Open New Year Tidings 2016

[Julie Justice]

Accolade Tower, San Francisco

Julie had been happy to contribute a few small items to the New Years party this year: some whole grain cracker and (relatively) healthy choices of dips, ranch, cheese, classic salsa and hummus.

She'd also brought 2 bottles of a cherry-lime non alcoholic sparking cocktail, for the few younger detectives who were still at ACME this holiday season, who were too young to drink; and also for anyone else who chose not to drink, for whatever reason.

Julie herself was one of those people; but she had learned long ago, that if you don't say anything, and you put it in a nice enough glass nobody knows the difference; she poured herself a glass.

She decided to escape the happy chaos and noise for a few minutes and take a walk outside.

Julie recognized most of the younger students at ACME from the dorms and other locations on campus, even when she didn't know their names. Julie had befriend a student; a young woman (of course, compared to Julie, everyone at ACME was young) named Lucy.

Lucy was inquisitive, smart, and very observant; all of those qualities would make her a great agent someday. But when she had first arrived at ACME she was extremely shy; so Julie was happy to see Lucy start to open up a little.

Julie could see that Lucy and Chase were talking, and waited a moment, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

"Hello, Chase," Julie said, greeting her boss in a friendly, casual tone.

"Hello, Lucy. Are you enjoying the party?"

 

[Chase]

Lucy has approved a write-out to pause her role in this game.

"No, she was an agent awhile back. She specialized in surveillance and questioning. Her name was Celia Sanchez"

Chase nodded, the name did ring a bell, but he wasn't entirely sure why. Lucy hinted then that she needed to leave, so Devineaux reminded, "You know where my office is, Lucy? I'd like to hear more, you're welcome to come by when you're free."

"Hello, Chase," Julie said, greeting her boss in a friendly, casual tone.

Smiling to greet Julie, he greeted, "Seems to be a good year for you, Miss Justice? How are you liking it here?"

 

[Julie Justice]

Julie smiled a bit a Chase's question.

"Yes, it has been a good year for me. I'm very blessed in all areas of my life. I'm very happy here at ACME, and I've made some good friends here, too," Julie said.

 

[Chase]

(I'm closing this scene for the up-coming time shift, thanks Julie.)

Julie's response was positive and Chase agreed with her words, standing while he listened.

"I'm sure you'll find more friends coming in this year, 2016 is promising to be interesting." Noting the university clock nearby, Devineaux said goodnight, "...And it seems I have a conference call with a team in Myanmar in a few minutes, have a good time Julie, I'll see you around."

 

[Sophie]

...CONTINUED


January 4, 14:12
Accolade Tower, San Francisco

There was a low click as a metallic latch slipped back into its matching strike, the door to her office closing behind her as Dr Sophie Conrad stepped into her office on the 26th floor. She had arrived at the ACME airbase an hour ago, and as promised, the Director of Operations had been waiting. There was only a brief chuckle before he accepted a miniature silver-painted ceramic of a nondescript sedan in exchange for the tiny red MINI replica attached to the key of her city compact.

He insisted on driving and she let him. It did not take her more than seven minutes to deduce that he not only had her car washed and waxed, he had had the insides professionally cleaned and vacuumed, the brake-pads and windscreen wipers changed, and (upon further pressing) the engine oil and filter replaced.

Then, with a laugh and a resigned shake of her head, she had to remind him which organisation it was that was paying for her automobile maintenance package--the same that had foot the bill for his, three times in a month.


Tapping upon a light-switch, Sophie drew a breath and looked around, a photographic memory reminding her of exactly how she had left everything and what the cleaners had touched while carrying out their duties. Then, with the heel of her signature red-soled footwear, she gently nudged the waste-bin towards her desk before pausing to clip a postcard onto the whiteboard where neon-coloured Post-It's and various other treasured mail collected.

The prehistoric basalt-structure of the Giant's Causeway featured in a glossy photograph, but it was the side where there was writing that Sophie had facing out. Christmas and New Year wishes scrawled in smudged ink, Ivy Monaghan and Eugene Grovington had both signed at the bottom of the card. They made the trip to Ireland, after all.

Circling towards her chair, the doctor reached for the electronic picture frame standing in stalwart solidarity alongside the darkened monitor of her workplace computer. For every year that she returned to San Francisco, she would add another holiday family portrait to the gallery. This was the fourth.

It was then that she noticed the anomaly. Lying at the side of her desk and previously blocked by the NIX unit:

Mistletoe.

The bunched sprigs were perfect in appearance, a golden sheen coating the verdantly rounded leaves, flawless pearlescent berries still attached at fragile junctions. Perfect. Perfectly preserved.

With a frown, Sophie exhaled.

All mentions approved by Acton Roux,
Chase Devineaux, Ivy Monaghan & Eugene
Grovington.​

 

[Joe Kerr]

Bonham’s Auction House, New York -

Every week, over a hundred million dollars worth of fine art, jewellery and other collectible items changes hands without the majority of the population remaining blissfully unaware. Behind the glass doors of this establishment, the obnoxiously rich flaunt their wealth in a bid to acquire overpriced decor and bragging rights.

The majority of the bidding and notifications are done in secret, over secure channels; the identities of the bidders safeguarded; the news of priceless art being acquired would act like a beacon for thieves otherwise.

However, even the disgustingly wealthy are not above mind games and every now and then, social media is used to publicise intent to bid as a ploy to intimidate the competition. Only the highest value items, such as the last remaining chunk of the Gibeon Meteorite, afforded such desperate tactics as the headline splashed across various news websites.

