Hunting Mink

by Niall Teasdale

  The detective was something of a conundrum. He had lied about the reason for his surprise, and his body language had shifted noticeably just after shaking her hand. He had been… reluctant to be with her, even though they were helping the women out of their bonds. One touch of her hand on his and he had shifted. Suddenly he was a little confused, pleased, and a lot more attracted to her. What had caused that change of heart?

  ~~~

  Damian watched Mink’s retreating back. It was, he had to admit, worth watching: that costume did not leave a whole Hell of a lot to the imagination and she had a really firm behind. The woman had to be just about all elastic muscle.

  ‘She is exceptionally attractive, is she not?’ Ultramech commented.

  Damian blinked. ‘Uh, yeah, she is.’ She was, but that was not what had Damian confused and just a little surprised. She was not an Ultrahuman. It was another thing Damian had found he could do, though he had not discovered it until he had arrested a low-grade Ultra while he was still in uniform. He really needed to touch them, but he could just sense whether someone was an Ultra when he did. Sometimes he did not even need the skin contact, but it was far more sure when he did. And Mink was human. ‘I guess we wait for backup?’

  ‘Yes, Detective. I am listening to transmissions on the police band. Expected ETA is within five minutes. There will be FBI agents here within ten.’

  ‘There’ll be people from the TAATF here first. You need to make sure they don’t try to corner this for themselves.’

  ‘I am aware of this requirement. Rest at ease, Detective. With me here, there will be no failure of procedure.’

  ‘Right.’ Damian sat down on the back of the van. His dislike of Ultras probably should have extended to a super-powered robot, but that kind of felt like hating a toaster for being a toaster. And this thing had just saved his butt. ‘Uh, if you don’t mind the comment, I’m surprised you’d notice that Mink is attractive. I mean… you’re a machine.’

  ‘I am an artificial intelligence in a robotic shell, Detective. I admit that I rarely understand human mating practices, especially when, for no reason I can truly fathom, they are directed at me. However, I am quite capable of appreciating aesthetics, and Mink is aesthetically pleasing. Even to a machine.’

  ‘No offence meant.’

  ‘None taken.’

  ‘Good. Because you could fold me in half without even breaking a sweat, right?’

  ‘I could, Detective, since I have no sweat glands. I would never do that, however.’ Behind them, metal groaned loudly as the smugglers’ ship finally sank to the bottom of the harbour.

  ‘Good,’ Damian said. ‘That’s really good.’

  Washington, DC, 12th August.

  Cygnus looked down from a rooftop in the Ivy City area of Washington, at a shopfront across the street. It looked pretty normal, an average, nondescript, unused, retail building built from red bricks. ‘Well?’ she asked.

  ‘The imps confirm it,’ Twilight replied. ‘This is the place. Or it’s a place and this is where the Court says they package the stuff.’

  ‘I was kind of hoping it would be outside the DC boundary. This is going to cause complications.’

  ‘It might, but it won’t.’

  ‘Twi, they could suspend our registrations.’

  ‘They could, but they won’t. Because if they do, the press will crucify them.’

  Cygnus raised her eyebrows. ‘You sound pretty sure.’

  ‘The Court isn’t just an information source. It’s got influence. In this city, it’s got a lot of influence.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to know that. Okay… Dark enough in there for you?’

  Twilight smirked. ‘They’re not exactly working under high-wattage bulbs. Fly down. I’ll let you in the front door, and then we can have a little fun.’

  ‘Sometimes, partner, you worry me.’

  ‘Andrea says I worry her too, but you both find me adorable. I just know it.’

  Cygnus lifted into the air, trying not to grin. ‘Go open the door.’

  Twilight stepped back into the gathering shadow, and a second or two later as Cygnus landed on the sidewalk, the black-clad heroine was opening the front door of the shop. Twilight held a finger to her lips. ‘I can hear sounds coming from the back,’ she whispered. ‘There are about twenty of them in there, but I doubt many of them are armed.’

  Cygnus nodded. ‘Just be careful of the product. Get a lungful of that stuff and you’ll be flying.’

  Twilight produced a filter mask. ‘Got it covered,’ she said, and slipped the device in place.

  ‘All right, let’s do this.’ Cygnus marched straight for the door into the back of the building, slammed both hands into it, and launched it off its hinges and into the space beyond. ‘Federal Garbage Collection Service,’ she called out. ‘We got a call to come down here and take care of some particularly disgusting trash. And I see it’s right here.’

  The room was meant for storage, but it had been converted into a small factory for packaging cocaine, taking it from large plastic bags, cutting it with something which was also white and powdery, and putting the mixture into far smaller plastic bags. A pair of benches had been set up for the purpose and the workers were lined up along them, all wearing paper masks. At least health and safety had been considered.

