Eye of the Monster

"I'll explain later."

Havelock came close to the car and adjusted his antiquated glasses. "How likely do you think this is to work?"

"Relax," she said, setting her hand on his shoulder. "This isn't my first time fooling the system."

The suit's helmet retracted and Instinct began removing its pieces. Havelock got a look at her for the first time.

"Remarkable," he muttered. "Just like you're twins. Can you tell me exactly what led to this?"

Candles scratched his chin. "Is someone going to fill me in on all this?"

Dawson and Instinct spoke at the same time.

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it."

He waved his hand dismissively, walking a few steps away and starting to take off his own armor. "Nobody tells me anything around here. Hey, are we still getting a drink after this? And what happened to Ionfist? I thought he was going to blow up or something."

"Yeah," Instinct said curiously, looking to Dawson. "What did happen to him?"

Rubbing the back of her head, Dawson said "I'm not... entirely sure. But I think it's going to be alright."

= = =

Vayger walked in with her helmet under one arm, her hair freshly brushed by Instinct's fingers in the time they'd spent outside waiting for word to come in. The moment she saw Pickers on the other side of the table she dropped it and started rushing towards him. A knife came out of her sleeve and into her hand.

Instinct grabbed her by the collar just as Jason was pulling out his Predator, which Dawson slapped down to the table before he could even switch the safety off. Calista chuckled at the immediate hostility.

"What's he doing here!?"

"What's she doing here?!"

"You're here," Dawson said sternly, because I asked you to come here. Both of you. Sit down, Vayger. Jason, put your fucking gun away."

She lifted her arm and Pickers was slow in putting the gun back into his underarm holster. Calista lifted her legs up onto the table and leaned back in the seat. Instinct took a seat and Vayger promptly wriggled into her lap, staring daggers across the table. In the arena down below, orks of the bloody tusks were re-enacting the fight between Ivan Ionfist, Neon Justice and the figure they called the dark star. All three were positions of reverence, with no shortage of volunteers for each role.

Calista moved her hand in a get on with it motion.

"The three of you," Dawson started, "By either dumb luck or by design have ended up in charge of the three biggest gangs in San Francisco. This right here? This is me putting screws to you to get the violence de-escalated until it's a thing of the past."

Pickers was the first to speak. "And why exactly would we do that?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Vayger spat. Then she licked Instinct's neck.

Dawson reached across the table from her end and grabbed Jason by his collar and Vayger by her shoulder.

"Because I'm fucking telling you to! I have guesses about the shape your ambitions take as you get older but if you won't do what I'm asking--what I'm telling you to out of the goodness of your own hearts, or for the sake of the people who follow you, then you'll fucking do it because I have enough evidence on all fucking three of you to put you away for the rest of your lives, which may turn out to be a hell of a lot shorter than you might expect!"

"I'm not joking about this... You're going to get rid of your racist messages, you're going to lay off the robberies and the muggings and the drug pushing or I will use the system against you in a way I have never used it before!"

She let go of both of them. Jason sat back up in his seat and Vayger shrank away from her to take refuge in the space between Instinct's shoulder and neck, squinting at her brattily.

Calista spread her arms. "I agree."

The elf and the human looked to her and then at each other. Pickers raised his eyebrows.

"Fine. I've got a few ideas I was planning to implement anyway."

Vayger sneered. "I've got better things to teach my boys and girls than how boring humans are."

Dawson stood up and rolled her right shoulder. "Good. Don't forget what I know, what I can do, and you won't forget why you're making the world a better place."

Instinct made to stand up and Vayger clung on to her upper body like a koala, clearly expecting to be carried out. Instinct obliged.

"Your aura is different," Calista said, also standing up. "Before it was strong, smoky. Now it's bright. Did you... get a patron?"

"No patrons," Dawson said, face even. "Just seeing in a few more colors now." Indeed, Calista had an aura now too. Dawson had to focus to see it, but it was there.

"An adept then," Calista mused. "Dark Star indeed." She turned away and walked to the railing, shouting at her subordinate actors.

"Hey! More overhead strikes! Ivan liked to go for the kill as often as possible!"

Pickers lingered by the doorway out of the balcony, waiting for her. When she came close he spoke. "I don't know what your friend told Peter but it really helped him out. He hasn't cried a single time since they spoke."

Dawson grinned. "Avalanche can have a way with words, when she wants to." She offered him her hand and he took it.

"Huh," he grunted. "Why do your fingers make mine tingle?"

"A new trick I'm learning," she supplied. Before he could press the question Instinct appeared in the doorway again and grabbed him by the shoulders, pressing him to the frame.

"Hey Jason," she crooned. "You know Instinct has told me a lot about you... I feel like we're old friends already. How come you and her never got it on, huh?"

"Well," Jason said, leaning his face away from hers, "She's not really my type..."

"What?" She's got muscle, hair, a stern gaze... You love those things, don't you?"

"Yeah," Pickers admitted, "I was referring more to the blood-belching axe-wound between her legs."

