Deliberations, daemonfic
Bruce Baker was thinking about the things he’d learned and seen and the one lesson, coming clear above all others reached out a hand and slapped him in the face.
Not that he didn’t deserve it. A man had died because he didn’t see something. He’d tried to treat this as an ordinary activity of an ordinary citizen…something he had to accept he’d never be.
There were eleven where they’d been twelve, Miranda the Grasshopper, Tony the Jackal, Kurt the firefly, Sally the penguin, George the German Shepard. Omar’s pheasant was shaking her head, turning in circles and looking for something that no longer existed. Bob looked grim, Henrietta flapping anxiously from shoulder to shoulder. Leslie was talking in a low voice with her spider, an awkward motion-Bruce noted. She held her arm with her hand out, wrist bent to accommodate the creature.
Marilyn hadn’t moved from her position on the floor. He felt Isis steal a glance down at the Cheetah who looked like he needed a security blanket just as much as she did.
“We’re bringing in the FBI.”
The prosecutor of this ill-fated case had probably drawn this docket by luck. He’d probably embraced it, a big case. He might have had political ambitions. Bruce pitied him, and the dumb move he was about to make.
Drew looked worn, pale and sick. Bruce wondered how long the wolf had her teeth bared, if she’d closed her mouth since this whole debacle had begun.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you that’s a bad idea.” He folded his arms across his chest, “…I mean-“
“We don’t have any other choice. This happened inches from a federal building. The Westgate’s a major hotel in San Diego City, if we hadn’t locked down the hotel there’d be people all over this.”
“There are people all over this.” Tony twisted his Jackal’s ears around, “…Us.”
A few people gathered closer to each other as Uniformed Officers-proudly declared “America’s Finest” moved about taking statements. Bruce watched Sally; squeezing her penguin so tight she looked ready to choke him.
“Miss…”
The officer’s iguana started to move toward her. She recoiled, “…No-no no-“
“Come on now.” The iguana’s voice was smooth, probably meant to be comforting, “…Come on away from him now-“
Bruce ignored the twisting motion of her arms. He ignored the cries of protest as officers tried escorting the ill-fated jury members back to their rooms. He counted the steps to his own cave; his own hidey-hole and held Isis close the moment he was inside.
Her beak found a spot under his neck, pressing as close to him as she could manage, “It never gets any easier.”
No. No it didn’t. No matter what he did, no matter what he ‘d tried, being so close to death never got any easier. His eyes closed.
“It’s not your fault.”
Because that was what it came down to. He knew firsthand what it was to be a victim, to experience violation-the most horrible things that human beings could do to one another. It was a means of coping, trying to help others avoid the same trauma and pain that he went through. To fail meant that he’d failed, that perhaps he hadn’t come through completely unscathed, that he-
“…Baker?”
Drew Niles was shaking his arm, “…You all right?”
“Fine.”
The room wasn’t registering to his vision. He was seeing a far off cabin, a group of tied up and frightened children.
“…You’re uh… squeezing the goose pretty hard there…OW! -“ He threw an angry glare down at the wolf, “Goddamnit…”
“…We’ve got the building locked down. The FBI’s downstairs and we wanted to know if you wanted to go down and meet them.”
Bruce stared at the wolf. Isis spoke for him, lost in memories of unkind days, “…We’re not Feds anymore.”
“…I’m not one to turn down advice. Hell, if you want to be paid-make this official I think we could possibly arrange something…”
“It’s not about the money.” Bruce snapped. He watched as the ADA studied him up and down. Annoyed, the man glared at him-wolf practically snarling.
“This is a big fucking deal. A man is dead…it’s always possible that the killer could be in this hotel and you’re our best damn hope of catching him.”
He put his hands on his hips, staring Bruce down, “…Look, I know why you retired okay? Bruce Baker, famous FBI profiler. I get it man, I really do-and hell, being a writer has got to be preferable to getting inside crazy people’s heads but you stopped being a Fed the day you hung up your badge. Now you’re a citizen-and when you’re a citizen sometimes the responsibility that goes with that requires doing the right thing.”
He squared his jaw, “Are you prepared to do the right thing?”
