First Chapter: @tsudohnimh/red-doll-old-school-cyberpunk
Previous Chapter: @tsudohnimh/red-doll-politics-never-gets-old
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"...and how many of those, who once stuck their noses up at the suffering of others, now find themselves, hat in hand, begging for the charity of those once forgotten?”
-Rupert Mayer, The Fall of Kings:The Social Upheaval of the Third World War, 1993
5
New Pittsburgh. Once the city of Geelong, home to a hundred thousand Australians, it was now the domed home of nearly two million displaced, mostly demoralised Americans. Which is to say, it was crowded, stuffy, awash with trash and guns and prone to violence.
Almost as bad as the original Pittsburgh, Hogue thought to himself with a small smile.
Waiting for the highway de-contaminator to finish its cycle, Hogue went through the thought process he always went through we he visited NewPe. This had been his home, briefly, the first place he came after his final battles in Turkey. In a way, it was the last little piece of America he ever saw; he never set foot again on the continental U.S. after he shipped out.
He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, Emotions long held in check pulling at their restraints; Their was nothing left for him back there; The east coast is gone. Baltimore gone. Susan and Mike are...
A flashing light and siren signify the decon cycle is complete. Hogue drives forward, passing through the lock and under the dome proper. The glass and plastic ceiling curves up and away from him, covering the squat buildings of the city. The vast shield served to protect the city from the threat of radioactive dust; Unfortunately, it also served to trap smoke under its curving surface. And there was a lot of smoke today.
The riots. The Screaming Eagles had been going at it since the night before, whipping up the restless, the angry and the bored into a flood of violence and destruction. From the looks of it, most of it was concentrated around the centre of the city. Which was both good and bad: good, the damage is contained. Bad: That's where the central admin offices were. That's where they had to go.
The Riot cops had managed to clear and secure a route from the lock's to the HQ. Hogue drove slowly, part of the road blocked where burnt cars had been pulled to the side. Often, he had to pull over and let speeding ambulances or Police transports tear past.
“Something they don't like happens, and their first response is to burn down their own home,” Eun said from the passenger seat. She was watching the world pass bay through her window, one arm perched on the door. “Don't they see the futility in that?”
“Obviously not,” Hogue replied, swerving to avoid an oncoming truck. “Or rather, all they can see is the futility of not burning down their home. It's a Riot: One of the last outlets available to the angry masses when they think no ones listening.”
He slowed as a masked man ran on the road, pursued by two armoured riot cops. One of the cops must have been a rebuild; he spear tackled the guy from ten feet, slamming him into the asphalt.
In the back seat, Wyatt was peering out the window. “Ouch, that's gotta hurt!” He smiled stupidly. “Man, this place is always exciting!”
Hogue shook his head. “Some of these guys, the ones that started it, their hard core Screaming Eagles; their out here, stirring shit up, because Zlata busted that White asshole. But most of these people, well, their probably just looking for a release. This place ain't pretty, and there are a lot of angry people here. Their tired of no one listening to them, so now they want to be heard, whether we want to listen or not.”
Hogue manoeuvred to avoid a large group of rioters cuffed and on their knees, being watched over by a few cops. “Course, more than a few a probably just stupid assholes. “
Eun sighed. “I really hate this place.”
The central administration building was a fortress; a squat three story tall block of offices that had been progressively fortified over the years.
Down the street, a line of white shirted American Volunteer Police in body armour stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces covered by riot helmets. Past them, a line of heavily armoured ANP riot cops stood menacingly, waving about their shields and clubs. And beyond them, flings Molotov's and bad language, was an angry sea of covered faces. The rioters.
Hogue pulled the car up in front of the admin building. The riot line was an easy two hundred meters away, but the sound was almost deafening. The roar of the crowd, chanting and braying for blood. The harsh shouts of the riot cops, ordering them back to their homes or risk a cracked skull.
Out at the front of the riot cops, Hogue could see a massive figure. It was a huge cyborg, painted dark blue and covered in police makings. It had the apprentice of a robotic gorilla, resting in a hunched position on all fours. Even then, it was easily ten feet tall.
“Return to your homes!” he could hear it speak, its voice amplified like a loud speaker. “Return to your homes immediately! All you are doing is burning down your own city!”
Rocks and sticks bounced harmlessly off the cyborgs flanks. It didn't seem to notice, or at the least mind. Then with a flash, a Molotov exploded over it, temporarily covering it in fire.
That didn't seem to effect it that much, but it did piss it off. “Right, cunt's, you asked for it!” it screamed, and bounded forward, still covered in flames, the riot cops following it with a whoop. The crowd parted, breaking and running with a collective shout of fear.
Wyatt whistled. “Damn, that's some sweet tek! I'll have to hang out with the riot boys soon!”
