Investigation and Interrogation (Zeno)

[sloth]

Michael walked down the street of the futuristic city, his new pistol, a Colt M1911A1 .45, fitting snugly in his shoulder holster. His revolver was going to take a while to be rebuilt to his exact specs, but he was good with a magazine fed weapon for the moment. He lit up a cancer stick, ignoring the disgusted looks of the people that were around him. He couldn't care less what they thought. He looked around, and spotted a rather nice looking restaurant by the sidewalk. He walked in and asked for a booth, which he was led to, and ordered a bottle of beer.

Then he waited.

He had asked Zeno to meet him here, since he had found information on the thing that had attacked F.U.B.A.R. HQ. The beer was brought to him, and he thanked the waiter with a tip. Joe looked over at the door and found not Zeno, but his target.

He wasn't only here to give Zeno information. That would seem suspicious. He was here on a job, hired to blow the guy's brains out. The fact that Michael's target knew about the attack on HQ, it was a double bonus. Interrogate him, blow his brains out and make it look like a robbery, badda-bing, badda-boom mission accomplished.

A cake walk. Hopefully.

Michael looked over at the door, seeing his friend, and waved him over.

[Zeno]

Zeno sighed heavily as he made his way through Downtown. The brim of his hat was casting a shadow on his face, as his cybernetic left eye and the augs in his right eye had been replaced, and they were pretty sensitive to light at the moment.

He loved World-113. He loved it because they had no measure of gun control in this world. People could walk around carrying twenty firearms, and no one would blink an eye, though if you so much as lit a cigarette, they treated you like you were the scum of the earth. That was why Zeno hadn't lit his cigarette, and instead just had it dangling from his mouth.

Michael must've found some kind of lead, or he would just have come back to HQ for debriefing. That was why Zeno even bothered coming so soon after his eyes were taken care of. Five times on his way from the drop point to the rendezvous had his hand twitched toward one of his revolvers, the hairs standing on the back of his neck. This always happened when he came there. Lots of weapons, lots of punks eager to kill him.

"Hey there, cowboy," a voice said as Zeno passed an alley. He stopped and turned, finding a latex clad woman leaning against the wall. Her hair was blue, she had black veins visible under the skin on her neck, and a pair of eyes that were glowing red. A heavily cybernetic woman. "Would you like to party?"

Zeno looked the woman over once more, raising an eyebrow. "How much of you is cybernetic?" he asked curiously. The woman just gave a sultry chuckle.

"Not the important parts, if that's what you're wondering."

"Maybe some other time, darling," Zeno said, tipping his hat to the woman. "I've got a meeting." Prostitution was, apparently, legal in World-113, for some reason.

As Zeno reached the restaurant where he was supposed to meet Michael, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Immediately, he spotted Michael, who waved at him. Zeno stopped a waitress and ordered a beer, then moved over to Michael's booth, sitting down.

"Fuck me, this place was hard to find," he muttered, shielding his eyes from the light with his hat. "And this place is bright as a fuckin' sun even at night. Pisses me off. My eyes are killing me, you know..."

[sloth]

"Fuck me, this place was hard to find. And this place is bright as a fuckin' sun even at night. Pisses me off. My eyes are killing me, you know..."

Michael shrugged. "Sorry, mate." He glanced back at the target, who was sipping a rather large glass of blue wine with his mistress. Michael sipped at his beer as he returned his gaze to Zeno.

"I got more info on that thing that attacked HQ a couple weeks back." Michael said as he sipped at his beer again. He pulled out a file and slid it over to Zeno.

"It's called a Galronok, from World-884. Nasty species, but semi-intelligent, enough to work for somebody who hires them with meat, bones, and women." Joe sipped at his beer again. "But we can't ask the one we encountered because... well, you know, we killed the thing." Joe motioned his head over at his target.

"But the guy over there," The man sipped at his wine. He was rather fat, with a small, almost fake looking mustache, and a comb-over. "He knows something about the guys who hired the Galronok. But he's also my bounty, so we'll interrogate him, I'll blow his brains out, and make it look like a mugging, just like the mission file said." Michael finished his beer. He glanced at his fat bounty.