  One of the workers was currently lying under the fallen door. The rest of them seemed to think this would be a good time to run in the opposite direction, but the fire escape door they were probably heading for suddenly vanished behind a wall of dark shadow which began to grow out into the room as they watched.

  ‘I really suggest you just put down any weapons you have,’ Cygnus began, and then someone threw a bag of cocaine at her. It hit her right in the face and exploded into a shower of white which cascaded down around her, settling on her hair, her shoulder, her breasts, and the floor. She opened her eyes. ‘That was just plain rude. It’s going to take me ages to get this out of my cleavage. Twilight, they’re all yours.’ Then she turned her back on them and began brushing powder off her shoulders.

  ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ Twilight said from within her shadows and soon the room was filled with screams.

  13th August.

  Penny looked up as the alarm system chimed and the wall screen displayed an image from one of the security cameras. She sighed: there was a car coming up the drive.

  Thirty seconds later, as Heather Bryant reached for the buzzer, the door opened and Cygnus was standing there in a short robe. ‘Heather,’ Cygnus said. ‘Or is this official and I have to call you Special Agent Bryant?’

  ‘Uh…’ Heather was looking just a little discomforted. ‘It’s official, but I’d still rather you called me Heather.’

  ‘You’d better come in then, Heather.’ Cygnus turned and strutted off toward the lounge, leaving Heather to close the door and follow her.

  ‘Is Twilight around?’

  ‘At ten a.m. on a Wednesday? She has a day job.’

  ‘Oh… I was hoping to catch you together… It’s about last night and–’

  ‘That’s why Jacob isn’t with you. Coffee?’

  Heather looked across at the tall heroine. Cygnus was holding a coffee pot up and smiling. ‘No. Thanks. Um…’

  ‘The Secret Service are upset because we went in and trashed a drug distribution facility in DC. The UID have been tasked with passing their displeasure on, because the Secret Service wouldn’t dirty their hands with such a chore. I’m sorry for putting you in that position, but not about the drug lab. Apparently, the Secret Service won’t dirty their hands with real criminals, and they won’t let anyone else into their federal sanctum, which is almost certainly why this bunch were set up in DC in the first place.’

  ‘They… Uh, they’re suggesting that we suspend your registrations pending review.’

  ‘Go ahead. I could do with a break.’

  ‘You won’t be able to fight crime. Skadi can’t–’

  ‘She’d have to, an
d with that bunch out of the picture, there’ll be far less for her to deal with. Or she won’t, and when the reporters come around and ask why I’m not out there, helping Skadi to safeguard this city and its citizens, I’ll tell them.’

  ‘Oh. Is that what Twilight thinks too?’

  Cygnus grinned. ‘Oh, Hell no. Twilight will do far worse.’

  San Francisco, CA.

  ‘How’s the birthday party preparations coming along?’ Elaine asked. She was having lunch with Bianca in one of the restaurants near their office. Small talk was a necessary part of any such meal, even if both of them professed to dislike it.

  ‘Well, the big party is being handled by the corporate entertainment department, and the after-party involves me dragging a few bottles of wine out of the cellar at home. So the first is not my problem, and the second is not worth worrying about until the day before.’

  ‘This is where I say something like “it must be nice living in a big house with a wine cellar,” right?’

  Bianca grinned. ‘Probably.’

  ‘Well, assume I did. Hey, June Summerfield is in the papers.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah, they got some pictures of her and a couple of other models on Venice Beach. She’s down there doing a photoshoot and, what with the calendar, she’s got enough pull for it to be worth printing.’

  ‘Hmm…’ Bianca pursed her lips and sat there, tapping one finger to them.

  ‘Oh, I know that look. You’re plotting.’

  ‘Me? Plotting? I don’t plot.’

  ‘And I don’t have a fat ass.’

  Bianca rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t. However, I think I’ll invite June to the party.’

  ‘Not that I’m complaining, because she’s hot and I’m not, but why? I mean, she spent a while here and you seemed to get on, and she’s a nice girl…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Well, you hardly know her, really.’

  ‘Hmm, maybe. But the invitation will be plus one, and I’m pretty sure I know who her one will be.’

  ‘She was dating Red Huntress.’

  ‘Nuh-huh. I mean, she was. They broke up.’

  Elaine sat up at that. ‘They did?’

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up. I got the distinct impression that she had another friend she was quite fond of. At the very least, I don’t think she’s dating anyone else so she’ll probably invite–’

  ‘Cygnus. Who will make just about every other woman in the room look like dog shit. Especially Lament.’

  Bianca presented an innocent smile. ‘You think so? My, I’d have never thought of that.’

