Angelos Odyssey

by J. B. M. Patrick

  Both of the detectives were immediately humbled.

  “—But what the FUCK?!” The Lieutenant's face flashed scarlet, and he slammed his fist on the desk before he stood and turned to gaze out a window overlooking the Citadel…

  --

  Tavon wore only a robe as he rested across a couch in Aaliyah's apartment. After witnessing Vendela Andrewa’s murder, he'd been allowed to depart against the wishes of Aden Kaust. Kaust had tried to pull him aside by acting overly friendly and using body language most would consider aggressive, but Tavon had remained deliberately oblivious to all of his advances. Instead, the assassin was slightly blissful as he started to think about the shower he was soon to take with his new lover once she’d returned.

  He discovered an old Isley Brothers record he placed on an antique record player and moved the needle onto the track: “Footsteps In The Dark.” On her small, quaint television the Demons were playing against Zone E's Saints in a mostly one-sided game with the Demons taking part in one of history's greatest wins. Ironically, the Demons were Tavon's most hated basketball teams, but that was also the sole reason why he refused to miss any of their competitions. Due to information gained during one of his first Angelos contracts, he knew that most of the more talented players for the Demons were using; they were on supplements shipped from across the other end of the Earth and thus far untestable as they were unheard of in the majority of sports circles. But still, Tavon held out hope for watching them lose this season and so vigorously found himself viewing every single one of their games while rooting for the opposition.

  As MVP Jaunse Busandro scored a goal from more than halfway across the court, Tavon exclaimed “Fuck!” and changed the channel as he accepted the Saints' inevitable defeat. He sighed and shrugged as the local news program reported another ongoing riot occurring in Zone D.

  The one Zone with absolutely no chill.

  News Anchor Logan Wallish sat with several reporters from the Zone D News Network and asked no one in particular: “Why haven't we started establishing regular patrols in D's Projects—I mean, without the police department stepping up their game we’ll only have a bunch of criminals preying on people who actually want to do the right thing and make something out of their lives, don’t you guys agree?!”

  “That's the problem, Logan: start assigning a bunch of cops to one area and suddenly people are screaming 'Police State,' 'profiling!'” One of the reporters rolled her eyes and scoffed. “And it's not just Zone D's problem—it's the entire Citadel suffering from an epidemic of people who just don't care whether or not you work for a living or provide for a family. I think the issue here is that we need a police force capable of disregarding public opinion and simply doing what needs to be done!”

  “And what needs to be done?” Retorted yet another. “This is a classic speciest issue, if you ask me. When the Haysh first showed up—”

  “It's 'Hayashi.' They're identified properly as 'Hayashi.'” Logan interrupted.

  “Well, when the 'Hayashi' first showed up people thought they were humans just like us, but as soon as we found out they weren't exactly like us we suddenly needed doctors and medical professionals to ensure they were 'safe'—they spent years putting the Hayashi under a national quarantine. In today's world, we still treat them like some kind of… disease…” He cringed. “—a-and I'm sorry, but that shows in the workforce itself!”

  “What are you getting at?” Wallish seemed genuinely curious.

  Tavon noticed a rather thick binder underneath the table in front of him and reached for it as he continued listening…

  “Look, all I'm saying is that as a Hayashi you face a great deal of discrimination within the hiring process. Just checking the 'H' box on a job application sets you up for a whole world of scrutiny, and, quite frankly, I think that they're tired of being viewed as something less than human.”

  “But who are you to speak for a species you're not even a part of?” The anchor said while bearing a facetious grin.

  Tavon opened to the first page of the binder to read: “I Love My Babies” in large print across the middle of the worn parchment. Above the wording, it contained the picture of a larger woman with her hair tied into a bun and a wide, genuine smile revealing a few missing teeth and sitting below wise, brown eyes encircled by blue eyeliner. She appeared to be adorned in lavish jewelry and a scarf made from the auburn fur of an unknown animal.