"Well what if I told you," she said, "I don't do the blood part. Do you think you and I could uh, you know... Go fuck in the back of your car?"

Dawson turned away and started to walk along the coliseum hall. Pickers called after her.

"Hey! Dawson! Hey! Where are you going? Your sister! Dawson??"

"Look, we don't have to go all the way to your car, we can do it right here..."

"Dawson!!"

She soon found herself staring again at The Last Lament. The scene of carnage it depicted was no less chaotic than it was last time, only now there was a detail she didn't recall from when she'd first seen it.

A hulking warrior in patchwork armor, clearly an ork with long blood-red hair, was in the center of the melee, wielding a sword of pure lightning.

She stared at it for a time until Instinct touched her on the shoulder.

"Hey," she whispered. She didn't wait for a response, nosing Dawson in the neck and licking her skin.

"Being near you is incredible lately. I mean... It always was, but... Something is different now."

"So people keep telling me," Dawson said, smirking slightly.

"Can't wait," she whispered. Instinct dropped to her knees and began unbuttoning Dawson's pants. Within a dozen seconds the familiar moist fullness of her tongue was pushing up between her legs, making Dawson gasp. She set a hand on her creature's head. It was far from the worst thing to get head so casually.

"Thish pusshy... Sho ghood... Makin' me looshe my mhind..."

Dawson's grin grew a little at the corners of her mouth. She cycled the magic inside of her to channel more of it into her midsection, where Instinct was feeding her addiction. The effect was immediate.

"Ahh! Nho! Pleashe... My brain ish melting! Mershy!!

Licking the inside of her mouth, Dawson breathed joyful laughter. If she lived, she could get used to this.

= = =

"I plot... Your rubric scarab! I steal... Your satellite! I want... Your wife to be my... Baby tonight, baby tonight!"

The sleek silver Bentley stopped in front of the corporate court building just behind a jet black limousine of Aztlan make. Dawson didn't recognize the model so it must have been brand new. Typical executive move, to disregard the classics.

Music continued to spill out of the Firebird's stereo. "I choose to steal what you choose to show..."

A corrections officer got out of the passenger seat and opened up the back door, allowing Julius Megiddo to emerge. He shook straight his mane of silver hair and smoothed straight his gray suit. Even the cuffs around his wrists were loose, the chain generous enough to allow him some comfortable motion.

"And you know! I will not! Apologize! You're mine for the taking!"

Ahead of them the rear door of the limousine opened up to let out The Chairman, Gunderrez. He looked straight at Megiddo and the contempt radiating from his being was almost tangible. Then he continued towards the building where a doorman opened the way for him.

"I'm making a career of evil! I'm making a career of evil..."

Dawson opened the driver's side of the Firebird at that moment and got up out of the car. Megiddo saw her and affected his most polished sneer.

"Come to see me win my case, detective?"

"Just making sure my investment makes it to trial," Dawson corrected him.

Instinct got out of the passenger side and Megiddo immediately paled. "These proceedings," he reminded, "Are not open to the public."

Her creature walked around from the door and closed the twelve meters between them. When she was within arm's reach Megiddo started to call for the attention of the guard who had let him out, but he didn't manage to get more than one word out before Instinct grabbed him by the head. He tried to shove her away but his cuffs prevented him from being able to effectively resist her strong-arm tactics.

She took hold of his shoulder and held him in place while emitting her tongue and forcing it into his terrified mouth. Dawson held one fist in front of her face to hide her ill-concealed laughter; he was tasting now the road head she'd gotten on the way over here, no doubt. Cheaper than real steak but he was far from a value shopper.

Megiddo moaned pitifully but the guard wisely chose to look away from this intimate moment. Instinct held him for almost twenty full seconds, long enough that he was gasping for breath when finally she let him go. After that he was spitting.

"Disgusting! I'm going to have to have myself scanned medically now!"

"More where that came from," Instinct said. Then she slapped him on the ass.

He flitted away from any further touches and tried to recompose himself.

"Every touch is a humiliation beyond measurement," he declared. "I should be inside already." He turned to face the court building where the Chairman had already entered.

"Now," Julius said over his shoulder, "When this is over, you'll have seen how the civilized resolve their differences. Take note, if you can keep up."

At that moment an explosion happened in the front of the building, in the lobby. It shattered the glass facade and sent fragments raining down on the cars. Everyone but Megiddo took cover behind a vehicle, leaving the elf standing upright and alone, looking at the sudden fire.

His expression was blank as he did whatever math this required of him.

Instinct patted him on the ass again. "I like your style," she whispered. "I'll have to try this sometime."

Then she got back into the Firebird.

"I'm making a career of evil..."

= = =

Somewhere in the UCAS

= = =

Instinct placed a hand over Impulse's. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No," her human said. "I think one of me is going to be enough for them."

She hesitated. How easy it would be not to do this. To just drive away. Easy for her, but not for Impulse. "I understand."

Impulse brought hand to mouth and kissed it. Then she opened up the door of the Firebird and got out.