“Collector plans to turn last meteorite into weapons. Renowned billionaire Ronald Clump announces intent to turn the last remaining chunk of the Gibeon Meteorite, now valued at over 1.5 million USD, into a pair of limited edition hand guns. Ronald Clump is amongst 20 other rumoured collectors also interested in purchasing this relic.The Meteorite Chunk is up for auction at Bonham’s New York on Friday.”

The much sought after meteorite rested with the other treasures under lock and key in the Auction House, accessible only to staff and registered bidders under the highest of security, with one notable exception - viewing day.

Due to some ridiculous tradition, every auction house known to man has a viewing day when anyone from off the street may enter the otherwise guarded establishment and view with the items soon to be up for auction. The idea behind the whole process is for potential bidders to be able to interact with the items, examine it for flaws and inconsistencies; a bit of fair play in lieu of Caveat Emptor.

Today, was such a day and among the patrons examining the items with a critical eye, was one Joseph Kerr.

His current shift at their Nevada safe house now over, the VILE Jester had been on his way back to Stone Harbour when a certain news story had caused him to take an ‘inspired detour’.

Dressed in suitably formal attire, the diminutive, albeit unusually portly, jester moved unnoticed amongst the eager-eyed throng of viewers. Joe chuckled under his guise as he mimicked his peers and looked around; whilst the majority of patrons were taking notes on brushstrokes and blemishes, the VILE Agent was carefully keeping track of cameras and guards.

Backstories and explanations on the various pieces were ignored in favour of calculations factoring in every guard and every door. Joe didn’t really care for anything else anyway, he had his eyes set on only one prize.

Under normal circumstances, the weight of his target would make it difficult to swipe; worse still, the window of opportunity for a theft was devastatingly slim. There were also automatic shutters set to come down on every door during a robbery making a stealthy escape nigh impossible.

Luckily for Joe, today was not a normal day; even more fortunate, auction houses shared the same glaring security loophole that airports did.

 

[Joe Kerr]

(On with the heist....)

Using his newfound girth to his advantage, Joseph muscled his way into a position within ‘grabbing range’ of the meteorite. Surreptitiously, he paused to check his watch.

The party should be starting any minute now...if my ‘assistant’ hasn’t got distracted.

On cue, a small orange blur burst through the entrance just as another patron was coming in. As the blur slowed and revealed itself to be a familiar auburn feline, every person in the room froze.

Given the fragile nature of what was housed within the building, auction houses had a strict ‘no pets’ policy; not even so much as a fly was tolerated on the premises.

Predictably, someone shouted “Cat!” and all hell broke loose.

The shutters came down and screams erupted as guards attempted to corral the furry intruder, only to fail miserably. For her part, Carmine seemed to enjoy leading the guards on a chase around the room, zig-zagging at the last second to repeatedly evade capture.

With his friend’s antics providing a perfect misdirection, Joseph was free to carry out the next step virtually unnoticed.

Now you see it...

Reaching into the hollow belly of his fat-suit, the VILE specialist pulled out several sootless smoke grenades and tossed them into the crowd; plumes of carbon-dioxide smoke started to fill the room, bathing it in a sea of white. More screams filled the room whilst Joe tossed a couple more smoke grenades to ensure zero visibility.

...Now you don’t.

Under the cover of the smoke, Joe swiftly grabbed the meteorite and placed it into the hollow belly of the fat-suit. Had Joe adopted any other disguise, the change in movement speed caused by the extra weight would have been a dead giveaway. With the fat-suit, however, the added mass only helped sell the disguise better.

Having somehow groped their way to the entranceway, the occupants of the room were dismayed to find themselves cut off from safety by, ironically, security shutters.

With a mixture of fear and anger, the patrons started banging on the shutters with one accord, begging to be released into the street. Pressured by the cries for help, and the threat of lawsuits, the management grudgingly raised the shutters, unwittingly gifting Joe his escape route in the process.

As ‘survivors’ proclaimed how lucky they were to be alive, Joe struggled to contain his amusement; who knew the rich and powerful could be so melodramatic? Then again, they didn’t have the benefit of knowing that the VILE Jester used only non-lethal means;

Unlike the other patrons, Joe wasn’t interested in waiting for New York’s finest to show up, or worse yet, ACME. With Carmine running off ahead, Joe ambled toward the back of the crowd and then slowly walked away unnoticed.

Mission accomplished. Now, to find my ‘muse’.

 

[Acton Roux]

Stone harbour...

Acton Roux was hunched over an operating table. The cicada encased in a small block of ice was carefully thawed with blue liquid from a vial labeled “GN0112”. Under lamplight the insect’s iridescent wings drooped from the weight of shifting ice. It seemed to move. Acton sat up straighter in his chair and adjusted his magnifying goggles.

A few tense seconds passed as the doctor held his breath. His eyebrows raised high in anticipation, and every slight movement seemed more imaginary than true. The cicada seemed to move, but then, it did not. It remained very still.

Five minutes, then ten passed idly by, and then Acton finally exhaled. The insect was put aside and he removed his goggles to rest his eyes.

The solution GN0112 was crossed out and placed in a slot next to bottle GN0111. That was his last batch, he would need to create something new over the next weeks to fully understand what sort of experiments came from the Kamchatka peninsula.

Three, six, and then nine knocks in quick succession resounded and Dr Roux stood up to open the door to his laboratory.

A roughened workman in a cap and torn labour gloves looked back at Acton with impatience. The shipment of additional equipment that Roux ordered came in, none of the men wanted the crates lying about because of their size and weight. So they wished to transfer the boxes down here now. Acton could not refuse and opened the door wide for the delivery. Although he was rather confused as to why his small shipment of organic material should be so large and heavy.

When the crates were deposited, it became apparent that something was amiss. And when he opened the crates, it further confirmed that his shipment was not what the doctor ordered.