"And now we wait."

[Zeno]

"Sorry, mate." Zeno looked over at the man Michael was looking at. He looked like the normal type of targets Zeno got. The waitress arrived and gave Zeno his beer, which he sipped calmly as he looked back at his friend. "I got more info on that thing that attacked HQ a couple weeks back."

Zeno raised an eyebrow as Michael slid the file over to his across the table. He took it and opened it, humming as he looked over the race's information. "It's called a Galronok, from World-884. Nasty species, but semi-intelligent, enough to work for somebody who hires them with meat, bones, and women. But we can't ask the one we encountered because... well, you know, we killed the thing."

"I'm not ashamed of killing that thing," Zeno said, shrugging nonchalantly as he closed the file, shoving it into an inside pocket on is coat. "It chose the wrong day to pimp slap me." He paused for a second. "Then again, no day is the right day to pimp slap me..."

"But the guy over there," Michael continued, nodding to the slimy man who, despite wearing a wedding ring, was drinking with someone who definitely wasn't his wife. "He knows something about the guys who hired the Galronok. But he's also my bounty, so we'll interrogate him, I'll blow his brains out, and make it look like a mugging, just like the mission file said."

So, they had to wait for the target to leave, eh? Zeno stretched, then gulped down his beer surprisingly fast, sighing with relief as he set down the empty bottle.

"Damn, these new augs are even better than the old ones," Zeno said, patting his chest. "I don't even feel any annoying stinging or anything, like I did with the old ones. Fuckin' aye."

[sloth]

"I'm not ashamed of killing that thing. It chose the wrong day to pimp slap me." Michael sipped at his beer as Zeno paused to think. "Then again, no day is the right day to pimp slap me..."

Michael nodded as he glanced at the man again. He looked back at Zeno. "Damn, these new augs are even better than the old ones. I don't even feel any annoying stinging or anything, like I did with the old ones. Fuckin' aye."

"Cool..." Michael answered absently as he looked back at the man, talking on a kind of phone, a serious expression on his face. Michael finished his beer before he pushed the bottle to the table, motioning to Zeno. The man stood up abruptly, leaving money on the table, for both the meal and his mistress, and rushed out the door.

After a few seconds, Michael stood up and said, "Showtime." He walked out the door, finding the man with ease walking to a limo parked out front of the restaurant. Michael swore to himself before he walked to a nearby car, snatching a pair of keys from the valet desk. Walking up to the car, Michael jumped into the driver's seat, the door already open. But...

"Fuck!" Michael swore. They weren't the right keys, and he wouldn't go back for new ones. The ex-spy went under the wheel and pulled down the dashboard. He grabbed the (hopefully) right pair of wires and bit them in half.

"Well," Michael said. "If these cars are like the ones back home, then these two should-" Michael connected the wires, and sparks flew, the car starting up. Michael smiled as he sat back up.

"Welcome back to the Luxury Coby Mark Six, Mr. Freeman." Michael smiled as he put the car in drive. He looked out the window.

"Shall we?"

[Zeno]

"Cool..."

Zeno clicked his tongue as he gave Michael a playful glare. "Fucker, you're not even listening to me, are you?" he asked, chuckling quietly. Michael had a nasty habit on losing his focus on pretty much anything else when focusing on something important, as demonstrated when he stoop up suddenly, a few seconds after the fat guy had passed them.

"Showtime." Zeno shook his head as Michael walked off. Once more, the guy would probably make some mistake, which would slow them down. The good thing about Michael was that he only made small mistakes, like losing a key or something like that, mistakes that were easy to fix. Unlike rookies, who blew the whole fucking mission...

After paying for his beer and leaving the restaurant he found that Michael had, indeed, made a slight mistake. "Fuck!" The set of keys that hit the ground by the car Michael attempted to steal showed Zeno that he'd stolen the wrong keys. Only a very, very small mistake, easy to fix. Zeno was really happy that he was working with Michael, and not a damn rookie.

Zeno came up to the car just as Michael managed to hotwire it, and a soothing, female voice was heard. "Welcome back to the Luxury Coby Mark Six, Mr. Freeman." Zeno shook his head. He'd never know where Michael got these skills. They sure as hell didn't teach people to hotwire cars back at HQ.