To take her mind off things, Impulse pulled out her commpad and checked the news. The first few headlines included video and audio data when she scrolled over them.

Authorities in California are breathing a sigh of relief after footage emerged earlier this week of infamous ork go-ganger Ivan Ionfist being fought on a beach in San Francisco, courtesy of local vigilante Neon Justice. A drone that happened to be flying near the battle caught on camera the former warboss, who had escaped from Folsom last month, being twice in the head and once in the body with a railgun. His body was then pulled out to sea by a retreating storm...

Also caught on camera was another fugitive, Elazar Havelock, who is shown here being confronted by a Lone Star detective. When Havelock reaches for a gun stored on the table beside him, the detective shoots him five times in the chest. A beaker of what is believed to have been stolen orichalcum fell over in the incident and led to the abandoned lighthouse he was hiding in going up in flames.

Havelock was convicted of bio-magical terrorism and escaped from custody with what is now believed to be the aid of former head of the Aztechnology Commitee for Innovative Applications Raphael Gunderrez. Gunderrez himself was killed in a bombing just a few days ago at a judicial corporate court hearing intended to determine his guilt, which is still under investigation.

In other news, City Councilman Kane Reymont has fled California after allegations emerged of his accepting bribes from Yakuza operatives to influence the legal process in the Free State, as well as conspiring to assassinate Lone Star personnel. Regional Manager Agatha Culdite has been implicated in these allegations and is currently in police custody pending an investigation.

The article showed an animated frame of Sokoth, with metal framing now armoring his jaw, speaking to the press. Instinct tapped on it to turn on his voice.

"These have been difficult times for the people of San Francisco but we have pulled through. Public enemy number one has been compromised to a permanent end and the investigation is ongoing as pertains to the identity of Neon Justice. We are reorganizing the list of public enemies to include recent events, and close to the top of the list will be former city councilman Reymont..."

Up on the path, Dawson was walking towards a fairly large house. They lived together, which didn't surprise her. That was good. It made this easier. They'd done well for themselves, and that was also good. It assuaged her guilt just a fraction. And in a moment she would be clean again.

She sent one last message on her commpad and then put it in her pocket. For a moment she considered knocking on the door but ultimately settled on using the doorbell.

After roughly thirty seconds, a woman answered the door. Young, mid-20's perhaps. Soft red hair, fair skin. A high-quality synthetic cotton black sweater. Yes, Dawson recognized her. To recognize her almost broke her right then. And did she recognize her? Not right away, it seemed.

"Yes?" she asked, politely. "Can I help you?"

"Hello ma'am," Dawson started. These words she'd been practicing for years, and now they came out mechanically. Wooden. "I'm in here in relation to a crime."

The woman frowned. "A crime? In... this area?"

"No ma'am," Dawson muttered. "This crime occurred on July 9th, in 2058. In a traffic jam in New York City, on 44th avenue." The woman's eyes slowly widened as the date was named. Yes, she remembered that day quite clearly. It had defined her life, hadn't it?

"Your father," Dawson went on, "Gabriel Katchken, was murdered by a woman with a knife as part of a string of armed robberies conducted by the Cutters on every car on the street."

Dawson reached into her coat and pulled out her gun. "He had in his glove box a Beretta 201T identical in make to this one but he elected not to utilize it."

At that moment, Instinct received the message. It read Take care of the girls.

"Dawson," she whispered. Her hand flew to the glovebox and pulled it open, finding the Beretta gone.

No... Impulse!

She pushed open the car door and started to sprint up the pathway towards the house.

A young man had appeared in the hallway beyond the door where they stood and watched as Dawson turned the gun around, reached out and took the girl's hand in her own, fitting her finger onto the handle. Her fingers were trembling as Dawson flicked the safety switch to off, producing a resounding click.

"Your father had a gun like this," Dawson went on, "But he didn't use it. And so he was murdered by someone with a balisong that she learned how to use from her uncle. Because..." Tears were coursing down her cheeks, her stony exterior, so long practiced, finally gave away in what could be the last moment of her life.

"Because she hated that her uncle had died of what looked like a preventable illness. She thought it was because he couldn't afford the services of DocWagon and when she saw the logo on Gabriel's shirt, she blamed him for the fact that the only person who had ever even pretended to care about her was gone."

She let go of the gun and the young woman held it up at the same angle in which Dawson had put it in her hand. Using both hands, Dawson parted her coat and then ripped her shirt down the chest to show it was bare. She pressed it to the cold barrel of the 201T.

"And every day it has haunted that girl."

"Please," she asked. "Please make it right."

She could barely see through the tears in her eyes but she could see just fine the tears falling down those of the smaller, younger woman.

She shut her eyes and let out a slow sigh. This was it. Now she would be clean again. Or at least as close as she ever could be.

The moment drew out long. She didn't hear Instinct's approaching footfalls or the words of the man further inside.

The only thing she heard was a single soft click.

It was the sound of the 201T's safety being put back on.