  “Let's just look at the facts then: seventy-five percent of the people sent from Zone D into the Citadel Prison System are either Hayashi or of Hayashi descent—”

  “So what? Maybe the population in D is mostly Hayashi then,” Wallish replied curtly.

  “You're not understanding the bigger picture! Over the last few decades, the percentage of Hayashi's being thrown in a cell has increased dramatically, and now we’ve come to expect constant riots throughout the Citadel itself from Hayashi's who feel as though they've been slighted by the Dawn Federation…”

  “And who speaks for them? Who's to say they feel slighted? –You?”

  Tavon turned a page to view a series of baby pictures under the heading: “Aaliyah (My Sun).” On the opposite page, there was a heading that read: “Tallah (My Moon).” The page after revealed a blank space next to a “My Earth” with several dried splotches in the paper where he assumed additional pictures used to be.

  “I don't have to speak for a whole race when you have tons of Hayashi celebrities making their discrimination into a public issue that needs to be addressed! It's all over the internet and most of today's news consists of unrest across the Mid-City—Zone D isn't an exception in this case.”

  Logan held up a finger to silence him. “To be fair, the riots at Yunce Street and on Fairlindle Avenue are said to be in response to events that happened a few days ago…” He returned his gaze to the camera. “Four High School students of Hayashi descent were held up by authorities during the afternoon and questioned in regard to the robbery of a local convenience store. And only a few blocks away from the incident, a man known as Isaac Reaver was murdered along with his son outside of a church. It appears that an ordinary police stop escalated into a tragic moment for Zone D as one of the school janitors—also Hayashi—began a heated argument with an officer over the treatment of the kids…”

  Tavon peered up for a moment before continuing to read through the diligently-crafted scrapbook. He viewed pictures of Aaliyah and her sister growing up with a mother who always seemed to be decorated in the most fashionable clothing despite the appearance of their old, decrepit apartment. He also noticed that she owned several of her own cruisers as well as high-end furniture usually in the possession of those inhabiting the Upper-City. There were various themed headings that ranged from birthdays to holidays to family outings, but there also appeared to be several missing pictures centered around a male figure whom Tavon assumed to be the father. The vacancies became less apparent after Aaliyah's third birthday, suggesting that he’d eventually exited their lives completely.

  “The confrontation, according to our sources, became physical after the officers believed they were being threatened and attempted to restrain the older man. One of the kids felt obligated to intervene and distracted the questioning officer long enough for the janitor to free himself; however, this only led to the same law enforcement representative retrieving a firearm and fatally shooting the man. The four kids were then taken into custody, expelled from the school, and are being currently taken care of as they await further questioning—oh! Correction: two of the kids have been released after they were ruled out as possible suspects in the robbery.”

  “And, more than likely, this whole mess happened because Zone D's police were instructed by Executive Tomas Gostra to target a very vulnerable minority to jack up his ratings!”

  “That's unfair—” Wallish exclaimed but was quickly cut off as the reporter continued.

  “You can't tell me that after everything this man has done that Gostra isn't capable of species
ism, too? I mean, he managed to almost get away with framing another Executive for a trafficking scheme he himself had operated! If anything, the real criminals all along have been the men in power—and hopefully the vacuum created by Gostra's resignation will be filled with someone who can relate to the struggles faced by this Zone.”

  “So, you want a Hayashi janitor as an Executive?” The News Anchor chuckled.

  “I don't think species makes a difference here, Logan. In light of everything he's been through, Executive Petrus actually handled his peoples’ crisis well and is, in my opinion, a good example of the type of leader we need in Zone D. Too often we're faced with politicians elected via money transactions and aggressive lobbying instead of merit, and so they often fail to understand what it's like to go without and suffer the demands of a modern society—and then add on to that the fact that species persecution is another obstacle that's always present in our society.”

