Puddles and Whiskers, WDB Red Twist Arc

This will take everyone to the end of my editing. This is a long arc, 7000+ words. Next up wrapping up this first tail. 🙂 Enjoy.

Previously.

1      Second Try

“It’s here!” Puddles shouted with excitement.

Walking into the office, Whiskers found Puddles holding a large brown box, Cheshire cat grin on her face, and a Zippy Delivery driver exiting. Before he could ask, Puddles set the box on her side of the desk and tore the box open. Reaching inside, scattering packing peanuts all over her side of the desk, nobody would notice he thought, Puddles brandished a new frying pan.

Eyebrow raised, “That was fast,” Whisker said.

“I had them shipped express.”

“Them?”

“I ordered a set of them. Figured I might need more than one.”

“You could give your Mother one of them.”

A thoughtful look flashed over Puddles face, “I could.”

“But you will not,” Whiskers mumbled returning to get his coffee.

A loud metallic crash informed Whiskers that Puddles dropped the box from her side of the desk onto the floor. Returning to the office with a cup of coffee, the mess of packing peanuts did not surprise him. Sitting on his side of the desk, he pushed packing peanuts back onto her side.

“Who do we know that could pass as a patient?” Whiskers asked.

Puddles stopped practice swinging her frying pan, “Who don’t look like us? Nobody.”

Clang!

“What the tonnan!” Chuck shouted from behind the front door that Puddles struck with an errant swing.

She put the frying pan down and held the door open, “Sorry.”

Whiskers waved a greeting and returned to the computer, clicking through their contacts. Puddles leaned over to look at the list.

“See, nobody.”

“Nobody what?” Chuck asked on his way past the desk to get coffee.

“Whiskers thinks we need someone who looks like a ganger to get past the receptionist.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea,” Chuck shouted from kitchen. “Have you tried Eth?” he asked returning with a cup of coffee.

“Eth is cymean and so not a ganger,” Puddles sarcastically retorted.

Shooting her a glare, “Not as a ganger, because he knows gangers.”

“Excellent suggestion,” Whiskers said.

2      Making Arrangements

“Why noodles?” Eth asked as he pointed at his bowl of noodles with his neon pink chopsticks.

“What’s wrong with noodles?” Chuck retorted around a mouthful of noodles.

“Don’t point with chopsticks,” Puddles said while pointing at Eth’s chopsticks with her chopsticks.

“What?”

“I said, what’s wrong with noodles,” Chuck repeated after swallowing.

“Not that,” gesturing with his chopsticks Eth said, “the chopstick thing.”

“Heard it somewhere,” Puddles answered.

“I like noodles,” Whiskers spoke up setting down a neon orange with red swirled cup.

“Every time?” Eth asked. “Every single time we meet, we meet at a NiHo’s. Why?”

Puddles slurped down a chopstick load of noodles, Chuck looked to Whiskers, and Whiskers took another sip of tea, “Cheap, healthy, and best of all who is going to come here to listen in on any conversation?”

Looking around, “Good point,” said Eth.

Returning to his bowl of noodles, Eth ate in silence for a few moments.

“Anyone want to share some dumplings?” Chuck asked.

Puddles held up her chopsticks. Using the tabletop holo-menu, Chuck ordered dumplings. Eth set down his chopsticks and put his hands together in front of his face looking thoughtful.

“What is on your mind, Eth?” asked Whiskers.

“Shouldn’t that be my question to you?” Eth responded gesturing at them with one hand.

“You look like you have something to say is all.”

“Number two dumpling platter,” the waiter announced to the table as he set a large steamer full of dumplings in front of Chuck.

“Thank you,” Chuck mumbled around a mouthful of noodles.

“I need you to do something for me,” Eth said talking over the waiter and Chuck.

Looking up from her bowl of noodles, Puddles said, “From us.”

“In exchange for what?” Whiskers asked.

“My usual fee.”

Puddles, Chuck, and Whiskers exchanged looks, “Must be important to you,” Puddles said.

“It is, but not just for me, some friends. Deal?”

“Deal,” Whisker responded.

“Great what do you need from me?”

“Two gangers.”

“Just two? Not a whole gang?”

“Just two and they need to want mechanical augmentation.”

“Why?”

“Long story, we need to get into a doctor’s office. They only take gangers who get augmentation…or at least we think. We can’t get inside.”

“I see.”

Whisker slide his tablet across the table, “Our information.”

Eth spent a few minutes reviewing the information before sitting back, hands in front of his face. “I think I can find a few gangers for you. It will take a day or two.”

Puddles said, “That’s fine. What do you need from us?”

“I need you to find Red Twist,” he said with some finality.

“Who?”

“Head of the Red Hands?”

“Still no clue,” said Puddles.

“Wait, the bike gang?” Chuck asked.

“That’s them.”

“Is he lost?” Whisker asked sarcastically. “I would think you would be able to find him,” he said to Eth.

“He’s hiding from some friends of mine…”

“And you owe them,” Puddles interrupted.

“Something like that,” he shot back.

“We just need to find him?”

“That’s all, find him, and keep an eye on him until my friend arrives.”

“Since we have a couple of days of waiting, we can get right on that,” Puddles said looking to Whiskers and Chuck.

3      One Hand At A Time

“Can you see this?” Chuck whispered into his phone.

Sitting in Whiskers’ car, vid-feed from Chuck’s camera displayed across the interior of the windshield. The feed panned to the right, a battered front door with a sign in gromathi, followed by piles of garbage and a shot down the alley.

“Clear feed,” Whiskers replied.

In the passenger seat, Puddles fiddled with her new frying pan, glancing at the feed every few seconds.

“Did you find a spot to hide?” she asked Chuck.

“I think so, moving there now.”

On the windshield, the feed bounced and moved erratically as Chuck moved. Chuck reached for another handhold in the wall of the building across the street, finding a handhold he pulled himself up onto a ledge. Nice to see the City keeping up on buildings and repairs in Lower Stroud, Chuck thought sarcastically looking around at the debris, exposed wires, pipes, and garbage on the ledge, every building he could see, and in the alley. Chuck spotted a better observation spot a few feet to his right.

The feed stabilized and centered on the alleyway and door.

“In position.”

“Now we wait,” Whiskers said.

Puddles sighed.

“What’s our next step?” Puddles asked Whiskers.

“We wait to see who goes in and out of the chop shop.”

“No,” she began with an irritated tone, “not this favor, with finding the fake Doctor Marlowe.”

“Eth should come through for us,” Chuck whispered.

Puddles shook her head, “Don’t blow your hiding spot, Chuck.”

“Chuck is correct, after Eth finds some gangers to do the work we need, we follow the trail.

“So…” Puddles paused for effect, “you don’t know any more than I do.”

“Pretty much.”

Two hours passed, “I can’t feel my feet,” Chuck whined for the fifth time in the last few minutes. “I know don’t move,” he finished testily.

“You ready ang?” a rough voice asked somewhere in the alley.

“Come on the doc is down here. He does all our hands,” another rough voice said.

“Does it…”

“Hurt?” finished the first rough voice. “What do you think?”

“If you are lucky he will soak your arm in ice first.”

“Ice!” the third voice exclaimed.

Laughter boomed down the alley. Three gromathi, spiked heads, walked into view on the feed. Two of the gromathi, as they walked into view wore Red Hands leather jackets made for gromathi, spaces over the shoulders for their spikes to show. On the back of each jacket the Red Hands logo, a bloody fist clutched and unclutched with each step they took. Both of the Red Hand gangers had the gang’s trademark mechanical augmented red right hand. The third, younger gromathi wore a red shirt and spent a lot of time looking at his right organic hand.

“Alright kid, we will wait for you in the waiting room,” the first rough voice said as they walked into the building.

“Did you see that,” Chuck whispered excitedly.

“We saw it,” Puddles responded.

“If Eth’s information is correct, an hour from now they should leave,” Chuck said, “Can one of you take my place?”

“I will be there in a few minutes,” Whiskers replied.

“Thank you.”

4      An Hour and 10 Minutes Later

“Ready?” Puddles asked over the comm-system.

“I feel better,” Chuck replied.

“Not about your bathroom break!”

“Quiet!” Whiskers commanded. “They left and are almost out of sight.”

Leaning over the edge, Whiskers watched the three gromathi gangers continue down the alley.

“Chuck bring the car around and see if you can find an upper floor exit,” Puddles ordered.

“Will do,” Chuck replied. “This place looks pretty self-contained; I don’t expect to find anything.”

“I will remain outside in case any clients arrive.”

“Sweet, let’s do this,” Puddles said with glee.

Whiskers watched Puddles stride into the office, cup of coffee in one hand, frying pan hanging from her belt, and pistol on her hip. Whiskers dropped into the alley ready if she needed assistance. The largest, ugliest, and very unconvincing receptionist sat behind a prefab desk covered in the “appropriate” amount of office supplies. Security she thought to herself, approaching the desk. The only other thing in the room than the desk, offices supplies, and “receptionist” a door she hoped lead to the doctor. Hopefully the doctor had the information they were after, she thought.