An impassioned speech-one that Bruce could easily see wouldn’t have worked on anyone else but someone who was a former employee of any form of government. He put a hand to the bridge of his nose, messaging his temple, “…Promise me one thing.”
“Name it.”
“…If this becomes a squabble for territory, hand it over to the FBI and tell the police to do it too.”
Niles’s eyes went wide as Bruce held up a hand. He collected Isis, moving over to the table where he’d stacked his notes and papers. He talked as he went, avoiding looking in the lawyer’s eyes, “I mean it. The FBI is better equipt to handle it. Promise me that, or I swear to god you’re going to have to drag me down there.”
Isis snorted, “That’s telling him.”
Wolf and Lawyer exchanged glances before the beast dropped its head and Niles’s eyes sighed, “…That’s going to get me elected District Attorney.”
“If we survive this.” His gaze fell on the killer’s mug-shot photo, Corporal Richardson with those strange dead eyes, “…If we survive this.”
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“This is like that movie.” Sally lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her roommate was curled up, unmoving, Cheetah beside her, “Y’know, the one with those guys in masks?”
“Don’t-“
“What’s it called? Y’know, where Liv Tyler is just standing there and suddenly there’s this GUY IN A RANDOM WHITE MASK and that creepy. Fucking. Bat…thing…”
“Don’t please…” Marilyn was ordinarily eager to discuss films. She knew exactly which one Sally was talking about too but somehow mentioning horror brought to mind that poor man with his blood all over the floor and that prim elkhound just…just gone…
She rose abruptly, “I’m going to get some air.”
“They said you’re not supposed to leave!” Sally sat up, pulling on the blanket as Harvey-beady black eyes fixing on Raymond. The cheetah looked away.
“Goin’ downstairs. G’head and tell them if you want.”
“…Mari-“ The door closed and locked behind her. Sally sat for a moment, completely alone.
She sighed, “…no sense of self preservation.”
Harvey moved away from her, “Thank the fuck Christ she left. You were gripping me like a fuckin’ doll.” He brushed off his chest, shooting her as dirty a look as he could manage, “I mean really, what the fuck?”
“It’s “In character”. Sally rose, drawing quotation marks around her words as she reached for the nightstand, flipping on her phone.
“Good Afternoon.”
“He’s here. At the hotel.” Sally’s voice was sharp. It lowered an octave as she spoke, sitting up a little straighter-as if she was seated across from someone of great importance, “I thought you’d managed to get him the gun and get him before they figured it out?”
“He doubled back on us. He’s smarter then we thought.” The voice on the other end of the line sighed, “…It’s possibly a side effect.”
“…. That ought to have them lining up to have the procedure done.” Sally rolled her eyes.
“Don’t get smart with me Agent Sale.” The voice snapped, “We have to move delicately and take him out under the eyes of all the damn people crawling through the hotel. The DA on the case called in the bureau. This could get ugly very quickly.”
Sally frowned, “Don’t we have immunity under the patriot act?”
“…Not on something so blatant as this. You know the history as well as I-what people do to other people’s daemons constitutes as war crimes.”
She knew. During the Inquisition there had been something called Bolevangard. That was how it started. It gained momentum with the Nazis in World War 2 and now…
“So what do you want me to do?”
“When he kills again…”
“When?” Sally put a hand on her chest, “You’re counting on it?”
“…It’s in his nature. When he kills again you’ll take him out. A man in the hotel will provide you with the means to capture. Tag and capture only, no kill. We’ll take it from there.”
“What about the courts-“
“There, in the Patriot act, we have immunity.” The voice nodded, “Expect contact at 01800 this evening.”
“Sir.” Sally’s voice remained firm, professional, “I wish to state my objections to this. You are placing twelve-“
“Eleven. Agent Sale.”
“Eleven people in a position that no one should be in. Eleven civilians who don’t have any training or any experience. They’re going to be slaughtered sir.”
“Your objection is noted. Do you feel unequal to the task?”
Sally breathed deep, “…No sir.”
“Good. We’ll extract you shortly afterwards. Good luck.”
“Yes sir.”