"Shall we?" Michael asked with a satisfied smile.

Zeno nodded. "We shall," he said as he got into the car, fishing a lighter out of his pocket and lighting his cigarette, puffing on it. His eye augmentations zoomed in on the street ahead of them. "Black limo, license plate: THE MNY?" he asked, seeing what he believed to be their target's car. "I've got him. Tracer locked."

Another upgrade. Zeno could lock onto targets, and track them. Now, the limo would never be able to escape from them, unless it got about fifteen miles away from them.

[sloth]

"Black limo, license plate: THE MNY?" Michael nodded as he pulled out and followed the limo. He faintly heard yelling as he sped up, chuckling that he may have been found out. "I've got him. Tracer locked." "Good, then we're in business." Michael followed the limo through the light traffic, not exactly surprised that there weren't more cars. It was a weekend, after all. After around ten minutes of following the limo, Michael had to admit; the limo driver knew how to lose a tail. They had been taken through side streets, alleys, even a construction site, but they hadn't lost Michael or Zeno during the time.

Until now, that is.

The limo had turned down an alley, and came out to another street. Michael thought he had them until he stopped at the end of the alley, seeing that they had been led into one of the 'richer' districts in Downtown. And what Michael saw before him was a sea of black limos. The ex-spy closed his eyes and sighed.

"Shit." Michael looked at the screen on the dashboard, and saw that it had turned to static. "Double shit," Michael muttered, trying to switch settings. "They're jamming the signals around the area," Michael looked at Zeno, then back at the sea of limos. "It's probably jamming your tracer, too." He pulled out a small phone, and flipped it open. He saw that he had a full signal. "Looks like the phone worked as Mike and Shaun said it would," The Mad Duo had given him the phone that "Couldn't be Jammed, Couldn't be Traced, Couldn't run out of Power", and he honestly thought it would blow up in his face. He dialed a number on the phone and held it up to his ear.

"Looks like it's time to call Danny for help," The phone on the other line picked up, and an answer went, "This is Danny." Michael smiled as he sang, "Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, The Pipes, The Pipes are callin'," Danny chuckled on the other line.

"Alright, Mike, what do you need?"

[sloth]

Danny Sokolov was a man of great learning, a man of knowledge and facts and data, a wiseman, and he had to be honest: he was fucking bored. Not many agents were on missions at the moment, and right now his only entertainment was trying to balance a pencil on his nose. He was in his mid-sized cubicle, with the usual stuff there for him to work; His computer, his large cup of coffee in his 'Techies FTW' mug, his doughnut, and the files on his desk. And frankly, he didn't want to do them at the moment. He gave up on balancing the pencil, and took a bite of his doughnut. Such a slow day...

His phone rang, to which Danny rushed to answer. "This is Danny." A familiar, sing song voice answered. "Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, The Pipes, The Pipes are callin'," Danny chuckled as he picked up his headpiece, and switched the call to it. "Alright, Mike, what do you need?" "I need you to help me track a limo for my bounty. It belongs to a Javier Niles," Danny's brow furrowed as he went to work, his hands moving quickly as he hit twenty keys every two seconds. "You mean the Crime boss on 113, that Javier Niles?" Several details popped up on his screen.

"Yeah, that's the guy. You got anything?" "You're going to have to be more specific, Mike, this guy owns several limos." "The one with the license plate labeled THE MNY?" Danny shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee. "He's got two limos with that license, I'll check out the one that's out." Several key strokes later, a program popped up on Danny's computer, and he saw where the limo was heading. "He's south of your location, heading to a warehouse district. I'm getting eyes inside." Danny hacked through the firewalls of the District's security system easily enough, and had several screens pop up on his monitor.

"Mike, he's heading to a meeting of some kind. There's a group of people inside, with large crates behind one side and large silver briefcases on the other. Looks like an arms deal to me, you'd better step on it." "Danny, you're a lifesaver, I owe ya." Danny chuckled as he took another sip of his coffee. "No, Mike, you really owe me."