“I need to see the doc,” she said.

At least he pretended to type on the holo-keyboard. Puddles was positive she could see the gears in his head turning, very slowly. Setting her coffee on the desk, she leaned forward and coughed, twice. He turned, did she hear gears grind as his head turned she thought with a smirk, and glared at her.

In a deep voice he said, “There are no available appointments.”

“But,” coughing again, “I’m sick.”

“You can make an appointment for another day,” he replied not missing a beat.

Coughing again, Puddles turned and took a step towards the door, “I’m sure the doc can see me. It’ll be quick. We’re old…”

“DO NOT,” he emphasized each word and stood up, “take another step.”

“Fine have it your way,” Puddles replied pulling her frying pan off her belt. “I hope the doc can see you afterwards.”

5      Tracking Down Leads

pa-DANG!

The frying pan, bent in the middle flew across the room when the mook shook his mechanical-augmented arm.

“I just bought that!”

Puddles was positive she heard him form a metallic fist. Ducking under his powerful swing, Puddles rolled past the mook, popping up she fumbled with her holster. The mook pivoted much faster than she expected, wired to the gills no doubt she thought, and kicked her in the chest, knocking her against the wall. Her breath explosively left her lungs, leaving her holding out a paw, her other arm wrapped around her chest, and gasping for air.

“Wa..Wa..Wait.”

The mook did not wait; grasping her outstretched arm, with a single yank he threw her to the opposite side of the room over the desk, scattering office supplies. Rolling to a stop amongst office supplies and her cup of coffee, Puddles tried to stand, still gasping for air. With two long strides, he grabbed the desk and threw the desk at her. His aim off the desk exploded against the wall, showering her with desk parts. Puddles scrambled away from the wall, fumbling with her holster and looking for something, anything to give her an edge.

Mook grabbed her ankle, but before he could get a good grip, Puddles slipped her foot out of the boot and rolled onto her back as she drew her pistol. Her first shot blew her boot apart that he had reflexively thrown at her, her second and third shots put large holes in his thigh and gut. With a monstrous backhand, he knocked her pistol out of her paws. Puddles scooted backwards as he fell to one knee. Her paws landed on the familiar shape of her frying pan she swung with as much force as she could, cracking the mook across the face rocking his head to the side.

For a brief second she thought he was going to continue the fight; then he fell over onto his side. Puddles sat down against a wall. One breath, two, and three. Other than breath the mook had not moved. Standing, she retrieved her pistol and searched the mook. Bingo, she mentally cheered, pulling an identcase from a pocket. She waved his identcard over her watch accessing public data, nothing other than a name and top-level membership with emergency services. Before leaving the office, she punched in an emergency and dropped his identcard by his head.

“Figures,” she said to herself.

Looking at the frying pan, bent and nothing she could do about that, even better the person she wanted to see was gone. Empty office, at least this desk was intact, she thought ruefully. Puddles sat down and pulled up the holo-monitor.

“Let’s see what the good doctor was hiding.”

6      Emergency Boots

“Office is clear,” Puddles informed Whiskers and Chuck.

“A coffin rocket is roaring in your doing?” Whiskers asked.

“Yeah, can you intercept them?”

“Done.”

Closing the office door, “Chuck meet me in the doctor’s office I need your help searching his files.”

“On my way.”

Jumping down from his observation post Whiskers waited next to the door. Lights flashing, backwash from the emergency extraction bus scattering loose garbage and debris. A gold and white colored emergency extraction bus landed, before the bus settled, three technicians leapt out. The technician in the lead following the identcard signal with a wrist mounted scanner.

“Over here!” Whiskers shouted waving his paws. “Over here!” Whiskers opened the door, “He’s in there!”

“What happened?” The lead technician asked.

“I…” feigning shock “I found him when I got here for my appointment.”

“How long ago was that?” Lead asked, consulting information on a holo-wrist display.

Behind them, the other technicians started urgent care.

“Maybe five minutes ago,” Whiskers stammered, allowing his tail and ears show his “shock.”

A non-committal grunt from the lead, “Dispatch have emergency ready, include an augment team.”

The two techs rolled the secretary onto a collapsible hoverboard shouting medical jargon into their comms as they rushed out of the office and down the alleyway. Without another word, the lead tech followed. Less than two minutes later, the extraction bus roared off.

“All clear,” Whiskers reported.

“Good, get in here,” Puddles replied.

“I think I found the files we are looking for,” Chuck interrupted.

Stepping over discarded medical waste Whiskers entered the doctor’s office, “Any luck?”

“Take a look,” Chuck said triumphantly as he spun the holo-display to face Whiskers.

Puddles stepped past Whiskers. Whiskers touched her arm as she passed, “You okay?”

“Sore, missing my boot, and looking for coffee.”

“You won’t find any of them in there,” Whiskers replied. “Copy the data and we’ll get coffee.”

“New boots too.”

Chuck flipped the screen back and started the copy process.

“Looks like the surgery was completed two weeks ago,” Chuck announced. “I have an address for the doctor, a number of his supplier, and checkup appointments.”

“That makes sense, but he isn’t going to have them here,” Puddles said returning with the remains of her boot.

“File saved,” Chuck said.

“Coffee and boots,” Puddles announced heading for the door.

Merging into Lower Stroud flying traffic a few minutes later, Whiskers read the data on the windshield display, “Who wants first shift watching the doctor’s office?”

“Why bother?” Chuck asked from the driver’s seat.

“Because there is a chance he will return and we can follow him from there,” Puddles replied from the backseat. Checking over her body, she winced at a few sore spots and picked some bits of desk out of her fur.

“Oh. I’ll take first watch.”

“I will watch his house. Puddles you get some rest.”

“After boots, right?”

Whiskers sighed, Chuck laughed, “Yes, after boots on the company card.”

7      The Long Watch

[I’m bored.]

[Part of the job.]

[Three hours of nothing.]

[Nothing?]

[Watch this vid, you’ll love it.]

[I think you meant Puddles would love that vid. Nothing?]

[You didn’t like the cute finsi’s? Other than some Red Hand initiates and homeless.]

Looking down from his observation post, three stories above the alley, Chuck wished for the hundredth time, that the doctor would be strolling to his office without a care in the world. Chuck would leap down behind him and with a deft move or two subdue the doc, call Whiskers, and two hours later have the information, complete the case, be a hero, and eat some noodles. Instead, the same garbage, the same large rats, and foul odors. Bling.

Checking his phone a reply from Whiskers, [How many Red Hands?]

Mentally counting, [Five. Why?]

[I have an idea, if your stakeout does not pan out.]

[Do you want me to follow the next Red Hands?]

[I will let you know.]

Chuck rested his back against the wall, pulled his tail close to him to avoid any of the unidentified pools of liquid, and tapped his favorite word game. A few swipes later, Chuck was trying to remember how to spell door in gromathi.

Across the city, sitting in his car at the edge of the 100th floor of a parking garage with an excellent view of the doctor’s carport, Whiskers thought, planned, and flipped through the data Chuck recovered from the doctor’s office. On his windshield, three zones, in the center the master file, to the left information to research in detail, to the right junk. Another swipe to the right and another sigh, too much junk in the file; did the doctor need to keep everything?

Tapping the upper right corner with a claw, Whiskers pulled a live feed window down over the junk. He watched various vehicles fly past the doctors carport before touching the feed and using his claw to adjust the view; nothing new with the doctor’s residence. Sighing, he reset the alarm, and pushed the live feed window to the upper right corner. Taking a long drink from his coffee, Whiskers thought about the potential dangers of following Red Hands.

[The letter word using the letters A, I, L, N, S.]

Whiskers opened a new file, invoices for replacement augment hands; based on the amount and number of entries, the doctor did a lot more surgeries for the Red Hands than expected.

[Begins with A, I, or L.]

Ignoring Chuck’s texts Whiskers continued to read the invoice file; three manufacturers, seven different styles of hands, and a range of prices. The doctor had quite the business in hands. The latest invoice due in three days. Swirling his coffee cup around, Whiskers wondered if there was a way to use the information to find the doctor.

[Found it. What are you doing over there?]

[Not playing a game.]

[I’m bored and it smells.]

[I want you to follow the next Red Hands.]

[Will do.]

The live feed window flashed red twice before Whisker noticed. Pulling the window down, he reversed the feed hoping to see the doctor arrive home. A delivery truck stopped at the carport for a few seconds before entering traffic and driving off. Whiskers resumed the live feed and went back to reading.

8      Have A Seat

Peeking over the edge Chuck looked down on two Red Hands banging on the doctor’s door. The larger Red Hand cocked his augmented fist, punching a large hole in the door. Both of them laughed at the hole, Chuck shuddered. Laughing the entire time the Red Hands punched several more holes in the door before tossing the door to the side. The Red Hands walked into the office where Chuck could not hear their conversation. Based on how fast they left and ran down the alleyway his guess of their conversation revolved around a problem. Chuck sent a vid of the Red Hands to Whiskers.

[We have a problem.] He texted.