She clicked the phone shut. No need for thank yous, no need for apologies-not in her line of work. She found the gun where their man had taped it, hidden. Wheels within wheels that had directed them to this hotel where apparently they would flush out corporal Richardson. She pulled the hammer back, satisfied that it was loaded before placing it back in the hidey-hole she’d gotten it from.
“…This’ll be fun.” Harvey said. He settled back on his haunches, “…Ain’t that right?”
“Barrels.” She closed her eyes. With her head against the pillow, she looked the very image of an individual in deep REM sleep.
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He was incomplete.
And in that loss of self, in that sense of something is missing, something being horribly broken in his mind he lived. He was incomplete, a man missing a metaphorical limb and like people who had lost limbs in service (even as he had) there was a definite sense of phantom pain.
His gaze turned to the snake that glanced at him passively. Once they would have shared a heart-a soul. Once their minds were one and he would have thought as she thought.
They were partners. They were still partners in every sense of the word except the one that mattered. A daemon was more then a partner, he or she was a soul, a better half. A companion and a confidant. He felt her slide up beside him and wondered how he could have ever found that comforting.
She was a snake. She was something to be reviled.
But she was useful.
“One of them has to be the mole.”
He was being set up. To a man who should have been rewarded for his sacrifice this was the worst sin, the worst insult to everything he’d suffered. He had given up himself for people who one of the twelve jurors worked for and he would punish them all until he figured out which one deserved his…special attention.
The snake’s eyes narrowed. She rose up, watching even as he did from across the street. The entrance was crawling with police, the normal sloth-like behavior of the citizens disturbed by the police dogs yapping and growling. He allowed himself a humorless snort as a group of teenagers were ousted off their perch by a cop with a canary on his shoulder. A few snapped pictures on cellular phones, their daemons growling playfully.
He turned away when the cop noticed him and continued on with his coffee. The list he’d stolen from his attorney crunched in his pocket. He pulled it out, selected another name before folding it again.
Perhaps there is some otherworldly force in the world after all. Something that governs men and daemons alike, something that reaches across boundaries. Something that shows even in our darkest moments, even in our most lonely states we are not alone.
The man could no longer smile. He has the snake do that for him, some vestige of the tie they shared lingering as they threw money down before a confused waiter, pulling away form the table and the crowds-
Back to the hotel.
----------------------
Agent Lucy Kramer squared her shoulders and prepared to meet with all the opposition charging at her. The FBI had set up their headquarters in the WestGate’s lobby.
Numa put a paw on her shoulder. The chimp shook her head, ears falling low, “…Baker’s one of us.”
“He was one of us.” Lucy’s voice turned abrupt, almost cold, “He’s been a civilian for almost four years now.”
Because there was that dividing line between civilians and authorities, a line that Lucy respected. You couldn’t have people gallivanting around pretending to pretend to be heroes without getting killed.
Except Bruce Baker, with his long solemn face and his goose in hand wasn’t any civilian. Once upon a time he’d been a hero of epic proportions-his cases were still studied at Quantico.
Shit.
“This is the part where I tell you this isn’t a coincidence.” Numa’s voice was soft, “That maybe he’s here for a reason and-“
Lucy put a hand over the monkey’s mouth, lowering her shoulder to help her climb up, “…Doctor Baker-“
The District Attorney waved a hand in her direction, “…Bruce. This is Agent Kramer.”
“Call me Lucy.” Lucy held out a hand and retracted it when Baker didn’t take it. She gestured to the monkey, “And this is Numa.”
“Pleasure.”
The goose, expression sardonic, returned the gracious head nod “…Excuse Bruce, he has very little in the way of classical manners.”
Both daemons laughed as their humans exchanged nervous glances. Lucy brushed hair out of her face, taking a moment to make sure it fell in careful waves over her shoulders, “…We’d be grateful for whatever assistance you can give us.”
“You guys are the ones running the show.” Baker’s voice was hard, “I’m just a civilian.”
Nearby, an Agent escorting a large poodle blinked stupidly. Lucy was aware of the DA’s eyes following them as they moved into the center of the working personnel, clustered together like a pack of feral dogs.
Bruce was in no mood to be asked to clean up the mess, “…Do you know how he got the gun in there and shot his Attorney?”
