Setting: Amber's office, the streets of the city, etc. Time: Late evening/night. Characters: Kaleb Hartwig, Lawrence Bloodgood, and - very briefly, Amber Sweet Rating: TBA (possible violence ahead.) Summary: Kaleb gets a reluctant trainee, and is forced to show him the ropes.
It was the standard summons. A buzz and a hail over the cellular watch. Message from Amber Sweet. The voice was a feminine one, almost pleasant. The face distinctly less so. Some of the lines were too sharp, most of the skin was too pale, and the eyes where overpowered by far too much makeup. “Kaleb Hartwig, please come to my office immediately.”
The way she pounced certain words had a predatory air to it. “My” and “immediately” were obviously words of import. The “please” wasn’t more than an afterthought. Barely audible at all. Then the message cut out, presumptuously. Amber Sweet didn’t wait for replies. She was probably sitting in her chair, instructing one of her scantily clad henchmen to time Hartwig with a stopwatch.
The watch was flicked off after the message. It was getting to the point Kaleb was forcing him self to hurry, not even caring if he was still in the standard uniform, clean or not. No, time was of the essence after all. No replies, no time to think, just hurry to Ms. Sweet's office as fast as those heavy boots would permit him. With promptness he was there, resisting the urge to narrow those implanted eyes at her, but that wouldn't have been the smartest idea, after all he liked seeing, and being blind would make things difficult.
She was sitting partially reclined in her chair, her own highly impractical (but also highly priced and highly sought after) boots were resting on her desk. This position gave everyone in the room a full view of her long, white, and fashionably scarred legs. There was one other man in the room besides Kaleb and the usual nearly identical henchmen who were standing guard over Ms. Sweet. A mousy looking man in glasses, with nondescript brown hair and an equally nondescript face. He was easily upstaged when Amber spoke. “There he is! What took you so long? We’ve been waiting.”
"Of course you have." the tone was neutral, and cold, but there was still some bite to it if one paid attention. Kaleb’s face twisted a bit, the expression not quite annoyed, but definitely harassed looking, as if he had been interrupted while doing something important. He was still in the uniform, but thankfully this time it was not gore-splattered. The implants dilated and focused as he cast a look at the mousy looking man, "What job do you have for me today Ms. Sweet?"
"Job? Oh, targets." Amber waved a hand dramatically as she lifted her feet off the desk. It was almost amazing that she didn't fall out of her chair, but somehow general physics was working for her that evening. There were several files that had been crumpled beneath the stiletto heels. Defaulted contracts, no doubt. Newly authorized victims of GeneCo’s lethal legalities. “There are a few, but they aren’t important. Ask me what is.”
It was word bait, he would have loved to snap and give a sarcastic answer but that wouldn't have been smart. After all. he liked his job. He liked his job. That was becoming a bit of a mantra in his head, and Kaleb's stance stiffened a bit, eyes going between Sweet and the newcomer. "May I ask then why you called me?" polite, quiet, contained, hide the fact that this woman has run this company into the ground and you despise her for it.
“That’s not the right question,” Amber replied, the subtle hint of a spoiled girl’s whine entering her voice. “You were supposed to ask ‘what’s important?’ But never mind, we could go at it all night and you still wouldn’t get it right. I’ll just give it to you. I’ve hired a trainee.”
The man in the corner winced a little, almost imperceptibly. He was in his thirties, but his demeanor seemed that of a schoolboy in trouble, waiting for a teacher’s scolding, or a parent’s proclamation of disappointment.
A what? A trainee... No,no,no,no not a trainee. They got in the way half of the damn time, got underfoot and botched repossession more often then not. Kaleb had about maybe a good ten to fifteen years on the other man, and it showed. There was no disappointment though, just flat-out annoyance with the possibility of having someone following him around on a job. "And?"
“And you’re training him!” Amber exclaimed, with a small clap. She was obviously delighted that he’d asked the obvious. It made her announcement much dramatic. She held her hand out towards the mousy man with a bit of a flourish, like she was presenting the grand prize on a game show. Come on down…! “This is Dr. Lawrence Bloodgood. He’s been a SurGEN here at GeneCo for…”
”Five years,” Lawrence supplied, helpfully, earning him the world’s least sincere smile from Ms. Sweet.