[Apparently. Follow them.]

Chuck dropped into the alley, making his way to his car. The Red Hands bikes roared down the road racing past Chuck as he reached his car. Following them was easier than he expected, they rode in a straight line to a bar. Chuck circled the block, parking on a side street, cuing the vid-feed on his windshield he called Whiskers.

“They stopped at a biker bar. I’m not dressed to go in.”

“Understand,” Whiskers replied, distracted. “Puddles should be to you in a few minutes. Together you can…”

“What?”

“Sorry I found more information that may assist us in finding the doctor.”

“As I was saying, hopefully Twist is at the bar. Puddles should be able to blend in.”

Chuck watched a large cluster of wageslaves from a nearby factory walk by.

“I have an idea. I will contact you later,” he said in a rush, disconnecting the feed and exiting his car.

The wageslaves oblivious of Chuck walking closely behind them, chatted away about work, bosses, wages, and their desperate need to get some beer and food into them before returning to work. As Chuck hoped, they walked to the bar and entered without hesitation. While the wageslaves pulled several tables together, Chuck found himself a table with a good view of the entire bar. Pulling the holo-menu up, Chuck looked busy while looking for the two Red Hands. The wageslaves creating the best distraction possible with their numbers, obtuseness, and massive order.

[Where are you?] Puddles texted.

[I have a table in the bar. Want me to order you something.]

[There in a sec. Starving.]

Not finding noodles, Chuck input an order for drinks and wings. Between the large group of wageslaves he followed in and several other groups of wageslaves, the bar was packed. A knot of Red Hands sat glowering at everyone in a darkened corner of the bar. Unfortunately, from Chuck’s position he could not tell if the two he was following were among them.

A battered serv-o droid with red hands, slammed drinks in front of Chuck, splashing him. A platter of wings nearly flew across the table as the droid seemed to try to skip the platter onto the table. Before Chuck could ask for anything the droid rolled away on one wheel, slamming drinks onto tables along the way.

“What is that things problem?” Puddles asked as she sat down.

“I’d be the same way if I worked here,” Chuck responded as he wiped beer off him and the table.

“True. Where are they?”

“I think over there,” Chuck indicated with a nod and ear point.

“Wings?”

“Its the only thing that looked safe.”

“Safe?”

“They should fry these things enough to kill anything harmful.”

“Makes sense. Let’s eat and watch. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

9      Other Lines of Inquiry

Thinking about Chuck’s word puzzle Whiskers thought about other ways to find the doctor. Swiping a claw across the windshield display, Whiskers pushed the data to a corner, and found the city information services search bar. Milliseconds after sending the request the windshield filled with new files. Looking at the wealth of data Whiskers was excited for a brief moment, then looking closer at the scale of the data search his ears folded down, a long night ahead.

“Directions,” he said to his car.

“Destination?” the car responded.

“Nearest open coffee shop. Auto drive.”

“Gallon O Cafe, three blocks away, estimated arrival, ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” he said to the car, not that he needed to, but manners mattered.

While the car lifted off and maneuvered through the parking garage, Whiskers resumed sorting the files. Personal data stayed in the center of the windshield, family information to the right, and business, school, and licensing to the left. With three “reasonable” stacks of data, Whiskers opened the personal data file.

  • Doctor Epsan Mill, recent graduate from Stroud Medical, address on file matched address Whiskers was watching, and two contact numbers.

Returning to the City Information System window, Whiskers entered the doctor’s personal and business numbers. Dialing the personal number, Whiskers did not expect an answer.

“Hello?” a male voice said questioningly.

“Hello, is this Doctor Mill?” Whiskers asked enthusiastically.

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is,” Whiskers thought fast, “CAH Augments and if you have a few moments I would like to discuss our new line of augmented hands and forearms.”

Whiskers listened for any background noises or identifying features while the Doctor responded.

“Uh…” The Doctor stalled.

“Is this a bad time?” Whiskers interjected.

“Yes, yes this is a bad time,” Doctor Mill jumped for the offered lifeline. “My, uh office, is being remodeled, can we…”

“I am in town for the next few days,” Whiskers offered another lifeline hoping Doctor Mill would take the bait, “perhaps we could schedule a face-to-face meeting over dinner?”

“That would be great,” Doctor Mill responded enthusiastically. “Can I call you…”

“Can my secretary reach you at this number?” Whiskers jumped in.

“Yes she can.”

“I will have my secretary contact you tomorrow with some times.”

“That would be great.”

“Thank you Doctor Mill, I look forward to seeing you in a few days. Have a good night.”

“Thank you.”

Elated, Whiskers disconnected the line and let out a whoop of joy. Several people walking past looked his way before entering the Gallon O Cafe shop. Swiping the files into a save bin, Whiskers sent the files as a backup to their office. Windshield clean and proud of the work, Whiskers sat back for a moment. Next step get his “secretary,” Puddles was going to get mad about that, to contact Doctor Mill. Amused at the thought of Puddles as secretary Whiskers sent her and Chuck a text.

[Found the doctor.]

[Excellent] Puddles responded.

[That’s great!] Chuck responded.

[Still watching at bar.] Puddles sent.

[End surveillance in a few minutes and meet me at Gallon O Cafe.]

10 Two Days Later

A phone call from “secretary” Puddles to arrange a meeting with Doctor Mill. Another phone call to make reservations at Middle of the World, an expensive restaurant located on the 160th floor of the Frost Spire downtown. Then two days of waiting. Puddles and Chuck continued to follow Red Hand gangers around the city, unsuccessfully. Whiskers spent the time listening to their tales, researching Doctor Mill, and concocting their plan.

Ten minutes before their meeting they pulled into valet parking. Wearing a dark business suit Whiskers exited their car swiping his issta-stick over the kiosk. Puddles wearing a matching suit and smart glasses exited from the passenger side and joined Whiskers waiting at the door. Chuck exited last, wearing a light gray suit and carrying a large case of samples.

“Ready?” Whiskers asked.

“We’ll be the best CAH augment sales people we can be,” Puddles replied sarcastically.

“Can’t we just stun him?” Chuck asked for the hundredth time.

Rolling his eyes, Whiskers turned and headed to the restaurant. The doors opened automatically as they approached. Inside, a gilded serv-O droid, greeted them, “Welcome to Middle of the World. How can I assist you?”

“We have reservations for four,” Whiskers answered, “Under CAH.”

“One second,” the droid made a pantomime of searching through a ledger even though all reservations were in the droid’s memory. “Ah,” pointing at a page, “here you are. Reservations for four. One moment,” the serv-O droid snapped its fingers summoning another serv-O droid. “If you will follow Charles, he will direct you to your table. Apparently, one of your party arrived early. Enjoy you meal.”

Charles, slightly less gilded, with a monogrammed towel over one of his thin arms, bowed, “If you will follow me. Today’s specials are…”

Chuck nudged Puddles, “We are way out of our element.”

All around them businesspeople carrying on as if this was a daily event for them. Everywhere any of them turned signs of extreme wealth, from the mem-ware clothing flashing customized corporate logos, personalized designs to the holo-displays from watches and tablets displaying just about anything that any of them could think about. Everywhere they looked a clear view of Middle Stroud unobstructed by the “Cloud” or lanes of traffic, nothing but clean buildings and advertisements.

“I think I saw the latest Kira Designs Smart Watch over there,” Chuck whispered excitedly to Puddles his tail slashing through the air with nerves and excitement.

“Try to act like you have been here,” Puddles replied as cool as she could, her tail twitching.

“…pairing that with our in house red wine,” Charles finished as they approached a table near the rear of the restaurant. “Your table. I see one of your guests, Doctor Mill, is already here. Allow me to pull out your chairs. May I get you any drinks?”

Seated at the table, his back to the restaurant, Doctor Mill sipped from a glass of red wine, while reading the menu. At their arrival, he stood up and extended his hand out between all three of them. Whiskers, grabbed his hand with a paw and shook, “Doctor Mill, a pleasure to meet you.”

11 Dinner Conversations

Puddles watched Doctor Mill try to conceal his surprise at the sight of them, three cats in suits, tails waving lazily behind them.

“Not what you were expecting?” she asked as she sat down.

Sitting down Doctor Mill, “I…I was…”

“We get that all of the time,” Chuck said as he sat down, putting the case next to his chair.

“CAH takes an unconventional approach as you can see,” Whiskers gestured to the three of them. “You were probably expecting a team of cymean technicians.”

Taking a sip from his wine, “Yes. I mean, that is who always shows up at these meetings and…”

“They prattle on for hours about the technical specs,” Chuck interrupted.

“Exactly,” Doctor Mill enthusiastically agreed.

“We won’t bore you with details you can research yourself or better yet, read the brochure,” Whiskers said with a toothy smile.

Doctor Mill laughed, and then they all shared in that laugh.

“Shall we order dinner?” Puddles asked when the laughter died down.

While waiting for their orders, “How did you find me?” Doctor Mill asked.

Puddles looked at Whiskers, “That’s easy,” Chuck replied, “you are one of the top twenty Doctors in Stroud who order augment arms and hands.”

