have gotten the notification if you were one of them. Be nice to them up there. They lose a shoe and they think someone has broken in to murder them. If they had any idea what life was like on the ground district, maybe they'd have some perspective. But they don't, and its not your job to give it to them. Feed their illusion that life is great, and make them happy. Get the press off our back, and we can all be happy."

Someone in the back raised their hand, "What about the gap in coverage those ten officers leave in the Ground District?"

Sihng shook his head. "We can't replace them, per se, man for man. But we do have some support. Now I know how we normally feel about feds coming in here, but this guy is different. I requested him myself, and he's part of an outreach program with the CIA."

Muttering rolled across the room. No one had heard of this program, nor was anyone too keen on the fact that a CIA agent was going to be roaming around the office. Not everyone here was the archetype of protocol or ethics.

Solomon included.

But all doubt vanished when the man entered the room. His shirt was covered in blood and untucked, his nose looked freshly punched, and his sunglasses were crooked on his face. To top it off, he was Irish.

"Sorry I'm late. That last guy put up a hell of a fight. He's in lockup now though. No more trouble from him, no sir."

He wiped his bleeding nose and stared back at the confused room. "Yeah, well fuck you too."

He grabbed a coffee and leaned against the side wall, periodically dabbing his nose.

"This, is Barnabas Murphy. He is a Specialist with the Extra-Judicial Emergency Act. President Helmholtz just signed it last month, and it was classified until just last week."

Barnabas Appearance -

Spoiler

"He's a government sanctioned vigilante?" One of the officers blurted out.

"I have a list of authorized and designated targets, I can't just go won-ton shooting into whomever I disapprove of. That'd be fun, though."

Sihng had to put his hands up and shout over the uproar. "You are going to assist him in every way, and I assure you...he will assist you."

The room quieted. They all knew what that meant. The guys they couldn't get to, the guys they'd built up cases on for years but were untouchable. The courts had failed...guess the CIA had stepped up.

"Yea, so don't piss into the wind...mates." Barnabas quipped, adding a little venom to the last word while sipping his coffee.

"That's all for today." Sihng said. "Check your scheduled routes and be careful of the west side, there's been an uptick in overdoses and people acting strangely on some new form of street chip."

Everyone began to get up and leave, except for the people who had been designated in the email as TF19.

Epiphany RyanDiaz Stickdom GhastlySquash Voland Chen Gong

 

[Stickdom]

Skinner
Rosie felt the cross-dressing beaver staring a hole through her head, then it leaned over and whispered in Detective Glass' voice that she needed to keep her chip habit in check until after whatever this pointless meeting was for. She felt an indignant response rising up to her teeth that she wanted to blast out at Beaver-Solomon but it stuck there like glue and she just felt her tongue loll out of her mouth like a dog who ran a marathon. So she instead turned her attention away from all the people there and focused on the table which had suddenly turned into a piano. The only song she knew how to play was Chopsticks and even that wasn't a very good rendition, but she decided that she couldn't waste a captive audience and why would she not give her public what they wanted? That was when she noticed the elephant in the room. Or rather, the elephant walked over to her and threatened in hushed tones that if she ever became useless, that Lady Beaver-Solomon was responsible for putting her out of her misery. The thought of being locked in mortal combat with a giant rodent in a mini skirt and hoop earrings almost made Rosie burst out laughing to Captain Elephant's face. But she held her delirious composure, pupils dilated and glazed over so her eyes were like two donuts on her skull, mindlessly nodding her head like a zombie while her cheeks puffed up with air to hold in her wild laughter. When Captain Elephant stepped away to address the group, she finally let the air out of her mouth and gasped for a few breaths, almost as discreet as setting off a bomb in a graveyard, loud and totally overkill.

Deep in her neural network, Rosie's mind took all this in, logging the information she received while on this chip-trip for later. The programming was incredible, allowing her to experience the rush and high of the cyberdrug, but being able to go back afterwards and experience the situation exactly as it had happened in reality once it had worn off, so she would "remember" it as just another boring day at work and no one could trace the chip program in her system after it had flushed itself out. Which meant that this high really had no side effects other than making her look like an imbecile in public at her government workplace. And possible corruption to her neural systems both mechanical and biological, but those were health risks that came as a package deal for any junkie and she was willing to risk a little bit of brain damage to make memorable moments like this.