  ~~~

  Damian opened his eyes, groaned, and then rolled out of bed. He had spent the last couple of days pulling double shifts because the brass were pissed off at him for his activities on Sunday night, but he had a day off coming, an extra one, because the regulations required it and there was fuck all they could do about it. Oh, they had tried. They had tried really hard to guilt him into not taking it. And he had almost caved, not because they wanted him to but because he was just that stupid.

  What had killed whatever guilt he might have felt was the request for an interview at the TAATF office at nine a.m. after he had just spent eighteen hours at his desk. They were playing games, and Damian knew how to play them right back, so he had politely declined, citing health and safety regulations, and told them they would have to reschedule for after his required rest day. His captain had shouted at him some, but Damian could tell that his heart was not in it. The human trafficking bust was about the only noteworthy thing on the department’s record in the past two years. The chief of police had received an email from Ultramech commending Damian for excellent policing, though Damian only knew about it because the robot had copied both him and his captain in on it.

  And, in reality, it would have all gone a far different way if Mink had not been there. She, he realised, had been listening to his conversation with Sally. She had decided that the situation deserved her attention. She had called in Ultramech as backup. She had eliminated most of the gunmen. And neither of them were getting the credit they deserved for the bust.

  Damian had had little time to do more than work and sleep since Sunday. Now he showered, got himself coffee and a bowl of cereal, and sat down with his personal laptop. He ran a search for Mink.

  What he got was a lot of anecdotes. Mink was just about the epitome of enigmatic. People had seen her get shot. Some claimed she dodged machinegun fire. Others said she was hit, but the bullets failed to penetrate her skin. Yet more said that the ornate bracers she wore were magic. There were stories of her felling bad guys with but a gesture, but Damian, and almost everyone else, was of the opinion that this was down to the rope dart she used as her signature weapon. But then the stories about that were numerous and wide-ranging. It too was magic, some said. The stories of it chasing targets around corners were probably exaggerated, but it seemed able to reach out a considerable distance and pull her up or across gaps. One touch of it could put a man to sleep.

  So, Mink was a witch, or a sorceress, or a mutant. She was an exceptional martial artist. She was supernaturally fast, strong, and beautiful. And no one seemed to know much about her that was not conjecture or just plain crazy talk.

  Damian knew she was not a mutant, but the rest of it… All he knew for sure was that she was fascinating, and he wondered whether he would ever see her again.

  Los Angeles, CA, 14th August.

  June looked around at the door of her room and frowned. Someone had just knocked on it, which probably meant someone from the shoot wanted her for something, but this was supposed to be her alone time. She felt like she had earned it: the public exposure on this shoot had been a little excessive, in June’s opinion anyway.

