Chapter Five - Rac

“Hello. I’m Jeff Personen, and I’m the director of the CPS. Child Protective Services. I was made director because of my ability to turn any organization once run by the government into one that can bring in a steady profit.

With the CPS, I did this by hiring ex-military, psychologists, and lawyers, and using them to extend the reach of both what the CPS does, and how it acts. Now, for a small fee, a parent can protect their child from just about anything: psychological issues, legal issues, and even the other parent!”

--Jeff Personen, Director of the CPS, in a 2029 interview.

***

“Uh, heya!”

Gomorrah stopped mid-stomp and whipped around to stare at me, her expressionless mask not conveying any emotion, but her stance did a lot of the work. “Cat? You took your time in getting here.”

“‘Here’ isn’t exactly the most accessible place,” I said. “The auto-taxis won’t even come here, you know? Plus I was buying new gear.”

“Nice armour,” she said. “I’m thinking of getting an upgrade too... but that’s besides the point. I’m glad you decided to show up.”

“Wow, you’re extra passive aggressive this, uh, morning.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t slept. I’m running off of adrenaline and two energy drinks. I’ve still got the shakes from them.”

“Alright,” I said. “So you’re looking for Franny. I’m assuming no luck so far?”

Gomorrah sighed, then looked around us for a bit. The ex-factory floor was still as empty as it had been when I arrived, but that did leave some prying eyes. “Come with me; we shouldn’t talk out in the open.”

I followed the nun as she moved to an exit, then slipped outside. The air was as foggy and cancerous as it had been moments ago. “What’s the situation so far?”

“Right,” Gomorrah said as she grabbed onto a nearby set of rails. “I arrived at the convent because Sister Darlene called and said that some friends of Franny were worried about her. I figured I’d find her with some bruised knuckles and maybe a black eye again.”

“Again?”

“She takes the ‘saving the lambs’ things a little more literally than most,” Gomorrah said. “She’s a good person, just a bit zealous.”

“I figured zealous was a pro in your line of work,” I said.

“Usually,” Gomorrah agreed. “Franny is a bit more violent than I think the average nun should be.”

I paused, then pointed at her. “Don’t you frequently set things on fire? Living things?”

“That’s besides the point. I asked around, and she was here for a little bit. Usually she stays above-ground when she’s going after some pimp or whatever. It’s not like her to go down this deep. This isn’t the safest place around.”

“Who was she going after? You mentioned something about Sewer Dragons?”

“That’s what one of Franny’s friends said, but no one else will tell me anything about them. There’s barely anything on the net except a few mentions and those don’t tell me much.”

“Right, so you lost her,” I said. Gomorrah turned to protest, but I cut in first. “No idea where she is, no idea where she’s heading. And neither of us know much about this area. I’m poor... was poor, but not this poor.” I gestured to the wide open space around us. “So... let’s get help.”

“Help? Wait, where are you going?”

I descended the nearest stairs and walked back into the bazaar, Gomorrah hot on my heels. The bazaar hadn’t gotten better. Maybe some of that had to do with the time; it was well into the morning already. Most sane people should be asleep by then, though I figured without any sunlight down here, there might not be anything like a natural circadian rhythm.

The girl hawking junk was still in place, sitting on the counter of her little stall while she rubbed at some old phone with a rag.

I gestured for Gomorrah to stay where she was as I moved up to the stall and coughed. It didn’t make any noise. Frowning, I reached out and tapped the counter twice.

The girl didn’t even turn around.

Was that not loud enough? I made sure my mask was set so that my voice was projected from it. “Hey.”

The girl bounced up and spun around, staring at me with widening eyes. “H-hey! Welcome to Rac’s trash and shit, uh, how can I help you?”

“Rac’s?” I asked.

“My name’s Raccoon,” she said.

It kind of fit. She had these big goggles on, with thick pads around them that gave the impression of rings around her eyes, and she certainly had the “rooting around in trash” part down.

“Cute name,” I said. “Don’t mean to bother you, Rac, but my nun-friend here and I are looking for some information. You got any? Or if not, do you know any good local gossip?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raccoon said. She squinted, looking at me up and down. “Whoa, that’s some nice armour. You must be from above. Like, way above.”