Eun looked annoyed. “They really seem to enjoy their work a little too much.”
Hogue had his own opinions, but he really didn't feel like discussing them. “Could be worse,” he said with a shrug.
“How do you figure that?”
“They could be shooting them.”
The admin building was a hive of chaos. White shirted police officers and roughly dressed civilians rushed around in a seemingly random pattern; cuffed perps sat on the floor, loudly complaining to any passers by; every phone in the building seemed to be ringing at once. Hogue smiled; it reminded him a bit of his old station back in Baltimore.
He walked up to the front desk. “Jack Hogue, ANP. We have a meeting with Representative Flor...”
“Third floor, up da back!” the sergeant said in a New York accent. He gestured somewhere behind him.”
“Thanks, “ Hogue replied, walking past.
“Hey!” The sergeant shouted back at him. “When ya get back to your HQ, tell 'em to stop dumping this riff raff on us! We don't fucking want 'em!”
Things were calmer on the third floor, but not by much; Hogue had seen at least half a dozen office denizen's sipping from flasks, trying to keep their nerve.
Representative Flores apparently didn't have a secretary. Her office appeared to be just the same as all the others, the only thing distinguishing it being a sign reading “Michelle Flores, Federal Representative” and a small sign underneath that said “The Boss is In!”
Hogue knocked once, and was immediately greeted with an “Enter!”
Representative Flores was a bespectacled African American woman in her early forties, although from the stress on her face she could have actually been thirty and just prematurely aged. Her hair was cut short, flecked with grey. She wore a short sleeved blouse, grey, that appeared to have a coffee stain running down the front of it. Most noticeable though, was her left arm; it was artificial, its fake skin porcelain white, almost reflective. It was an interesting contrast.
Flores was busy screaming into a phone, almost ignoring the officers. “No, you listen hear, and you tell him, word for word!” she said sternly. “He isn't in charge here, I am! He is not the representative of the U.S. Government, I am! He cannot, and will not, act like he's running the show and start making demands of the Australians!”
Hogue could here someone speaking over the line back at her. “I don't care which fucking senator he's friends with!” Flores almost shouted. “Their all in fucking Cheyenne! That don't have a single fucking idea what happens over here! Now, you tell him, I want him to stop making those stupid comments. The cities riled up as it is, we don't need him throwing fuel on the fire.”
More indistinct talking. Flores face was absolutely furious. “In case he hasn’t realised, we ain't in America anymore!” She slammed the phone back on it's receiver. “Bitch!” she looked up at the officers, her eyes still blazing. “What!”
Hogue cleared his throat. “Detective Jack Hogue of the ANP, ma'am. This is Detective Eun and Constable Wyatt. We, uh, had a meeting.”
Flores rolled her eyes. “Right, the cops.” she waved at the door. “Shut the door and take a seat.”
Hogue and Eun took a seat; Wyatt stood back out in the corridor, closing the door behind him. This wasen't really his strongest area.
Flores sighs. “Damn cities on fire, your riot cops are going all out on my citizens, then I get a call from DFAR. “expect a visit from some police” they say. “Make time in your schedule.” she snorted derisively. “As if I have time! But, we're guests in you home, so we have to do what were told!” she settled into her chair. “What do you want?”
Well, this is starting well, Jack thought. “Ma'am, we work for a special department of the ANP known as the Department of Abnormal Crimes.”
“The freak show? Yeah, I’ve heard of you.”
Hogue frowned. Even here, they use that stupid nickname. “Yes,” He said, pulling out a file and passing it to her. “Over the last few years, a serious of bizarre murders have occurred in several Australian cities. Last night, the first known victim in Melbourne was killed.”
Flores flipped through the files. “And this concerns me, how?”
“We believe he may be killing in the refugee camps,” Eun spoke up. “Some of the more bizarre aspects of the crimes point to the possibility that several more murders have occurred unnoticed. We believe they may be occurring here.”
Flores flipped through the file again, then three it on the table. “So we have a riot burning down the city outside and you, what, want me to divert resources into looking for this freak?” She leaned toward the two of them. “Not going to happen. Where not even at breaking point at the moment; we're broken.”
“We're not asking for you to conduct a search for us,” Hogue explained. “Just share resources. Information, any case files you have, reports of deaths and crime scenes that are similar to ours. We will still conduct the investigation. With your permission, of course; we wont conduct any activities in New Pittsburgh with out your, and through you the U.S. Governments, permission.”
Flores gave Hogue a weak smile. “The U.S. Government? Like they could really do anything to stop you.” She sighed; it appeared to Hogue she had calmed down significantly. She flipped through the file. “Jesus, this guy does a number on people.”