Despite the trippy scene she was witnessing, she could feel the judgement of what she knew deep down were her co-workers and associates. The pile of potatoes was looking especially judgmental and Tom Cruise the Scarecrow just shook his head sadly with his signature sparkling grin plastered over his big, stupid face. She picked up the thing Beaver-Solomon had slipped over her piano to her and toldher to drink, seeing it as a can of engine oil that the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz would be covetous of, sloshing with a glowing green liquid that she knew couldn't be good for her. Not that living in general was good for her at this point, so whatever the Tin Man kept in his can couldn't make it any worse. Rosie lifted it up and tried to drink from the spout, which the sober onlookers outside of her chipped-up brain would see her fumbling with a cup of coffee and trying to drink it from an invisible straw while holding it some eight inches from her face. She struggled with this for a good handful of minutes while the meeting proceeded around her, taking in the info and offering none of her own. By the end of it, she had figured out she had to lift the lid of the oil can to get inside, raised it to her lips... and proceeded to pour half into her mouth and the rest onto her lap. With a sheepish grin, she looked around at the room which was now significantly less crowded and the colours started to fade out a bit. The high was wearing off and she didn't want it to end. She leaned over the table, elbows squarely planted on it, her left one being made of metal resounded with a loud clang against the surface, and she looked directly at Captain Singh as the elephant began to shrink into his skin and disappear out of existence. "I have hot coffee on my jeans. If anyone was wondering."

BarkWolfBacon Epiphany GhastlySquash Chen Gong RyanDiaz

 

[Chen Gong]

...
...Repairs Are Being Done...
Noise Detected
Enter Normal Mode? Command: No
Enter Combat Mode? Command: Yes
Edward sprung up at the sound of multiple pairs of footsteps, he heard laughter and stupid nothings. Teens! THE WORST TYPE OF INTRUDER INTO HIS HOME! He walked over to a side room, rummaged around exited, holding a metal baseball bat in one hand and axe in the other that he got from the side room, he clung to the wall, nearly invisible in the dark shadows.
Overwatch Active
Scan Overwatch? Command: No
Attack Overwatch: Command: Yes
A group of 5 teens walked into the abandoned entertainment establishment, Edward could tell from the look of them that they were delinquents, here to make graffiti and break shit. Edward didn't take kindly to their kind, the moment the first one of them raised a spray-paint can to start, Edward rushed them, in all his topless glory[Omg Did I just fucking write that...], he smashed the axe into the head of the one he got to first, killing them instantly, he then swung the metal bat into the next one's chest, nocking them to the floor, one simply ran, getting away, the two others grabbed nearby pieces of wood and tried smashing said bits of wood into Edward...with little effect. Grabbing the axe and pulling it out of it's victims head, he stared at the now scared shitless teens he was facing, one of the ones with a piece of wood tried to attack him, Edward quite casually blocked him with his metal bat and slashed at him with his axe, easily cutting into their chest and leaving them to bleed out on the floor. The one Edward first hit with the bat began to get up...only to get the metal bat to the face, smashing in his skull and killing him. The last teen left, the other one who decided trying to fight a mechaman thingy was a good fucking idea, stared in fear before straight up pissing himself. Bonk. They were hit in the chest with the bat, breaking 3 ribs, they dropped to the floor, Edward stepped over to him, raised the bat once more and brought it down as hard as possibly on the teen's head, busting open the poor bastard's head and splattered gore in a cone away from Edward. Edward stepped back to the stage, his eyes had changed colours during the whole thing, it was an emotional tell, when he was excited, enraged or some other potent emotion, his eye's would begin to glow a bright green...Fuck if he knew why it happened.

 

[GhastlySquash]

BarkWolfBacon Epiphany Stickdom

Jill listened and took notes throughout the briefing. Much like the rest of her partner's informants, Jill found her to be the most annoying. She gave Glass the look that said

Do you really have to give them a key too?

She'd complained about his informants before, but deep down they were polite in comparison to some of the...darker thoughts that went into her head. Thoughts that seemed to see them less as people and more like drooling mongrels and parasites that needed to be cleansed. Of course, Jill never acted nor preferred that kind of thinking.

Everyone in this city was struggling, and Captain Sihing's mention of the increase in solved cases boosted her morale. After all, it meant that they were doing a good job. The right job. And of course, hearing the complaints of the rich made Jill wonder why they didn't just hire their own security.

In most cases, she figured they'd be rich enough too. Jill would sometimes imagine what life was like up there. She even imagine at times that she was a normal student, studying in her room and watching the glide cars whiz pass her balcony. Of course, that could never have happened.

She'd always grown up living in the middle of both worlds, working hard to make her way into the police academy and eventually end up as Solomon's partner.

A life like that...in the clouds...that was unheard of.

The new Irish guy irritated her. She couldn't pin at first, but it was probably how messy he was and his attire as well. She'd always preferred to keep clean, and leave as little evidence as possible. She figured it was an old habit of hers, but there were times she'd even use this thinking in crime scenes. Imagining how she could improve it or what she would have done to avoid capture.

Still, she didn't like to dwell on these thoughts and waited for the rest of the 'briefing' to continue.