  Feeling grumpy, June swung her legs off the bed and padded over to the door, peering through the spyhole with every intention of telling whoever it was to get lost. It took her a second or two to recognise the distorted face she saw on the other side, and then her eyes widened and she opened the door, grinning. ‘Bianca! I wasn’t expecting… Wow, hi.’

  Bianca smiled back. ‘Hey, June. Can I come in?’

  ‘Of course.’ June stepped back to let Bianca in and let the door close behind her. ‘I didn’t know you were in L.A.’

  ‘I’m not. Wasn’t. I flew down after work. It’s not that long by chopper.’ Her gaze swept around the fairly standard, nondescript hotel room. ‘You know, I’d expect better accommodation for a famous model.’

  ‘Oh it’s… not that bad. Clean. The TV has a lot of channels. To what do I owe the pleasure? I mean, getting yourself flown down from San Francisco seems–’

  ‘No, I flew myself. I’ve got a licence for helicopters.’ Bianca settled onto the room’s desk chair, so June perched on the corner of the bed. ‘I wanted to know if you fancied coming to a party. Not now. It’s next week, the twentieth, in San Francisco.’

  ‘Uh… What’s the occasion?’

  ‘I’ll be turning twenty-eight.’ Bianca rolled her eyes. ‘There’ll be a big, company-run thing, with press and a load of people I don’t know. You get to stay for the more private party after.’

  ‘Oh…’ Well, that was after Penny’s birthday so that would not be a problem. ‘Do I get to bring anyone?’

  ‘I was kind of hoping you would. I, uh, heard you broke up with Red Huntress. Sorry.’

  ‘Yeah… But I think I could find someone else to join me. Um… why? I mean, we spent a few days together, but…’

  ‘You’re more fun than most of the people who’ll be there. I like you. Elaine likes you. Plus, I sort of thought you might bring Cygnus, and she’ll put Lament in the shade. I wouldn’t say needling Lament is a life goal, but it does give me a happy.’

  June giggled. ‘Honest. Okay, I’ll ask her. She might be busy. I’d be happy to come.’

  ‘Great. I’ll get an official invitation sent to your home. Let me know if you’ll be available and I’ll get a jet sent out to co
llect you.’

  ‘You don’t need to–’

  ‘My birthday, my rules. Uh, the party’s in our hotel in Hunter’s Point so I’ll arrange for you to stay there. Do I need to make sure there are two beds?’

  June shook her head. ‘Oh no. One will be fine. So, what’s new with you?’

  San Francisco, CA, 15th August.

  ‘Coming through on your right, Detective.’

  Damian smiled to himself and shifted left to let Bianca run past. The timing was slightly different from the week before, and Bianca’s outfit was black with green detail instead of black with purple detail. He had to run a couple of hundred yards more before he caught up with her at the end, but she still handed him her bottle and grinned as he sucked some of the fruity liquid down.

  ‘Thanks,’ Damian said, handing the bottle back. ‘That stuff really hits the spot.’

  ‘I’ll get you the recipe. I make it myself. Old recipe, but it’s easy enough to whizz up.’

  ‘You do this every Friday?’

  ‘Only when I get the time. Next week’s dodgy and then I’ll probably be too busy for a few weeks. Big project in the Everglades.’

  ‘Huh. I think I saw something about that on the news. You’re handling it personally?’

  ‘Well, it’s new technology, something big, and we’re cooperating with Ever on it so there’s a diplomatic and PR angle. Plus, it’s interesting and I can work on my tan.’

  ‘Nice for some.’

  Bianca grinned. ‘Being horribly wealthy is both a burden and a blessing. Detective… do you like parties?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It’s my birthday next week. Wednesday. I’d like to invite you to my party.’

  ‘Uh, I work nights…’

  ‘Oh, of course.’

  Except… ‘Though Wednesday’s supposed to be an off day next week. Things have been a little… tense recently, but if nothing comes up, I guess… Uh, I guess I could…’