“That makes sense.”

Whiskers tail relaxed. Puddles breathed a quiet sigh of relief into her wine as she took a sip.

“So, what do you have to offer me? Other than a fine dinner,” Doctor Mill said with a laugh.

“That’s a good one Doctor,” Whiskers replied. “I think you will like our wares. Our chief technician will give you the details,” Whiskers finished gesturing to Chuck.

Setting the case on the table, Chuck opened the case towards Doctor Mill. Resting in custom padded compartments, three augmented hands, and a selection of chips. Lights in the case illuminated all of the hands causing the chrome to shine bright, casting little rainbows across the case and table. Doctor Mill leaned forward inspecting the hands.

“These don’t look that different. Nice chrome job, but standard augments,” Doctor Mill indicated with some disappointment.

“Oh crap,” Puddles muttered into her glass.

“Excellent eye Doctor. These are indeed standard augments, manufactured by other companies,” Chuck jumped in. “Before you say anything allow me to point out the chips.”

“Chips?”

“Yes, chips. CAH does sell augments, but what CAH specializes in is modifying chips.”

Doctor Mill’s face lite up. Chuck closed the case, returning the case next to his chair as several serv-O droids appeared with their food.

“I’ll explain after the meal,” Chuck said.

An hour later, sitting back from their dinner, serv-O droids clearing away plates and filling wine glasses, Doctor Mill resumed the conversation, “Can you tell me about the modifying chips?”

Setting his glass down Chuck smoothly replied, “Easy enough, as you are aware all augments come pre-programmed.”

Doctor Mill nodded.

“How many times have patients asked for modifications such as stronger, fine motor control, or something more exotic?”

“Always.”

“And the only option you have is to use a different augment, if there is one available.”

“And there aren’t that many options.”

“CAH has quietly been testing modifying chips, to allow doctors such as yourself to have more options to meet patient requests.”

“Really?”

Whiskers made a show of looking at his watch, “I’m sorry to interrupt Doctor. Unfortunately, we have other appointments this evening. We would love to show you how our chips work, do you have a patient who might be in the market for a chip of ours?”

Doctor Mill thought for a moment, “I do have a patient. Can I send you the details?”

“That would be great. Thank you for your time Doctor Mill we look forward to hearing from you and showing you the nearly limitless opportunities of our chips.”

Riding in their car back to their office.

“I can’t believe you,” Puddles said to Chuck.

“What?” Chuck said with mock surprise.

“All of that modifying chips stuff.”

“You can thank Whiskers for that.”

Both of them looked at Whiskers in the driver’s seat.

“I found an article while researching how best to approach the doctor,” Whiskers replied, “Chuck is the best at telling stories.”

“I tell good stories,” Puddles retorted with a smile.

“Good stories if they involve pummeling someone,” Chuck said with a laugh.

“What do we do now?” Puddles asked.

“We wait,” Whiskers. “Doctor Mill will send the details and then we act. Until then everyone should get some rest.”

12 Overwatch

Ten-hours later…

“Is everyone ready?” Whiskers asked.

Puddles nodded, checking her pistol one last time. Chuck fiddled with the chip case and shook his head affirmative.

“We’re ready,” Eth said over comms.

Puddles smoothed her suit jacket out, “I hope this goes smoothly.”

“So do I,” Chuck replied.

“This does not look good,” Whiskers said pointing at a row of Red Hand bikes outside the address Doctor Mill sent them.

“Shit,” Puddles and Chuck said at the same time.

The car settled to the ground with a thump. Lower Stroud always dark, was darker here due to the number of burned out and broken lights. Parked outside of a warehouse six Red Hand bikes in a row and Doctor Mill’s luxury car. Puddles stepped out of the car scanning the darkness for trouble. Whiskers and Chuck exited the car and headed for the warehouse door. Two Red Hand gangers stepped out of the shadows blocking the door.

“You the techs the doc is expecting,” one of them mumbled.

“I certainly hope so,” Puddles replied with a smile.

“We need to search you before you can go in.”

“We have nothing to hide,” Whiskers replied.

With rough hands the two gangers quickly patted down each of them, “What’s this?” the ganger patting Puddles down said when he found her pistol.

“Personal protection is all,” she replied ignoring the looks from Whiskers and Chuck.

“You can get it when you leave.”

“I’ll take your word,” she replied with a smirk.

A ganger opened the warehouse door and stepped aside. Puddles lead the way into the warehouse looking for trouble.

“Looks like the doc set up shop here,” she said aloud. “There is enough equipment arranged around a chair for us to do our work. Doctor Mill looks scarred. Ah, I see four more Red Hands and lots of guns. That would explain the Doc.”

As soon as Chuck’s tail passed over the threshold, the door closed behind him, “Those are some nice augments each of them have.”

Doctor Mill shouted, “There you are. I was telling Twist about your chips. You did bring the chips?” he finished an octave or two higher.

“Yes Doctor Mill, we brought a small sample of chips,” Whiskers shouted back.

“Targets down,” Eth said over the comm-system.

“That is good news,” Whisker replied.

Outside…

As soon as the door closed, the gangers relaxed, one of them leaning against the wall, the other lighting up a stick. Leaning against the wall, he took a long drag on the stick, exhaling a moment later.

“How much longer?” He asked the other ganger.

A shrug was his response.

Another long drag, another exhale.

John dropped into the alley as soon as Puddles began talking to the gangers. He was in position to take both of the gangers out by the time the search was finished. Now he waited, listening to Puddles description of the inside the warehouse over comms. Satisfied with what he heard, he edged to the corner and peeked. The smoking ganger blew out another cloud of smoke as John stepped around the corner and fired four times, the first two dropped the smoker, the third and fourth shots dropped the remaining ganger.

13 The Deal

“Damnit Eth, do your share and help me get these two into the alley,” John snapped at Eth as he struggled with the ganger’s legs.

“I’m doing the best I can. I don’t want this suit ruined.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“That would make four you owe me,” Eth testily replied, “I’ll go with working slower.”

“Fine, let’s get the second one before shit goes South inside.”

Inside…

Puddles cracked a smile listening to John and Eth bicker. Walking past Puddles, Chuck drug a wheeled tray next to the chair, placing his case on the tray he waited. Whiskers extended a paw to Red Twist in greeting.

“Are you are guinnea pig?” he said with a smile.

Doctor Mill let out a nervous laugh.Twist grasped Whiskers paw with his red meme-tattooed augmented fist, the meme-tattoo flaring red before flames burst from the knuckles along the back of the fist, a gentle pressure before releasing.

“That is awesome!” Chuck shouted.

“That is a very nice augment,” Whiskers said.

“Custom made,” Twist growled, “I understand you have chips that may make our jobs easier.”

“I think we do,” Whiskers eagerly replied.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Puddles said, “is there a bathroom?”

A ganger with a silver augment pointed to the back of the warehouse, “Over there.”

Stepping between the gangers, Puddles made a mental note of their visible augments, and holstered guns, “I will be back in a second.”

“As I was saying,” Whiskers resumed, “we at CAH have developed several chips for testing, which is ongoing. If you are willing, my technician,” pointing towards Chuck who smiled and opened the case, “will install a beta chip of your choice provided you are willing to meet with again in a month so we can gather the data.”

While Whiskers spoke, the scowl on Twist’s face turned into something resembling interest and ending with suspicion at least that is what Chuck thought, gromathi faces are so hard to read.

“Install them into them first,” Twist growled, the meme-tattoo briefly flaring.

“Into them,” Whiskers stuttered looking to Chuck. “We came prepared to…”

“Them or no deal,” Twist growled with finality.

“Can’t you accommodate Twist and his men?” Doctor Mill practically whined, looking ready to bolt. “I told him you would be ready to sell.”

Chuck stepped around the table one paw on the case, “Sell? That is a bit more than we discussed Doctor. However, we can install chips in your men and you, if you would like. Our accounting department might not be happy, but our tech team,” Chuck smiled big, “will be ecstatic at all of the information.”

Doctor Mill looked at Twist. Twist put his augmented hand to his chin, the mem-tattoo flames dancing as he thought. Snapping his fingers, the three gangers stepped forward.

“Them first, then me,” Twist growled, “If nothing goes wrong we can discuss another meeting.”

Whiskers stuck his paw out, “Deal.”

Stepping into the bathroom, Puddles keyed her comm, “Are you two done bickering?”

“I wasn’t…”

“John?” Puddles interrupted.

“Here. What is the situation?”

“I’m in the bathroom. Twist brought three more with him. Augmented hands and heavy pistols,” Puddles said quietly while flushing the toilet.

“You weren’t kidding about the toilet,” Eth said.

“I’m in position by their bikes,” John replied, “give the go phrase if I can take him down inside.”

“Will do.”

14 Goes Down

Strolling back to the meeting, tail swishing, humming a tune, Puddles watched as a ganger sat in the chair, put his augmented arm onto a tabletop built into the armrest. Chuck, maintaining his role as technician, made a show of pulling out several tools to open the back of the ganger’s augment. Twist stood behind and to the right of the chair watching Chuck work. Doctor Mill stood off to the side near the edge of the lighting talking in rapid-fire whispers to Whiskers.