[Zeno]

"Shit." Zeno had to agree to that statement. Black limos everywhere, and the dot on his tracker was jumping here and there, every now and then blurring out of existence. "Double shit," Michael muttered, and Zeno nodded. "They're jamming the signals around the area. It's probably jamming your tracer, too."

"No shit, brainiac," Zeno muttered grumpily. He punched the dashboard in anger. "FUCK! We should've just put a bullet in his kneecap when we had the fucking chance!" This was really pissed off right now. He wanted to murder someone. That someone being either Michael or the target.

"Looks like the phone worked as Mike and Shaun said it would."

"O-Oi," Zeno said, his anger fading away to be replaced with shock. "You... You're not gonna use one of their toys, are you? That's just bad for your health..." he muttered, then immediately ducked when Michael dialed a number, waiting for the explosion. It never came...

Now sighing in boredom, since he didn't even get to see a cool explosion, Zeno reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up. He took a drag, then exhaled slowly while Michael spoke to Danny on the phone. "Fuck..." he muttered, looking over the limos as he turned off his tracer. "Double fucking fuck..."

"Danny, you're a lifesaver, I owe ya."

Zeno glanced at Michael, who was hanging up. "So, we got a hit, then?"

[sloth]

Michael sighed as he flipped the phone shut and put the car in reverse. "So, we got a hit, then?" Michael nodded. "Aye, that we did." Michael pulled out of the alley and joined the rest of the traffic on the street leading to the warehouse district. "Niles is heading to the warehouse district, but he's going to have quite the surprise when he gets there." Several minutes later, Michael pulled into the warehouse district, driving around until he stopped in front of a limo. Their limo. Joseph opened his door and popped out, smiling at the limo as Niles got out.

"Excuse me, you're in my way!" Michael just smiled, pulling a badge out of his coat, holding the insignia of the Downtown Police Department, and switched to his American accent. "Javier Niles, I'm Detective Weston, this is my partner, Detective Jones. Can you step away from the limo please?" Niles raised an eyebrow, shutting the door of the limo. "What's this about?" Walking around the car to Niles, he was thankful that he had the intel to use this. "Javier Niles, you are under arrest for embezzlement, arms dealing, and conspiracy for murder," And as Michael cuffed him and read him the rights he would never be able to fully use, he led Niles into the back of the car, getting into the front seat.

Driving off, they drove for around an hour before their guest started to become unruly. "We should've been at the station by now." Michael nodded, switching back to his Irish accent. "Aye, we should've. If we were the police, at any rate." Michael pulled into an alleyway as Niles' breathing became irregular. "If this is about the Warez deal, I swear, I'll get the money to you!" Michael stopped the car, and got out, pulling Niles out as well.

"This isn't about the Warez deal. No, this is something a bit more... personal." Michael released Niles, then threw him against the wall, before dragging him back up. "Who hired the Galronok?" Niles showed a moment of recognition before he schooled his features to that of a scared man. "I don't know what you're talking about! Look, if this is about money-" He never got the chance to finish as Michael pulled out his gun and held it up to his face. He started at that.

"How about you start telling me the truth, eh boyo? Before things get ugly." Niles looked at the gun, then at the stone cold expression in Michael's eyes. He nodded. "The Galronok, I was the intermediary, I was hired by someone else, someone bigger!" Michael raised an eyebrow. "Who?" "I don't know!" "Don't fuck with me Niles, WHO?!" Niles started to sob.

"I don't know who they are, they met me through a diplomat, told me that I was living on one world within thousands! I wanted to see them for myself, and that's how I arranged the deal between the Galronoks and them! I swear that's all I know!" "You didn't give me a name!" Michael yelled. "They called themselves..." Niles took a breath. "They called themselves the Order."

Michael nodded, finding no fallacies, and took his wallet, shoving him onto the pavement. "Does that mean I can-" Michael blew Niles' brains out across the pavement as the corrupt man looked up. Holstering his weapon, Michael looked at Zeno. "Sorry you had to see that uglier side of me," Michael looked down at Niles' corpse. "And that you didn't get in on the action." He looked at Zeno again. "Come on, let's get a bite to eat at that bar you always liked here, then we can go home for a debriefing."