  Logan rolled his eyes. “Tomas Gostra was a scumbag. That we know, but it certainly doesn't make Petrus a saint…”

  The scrapbook's last page ended with Aaliyah's fifteenth birthday, and it only showcased a picture of her mother at a park with her and Tallah with brief writing underneath which read: “No matter what happens, I will always love my Sun and my Moon. My beautiful babies.” The binder only contained a few empty pages left following dozens of self-portraits taken by their mother.

  Logan abruptly stopped speaking and held a hand up to his earpiece. As the other reporters ignored his reaction and continued debating the trustworthiness of Executive Petrus, the News Anchor's face quickly turned pale and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion…

  “Logan, what's wrong? It's not like you to be quiet.” One of the reporters jeered.

  The News Anchor of Zone D lowered his hand and stared at the camera for a long time…

  Noticing his solemn attitude, the other reporters stopped debating out of curiosity.

  “We… We've just received something.” Logan swallowed and looked down for a moment. “There's been an attack. On the Citadel.”

  “What!?”

  “A bombing.”

  And in that very moment, Tavon noticed that a cord had been placed around his neck…

  At the exact interval his attacker pulled back to apply tension, Tavon—alert and ready—jumped and used his momentum to smash the back of his head in between his enemy's eyes. He spun around just as his feet hit the ground and delivered an uppercut into the assailant's ribs, shattering multiple bones upon impact. Tavon followed up with a jab that was clumsily blocked by the stranger who was garbed in black pants and a dark hoodie. Instead of hitting the man again, he grabbed the defending arm and gained control of it by applying pressure to his opponent's armpit with his other hand and hurled his attacker through the television!

  The assailant rummaged through the space under his belt as he laid in a field of broken glass and eventually retrieved a small handgun that he attempted to load and aim at his target. Tavon responded by kicking the weapon out of his enemy's hand and grabbing one of the panes of glass from the broken TV. He used the palm of his left hand to force his opponent's face up and back to expose his neck and prepared to thrust the shard through his neck! —Except…

  I can't just kill a guy in her apartment. She'd whip my ass, and I'd still never hear the end of it… dammit.

  Tavon dropped the large chunk and simply launched a solid punch into the assailant's face effective enough to knock him unconscious…

  --

  “Sir, I just want to say that I'm sorry for your loss…”

  Lieutenant Shraeu waved away his comment. “She was my aunt and, technically, used to be my godmother, but if I would have known she was behind this…”

  The two detectives remained silent.

  “I mean, I'm the fucking head of a Dawn Bureau Division—a goddamn Lieutenant! And this whole time I didn't think anything about what Vendela was doing. To me, she was a trusted family member; I never expected her to be behind one of the biggest criminal operations in the fucking city!”

  “I'm sure she had her reasons…” Aaliyah replied.

  Both Kaust and Shraeu stared at her in disbelief.

  “What reasons could you possibly have to run a foster care and sell kids at the same time? There are no good reasons for that shit, agent, and now my whole family is about to deal with the fallout as we start connecting the dots and making arrests.”

  “So, what's our next objective then, Sir?” Kaust glanced over at Aaliyah with slight contempt.

  “I'm putting the two of you in for as much paid overtime as you need. I’ll do my best to make sure that any resources you require are made immediately available.” He held up the bottle in his hand. “Hell, if this helps you with the next task then be my guest… –but you have to buy your own and keep it professional, of course.”

  “What do you need from us?”

  “Well, your new task is to systematically break down both Genod & Portis Staffing as well as Andrewa Centers For Growth. I want to know the hows and the whys of their schemes, their biggest investors, and every person of interest we've identified thus far. The two of you will start working on a link analysis that will provide a picture of every major player behind the recent incidents in the Citadel. This way we can not only get the remaining operatives behind bars—where they need to be—but we can also find partners which might be a part of the same operation. Normally, I'd have someone with Aaliyah's rank out conducting field surveillance and interviews on suspects; however, she's proven herself to be… invaluable to this Division—but don't let that go to your head, agent.”

