Elysium Falling (ONC 2024 Long List)

Chapter 1 Fake

Rowan hated the way the stench of cigarette smoke emanated off of her body. 

His nose crinkled slightly as the smell wafted to his nostrils from the woman across from him. He wondered if she'd noticed the way the smoke made her skin dry and the slight creases forming at the corners of her eyes - far too young for that. She definitely couldn't afford a rejuvenation treatment on her detective salary. Or a new skin for that matter. 

 But she didn't have to push herself closer to old age. The job would do that fast enough. At worst, she'd go into storage waiting on a new skin that would never come. Only to be pulled up when her expertise was wanted. Unlikely, he thought. Or her family could afford a visit. Another unlikely.

Why the hell do people become cops?

A light flashed behind her left eye, an indication that she was searching the police web for more information about him. She wouldn't find much. Just a bolo and nothing more. He relaxed. Let them search. He was already bored.

The cuffs chaffed at his wrists but that didn't bother him too much. He could take them off at any time he chose. He leaned forward and ran both hands through his mussy brown hair, before looking back at her. 

The woman stared at him. The tough cop routine, smacking chewing gum, the mint smell mixed with the smell of stale tobacco and nicotine. Her uniform was unbuttoned at the top, and he could see the crease at the top of her breasts. 

Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, the dyed blonde hair just showing hints of brown at the roots. The eyebrows were plucked and recolored to be perfectly shaped. He supposed her style worked on some people.

"Rowan Stevescant." Smack. Pop. Even his name managed to roll off her tongue stale and lifeless as the detective Karen (oh seriously?) Miller in front of him. "Supposed to be a big shot, and yet here you sit..."

"Just passing through," Rowan said. He plastered what he assumed was his most "I'm innocent, I swear" grin and hoped she'd go away.

No such luck.

"Want to tell me what happened?" Smack. Pop.

He wanted nothing more than to reach over and smack the gum from her mouth.

"I'm not sure you're the one I should be talking to, you can't handle it..."

It touched a nerve, just as he'd intended. She sat up straighter, leaned over, and spit the gum out into the trashcan. On the other side of the one-way mirror, he knew there would be watchers, the usual cheering her on. Again her eye flashed. Message received. 

Typical tough cop routine.

Except there was nothing typical about this and he was simply there for information.

"You think I can't handle you, Rowan?" She stood over him. If she'd been a dog, her hackles would be raised next to her bare teeth. Regret filled him immediately. She was going to have to do something about the cigarette smell. It was only getting worse as she got closer.

Rowan didn't move a muscle other than to look up at her. For extra effect he tossed in a cocky. "I know you can't." 

That did it. She stood up, out came the finger, jabbing into his face. He started to zone out, ignoring the warbling. She was supposed to be working him, not the other way around. 

She's not the big fish, he told himself. Stop messing around and wait. They will come. 

The door slammed open.

Black suits in all of their federal glory arrived. Tall, dark, and mysterious with an axe to grind. He recognized one of the men standing in the doorway right away.

He chuckled. 

The detective took a step back, her arguments dying on her lips, her face paling. A goldfish in a sea full of sharks. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. If he'd revealed anything to her they'd find her body dead in a back alley somewhere. Or she'd just go MIA. It happened all the time when you went too far. Better to remain ignorant than to know what really happened. You could live a lifetime untouched and innocent. As innocent as humans could be anyway. 

He knew that these weren't the only two in the building. The room behind the one-way mirror was already cleared. He'd done it himself a time or two.

"Leave." It was quietly said, but there was enough authority behind that Detective Karen Miller left the room with only a fearful glance in his direction. He saluted her before giving her the middle finger. The disgusting scent of mint and stale cigarettes followed her out. Finally.

He'd never been so happy to see a fed.

"Rowan," the first one said nodding.

"Dik," Rowan responded. "Or is it, Dick? The pronunciation always confused me."

Dik Paramar smiled. "You always were a bastard, Rowan. How are you?"

Rowan watched Dik's partner unhook the camera. "I've been better." He lifted his hands which were still cuffed. 

They wore no badges and carried nothing official on them. But they were unmistakable when you saw them. When you joined, your allegiance to the state was total. You lived and died by the state. End of story. 

"I see you still have the same skin."

Dik looked down and held up a hand. "I'm rather partial to this one. Reminds me of home."

Rowan ignored the dig. 

His partner turned around. Rowan didn't recognize him, but that meant nothing. Switching bodies was as easy as changing clothes if you could afford it. Juvy treatments were easy too if you had the money. The guy could have been anyone he knew behind a new face.

"But you," Dik continued walking around the table. "You my friend returned to your original face. Why?"

"You know why," Rowan said. 

"A woman." Dik sat down in the chair across from Rowan. "And for what? We have her, you don't."

Rowan lifted his shackled hands. His eyes narrowed. "Dick, I'd hate to do this. How many expendables did you bring? Fresh out of the academy?"

"Even you have limits, Rowan."

Dik's right eye flashed. They were listening. Perfect. He smiled. 

"No, Dik..." Rowan leaned forward. "If Miranda is dead, or hurt, or altered in any way, you'll find that I don't."

Word Count: 1041