“That he does, ma'am,” Eun said, her tone slightly soothing. “And we are afraid he is working inside your city. Doing this to your people.” She leaned forward slightly. “Ma'am, this may be American territory, you may all be Americans, but you are still Australia's guests, and it is our duty of care to ensure your safety from fiends like this.”
Flores looked at Eun funny, then let out a horse laugh. “Ha! Christ, what a day.” she rubbed her face with her hand, fatigue in her eyes. “The Screaming Eagle's have got people scared, got them thinking the Russians are murdering people in their sleep, got them thinking you are letting them, some kind of big conspiracy.” She looked up at Hogue. “Where were you originally from?”
“Baltimore,” He replied.
She nodded. “I'm from Seattle myself. Damn lucky the bombs missed.” She looked him in the eye. “Why did you leave? Why go over to the Australians?”
Hogues face was set. “This didn't feel like home,” he replied softly. “Home was gone; I didn't want to go on pretending everything would be the same in the end. I needed a new start.”
She nodded approvingly. “I wish we were all as capable of letting go as you were,” she said, looking out the window. “God knows some of them need to let the dead rest.”
Hogue didn't reply. Yes, let the dead rest. Where they can't judge you anymore.
Flores turned back to them. “Ok, how can the U.S. Government help you today?”
“So they don't know anything?” Wyatt asked, disappointed.
“No, they just haven't seen anything like our guys handiwork,” Hogue replied. He realised that basically meant the same thing, but it insinuated less.
“Guys work stands out pretty bol'shoy; you'd think it would be pretty obvious.”
“In case you haven't noticed, the police forces here don't exactly have the greatest resources. The U.S. Is pretty cash strapped at the moment, and most of the funds DFAR contributes go towards keeping everyone fed. We have to consider the possibility our guy has killed, and it's just gone unnoticed.”
The walked back out to the car; the riot line had receded another two hundred meters down the road.
Eun stopped just before the car. “What we need is someone closer to the people,” She said. “Someone who's more likely to hear rumours, stories and the like.” She turned to Hogue. “Someone who'd be invested in the well being of the Americans as Flores.” She smiled. “And I think I just know who.”
Hogue raised an eyebrow. Here we go, another bit of information seemingly pulled from nowhere. "And who might that be?”
“Michael Roth,” she said with a flick of her head and tone that suggested the answer was obvious. “Man of the community, true American, blah blah blah.”
Hogue frowned. He knew who Michael Roth was: a rabble rouser, wannabe politician, and also head of the American Return Leave, one of the largest American refugee NGO's. If anyone would have his finger on the pulse, good money was on him.
He nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. But what made you think of him?”
Eun tilted her head to the side, a slight sly smile on her face. "Oh, representative Flores was talking to his PR rep on the phone. He's clearly active in NewPee at the moment; we should find him!”
Hogue went to say something, then stopped. At no point in Flores phone conversation was it indicated she was talking to Roth's PR people. As usual, Eun had pulled something out of thin air.
He looked to Wyatt for answers. The young cyborg shrugged: he didn't have anymore idea how she did it than Hogue did.
Hogue sighed. “Alright, I’ll make some calls,see if we can find out where he is. And maybe, get in touch with him.”
They were in luck: Roth was in town, staying at a ARL office near the edge of the dome. A quick call revealed that not only was Roth willing to speak to them, but he was actually eager to do so.
“Well, that’s a nice change,” Hogue quipped.
The ARL building wasn’t much to see, an old converted supermarket. A huge American flag had been painted on the front wall, and the slogan “RISE FROM THE ASHES AMERICA!” was plastered around the building liberally. Here and there pictures of a phoenix rising up with an American flag adorned the windows: the official logo of the ARL.
Roth stood as they entered his office. If their was ever a poster boy for the “All American Man” Roth was probably it; six foot tall, barrel chested, his dark brown hair cut short, marine style. His shirt was at least a size to small, complimenting his impressive physique.
“Welcome,” he said warmly. He stopped, observing Hogue. “A veteran!” he said, seizing Hogues hand. “ 1st RID, right? Fighting in Turkey? That was a hell of a place. What are you doing working for the Australians?”
“I felt I could do more good working with the Australians sir,” Hogue replied. He really didn't want to go into his reasons again.
“Shame,” Roth replied, slapping Hogue on the back. “I'm a veteran myself; USMC, fought at Vlad.” He sounded quite proud as he spoke.
He sat back down behind his desk, gesturing for Hogue and Eun to take a seat. Wyatt, once again, stood guard outside.
“You know, I’m glad the ANP answered my request,” he said earnestly. “I came down here as soon as I heard David White was arrested. I knew the ANP's handling of the case would ignite a powder keg.” He leaned forward. “But I’m glad your bosses have come to their senses; I believe I can get the situation under control, and we can get all the Australian troops out of here.”