“A while now,” Amber corrected, as though specifics mattered not. “And I think his hands could be put to better use. Much, much better use.”
That phrase died a little on the inside just fit the moment. This was moronic, stupid and it didn't matter if Bloodgood had been a SurGEN from the time he was born, it just meant he was most likely going to be one of two things: cocky and go out into the field thinking he knew the first thing about being a repo, or (and he was beginning to look like this type) the ones unable to actually kill within the first few goes and ended up damaging what they were supposed to retrieve unharmed. Poor bastard seemed to be Sweet's pet though, so at least he could escape her for a bit. "So you're sending out with me tonight." Kaleb said, giving the man a onceover.
Lawrence looked vaguely apologetic as he met the older man's eyes, but nothing more than that.
"That's right," Amber purred, straightening her shoulders in an attempt to look regal. "Show him the ropes and the routine. Here's your assignments; a heart, two lungs and a spleen. He's in good hands with you, I'm sure."
Oh please, despite the family name there is nothing regal about you. Just another common surgery slut. The papers were taken, and Kaleb tucked them away for now, before motioning the other over, "Do you have your uniform yet?" he asked, heading for the office doors, "if so suit, up if not we'll have to get you one."
"Have fun!" Amber added cheerfully as they left. She waited for the door to shut before spinning in her office chair and resuming her more relaxed position.
Lawrence followed the older man dutifully. "Um, uniform? Sorry. I was only just told about this today. I didn't... exactly request any kind of... promotion."
"Come with me, you need your 'tools' as well." Kaleb's eyes flickered to him, and he gestured to the black smock he was wearing, "This is what we wear, with the addition of a mask. Only other repo men and those who we work for know who we are, maybe a few others." his steps were quick and even as he lead to a locker type room, "grab a bag after you suit up."
While he had long legs, Lawrence wasn't used to such a quick pace. He was finding it difficult to keep up, but he nodded. At least he was paying attention. "All right."
Actually suiting up took some time, as the repo man's uniform was a bit more complex than a SurGEN's smock. After all, a SurGEN didn't have to hide his identity completely, and rarely had to worry about combat. Patients were anesthetized, and didn't tend to fight back.
It was complex, straps and buttons everywhere it seemed, all to keep their faces hidden from the world. The only bits that would ever be seen were the eyes, which all looked the same in the blue glow of their masks, which Kaleb was currently pulling over his head. The lights inside it flicked on and his eyes dilated with the sudden change. "I doubt after being a SurGEN for so long you're squeamish, it’s just the killing you have to get used to."
"Killing?" Lawrence asked, glancing over with a startled expression. Oh. Right, right. Repossessions were dangerous. He tried to feign indifference as he looked at the mask. Ominous thing. It seemed to be staring back at him. "Well, I've... ah... I've lost patients, before."
"This is like losing a patient." He moved to check to see that the boot knife was still strapped in place, then to collect the bag that contained all their necessary steel instruments. "Considering you are now a legal murderer, very few if any live after a repossession." Kaleb was so casual about it, like he was talking about doing an ordinary household task. Like doing the dishes. "Eye-related targets can live if you do the job right, organs, though, and bones like spines… well, you were a medical student just like I was, no need to explain those outcomes."
“Well, no, I don’t suppose those patients do very well at all,” Lawrence replied. He had a gift for understatement, as well. He scratched the back of his head a bit nervously, and then pushed a hand through his hair to smooth it down, still contemplating the helmet. “Can this just… ah… go on over glasses, then?”
"You can try, but I doubt it." Nervous, fidgety, this was an accident waiting to happen. Or a target escaping. With most of his face covered he could frown without the other man seeing the obvious displeasure on his face. Time was important here with the way people moved throughout the city.