“This will take a few minutes,” Chuck said with authority. “Open this port and connect this and…”

“How is the operation goin’?” Puddles asked as she slide next to Twist.

Twist glared at her for a moment, Puddles smiled back, “Your men are in good hands,” she said with a wink.

“Good hands,” Chuck repeated with a laugh, “that’s a good one.”

The gangers and Twist started laughing.

“Hold still for a second,” Chuck ordered the ganger as he pushed a few buttons after slotting the chip in place. “See, green lights, everything is a go. You should notice a difference in the next few hours.”

“Check him,” Twist ordered.

Another ganger pulled out a square object and waved the object over the other ganger’s augment. A series of bleeps and tones sounded before a light in the center turned green. The ganger held the screen to Twist, who nodded.

“What’s that?” Puddles asked pointing at the device.

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” Twist replied with a growl, Puddles took a step back.

“Who’s next?” Chuck asked.

Twist pointed at a ganger who sat down in the chair. When Twist turned away, Puddles walked over to Whiskers and Doctor Mill still deep in conversation.

“I am not sure I understand,” Whiskers whispered at Doctor Mill.

Sweating with panic in his every move, “You don’t understand who they are. He will kill all of us if your chips don’t work!”

“Doctor, please calm down,” Whiskers replied putting a paw on Doctor Mill’s arm. “What exactly is the problem?”

“I owe a lot of isstas to…”

“Him,” Puddles interjected, “I would guess.”

Doctor Mill nearly collapsed, Whiskers’ held him up, “Is this why you have done so much replacement work for him?”

Doctor Mill shook his head.

Puddles leaned closed to his right ear, “Trust me Doc, this IS under control.”

He looked at her as if she was crazy.

In Puddles ear John said, “Three clear signals. Get the fourth and we are good.”

Whiskers nodded to Puddles and walked over to Chuck. Twist sat in the chair with a heavy thud, watching every move Chuck made.

“Everything coming along?” Whiskers asked Chuck.

“Of course,” he replied, “and done.”

Twist stood up, waited for the green light, flexing his augment the entire time, “Feels good.”

“Then we have a deal?” Whiskers asked.

“Yes we do.”

“Four clear signals,” John said into Puddles ear.

Whiskers handed Twist a holo-card, “In three weeks, call this number for the follow up. If you do not call, the chips will cease functioning on their own.”

Twist growled, “You will hear from me.”

15 Dinner For Five

“Nothing better than a bowl of noodles after a job,” Puddles said while running her tongue over her teeth.

“Eth, John join us,” Chuck greeted the new arrivals.

Smoothing his memware suit Eth strutted across NiHo’s to their table. John took off his wrap around smart glasses, put them into an interior pocket of his black jacket, and scanned the restaurant as he stalked towards the table. Eth sat down and immediately pulled the menu up. John sat down with a thud and a sigh.

“What’s wrong with him?” Puddles asked Eth.

“Long night,” John replied with a grunt.

“Him, he was hoping to take Red Twist down tonight,” Eth replied at the same time.

Facing the table, John pulled up the menu and placed his order before slumping back in his chair. Whiskers leaned with both elbows on the table, intent on the tablet in front of him. Eth flipped through a few holo-screens before settling on dinner.

“What’s so interesting?” John asked pointing at the tablet.

“Tracking information,” Whiskers replied without looking up.

“I wanted to ask how you fooled their signal tracker,” Eth said.

Chuck set his drink down, leaning towards Eth, “That was easy.”

“Easy?”

“Yes, easy. I told them what they wanted to hear.”

“And what was that,” John interjected, picking up his drink.

“I told them that each chip was collecting data, part of collecting data is sending out bits of data,” Chuck explained with a smile, “thus when they used their signal tracker it told them what they expected that some signal was broadcasting.”

Smiling with understanding, Eth slammed his drink down. A serv-O droid rushed over to refill his drink and top off the rest. John’s brow furrowed, he steepled his fingers in front of his mouth.

“You hope Red Twist believes that,” he said flat toned, “because if he doesn’t he will find you three.”

Whiskers looked up from the tablet, “That is assuming you do not fulfill your contract and arrest him,” Whiskers held up his right paw stalling John’s retort, “Of course if you cannot before the follow up meeting we can coordinate together to arrest him then.”

“I’ll get the job done,” John replied testitly.

“Okay Eth, we took care of our part, now you do yours,” Puddles shot at Eth.

John shot Eth a glare. Eth held up his hands in mock protest.

“Two gangers is all we need and the sooner the better,” Puddles pushed on.

“I’ll find you two,” Eth answered. “Won’t be hard at all.”

Whiskers pushed the tablet over to John who picked up the tablet studying the information intensely. Two serv-O droids rolled out to the table and served hot bowls of noodles.

“This is accurate?” John asked pointing at the tablet.

“Within a few feet,” Whiskers replied.

John sat back, eating and studying the tablet.

“When do you want the gangers?” Eth asked.

“A day or two,” Puddles replied.

Advertisements

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB First Try

Story wise everything is on track. Writing wise, there is room for improvement, as expected. Soon enough there new Puddles and Whiskers will appear and this story will wrap up. Yes, I do have an ending in mind. For this section, language correction mostly. Enjoy.

Previously.

First Try

Whiskers took another sip of coffee and stared out the window at the Medical Offices of Tablix and Aslan. Puddles positioned her tablet to record the front door. Chuck finished off his doughnut in one bite and began adjusting his eyepatch.

“Chuck, you’re up,” Puddles said to Chuck.

“Are you getting the feed?”

Whiskers looked down at his tablet with two vid-windows open, “Yes. Stay out of trouble.”

Chuck gave both of them his best “me, trouble look,” with his folded ear and eye patch looked more like “definitely trouble” and headed out of the coffee shop, tail swishing lazily to match his swagger.

“He’s going to get neutered,” Puddles said to Whiskers.

“I heard that,” Chuck’s voice came from Whisker’s tablet.

“Yep, neutered.”

Coffee in hand, Puddles and Whiskers watched and waited.

Stepping into the minimalist decorated waiting room, Chuck looked around, making an exaggerated half-circle motion to capture the entire room on vid. Blank tope walls, six office chairs against the walls in sets of two, one office table in the middle of the room, a reception desk with a solid door to the right; first impression, no long term visitors, Chuck thought as he turned to face the receptionist.

“Can I help you?” the korogin woman wearing blue nursing scrubs behind the low counter asked in a gruff voice.

Standing in front of her, Chuck tilted his head to get the room behind her on vid.

“Excuse me! Can I HELP YOU!”

Chuck slowly looked at her, while tilting his head, and put on his best “yes you can smile;” all teeth and whiskers, “I need to see a doctor.”

“We don’t take walk-ins.”

“I have an emergency,” Chuck replied, turning his head and leaning forward over the counter.

Standing, she put one hand on his chest and pushed him back, Chuck stumbled back a step.

“We don’t take walk-ins,” she enunciated each word carefully.

Chuck clutched his stomach, doubled over, and screeched. He stumbled towards the desk, still screeching, and clutching his stomach, “Please let me see a doctor,” he said between screeches.

At that moment, the front door opened, two red-hand gangers walked into the waiting room. Clutching his stomach, Chuck gave the receptionist his best please look his one eye wide-open and sad look on his face, and screeched in pain.

“You two, toss him out,” the receptionist commanded.

“What!” Chuck blurted out.

Before Chuck could make a move, the gangers grabbed him by his arms, carried him to the door, and shoved him outside. Chuck rolled with the shove, landing on his feet. Wageslaves walking past moved around him, some making noises or comments about riff-raff, most ignored him altogether. Chuck heard laughter, a few seconds looking around before he realized the laughter was Puddles and Whiskers over the commsystem.

“No wonder you had so much trouble with Lorika,” Puddles said between laughs.

Dusting himself off, Chuck stormed back to the coffee shop, tail lashing. He tore the eyepatch off, tossing the eyepatch at Puddles.

“You think you can do better?”

“I…”

Whiskers set a fresh cup of coffee and doughnut in front of Chuck, “No, you cannot. None of us is going to get past the receptionist. We are not the right patients.”

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB The Complete Acid Chamber Arc

This is the complete Acid Chamber arc. Just a head’s up it is long compared to a normal Puddles and Whiskers post of mine, consisting of seven parts. Enjoy. 🙂

Previously.

Not So Much Work

Looking over Acid Chamber’s itinerary and ever expanding list of roadies, hanger-ons, and media people Whiskers suppressed a shudder. Ding. Another update to the list of people. Two button pushes later, Chuck acknowledged receipt of the updated list. Sitting on her side of the shared desk, Puddles tossed her earphones onto her pile of “work.”

“You call that music?”

“Better get used to that music, we are expected to attend the concert,” Whiskers flipped the tablet to show her the concert passes.