Hogue looked at Eun, who had exactly the same look on here face. “Uh, I’m not sure I know what your talking about, Mr. Roth,” Hogue said. “Actually, we're here as part of a murder investigation. We're looking for information that may lead us to possible serial killer.”
Roth's face fell. “Oh,” he said, leaning back in his chair. Hogue felt the atmosphere had suddenly become a lot less friendly.
Roth seemed to consider them for a moment. “So, how can I help the ANP today?”
“As Detective Hogue said, we're investigating a possible serial killer,” Eun explained. “With what evidence we've managed to gather, we believe he may possibly operating in the refugee camps, and may possibly have committed several murders.”
“Possibly?” Roth asked. “I gather he's killed out side the camps already?”
“Yes,” Hogue answered. “He's killed at least seven people outside of the camps, but the count may be more if he's operating inside them.”
“His M.O. Is somewhat, unique,” Eun said. “Our killer, removes a limb or organ from a victim, and leave a cosponsoring organ behind.”
“If such killings were happening, and being come across, they would stand out,” Hogue added. "Sir, the ARL is the biggest NGO in the American camps. Your social workers are in contact with more average Americans than any one organisation; Surely they would hear of something like this if it was going on.”
“And we know, you would take personal interest if something strange was happening in the camps.”
Roth nodded. 'True, true.” He leaned forward. “Tell me, why do you suspect the killer is an American?”
Hogue raised his eyebrow. “Uh, at this stage,we don't; we just believe he may be operating in NewPee.”
“Uh-huh. So, he could possibly come from somewhere else; perhaps, the Soviet camp?”
Eun frowned. “Again, we don' know the killers nationality; in fact we know almost nothing about him.”
Roth shook his head, clicking his fingers together. “You know, a dozen Americans die in the camps every day; hell, your goon squad is out killing more right now.
“You were supposed to be our allies: democracies of the world, standing up for freedom and liberty. But when we need you the most, you treat us like a burden: force us into these warrens, ignore our pleas for support, and beat us down when we try to stand up for ourselves!”
Oh shit, Hogue thought. He's going full preacher; and only in five minutes. New record.
“Every day, corporations like ASI scratch at the walls, trying to get in; They flood our markets with their cheap gizmo's and cybernetics. You let them prey on us, make us reliant on them, and when we try to stand on our own two feet, you crush us with regulations and tariffs. You let ASI in, the Brazilians in, hell even the fucking Japanese, but I don't see any American companies, no American business; you've denied us all choice.”
Hogue wanted to say something, point out most of America's industry was radioactive ash, but he decided it wouldn't help. Guys like this fed on arguments.
“And the people are sick of it,” Roth continued, “Sick of all these assaults on us, our way of life. These people want to be Americans; no, they are American's, and nothing will change that. And so I hear them, I listen. And I go to your government, and I list them our grievances, our demands to let us be Americans, to run our own lives. And what do they do? They laugh at us. And when we get sick of it, show our defiance, you send in the jack boots and crush it!”
Houge narrowed his eyes; He knew what Roth was talking about. “Killing 30 innocent people isn't defiance, Mr. Roth: it's terrorism.'
“What other choice have you given them!” Roth said, getting worked up. “You wouldn't listen, did nothing to alleviate there grievances!” he leaned back in his chair. “The loss of innocent life is...regrettable. But what can you expect? We are an oppressed people, detective. With a history of revolution.”
That last line almost sounded like a threat.
“So when you come in here,” he said finally. 'Asking for help solving the murders of your people, even as your people are killing mine, and expect me to just cooperate?” he shook his head, then pointed toward the door. “I don't think so. Get out.”
“Should have seen that coming.” Hogue said as they walked back to the car. “Nothing like a political sermon to ruin your day.”
Wyatt whistled. 'Something tells me that guy likes the sound of his own voice.”
“Something makes me think he had that little speech prepared in advance,” Eun replied.
Hogue stopped before the car, then turned to Eun. “Ok, your better at this stuff than me: what wasn’t he telling us? I know you must have something.”
Eun gave a little smile at the recognition. “Maybe....”
“Don't be coy: spill.”
Eun nodded. “That little speech: yeah that was just hot air. Think he wanted to bust that out for a while. But before that, when we mentioned the M.O.;” she took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts; “well, when we mentioned it, he suddenly was a hell of a lot more interested. He didn't show it, but it was there: moreover, he tried fishing for information.”
“When he asked about where we thought he killer was coming from?”
“Spot on,” Eun said. “He's hiding something, all right. I think our Mr. Roth knows somethings happening. And he is very interested in finding out what.”
Next Chapter: @tsudohnimh/red-doll-russia