"Oh. Right, right." It was another few minutes before Lawrence managed to stow away his glasses and get the mask secured to the suit. There were several more before he'd figured out the mask's features enough to compensate for his vision problems. When he next spoke, his voice was filtered through the mask. It sounded rougher. Darker. The mask's filter could do wonders with tone, but it couldn't do anything to hide the underlying hesitance of the voice inside of it. "I think I'm ready, now."
"Are you?" Kaleb muttered, handing him one of the papers, the heart repossession first as those never failed to be the hardest targets to acquire and take out. "Grab your bag, you should be used to using scalpels and the like by now, then read me off the target information." Orders came quick and clean, the cold tone made downright unnerving now by the mask's filters.
Lawrence glanced around quickly for his bag. That part wasn’t too complex. The files he was handed looked very much like standard medical files, despite the big red stamp. He was used to filling these out partially, himself. “Gartrell, Robert M. Thirty-nine years old. Married. Ah, cardiac transplantation… severe coronary artery disease. His last payment was due on August fifteenth. August? I wonder… oh, he got an extension. That makes sense, then. He lives at 513 Laurel Avenue. It looks like he’s a homeowner. Do we just… go to his house, then?”
"Unfortunately yes, but they always run. Its like hunting really." Kaleb shrugged, "They run and we chase, and you better damn well know the city or you can lose a target in the alleys, or at least be in fairly good shape." It was rather chilling how the mask and smock could change a person after they had behind it for a while. Had he always been this cold towards people? Those were thoughts for later right now there was a job to do. "513 Laurel Avenue, prepare for a hike Bloodgood. We're moving out." with the same quick pace he exited the room and headed for the city streets.
"A hike..." Lawrence repeated, sounding doubtful. He nodded, though, as best he could, and squared his shoulders before following. Hunting had never been a hobby he'd had any interest in, before. He was a vegetarian, for God's sake. Of course, that was more because of meat hormone and additive scares than any sort of morality.
Laurel Avenue was a bit of a hike; located in an area of the city known for its hills and confusing web of dead-end streets and roundabouts. The houses were solidly upper-middle income homes. Family homes, wedged together as closely as they could fit, with very little in the way of yards between them. That meant fences. Lots of them.
The doubtful tone was noted, beforehand. Great, this was going to be a barrel of monkeys, chances are this novice was going to get hung up on one those fences, and he would leave the poor bastard there and continue on as if nothing had happened. The house was just like most of the others, dirty-looking on the outside. Most likely caused by the massive amount of pollution in this city. Once at the door, Kaleb hammered his fist against it. No announcement, just a loud banging.
People had a way of knowing when the repo man was due, so it wasn’t surprising that nobody answered. This man had already received a rare payment extension, so he must have been expecting something. It was possible that he’d fled already. Gone to friends or relatives. But if he’d had supportive friends and relatives, he should have been able to scratch up the money for his heart payment, so it was even more likely that he was cowering inside. Maybe hiding behind the wife and kids. Maybe hiding in the rafters, or sneaking out the backdoor. There was occasionally the absurd optimist who would open the door right away and try to plea-bargain, but that was rare these days.
Of course, Lawrence had never dealt with debtors before, so he just waited expectantly as Kaleb hammered on the door, and then – after a few moments – asked, “What if he isn’t home?”
"We break in." Eyes narrowed under the mask, and Kaleb's face twists into a look of complete disappointment. What did Bloodgood think they were going to do? Wait outside like those damn people who used to sell magazines door to door. The door was sturdy, but it would just be a matter of slamming into it enough times or a good solid kick. A sweep of the house would need to be done, then the hunt could really begin.
"You mean... kick the door down?" Lawrence wasn't sure he had the leg strength. He glanced around the front of the house, trying to imagine being here alone. Doing this without guidance or muscle for back up. It didn't seem terribly likely. He cleared his throat. "What should I do?"
"Yes, I'm going to kick in the door. You go around and check to see if there are exits at the back. Cut that bastard off." Kaleb barked, boot slamming into the wooden door. A few more solid kicks and it was down, and he pulled out a knife from his bag. It was a habit you had to get into, disable the target, the remove the item from target, bag it, return it. Everything had to flow or else, he had seen new repos bring in damaged goods, it was always frowned upon after all they were costing the company money both in pay check and in the inability to keep an organ whole for resale.