“That is not enough time to get the noise canceling ear pieces,” Puddles sarcastically replied.

Taking a long drink from his Acid Chamber concert cup, “We should head over there to plan security.”

“Security for what? A bunch of drunks and…look at her,” pulling a half-nude image of a korogin woman flashing more than smile, “and this one,” another more exposed view of a human woman, “or this one,” three cymean males wearing questionable winter gear but willing smiles. “Seriously, these are the crazed fans?”

“Acid Chamber concerts get crazy,” Whiskers mumbled.

“Yeah, I bet.”

More Work Than Expected

“Duck Chuck!” Puddles shouted, dodging a poorly thrown punch from an Acid Chamber fan in the bar.

Chuck ducked, fell on his rear, and began to back pedal away from the fight as a chair thrown from somewhere sailed overhead. Back against a wall, Chuck kneeled and took in the scene. Puddles fighting against at three different fans, all wearing Acid Chamber faux leather jackets with concert dates on the back. She kicked one in the knee, then slammed his head against the bar and took a punch to the chest from another fan for her efforts.

She was fine, Chuck thought. Looking for the clients, a large fan fell onto him causing both of them to stumble. A third fan jumped onto both of them swinging wildly, clipping Chuck across his left ear. A bottle or glass shattered near his head splashing all of them in drink and glass. Everyone rolled off Chuck. Taking a breath, he stood up and began kicking both of them in the ribs.

“What is wrong with you people!”

Puddles rolled with the punch to her face, snapping a quick chop to the punchers neck, following quickly with a knee to the ribs to another fan. How many fans were in this bar, she wondered for a second, before dodging down the bar? Where was Whiskers?

“I see what you mean,” Whiskers replied to Onhomgha or Blaster, lead singer of Acid Chamber.

“Just another night out with Acid Chamber,” he shouted.

Glancing at his watch, Whisker said, “Perhaps we should get you out of here. Your car has arrived.”

“No way! I want to see what you guys can do for me,” Onhomgha replied eyes on Puddles and Chuck.

“I see. Stay here,” Whisker commanded.

“Get ‘em Chuck!” Puddles yelled.

Leaping off a table, Chuck landed on top of two fans dropping both them to the floor. Rolling off them, Chuck snapped off a sharp kick to the face of one fan, knocking him out. The other fan stood up at the same time Chuck stood. Flexing his arms the fan took a well-known gromathi fighting stance.

“Had some training?” Chuck asked sarcastically, “Don’t throw the ni-ghar and follow with a spinning sutohat.”

A brief flash of confusion on the fan’s face, Chuck struck, punching the fan square in the nose. The fan’s nose exploded in a crunch of bone and splatter of blood. Instead of falling over the fan looked down Chuck’s extended arm with pure rage; with a single step, the fan picked Chuck over his head.

Leaning against the bar, the last of her fans out cold under her feet, wiping blood off her fur with a towel, Puddles shouted with a laugh, “What are you doing Chuck?”

Stepping up to the fan’s back, Whiskers jammed the stun rod into the fan’s ribs and held the button down. As expected, the fan fell down, Chuck landing on top of him. Rolling off the fan, Chuck gave him two kicks to the ribs before looking around.

“That is how we handle things,” Whiskers said to Blaster.

“Not bad. Night is still young, let’s go.”

Fan Appreciation

Pointing with the neon orange chopsticks over his bowl of noodles, Chuck said, “How do you know?”

“Pointing with chopsticks is bad luck,” Susan Arco, Acid Chamber’s manager said.

Shrugging, “Given my luck I’ll take bad.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” she said with a dazzling smile. “These are the individuals we have had issues with before,” she said sliding her tablet across the yellow and pink neon table.

A rotating holo of a korogin woman appeared. Pulling the tablet closer with one paw and taking another long slurp of noodles, Chuck read the data. Tsal-or, wageslave for Brookshine Legal, self-professed number one fan of Acid Chamber especially the lead singer. Legally Tsal-or was their number one crazed fan, several break-ins, typically found in some state of undress in someone’s room and when confronted tended towards breaking things.

Chuck tapped the screen, the holo changed to two identical faces. Making an appreciative noise, “Orin fans?”

“We get all kinds, these two are trouble.”

“Why?”

“Read on,” she said.

“Ebon and Ivory, seriously?”

“Read,” Susan said deadpan.

Orin, twins like all Orin, children from a wealthy family they paid to have their skin altered to match Acid Chamber’s number one hit, Ebon and Ivory, from several years ago. Chuck watched a short vid of the twins “dancing,” which consisted of them punching and kicking people nearby while their skin flickered and flashed to the beat of the music. Lyrics from Acid Chamber songs randomly appeared on their skin as well. Kicked out of numerous concerts for violence and inciting violence and arrested three times for fighting members of Acid Chamber or individuals working for Acid Chamber.

“Okay, so they are uber-fans. We can handle them.”

Tapping the screen again, the angry, screaming face, of a korogin woman greeted him. Knowing the answer, Chuck read. Aka-hallar, mother to recently deceased Ka-hallar, daughter who died during a recent concert. Chuck watched another vid of Aka-hallar screaming in rage blaming Acid Chamber for her daughter’s death and vowing to make them pay. Chuck looked up.

“Still think you can handle this.”

Another Night Out…

“Why are we doing this again?” Puddles whispered to Whiskers.

Sitting across from Whiskers in the limousine, Chuck made his “what” face; good ear cocked to the side and eyes wide open complete with “what” gesture with his paws. Puddles waved him off and returned her attention to Whiskers sitting next to Blaster their heads bobbing along with the extremely loud. When Whiskers did not respond, Puddles grabbed his arm and shook.

“What is that about?” She hissed, inching closer to angry.

“I heard you the first time. I was ignoring your question because the answer is obvious. We were hired…”

“To watch them. Watch!” Puddles shouted over the music.

“And we are,” Whiskers replied with a wink.

“I don’t call bar fights night after night watching!”

Whiskers ignored her resuming bobbing his head to the music. Frustrated and furious, Puddles slammed back into her seat and pulled out her phone. Chuck, looked concerned, again she waved him off. A few swipes and a click, new frying pan ordered. That made her feel a tiny bit better…still, looking around the limousine she only saw trouble. Paying trouble, but trouble that they could handle in a different manner. She hopped over to sit next to Chuck.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Fine,” she replied shooting a glare at an oblivious Whisker, “Are we set?”

“Set?”

“Is security in place? I don’t want another bar scene.”

“No, we are not set. I haven’t had time to set up security. We are always out with these two.” Concern and irritation written across Chuck’s face.

“I know,” Puddles sighed. “Can you do that tonight?”

“When? I’m in here,” Chuck gestured at everyone.

“Next stop, get out, and get security established. I saw the same files you did…”

“Trouble,” Chuck finished.

A short time later the flying limousine came to a stop, passenger doors opened automatically, neon light flooded the darkened passenger space, followed closely by music even louder than inside the car. Whiskers exited valet parking lane side, standing near the limousine door looking for trouble. Puddles and Chuck exited curbside finding themselves surrounded by dozens of nude dancing holos welcoming all inside to the garish front door of the Glassland Exotic Club. Chuck stared, all around him flying exotic hover vehicles, shining lights, neon, and best of all no Cloud, for a brief moment Chuck was happy to be among the elites. Puddles sighed and shook her head.

“This is the place!” Blaster shouted as he exited.

The rest of the band and their hanger-ons exited the limousine on both sides forming a loose group outside the front door. Some of them continued to drink, most of them made lewd comments to or about the nude holos, and all of them waited for some direction.

“Lets go tear this place up!” someone shouted.

As one mob the group entered Glassland Exotic Club.

After the last hanger-on entered, Puddles turned to Chuck, “Get to work. Contact me when you have security in place and make sure a team arrives here within the hour.”

For a second Chuck looked surprised at Puddles.

“What?”

“This is a new you is all,” Chuck began, “I like it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Puddles replied grabbing Whiskers as he walked past, “This is still HIS job.”

“What?”

“Get your head out of your inshall,” Puddles hissed at Whiskers, “We have work to do. Chuck is leaving to speak with security. I am NOT going in there. I will be around.”

“Everything is under control,” Whisker replied.

“No, not at all,” Puddles responded irritatedly. “You go in there and watch. We will work out here.”

Whisker stared at both of them. Chuck broke eye contact first, summoning a taxi back to the concert venue making a call to Acid Chamber’s security. Puddles gave Whiskers a last look before crossing the elevated street to the other side, “Go on watch.”

Puddles watched Chuck’s taxi fly off. Upper Stroud was too rich, too much for her tastes. Everything shiny, new, brightly lit, and the people too well dressed, behaved, except for Acid Chamber’s mob, for her. Being above the Cloud was interesting, but not something she aspired too and given how expensive a cup of coffee was she would never be here. By the time Puddles sat down at a window seat in the mostly empty all night coffee bar Whiskers had entered Glassland.