  “Got it, Sir.” Aaliyah smiled at Kaust and thought: I've been doing your own job better than you.

  Lieutenant Shraeu continued. “The two of you will head all intelligence operations regarding these two corrupted organizations and delegate tasks to anyone you might need under my authority. As of now, we have to appear to be the most competent and able Division in the Dawn Bureau, because this new case will either make or break our careers. The people want arrests now and necessary information made public, so let's give the Dawn Federation what they want—fair enough?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The two detectives replied in unison.

  “—But while we're on the topic, Sir, I believe we might already have a good lead to give us more information on Andrewa Centers for Growth.” Kaust started.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Detective Aaliyah's been making use of an outside source to track down and defend against a series of different criminals lately, and he seems to know just as much as us—if not more—”

  “No.” Aaliyah said.

  Shraeu looked at her quizzically. “Excuse me?”

  “I told Sergeant Kaust NOT to bring him into this, so NO.”

  “What exactly are you hiding?!” Kaust turned to her and folded his arms.

  “I’m not hiding anything.” Her expression turned blank.

  “Bullshit! You've been fighting me so hard on this that it only makes me more suspicious of Tavon! What does he know that we aren't allowed to know, Aaliyah?!”

  “Like I said: nothing.”

  “Hold on a moment.” Shraeu sat back in his chair. “So, who's Tavon?”

  Aaliyah's cellphone began to vibrate in her pocket. “Nobody, Sir.”

  “The agent has a friend who appears to know a lot about the people we've been tracking for some time. During our investigation into the murder of the Vice Executive from Zone E, Aaliyah spoke of a 'vigilante' who assisted her in hunting known gang operatives after the shootout that led to Sergeant Odwal's death. Also, when she was assigned with conducting surveillance on Vendela Andrewa, she was able to uncover incriminating evidence on Vendela once again with the help of an outside party—who I’ve recently met. This man's name is Tavon, and he was present at the discovery of Vendela's… Her…” Kaust didn’t feel comfortable stating the obvious in front of her family member.

  “Bring him in then! Why
are you just now telling me this?” Shraeu's eyes widened. “He was a witness, wasn't he? So why isn't he already here?!”

  Aaliyah grew angry and flustered. Her phone had started vibrating again. “Because I sent him home to recover from tonight's events—”

  “Well, set up an interview. If he's uncooperative, we'll name him as a 'suspect' and force him to come in.”

  “But Sir!”

  In an instant, two very different women—one from their Division and someone they’d never seen before—burst through the door to Lieutenant Shraeu's office and both shouted, “Sir!” at the same time.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are interrupting a classified dis—”

  One of the operatives, a stranger to them, shrieked, “There's been a possible terrorist attack! The Dawn Bureau is requesting all Division Heads meet at the conference room right away! You need to be present for this, Sir!”

  “W-w… what?!” Shraeu was baffled.

  The other woman spoke immediately after: “Sir, we have an emergency in the Division!”

  “Wait—something as serious as a terrorist attack?!”

  Aaliyah, feeling her own agitation peak and noticing an opportunity, decided to finally answer her phone under the suspicious gaze of Sergeant Kaust.

  “What's the emergency?” Kaust demanded.

  “We have a report of two fallen agents—both of them attacked and murdered in their own homes!”

  “We've been hit directly?” Shraeu looked incredulous. “And there's a conference meeting, right!?”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  The Lieutenant scrambled to conceal the bottle of cognac on his desk and desperately looked around the room until he discovered a newly bought container of cologne that had remained unopened for the past year. He quickly started to douse himself while straightening his suit.

  “Who were the agents? –How did…?!” Sergeant Kaust felt his pulse quicken. He turned to Kaust’s partner, “Aaliyah, who the hell could you be talking to in a time like this?!”