“I can answer that.” Drew swallowed, “…Maggie said he’d pulled it out.”
“…So it’s your fault.” Agent Kramer whirled to face him. Eileen snarled as Numa stared down at her in contempt, “Your security’s fault.”
“Hey, this is Bush America okay? We don’t jump without a background check.” Drew put his hands on his hips, annoyed, “What, was he supposed to disappear? There’s a reason we have the Order to the law okay? That whole eye-for an eye bullshit works only in principal.”
Bruce let them ramble, trading barbs back and forth. The fact was, the DA was correct. They had been screened and searched. Unless it was an inside job…
“Don’t say that.” Isis’s voice was soft. She whispered in his ear, long slender neck leaning against his chest, “Don’t even think that.”
It made sense, but who’d have enough clout to get themselves on a jury like this? What did this man’s murder of his girlfriend and his best friend have to do with anything? Bruce pushed his hand under his chin, scratching idly at a few stray hairs. He’d forgotten to shave earlier in the day.
The motion pulled Lucy out of her argument, “He’s got something.”
Drew blinked, staring at juror number 5, “…What?”
“He’s like Thelma from Scooby Doo.” The chimpanzee’s voice was high and shrill and ridiculous. Eileen whined when she heard it, “…When Thelma’s got something she says-“
“I need to see Corporal Richardson’s personnel file from the military.”
Eileen pulled her head up, looking Isis in the eye, “I thought she said Jinkies!”
“…Whatever we’re missing is in there. Why was this case tried in a civilian court? Doesn’t Jag’s authority supercede ours?”
Drew’s mouth opened, “…Legally yeah. We initially booked him after he hung the first jury. He was driving and got caught in a routine traffic violation. The thing was, he assaulted a cop.”
“Then shouldn’t this case have been for assault? Why execute him for a capitol crime?”
Lucy Kramer smiled a nasty smile, “Ask your Lawyer friend.”
Bruce turned to Drew who lowered his head and sighed. He put a hand on the wolf’s head, “…The DA insisted that…because it was a crime committed in San Diego that the military’s authority didn’t apply. You’re right, they should have refused extradition into our jurisdiction but we….”
Bruce saw it in a flash. The same reason why any Law Enforcement professional would make a bonehead move.
“You wanted to make a political statement.”
“…They were the ones who pushed the ball into our court.” Niles stood up, defiant, “Why the hell can’t we play with it? You have to turn over the occasional case to us civilians. We’re not a nanny state quite yet.”
“…This is not our fault-“
“Oh?” Eileen was snarling before Bruce could blink.
“This is going to get Ugly.” Isis pressed closer to him, “I don’t suppose you could let me down?”
The FBI Agent’s voice rose in time with the Lawyer’s. They careened off the art deco, running up the glass elevator shaft as the wolf-snarling-swatted an angry paw at the monkey. The commotion was drawing attention; daemons and humans alike stared with wide eyes.
The commotion was also drawing attention away from the form hurtling toward the ground at a high velocity.
Megan Stanford saw it first. She and her family were vacationing in San Diego. She pointed, her daemon shifting lightning quick to the biggest thing it could manage, “Daddy, what is that?”
Later, much later, Bruce would appreciate the timing. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
Agent Kramer was waving her hands around, “What did you expect? That an answer would just-fall out of the sky?”
“As a matter of fact-“
The crash that the body made when it hit the floor was defaning.
What was worse was the dog-a German Shepard. It flailed through the air evaporating the moment that the body of George Mertle hit the linoleum. The psychic effect ran throughout the room-people covered their ears as daemons howled or chortled to themselves. Sudden death was the surest thing to throw people off, to make them forget for however brief a moment that they were…
It didn’t register until Agent Kramer took a step forward to see the body. Someone far above started screaming as the ballet that it s a crime scene began yet again.
High above them, staring down like God, corporal Richardson closed his eyes and clenched his fist. The snake watched, passive, little more then a shadow.
“…We have no choice.”
He wondered what it would be like to share is thoughts with her; hear her opinions as he once had.
“…We have to kill them all.”
The creature nodded as if she’d heard, deaf ears turning toward him as they slithered off the roof into another dark hidey-hole.