Watching Trouble

Despite the loud music that caused him to fold his ears. Despite the drinks. Despite the nude and semi-nude dancers of all species all around him, Whiskers fumed. He never relaxed, always on the job, and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to protect his favorite band. No, he mentally corrected himself, not protect watch for danger. Puddles accusation that he was not on the job got under his fur more than he wanted to admit. Being near Acid Chamber was a bonus, not his goal, he thought angrily. How many times had Puddles caused trouble on a job?

Seductively walking towards his table, her tail waving in come-hither manner, her yellow and brown fur sparkling from glitter, a cat dancer approached him, interrupting his fuming. Gently he pushed the dancer away from the table, he sat at alone; see, he thought, I am on the job. He did take a moment to watch her walk away, sometimes the job sucked, he thought.

From his seat at the back of Glassland, he watched Blaster and his entourage behave like animals. Most of the wealthy patrons left after Trukk, a “friend” of Blasters’, hopped on stage and announced the “take over by Acid Chamber.” Sensing an opportunity, Glassland’s manager closed the doors and made tonight all about Acid Chamber. Whiskers laughed at the memory of the first dancer trying to dance to Acid Chamber, she gave up and threw her tiny costume at the band in exchange for an influx of isstas. Another crash, more breaking glass, more laughter, more Acid Chamber at bone rattling levels, and the shine of being around them wore thin.

From her seat at Golden Caffine, Puddles watched the front door of the club, the holos continued to dance, their formerly smooth motions jerky, almost spastic, as they attempted to move to Acid Chamber blaring from the external speakers. The open sign changed to closed for private party. Picking at her muffin and sipping her coffee, Puddles waited to hear from Chuck or for trouble.

In the cacophony of noise, Whiskers missed the first sign of trouble and the second and third. To him, everyone looked like they were drinking, dancing, singing, and fighting. Fighting? Standing to get a better view of the club, Whiskers could not tell if they were dancing to Acid Chamber or fighting, the difference between the two more subtle than expected. When two bouncers jumping off the stage and more bouncers rushed towards the confrontation Whiskers knew the problem was a fight.

Pushing through the cluster of dancers and drunk hanger-ons, Whiskers came face to face with a very angry and very large human bouncer. One chromed hand held the bassist off the floor and the bouncer’s other chrome hand jackhammered the bassist’s face. Without thinking, Whisker snapped a kick at the back of the bouncer’s knee. Whiskers instantly regretted not thinking when his foot struck hard against what probably was a chromed leg. The bouncer unmoved by the kick continued to pummel the bassist. One last punch snapped the bassist’s head back and the bouncer dropped him to the floor.

When the security team arrived outside Glassland Puddles was waiting outside sipping the last of her coffee. Glancing at her watch, she mentally noted to give Chuck a bonus for the fast work. A six-man security team exited the truck and waited for direction.

Inside the club, Whiskers shoved another table into the bouncer’s path, while ducking another powerful punch. Whiskers backed into a knot of people fighting and took a powerful punch to the ribs when he glanced away. Fumbling for his stun stick, Whisker took another punch that knocked him to his knees, the stun stick out of his hand, and then down to the ground when the knot of people fighting fell on top of him.

Another glance at her watch surprised Puddles, all this time and no trouble, maybe this would be a quiet assignment after all. Glassland’s front doors crashed open, an Acid Chamber song blasting from inside, the jerky holos instantly vanished, as the first of Acid Chamber’s entourage landed on the ground. The security team looked at Puddles for direction she waved them off; in ones and twos bouncers forcefully ejected members of the band and their entourage from the club. Landing simultaneously on top of the pile, Whiskers and Blaster.

Show Time

Concertgoers packed together, no room to move, breathing as one just to breathe. The noise level deafening and the concert had not started, just the noise of that many people in one enclosed space. Whiskers, standing on the right side of the stage wearing sound dampening earplugs folder his ears down to muffle the noise more. Excited to witness one of his favorite bands, Whiskers strained to keep from bouncing up and down with excitement and to pay attention to the sea of faces in front of the stage.

A week of listening to practice and borrowing a few of Whiskers’ Acid Chamber favorites and Puddles still did not get his obsession with this band or their music. If the noise they made could be called music. From his vantage point backstage Puddles watched the last few roadies on their watch list. Titanic and his crew worked feverishly to get the final details ready for the show; unlikely to cause trouble, but Puddles job was to ensure they did not, so he continued to watch.

Crushed against a barrier in front of the stage, elbowing to overly enthusiastic fans in the ribs, Chuck wondered if he really did get the best part of the job. He brought in the data on everyone working for Acid Chamber, assisted in tracking down the few trouble spots, set-up security for the concerts, and all he wanted was the best part of the job; work from the concert floor. Another elbow to clear some breathing room.

A low thrum, felt more than heard, seconds before the lights in the hall went out, the crowd silenced. In the silence, the low thrum heard and felt, slowly ramping up in volume and intensity. Backstage roadies and stagehands moved to ready positions, Acid Chamber assembled, and Whiskers nearly bounced out of his fur with excitement. Puddles moved to another, quieter vantage point backstage, able to see the roadies and stage. Chuck stomped on a foot, elbowed a rib for breathing room, while keeping his eyes on where the stage was in the dark.

Backstage, Acid Chamber in all black, moved onstage.

On stage, Acid Chamber silently took their positions and began the opening notes to their number one quadstomp song, Anthem for the Dying.

To the right of the stage, Whiskers swayed with the opening notes, hoping nothing ruined the concert.

In front of the stage, the crowd surged forward, Chuck eyes still on stage, made room as best he could. Two pin-prinks of green light bobbed and flowed in the dark across the stage, appearing and disappearing to the beat. The opening notes reached the high point and crashed down creating a wave of sound, stage lights illuminated the Acid Chamber playing their instruments, the holo-green flames on each of their outfits dancing in rhythm. The lead singer, green augmented eyes blazing roared out the lyrics over the roar of the crowd.

Two hours of non-stop music and Puddles had reached her limit, even with noise canceling ear plugs, her ears folded flat, and in a quieter vantage point, the noise reached her and irritated her. Titanic and his crew did their job without any incident. Whiskers spent the entire time enjoying himself, feeling the music move his fur and feet. Chuck, stopped fighting the crowd and moved with the crowd, exhausted he found a place to sit and drink water after most of the crowd exited the concert.

After Party

“Does the ringing ever stop?” Whiskers head in paws mumbled to the table.

Chuck slid further down in his chair, pulling his sweat soaked shirt off his chest, “The cool breeze feels great.”

“What?” Whiskers asked.

Puddles flicked one of the earplugs across the room, smiling when the plug bounced off one of the hanger-ons and into a can of alcohol. Fighting exhaustion and a deep desire to be anywhere else but at the after party, Puddles satisfied herself with the knowledge that Acid Chamber was leaving soon.

Nudging Whiskers, “How much longer do we have to stay?”

“What?”

“How MUCH LONGER DO WE…”

“My ears are ringing, I’m not deaf,” Whiskers shot back.

Rubbing his stomach, “Anyone else starving?” Chuck asked.

“Great job tonight!” Blaster shouted.

Whiskers sat straight, Chuck stopped fanning his shirt, and Puddles glared at Blaster and his lead bassist holding large bottles of beer standing next to the table. A korogin woman grabbed the bassist by the arm and pulling him back to the party. Blaster sat down.

Shoving Whiskers, “Have a good time? I know you did. This was our best time here.”

“Concert was awesome,” Whiskers replied.

“I know. Next time we are in town you are our first call.”

“Thanks,” Puddles sarcastically replied.

Two korogin women approached Blaster, one of them whispering in his ear. Pushing back from the table, “Enjoy the after party,” gesturing at the women, “I have fans to…you know.”

“NiHo’s?” Chuck asked.

Standing up, “We should let Blaster know we are leaving,” Whiskers said.

“Go ahead, I’m with Chuck, food is a necessary thing.”

“I’ll get us a cab,” Chuck said heading to the door.

Half an hour later, comfortably seated at their table, hot bowls of noodles in front of them, one by one each of them let out a sigh.

“After a long night, nothing better than a bowl of NiHo’s,” Chuck announced around a mouthful of noodles.

“What?” Whiskers said hoping the ringing would stop.

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB Running Down Clues

Plenty of changes, one of the larger clearing up that Puddles is standing on a skyscraper and has to walk between two to get to the coffee shop. Enjoy.

Previously.

Running Down Clues

“Interpersonal skills, my furry ass,” Puddles mumbled to herself.

For the third time in as many minutes, she looked at the data on the tablet. The address matched up; however, the holo of a storefront did not match the building she stood in front of the Medical Offices of Tablix and Aslan. Puddles leaned against the wall next to the front doors, making an inquiry on the tablet.

Doctor Tablix and Doctor Aslan licensed through the city, general practitioners, and recently moved their offices to the location she stood next too. Looking over the reviews, each one a glowing testament to their skills and affordability. Too glowing the cynical side of Puddles screamed. Another data search more information, another image of Tablix and Aslan that she compared to their licensing images. At least she knew what the Doctors looked like. A few more data inquiries resulted in nothing outstanding. Bing. In the upper right corner of her tablet a vid-chat notice from Whiskers. Stepping away from the wall, she sat on a bench near the edge of the building and tapped the icon.