“Not that far up,” I said. “So, we’re looking for someone called Franny. Uh. Gomorrah, you have a picture or something?”

“Sure,” Gomorrah said. In a blink I got a message from her, a picture of an unmasked Gomorrah, looking as genetically privileged as usual, with a girl next to her. Franny was a tall redhead with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Bright green eyes, the sort of smile that I’d seen on the faces of plenty of Kittens just before they did something unfortunate to someone.

“Okay, what the hell?” I asked. “Does your abbey or coven or whatever only take in cute girls?”

“Uh, no?” Gomorrah said. “I... guess there might be some overlap though. We’re all well fed, and we exercise a lot. Beauty tends to follow that often enough, I guess.”

“Yeah, Lucy’s not allowed to visit, okay?”

“Deal,” Gomorrah said.

I turned back to Raccoon, then flicked through a few options with my augs. I found hers a moment later, the cyberwarfare package I had making things a little bit too easy. The overlay basically let me see everything I could connect to with an outline, and focusing on anything just casually bypassed whatever there was as security. Raccoon’s augs were... actually, better than what I had had pre-samurai-ing.

“Here, this is who we’re looking for,” I said. “Not the blonde, the redhead. Her name’s Franny.”

“Whoa, hey, that’s fucky,” Raccoon said as she turned her head this way and that. “Didn’t know people could do that... did you fuck with my augs?”

“No viruses, I swear. Girl scout’s honour.”

“You were not a girl scout,” Gomorrah snapped.

“No, but I stole some cookies once,” I said. “I figured I might have stolen some of their honour too, while I was at it.”

“So, you’re looking for that redhead? Cause I haven’t seen her. But for a few credits, I could show you to someone who might have,” Raccoon offered.

I laughed. “I think I can spare a credit or two. What about the Sewer Dragons? Know anything about them?”

Raccoon’s expression shifted, instantly turning guarded. “I don’t know anything about them,” she said.

“That was a fast reply,” I said. Leaning forwards, I put my elbows on her counter and tilted my head to the side. “Come on. Our friend Franny’s in trouble with them; we mean to help her a bit.”

“Help her while wearing that?” Raccoon asked. “You look like... you look like a samurai.”

“Do I?” I asked. I guess the armour finally tipped things in my favour there. “Nice. You’ve got to know something.”

The girl looked left and right, checking for anyone watching us, but the few people I’d noticed were walking fast, and rarely our way. We probably looked like we were doing a shakedown. “A thousand— no, ten thousand credits.”

Enough credits to buy food for a week for a single person. Not exactly asking for much. “Okay,” I said. “Myalis, can you do the transfer?”

Done.

Raccoon blinked. Her eyes wandered around, obviously looking over things in her augs. “Oh, shit, uh, right. What... what do you want to know?” she asked.

“Everything you know? Mostly where they hang out.”

“Yeah, that’s easy. In the sewers. It’s in the name.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “But which ones?”

Catherine, the money we just deposited was moved. Not all of it, but nearly eighty percent was removed from the account it was placed in. It wasn’t done by Raccoon, so I found the transaction curious.

“Huh,” I said. “Hey, Rac, who just took your cash?”

Raccoon blinked, then frowned a little, her lips puckering up in a pout. “That’s... that’s the Underground Kings. It’s the local tax.”

“Local tax, huh,” I said. That wasn’t uncommon. The orphanage had been hit once or twice for protection money, but we barely made enough to keep everyone fed, and we didn’t have anything worth stealing. That, and stealing from literal orphans was a bad look. Most gangs at least tried to make themselves look a bit noble. “Think these Underground Kings might know a thing or two about the Sewer Dragons?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve been fighting a lot lately. Last couple of days, the Sewer Dragons have been a lot more active. Taking folk off the streets and all.”

“What for?” I asked.

The girl shrugged. “Parts.”

I looked back to Gomorrah. She seemed as unimpressed as I felt. “Tell you what, Rac, there has to be some place these Kings gather, right? How about you lead us there, and I’ll give you another lump of cash. I’m pretty sure I can make it so they can’t touch it.”

Raccoon considered it for a bit, then she nodded. “Yeah, alright. Let me close up shop.”

I gave Gomorrah a thumbs-up. One step closer to getting to the bottom of things.

***