"All right..." Lawrence blinked when the kicks started. He almost winced, but caught himself. He abandoned Kaleb to the door's massacre, and started around to the back gate. The latch was fairly simple to work out. The yard was barren, which wasn't surprising. The tricycle collecting cobwebs by a deflated child's ball was a little more unsettling. Lawrence hoped that children weren't going to be involved.
The house was dark inside, but it hadn't been dark for long. There was the muffled, steady drone of a television that had been left on in one of the other rooms. The blue glow from the screen was wreaking havoc with the shadows, tricking the eyes into seeing movement where there was none.
Children and the wife weren't important. Inside looked like it had been abandoned. "Fuck." he cursed, dust stirred up as he moved through out the house checking everywhere for the slightest sign of life. The disappointed look deepened, and he snarled under his mask. "Where are you?" Kaleb hissed, muscles tensing up as he continued forward.
Something had been cooked in the kitchen recently. The smell still hung in the air. There was a coat-rack near the door, leaning askew - probably pushed back during Kaleb's entrance. Then, quite suddenly, the incessant prattle of the television set was briefly drowned out by a clatter towards the back of the house.
The tv drowned out most of the noise it the house, but one had to drain out the excess noise and listen. It was like a bad game of hide and seek, considering what a maze the city was. He wasn't going to give up, not until the job was completed, and the heart was back in the possession of GeneCo. His grip tightened on the hilt of the knife, with luck, Bloodgood taking the back of the house they would catch the target in a rather poor pincher attack.
"I'm at the back door!" Lawrence called out, after he'd righted himself. He'd been surprised that it had been so easy to force the door open. Luckily, some of the protective glass had shattered around the fasteners. "I didn't see anything else!"
"Keep looking, double check everything then we hit the streets." All right, so the target had escaped, for now. Time to move elsewhere, fan out and see if they could get some confirmation on the subject.
"Keep looking," Lawrence muttered to himself. "Right, right." At least the mask provided him with the ability to see in the dark. He moved down a hallway towards the back rooms. Bedrooms. At a glance, they were empty, but the repo men conversing with each other had triggered a chain reaction. There was some scrambling in the closet of the master bedroom. "I think there's someone back here!"
"Grab them." Another sharp order as Kaleb moved in position. More dust kicked up as he moved, pace picking up. With luck it would be the main target, if not it meant information on where the man had fled to. The only light in the darkness was that of his mask, giving him an eerie, unearthly appearance. The very image of death in this damned city.
Lawrence opened the closet door to stare into the terrified eyes of a nine-year-old. She was struggling to hang onto what looked like a family pet. It was hideous and hairless. Lawrence couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a dog or a cat. Never good at talking to children in the best of circumstances, he addressed his partner, instead. "It's... ah... not the target."
"Damn it...looks like we're doing this the old way then." The tone had gone to mildly annoyed to one that was completely icy and pissed. "Unless the other pays say something about the wife and kids we're done here for now." Shit shit shit, this was going to be another one of those nights that took all day, night or whatever time it was. It was hard to tell with how dark the city always seemed to be.
Surprisingly, Lawrence checked. He might have thought Kaleb was telling him to. As he shuffled through the paperwork, the little girl stared at them, unblinking. The cat - or dog - managed to squirm out of her arms and bolted for the bed. "Ah... no, they're... no relation."
"Then we're done here, get back outside." Its targets like these that brought all the frustration to a head, nothing to see here move along. "We're going to have to scope the whole fucking area now." Disappointment was obvious, as was the impatience, and although time was important, there was no way in hell he'd let Bloodgood out on his own to go after the other targets.
"There aren't other exits, though," Lawrence pointed out, following the other man with some haste. "Someone was here when you started knocking. Wouldn't we have, ah, seen them run off?"
In his frustration, he had missed that point, "You're right, you're absolutely right on that one." Heh, maybe he would survive after all. "Do another sweep, flush them out."
