Crack in the Kill Code (AmpCore #2)

13 - Chloe

Kirk paused outside the police station. To anyone else, it wasn't much, just another grey metal lump in Hadrian's evergrind, stinking of cigarettes and cheap fast food. He wouldn't say his memories were better than anybody else's, but they he'd be willing to be they meant more.

He checked his pocket again, feeling the solid structure of Delgado's cigar case between his fingers. She'd helped him. She'd interviewed him right here, when all he'd been trying to do was find Piper.

Before AIs, and AmpCore, and rebellions.

God, how part of him wanted to just wrench the clock back to those simpler times. But, if he was really honest with himself, he couldn't go back now. Someone had to do this, and even if all he got for his trouble was a bullet between the eyes, it would still be worth it if he could just plant one deeper seed of doubt in the world.

You don't have to take it.

Heaving in a breath and shaking his head to clear it, Kirk squared his shoulders, curled a fist around the cigar case, and marched up the stairs.

The lobby of the police station assaulted his senses as he entered, the already potent smells mixing with the bellow of orders, swearing and screaming of disgruntled citizens and the occasional thump of a fist hitting a human body. He had to swerve to the side as two cops clattered by, wrestling with a brawny young man who snapped and snarled at them like an animal. Eventually they got enough leverage between them to haul him off, and they disappeared down a connecting corridor.

Clearing his throat, Kirk tried not to get in anyone's way, darting and dancing through the chaotic flow of people until he reached the haggard desk sergeant. She looked like she hadn't slept for a week, her grey uniform shirt dishevelled and open at the throat. The cigarette between her teeth didn't stop her from speaking at a rapid pace, dismissing the one after another plaintiff that arrived in front of her.

As he reached the front of the line, she paused long enough to scissor what was left of it between two fingers and exhaled a bloom of smoke right into his face. He grimaced and waved it away. A far cry from the expensively scented cigars, he got a nose-full of acrid, synthetic tobacco with a side of scorched mint.

"C'mon, pal," the sergeant grated, one hand tapping disinterestedly at the holo-interface to her right, the other still holding the smouldering cigarette.

"I... huh?"

"What's the problem?" She looked at him expectantly and stuffed the cigarette back into her mouth. "Or are y' just fuckin' sightseeing?"

"No, jeez, I'm here to see at detective."

"Are ye, aye?"

"Yes." Kirk bristled, fixing glaring at her. "Detective Doser."

"Mate, if you've got a crime to report, put in the bloody system." She jabbed a finger at one of the automated kiosks, currently jammed with disgruntled citizens. He considered them dubiously for a second, then turned back to her.

"I'm not here to report a damned pick-pocket," he snapped, his patience quickly evaporating. He could feel the line of people forming behind him, but he ignored it, his ire fixated on the desk sergeant as she looked past him. Her face pinched with irritation.

"And what do you want with Detective Doser?"

"I need to speak to him. It's about a case."

"A case?"

"Yes. My name is Kirk Balfour. Tell him I need to speak to him about our... mutual friend."

"For fuck sake." The woman rolled her eyes and tapped the implant in her temple. The holo-visor over her eyes flashed red for a few seconds, then switched to cobalt blue. "Aye, Doze, it's MacIntyre. Got some kid from the docks looking for a word with you?" She paused. Nodded. "Aye, no shit. I told him that, but he wants to talk to you. Name's Balfour. Kirk Balfour. Says you two have-," she glanced to him through the visor, "a what?"