Space-Time of Death: an Al Squires of the Protectorate Novel

Ch. 15.1: Diaries of a Mad Black-Magick Woman

Before we get right to it, here's a brief summary of what happened between where we left off and just at the beginning of this chapter: After entering the viewing room, Norah and I examined the contents of the first canister ourselves. Sure enough, held an unremarkable looking key and a few folded-up scraps of paper. One had an Omniopolis address scribbled on it, and the others seemed to be a list of traps and alarms and where to deactivate them.

Upon reading the address, I then accessed my Memory Palace to visually input the address into my own copy of the Omniopolis Directory Database, (or the O.D.D., if you will) to get more info on the address. As for the rest, the Chief had his attendant move him over to one of the computers in the room and brought up the Division's copy of the Database. After about ten (subjective) minutes of waiting on both computers (Because Omniopolis is so big, that no one knows it's exact size) we both learned that the address was the location of an abandoned office building found in one of the City-Realm's more 'modern' and more destitute areas. It was a blessing in disguise that Sister Time preferred the creature comforts of relative modernity; we'd have been screwed if she hid in one of the more 'less-than-developed' areas within Omniopolis.

It took a bit of verbal arm twisting on the Chief's part, but the Lt. Col. reluctantly agreed to let Norah and I go check out this building. Mostly because some of the traps and wards are Magick, and I was the only Magick-User briefed into this mission. Of course, The Lt. Col. demanded the concession that Team O's senior agents go with us to 'supervise.' The Chief agreed on the stipulation that a couple of Team P come along with them. 'So, we can have more eyes on the scene,' he said. He suggested Mik and Clint to join us; since ze can make hirself small enough to enter a room without triggering anything, and his Thrope senses will be useful as well. The Chief also asked his counterpart if he would allow Grammie Elise's request and allow Lady Lane to oversee the canisters. He agreed, but only if they take the key and notes as well. 'Since they have seniority,' was his explanation.

With the 'negotiations' over with, Norah and I went back to the Wardrobe to change back into our original clothes (which Tailor were laundered and press while we were gone), met up with Lady Lane and Jorge (who waited outside the hall for us), where the four of us went back to the Bullpen to clue everyone in; followed by me telling the Ruomalg (who had reverted back to hir 'mostly' feminine anthropomorphic rabbit shape) and Thrope (who'd changed back into his usual getup) that their skills and abilities will be required for this one.

When they accepted, I took the moment to go to my desk's computer to skim the email the Chief sent; maybe check my emitter's battery. From what I could gather from the email, the Cleaners found another dead body within the House of Bliss. Not only that, but it seemed to have been dead for a few hours. They then told this to Agent Guo, who put the details on her own.

Before I could learn any other details, such as how they died, Jorge pressed me to hurry up. So, I decided to scan the rest and store it within my Memory Palace to read it from memory. When we were ready, the six of us Transmatted to the booth closest to the address. A few at a time, naturally; those transmat booths aren't that big. Now we've gotten that out of the way, let's officially start off this chapter as we tune in about a few (subjective) seconds after the last of our group arrives.

"Now, Mik," Clint chided Mik as the exited, "don't think I didn't feel you pinch my butt."

"Sorry, Clinty," ze said sheepishly as ze followed out of the Transmat. "I can't help it. When a hard body is pressed up to mine, my hands wander. It's sort of a reflex among Ruomalgs."

"If you two are quite finished," Jorge said in a clipped tone, "we may proceed." He then looked around at the street sign and address numbers, then at the note with the address. "According to these signs," he said to all of us, "the address La Bruja gave us should approximately dos blocks in that direction." He pointed at the direction of a street surrounded by rundown brick buildings and littered by numerous examples of squalor, both living and inanimate. He began to walk down the road, seemingly without fear "Vamos," he said gruffly as he gestured to us to follow him. "We must not linger here too long."