Lawrence nodded, and began a second sweep, this time looking for hiding spots. He doubted any parent would utterly abandon a child. Speaking of which... he doubled back to the bedroom closet, intending to ask the girl if she knew where her parents were. It seemed likely. When he got back to it, however, the closet was empty. Confused, Lawrence checked the window. It was barred against criminals. Not very unusual for a ground-floor window in most neighborhoods, but it also meant that the girl probably hadn't gone out that way. Huh. He raised his voice, yelling out to Kaleb, "Did you see where the kid went?!"
"No I didn't." A low snarl caught in his throat as he moved again, eyes on the look out for the child. If anything the girl had ran off to her parents and once they found her they could find them, but they would have seen her if she had come into their area or at least heard them. The floor creaked as he moved, using the sound to announce his approach to anyone that was still in the house. It was moments like these that every sense seemed to sharpen, making even the slightest noise or movement grab your attention. It sent you into high alert so almost nothing could escape notice, which was part of the problem.
Lawrence checked the room three times, but couldn't find anything. It was as though she'd vanished... Into the closet. He began to feel the back of the closet for a latch, and searched the floor. Maybe there was a crawlspace, or even a passageway. A lot of homes had emergency exits installed these days, and panic rooms.
Kaleb had a similar idea, feeling along the wall, checking for anything of suspect. "Have you found anything?" boots moved creaked at a part of the floor, and he looked down. "If not I may have..."
"There's a crawlspace. A door in the closet floor! I'm having trouble getting it open, though..." The thick rubber gloves weren't helping anything. "It might be a tunnel?"
"Most likely. Most homes have them..." Kaleb regrouped with the novice; appearing behind him. "Move out of the way." Knives with thick blades served more then one purpose in this job it seemed, as he took one from his bag and used it as a make shift pry to get the door open.
Lawrence stepped back, once again letting Kaleb do the hard work. There was a wrenching sound as a weak latch was broken from the other side. Someone had tried to lock it, but it was a simple mechanism, and didn't stand up against any kind of force. The passageway was low, narrow and dark. An adult would have to crouch to walk along it, but it was definitely a tunnel.
"Hope you're not claustrophobic." Kaleb said coolly, before gathering up his tools, and crouching down to enter the tunnel. Most of these spilled out into either the graveyards (Something he found overly funny), hidden rooms, or out into the streets. It were times like these that most repos realized what a thankless job they had, which why most treated at at just that something to be done with, or those few sadists that cropped up who actually enjoyed cutting people open. He lead the way following the path down to where ever it lead. The new guy followed in relative silence. Lawrence was trying not to list off all the reasons why he hated tunnels. Dirt. Spiders. Plague-ridden rats. Worse still the fact that he had to walk in a hunched, uncomfortable manner. The tunnel eventually opened into an underground parking complex. Severely lacking in the dramatic, but at least they could straighten up. There were several identical openings. The cars probably belonged to other people in the same neighborhood. The family obviously didn't have the funds for their own panic room, or private getaway. That was good. The bad part was that they were probably too far away to catch before they got to their vehicle.
This job was turning in to one of those that would be rewarded with a stiff drink once it was over with. It was like running a damn maze now, they way the tunnels crossed each other. At this point plague rats and the ilk were going to be the least of their problems. Fuck the odds though, this needed to be done, and Kaleb scanned the area, try to decide which direction to go in before turning to Bloodgood, "I'll let you take the lead as you seem to be the lucky one tonight."
"Me?" Lawrence wanted to protest. He wasn't trained for this! He did surgeries on the willing (sometimes all too willing) and anesthetized. He didn't even like to run for exercise, let along give chase. "I'm not... I don't... Should we try to catch up with them?"
get ready to be trained the best way to learn something was by doing after all. "Yes, we should. Now use the meat inside of that skull of yours and go!" Pick a direction the most likely one keep checking until all possibilities in that area was exhausted, then spread out through the city, which despite its size was the proverbial rat maze, and the cheese liked to run...
Lawrence frowned, but he started to run towards the exit that led out into the street. It seemed the more reasonable direction, since the family couldn't have doubled back past them to get into the passageway again.
