VI. A Night on the Bay
Darrus sat on a bench on the docks along the Bay of Sorrows, watching the sunset.
"I can't say that's something I miss." said Odin.
"I'm not here for the scenery." said Darrus. "There's someone I need to speak to, and he frequents this area at night."
"One of your contacts, eh?"
"Correct."
As the sun sank below a horizon made blurry by smog, lights began to wink on over the Bay. Most were ships of one form or another, hauling supplies for New Liberty down the re-routed Ohio River or else hauling the city's waste up it and out to sea. Darrus knew that for every light out there, there was another unlit craft; smugglers trying to avoid detection. Rehnquist's satellites and air patrols picked up on them anyway and showed the police submarines where to put their torpedoes. The lure of profits from a successful smuggling journey kept would-be entrepreneurs coming.
One set of lights caught Darrus attention. To a human, it would've been just another collection lights, probably mounted a ship. But Darrus could see in the dark, and knew that there was nothing connected to them.
"There he is." said Darrus. He reached into his coat and withdrew a lighter. He raised it above his head and let off three brief pulses of light. The lights pulsed back and began to move towards the dock.
"What is that?" asked Odin.
"A smooth negotiator." said Darrus. "His name is Leroy."
The lights were quickly drawing closer.
Leroy was a Will-O'-the-Wisp. Named after the first of their kind, Will-O'-the-Wisps were negotiators that had talked their way out of hell. A few made good on their claims and lived good lives, avoiding an eternity of torment. Most came back to Earth and lived the same way that always had. When death came around again, Hell told them they were out of luck. Will-O'-the-Wisps must wonder the Earth without corporeal form until Judgment Day, at which point they'll suffer the same fate as all other lost souls. A few of them had struck deals with individual angels or demons, trying to have some leverage at the end times. Leroy was one of them.
The three lights drifted over the dock and materialized into the shape of a man.
"Hello, Darrus." said Leroy. His voice was hollow, his features flourescent and unfocused.
"Good evening, Leroy. Do you know why I'm here?"
"Perhaps. I'd say it has something to do with the dead Lapdog."
"Correct." said Darrus. "Tell me what you know about it."
"Oh, not much." said Leroy, flickering for an instant. "Just that a dead Lapdog turned up in the Sable building, and no one seems to know how he died."
"And that's all you know?"
"Mm-hm."
Darrus sighed and withdrew a slip of paper from his pocket. "Corporeal form for 24 hours. It's yours if you tell me something I don't already know."
Leroy's blurry features took on a distinct look of interest. He looked left and right. "All I know is that whatever killed the Lapdog wasn't human. I can feel it when there's something powerful enough to let a human kill a Lapdog nearby, and I haven't felt anything like that in years. Whoever did this wasn't a local boy."
Darrus handed the voucher to Leroy. "Keep in touch."
Leroy took the paper and his form crackled into being, naked. "Hey!"
Darrus was already walking back towards New Liberty. He pretended not to hear.
"Hey! I didn't want it to start now! And I need clothes! And money!"
"I'm a demon!" yelled back Darrus, not turning to face Leroy. "Did really expect to get something at face value?"
Darrus left Leroy's angry screams behind. Leroy wasn't human anymore, and as such his free will was no longer complete. Darrus had no fear of retribution.
Darrus turned at the end of the docks and walked through a door on a tool shed. He came out of a men's room across the city. He stepped out into a brightly-lit rotunda. A sign suspended from the ceiling read "New Liberty Hospital for the Mentally Impaired." Darrus approached the reception desk.
"Good evening." he said to the receptionist. "I'm a family member of Ross Gibson. I'm just passing through tonight, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me see him."
"I'm sorry, sir. Visiting hours are over."
Darrus wordlessly handed a 20-credit note over the counter.
"Right this way, sir."
"I can't say that's something I miss." said Odin.
"I'm not here for the scenery." said Darrus. "There's someone I need to speak to, and he frequents this area at night."
"One of your contacts, eh?"
"Correct."
As the sun sank below a horizon made blurry by smog, lights began to wink on over the Bay. Most were ships of one form or another, hauling supplies for New Liberty down the re-routed Ohio River or else hauling the city's waste up it and out to sea. Darrus knew that for every light out there, there was another unlit craft; smugglers trying to avoid detection. Rehnquist's satellites and air patrols picked up on them anyway and showed the police submarines where to put their torpedoes. The lure of profits from a successful smuggling journey kept would-be entrepreneurs coming.
One set of lights caught Darrus attention. To a human, it would've been just another collection lights, probably mounted a ship. But Darrus could see in the dark, and knew that there was nothing connected to them.
"There he is." said Darrus. He reached into his coat and withdrew a lighter. He raised it above his head and let off three brief pulses of light. The lights pulsed back and began to move towards the dock.
"What is that?" asked Odin.
"A smooth negotiator." said Darrus. "His name is Leroy."
The lights were quickly drawing closer.
Leroy was a Will-O'-the-Wisp. Named after the first of their kind, Will-O'-the-Wisps were negotiators that had talked their way out of hell. A few made good on their claims and lived good lives, avoiding an eternity of torment. Most came back to Earth and lived the same way that always had. When death came around again, Hell told them they were out of luck. Will-O'-the-Wisps must wonder the Earth without corporeal form until Judgment Day, at which point they'll suffer the same fate as all other lost souls. A few of them had struck deals with individual angels or demons, trying to have some leverage at the end times. Leroy was one of them.
The three lights drifted over the dock and materialized into the shape of a man.
"Hello, Darrus." said Leroy. His voice was hollow, his features flourescent and unfocused.
"Good evening, Leroy. Do you know why I'm here?"
"Perhaps. I'd say it has something to do with the dead Lapdog."
"Correct." said Darrus. "Tell me what you know about it."
"Oh, not much." said Leroy, flickering for an instant. "Just that a dead Lapdog turned up in the Sable building, and no one seems to know how he died."
"And that's all you know?"
"Mm-hm."
Darrus sighed and withdrew a slip of paper from his pocket. "Corporeal form for 24 hours. It's yours if you tell me something I don't already know."
Leroy's blurry features took on a distinct look of interest. He looked left and right. "All I know is that whatever killed the Lapdog wasn't human. I can feel it when there's something powerful enough to let a human kill a Lapdog nearby, and I haven't felt anything like that in years. Whoever did this wasn't a local boy."
Darrus handed the voucher to Leroy. "Keep in touch."
Leroy took the paper and his form crackled into being, naked. "Hey!"
Darrus was already walking back towards New Liberty. He pretended not to hear.
"Hey! I didn't want it to start now! And I need clothes! And money!"
"I'm a demon!" yelled back Darrus, not turning to face Leroy. "Did really expect to get something at face value?"
Darrus left Leroy's angry screams behind. Leroy wasn't human anymore, and as such his free will was no longer complete. Darrus had no fear of retribution.
Darrus turned at the end of the docks and walked through a door on a tool shed. He came out of a men's room across the city. He stepped out into a brightly-lit rotunda. A sign suspended from the ceiling read "New Liberty Hospital for the Mentally Impaired." Darrus approached the reception desk.
"Good evening." he said to the receptionist. "I'm a family member of Ross Gibson. I'm just passing through tonight, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me see him."
"I'm sorry, sir. Visiting hours are over."
Darrus wordlessly handed a 20-credit note over the counter.
"Right this way, sir."
posted by Andrew Michael at 1:40 PM
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