“What’s up?” She asked. “Stop looking you can’t see where I am at.”

“Camile left,” Whiskers said with a sigh.

“Something wrong? She didn’t stiff us did she?”

“The isstas are in the account.”

“Good. Then what is bothering you?”

“I do not like chasing down cheating spouses and delivering the news.”

“Neither do I, but we need the isstas,” Puddles replied watching two gangers enter the doctor’s office. “That’s odd.”

“What?”

“Patients of the doctors don’t look like they live in the area.”

“How much longer do you need? We have a lot of work to do for Acid Chamber,” Puddles was positive Whiskers tone improved at the mention of Acid Chamber. What he heard in their music was beyond her.

“If you or Chuck don’t need me I’m going to spend a few more hours watching this place. Something is off.”

“So there was something of use in that file,” Whiskers said with a smirk.

“Yes, there was,” Puddles, mumbled.

“Meet us at the office when you are done.”

“Later,” Puddles touched the icon ending the call.

Looking around wageslave hell, Puddles spotted a coffee shop across the chasm between the building she was on and the coffee shop. Plenty of time to watch who entered and left the doctor’s office before a boring meeting. As she crossed an elevated walkway between the buildings, Puddles took a few moments to marvel at the sights; four lanes of flying traffic above and below the walkway, express elevators rushing up and down the sides of the buildings, and everywhere people working in offices or moving to work. Before entering the building with the coffee shop, Puddles took one last look up, nothing but buildings, traffic, and the Cloud.

“Welcome,” greeted the overly cheery wageslave behind the counter. “What can I make for you?”

Puddles looked at the holo-menu boards coming close to passing out from all of the choices. The coffee place near their office had coffee and not much else. Someone behind her made an exasperated noise. Puddles shook her head.

“Coffee. Just you largest cup of coffee,” she finished before the cheery wageslave could launch into his prepared litany of types and sizes of coffee.

“Would you like something to eat, such as…”

“Just the largest cup of coffee,” Puddles interrupted ignoring the wageslave’s shocked look.

Giant cup of coffee in hand, Puddles navigated the room looking for a seat near the window with a clear view of the doctor’s office. Dozens of people of all species, the only unifying things branded coffee and wageslave uniforms. After dodging the hundredth individual with their face in some electronic device ignoring the world around them, Puddles found an available seat. Elbowing a wageslave out of the way, she mumbled an apology, and sat down. Looking around the coffee shop and the wageslaves, Puddles was thankful for her career.

After the second pair of gangers entered the doctor’s office, Puddles began noting the times of their arrival and departure. From her seat, Puddles could not see any changes between when a pair entered and left. Maybe they all had a cold, she sarcastically thought. Every hour and a half another pair; never the same pair. All of gangers from two or three gangs, as best she could tell by their appearance.

Finishing her coffee, Puddles looked at her notes, several pages of information and images, this might be the lead to re-open the case, after Acid Chamber.

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB Making The Case

A hint of Whiskers past and a resolution to a case. As for changes, small and subtle, mostly involving place Camile’s name to make clear who is being referenced. Enjoy. 🙂

Previously.

Making the Case

Camile watched the vid for a third time, tears welling up for a fifth time. As she watched the vid Camile absentmindedly swiped back and forth through the case file, never looking directly at the pages on the tablet. Whiskers did his best not to react to the stench of despair emanating from her. He understood her pain.

“You have our sympathies,” Whisker said quietly.

She looked away from the vid to stare at him with tear-filled eyes and anguish all over her face.

“Thank you,” she mumbled before returning to the vid.

“As you have seen, your husband is meeting regularly at Love Buy The Hour with…”

“My best friend,” Camile interrupted with some anger.

Whiskers sat back, allowing Camile to process the information. Anything else he said would only make her situation worse. Puddles peeked her snout around the corner, took one look, and returned to whatever busy work she could find.

Twenty-three minutes later Camile stood up, tears no longer falling, resignation and anger warred across her face. “Thank you. I mean, I’m not thankful for the news, but…you know… How much do I owe you?”

Whiskers stood up, offering her his paw to shake, a light shake of hand and paw, “Our fees have been sent to your financial institution. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

For a brief moment, Whiskers saw her potential request for violence and vengeance flash across her face, “No. Not that I can think of.”

Whiskers walked with her to her car, watching her leave he pushed thoughts of the past out of his head to focus on the rest of the work for the day. Returning to the office, he found Puddles at her side of the desk with a cup of coffee on his side, “Thought you could use a cup.”

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB Quiet Time

Tiny changes for clarity, although there a few sentences I’m looking at closer.

Previously.

Quiet time

Silence.

Blessed silence.

Sitting in the dark, watching the side exit of the Love Buy The Hour coffin motel, Whiskers relished the peace and quiet. No Puddles. No Chuck. No noise of the city. Nothing, but silence. After a week of rushing around the city, interviews with clients, and the frustration of a case ending without resolution he needed the quiet time to recharge.

Normally, following people around Stroud, taking vid and holo of them entering and leaving places revolted Whiskers. Cases like this gave him a dirty feeling, bottom feeding on the misery of others, and that did not sit well with him. However, peace and quiet did and cases like this were all about peace and quiet.

Pairing Chuck with Puddles ensured quiet time. Leaning forward, Whiskers swiped across the windshield flipping through case information. Mister Ethan Harowe mid-level wageslave at Wanlot, married six years, no outstanding debts or for that matter, anything else. Wrapping this case up, a matter of a few more hours of following and recording.

Incoming message light flashing caught Whiskers attention, only a few individuals knew the car’s private message address. Two taps on the windshield cleared the casefile, another tap brought up the message. Sender unknown, Whiskers sat back. A quick glance at the clock, enough time to start a trace. A few minutes later, trace started and Mister Howe exited Love Buy The Hour kissing Caroline Tarr deeply before heading to his car. Mister Howe drove past, oblivious to Whiskers. Swiping the windshield established connection with Puddles in their car.

“They are leaving. I will follow the husband. You and Chuck follow his partner,” Whiskers said, starting the car, following Mister Howe.

An hour of late night traffic later, Mister Howe never deviating from the most direct path to his blockhouse apartment, pulling into an adjacent parking spot, Whiskers watched Mister Howe enter the elevator. Sitting back, Whiskers pulled up the vid images from tonight’s work; plenty of clear images of Mister Howe and partner. Checking the trace, a dead end. Curiosity warred with security. Security won, filing the message away, Whiskers headed back to the office.

Puddles and Whiskers, WDB On The Job

More subtle fixes. I love this scene. Enjoy.

Previously.

On the job

Grinding her teeth, something her dentist advised her to stop, Puddles shot daggers at Chuck, head in his chest sleeping in the passenger seat.

SNORE

Ten. Ten snores in the past, glancing at the clock, five minutes, each one louder and longer than the last. Her left ear twitched. At this rate, his snores would blow this surveillance. Chuck slid deeper into the seat; another loud, long snore mirroring his descent filled the car, and Puddles was positive, the coffin love motel they were watching. Grabbing Chuck’s shoulder, Puddles shook him.

“What,” Chuck snapped looking around the car in a panic.

Puddles held a single claw up to him, “Sshhhh.”

“Was I…”

Thrusting the claw in front of Chuck’s face, “Not another sound.”

Sitting up, straightening his clothes, Chuck looked around for a few minutes before asking, “Anything?”

Puddles rolled her eyes, “No, nothing since he went into Love Buy The Hour. Miss Sad Face’s husband went in with Tart of the Month an hour ago. Whiskers caught all of the action on vid.”

“Where is Whiskers?” Chuck asked, while looking out the window at the front of the motel.

“Watching the side exit. Now keep watch and no more snoring.”

Fifteen minutes of silence.

“How do you do this?” Chuck started. “I’m bored and sleepy,” he finished with a wide mouthed yawn.

Puddles stared at Chuck deciding how to respond, leaning towards flushing her irritation at him out on him when Whiskers’ face appeared on the windshield monitor, “They are leaving. I will follow the husband. You and Chuck follow his partner.”

“Will do,” Puddles responded closing the vid-window.

“There goes Whiskers,” Chuck pointed at Whisker’s hover leaving the parking lot.

Puddles nodded as she positioned the car a few car lengths behind Tart of the Month’s car entering traffic.

“Why are we following her?” Chuck asked as he snapped vid of her car.

“What?”

“We have her license number and we have her face. Why not use CIS to get all of her data and be done in five minutes?”

“What does her data prove to Miss Sad Face?”

“Who?”

“The client. Miss…” Puddles tried to remember her name for a second as she changed lanes, “whatever her name is.”

“She can know who her husband is sleeping with.”

“Data proves nothing. She will want proof. Vid of her husband and,” gesturing at Tart of the Week’s car, “her is proof she can see.”

“So we follow her where?” Chuck asked.

“Wherever she goes. I’m hoping she is headed home.”

“Me too.”