Jesus, the boy had a brain it seemed. Kaleb jogged after him, maybe he'd let Bloodgood make the kill once they finally caught up with their wayward query. Logic though didn't always dictate humans when they were afraid....
It seemed like they ran for a long time. Out of the parking lot, onto the main street, down a dark alley... and eventually coming up to a dead end. Lawrence was well and truly lost. His knowledge of the city was trivial at best.
He was surprised that there weren't more people out to get in their way... but then again, very few were stupid enough to impede a repo man, let alone two. Anyone who saw them was probably doing their best to avoid getting noticed.
Kaleb shook his head and doubled back, back into the street, his patience running thin as every as he took the lead again, making a mental know to buy the poor bastard a map and make sure he memorized every bit of this city. Or he could just dump here and...no Amber would have eyes on a silver platter for ditching her pet.
People had a right to be afraid of them, after all they could be next in a long line of deaths that marked such a career.
They searched for some time, but without a real direction, and with the time Lawrence lost them by heading into a dead-end, they weren't really getting anywhere. At least until they consulted the file again, and found the victim's next-of-kin. Someone to question. If he were intent on getting his whole family out of harm's way, he'd have to find safe haven somewhere, and a hotel would require payment up front. GeneCo would have alerted them if the man had checked in anywhere public.
The knock on the next of kin's door was as harsh or rude as when they had literally stormed the target's home. Most likely though they would know who it was that was rapping on (their chamber) door. "If one thing about this job, is the questioning." Kaleb muttered waiting, then motioned to the other man, "check around again, and do it fast, I don't want another escape."
Lawrence nodded, keeping quiet. Docile. It was so much easier to follow orders than it was to make decisions.
The woman who answered the door was surprisingly old. A lot of people in this day and age didn't make it to senior status unless they were wealthy enough to afford to. This woman had to be upwards of eighty, didn't seem all that well-to-do, and - judging from the smell of her home - probably put a lot more money into her animal companions than her own health. She looked utterly baffled by their presence, owl-eyes wide and dim behind her thick bottle glasses. "Oh, my. I didn't call the police."
His voice was cold, serious, and what she could see of her eyes displayed nothing as he held up the file with the image of the target, "Ma'am, we're looking for this man, he is possession of GeneCo property that is passed its 90 limit on missing payments." Quick clean, rehearsed statement, "we have suspicion to believe that he is either here or you would know of his location."
"That's Bobby!" She exclaimed, sounding thrilled to have recognized the picture. Probably senile and in dire need of brain tissue transplant, the old bat. She held the door open for them. "You say he stole something?"
As Kaleb spoke to the old woman, Lawrence stepped inside and started checking out the house. She didn't even bat an eye at this.
"In a way, he couldn't pay for it..." there was the barest of movement to get the other to search. Lucky enough for them the old broad didn't realize who they really were or what they were there for.
"Oh, well, that's a shame. He should have said something! Tsk. Would you like some tea?" She stepped aside, shaking as she walked. Old bones. Old flesh. Her eyes began searching the floor, tracking her pets as she made her way into the kitchen. "Bobby's always been a stubborn boy. Doesn't call his mother. Carol called earlier, though. She keeps in touch for him. Good woman."
"No thank you." sharp eyes looked over everything, "Did Carol know of his location?" Maybe old age had diminished her capacity to sense trouble, as most seem to know a Repo, it was like they carried an aura of death around them.
"What? Oh, she's with him, I'd imagine." The old woman chuckled. "They're still married! Going on nine years, now."
That was the wife's name, good start, "Did she tell you where they were or have you seen them recently? In the last couple of hours or so?" this is where patience was tested, and verbal cues had to be noted. Was she faking to throw them off the trail or was she really this senile?
"Seen them? Oh, good heavens, no. I haven't seen them in some time! Ah, let me see... Let me see... It was about an hour and a half ago. She said something about trying to leave the city? They're going on a vacation, I think. Though I don't know where they think they'll go, this time of year. The weather's bad just about everywhere." She tsk'ed to herself, as though the weather should be ashamed at itself for not cooperating with travel plans.