The Call

[Eclecticon]

Even at this height there's still the fog.  Bitter and caustic, it chokes the canyonlands between titans of concrete and steel, the iridescent crap in hanging in the air drawing out the neon colours into wild blooms that meet and blend into the fever dream of some long-dead painter.  No sign of anything human up here but the spinner heaving its way through what passes for air.  Behind it, garish mist fading to the same bland greenish-grey.  In front, shadowy monoliths cast suddenly into stark relief by the brilliant white of a drive flare as a hauler shuttle blasts its way clear of the spaceport. 

Los Angeles, May 2037. 

Inside the spinner, awkward silence.  Jephthah Crowe, ostensibly driving but hasn't moved his hands in a quarter of an hour, by LE1-1.3's count.  Hasn't said a word or looked at her since she climbed in.  Didnt have to.  The call came in before they were even on shift: priority 1, break-in at a Sector 12 warehouse, briefing from officers on the scene.  All ongoing investigations suspended until further notice (not saying much). 

Crowe stares at the drive flare until his eyes rebel and force themselves shut.  He doesn't know why he's been given this assignment.  Doesn't occur to him that it's been given to 'Elly' just as much.  Assumes it's because Deputy Chief Holden doesn't think it's really a job for Rep-Detec.  Isn't wrong. 

Blinking red lights through the thinning fog and a ping from the nav-panel announce they're nearly on the scene.  Officers in uniform waving them toward a landing pad, haphazardly maintained and stuck like an afterthought on the edge of a structure as massive and ugly as the tomb of some old Soviet leader, if the dead man was somehow twelve meters tall. 

Descent, engines whining.  Time to do the work.

[Eclecticon]

The acrid smell of the fog shoulders its way in the moment the doors scissor open, though up here at least it's not stinging anyone's eyes enough to draw tears.  It should be windy this high up but it's not, and coats hang limp and heavy on the two detectives' shoulders.  One of the uniforms, maskless with the true disdain of an Angelina for the health of her lungs, gives them a professional once-over as she approaches.  All business, this one - probably bucking for promotion to something a little better. 

"I'm Phirel," she says as she gets close enough.  "Thanks for dragging yourselves out here so fast." 

After a cool look from Elly and an eloquent single-shoulder shrug from Crowe, she carries on, matching pace as the two new arrivals head toward the elevators.  "We responded to an incident that took down the local ESPER coverage - early signs point to deliberate sabotage of a network node but you're welcome to take a look for yourselves.   We re-routed and restored coverage in time to catch suspicious activity outside this facility so we tooled up for a first-hand inspection." 

She flicks her hair away from her face.  "Place is a warehouse - an old one.  Records are sketchy since the Blackout so we haven't traced an owner yet.  One compartment's been blown open, nothing else touched as far as we've been able to tell.  We called RDU as soon as we saw what was inside."

"And that was?" Crowe, voice tight.  Trying not to breathe more than he has to. 

"Parts.  Rep sub-assemblies.  Not sure of the details - I've been up here waiting for you.  Blue at the scene might know more." 

She reaches the door, swipes a skeleton keycard and shoves an arm into the space to hold it open.  "Which reminds me: we called in Robbery before we'd even entered the site.  Detective Varela's in there right now.  He's... gonna be a bit pissed at you two for taking over his investigation."