“Did you know he threw the iced latte right down the sink?” Hazel whispered like a flood just swept away an entire village.
“Really? I didn’t think someone like him would drain a cup before throwing it into the trash. Ow! Haze!” Sush flinched when her deputy struck her arm with a thick ring folder.
Sulking in her chair and tucking the folder back under her tablet on her lap, Hazel said, “You’re usually funny when you’re mean, but not this time.”
Rubbing away the sensation from the blow, Sush said, “Maybe the duke’s just here to work, Haze. How about you give him a pass? It’s not like you don’t have other offers. And pull up B-12 for me, please.”
At lunch, Hazel asked Sush about why she had to get Greg bagels and coffee. Sush lied eloquently on the spot, saying that she lost a bet against the duke about his age, to which Hazel reprimanded, “How could you not know that? Everyone knows it’s a hundred and ninety! Five years older than the king! Last I checked, you’re thirty-five, so aren’t you supposed to have the memory of a thirty-five-year-old?” “Unlike you, my brain cells are limited and I have to be selective about what I store in them. His age seemed too trivial to warrant a space in my mental archive.” The truth was she knew. Like Greg, she’d memorized his and the mavericks’ profiles and faces before they showed up, down to the most trivial detail of their ages. “So… he just happened to tell you he took coffee?” Suspicion crawled onto Hazel’s face. “Nope. He just said whoever lost the bet would buy the other bagels and coffee.” “You two sure are getting along,” Hazel remarked, not even trying to hide her indignation. H
Back in the trenches, Greg popped from correspondence to system maintenance to weaponry maintenance when he heard her sigh. It was as if his auditory nerves had been programmed to listen for that sound. His ears perked, his skimming of the inventory list paused, his chin lifted. He watched as Sush dumped the clipboard next to the keyboard as she slumped into her swivel chair, brows furrowed and mouth downturned in a frown as she scrolled through her phone.Setting the list in his hand onto his chair, he strode across the space, toward the elevator, jabbed the number six, tapped his foot impatiently against the ground as he waited for the elevator bell to chime faintly, stepped onto the cafeteria floor and made a beeline for the coffee bar.Nancy looked up from her phone when Greg asked, “What does the Chief Octopus normally tak
In the dark room of Sush’s apartment, the red strips displaying the time on her bedside alarm clock showed 3:16 AM when the sound of her ringtone blared through the room, jostling her awake. Phones were never turned off in this profession, especially not if they were chiefs or deputies. They were paid at a laughable wage to work at fixed hours and be reachable at all hours. Swiping to answer the call without checking the caller identification, she hid under the covers with her eyes closed while the caller spoke. A security breach. In the east. EAST. She didn’t choose to stay in the west because she’d enjoy taking a hell of a long flight to the other side of the globe, especially not when it was still dark, her bed still warm and her eyelids still heavy. She tried wrigg
The latter two questions had been answered by an autopsy report and confirmed by the eastern octopuses: the sprinklers were not turned on from the control room, meaning it could’ve only been switched on by an external source. They traced it to an unauthorized wireless device, suspecting that the intruder had a remote in his trousers pocket that managed the feat.As for the screaming, the sprinklers sprayed - not water - but zahar: an air-borne substance that tampers with its victim’s neurons. They’d feel as if a million needles were being pierced through their skin, causing momentary paralysis while their assailant struck. Zahar wasn’t lethal in open spaces, but it did buy time.Why wasn't the assailant himself affected? The octopuses concluded that either he had already ingested an antidote or he wasn’t
The following day, Sush was scrutinizing each flagged file. Frustration filled her when formatting issues disturbed her flow. These were very old files overseen by Kenji’s predecessor, who wasn’t exactly the most efficient or thorough octopus, so Sush supposed she should have expected half-baked work like these. It really bothered her, but since the retired hunter was not within her vicinity to be yelled at, all she could do was sigh to herself as she perfected the documents by correcting each formatting issue that didn’t conform to the standard way they did things. These old timers, she thought to herself in dismay.Her flow got better, until one broke her momentum - an archive from over a decade ago about the remnants of a victim suspected to have been bombed. Her eyes trailed along each line, each photo. Her hea
“Uncle Gweg! Why didn’t you call?” He was just two minutes late. Even so, heaviness settled in his stomach. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I lost track of time. Had a good day today?” A moment of silence passed before Enora’s whisper rang through his ears, “I shot Lionel MacDonald today and ran. He doesn’t know who did it.” Although Greg could hear the smile in her voice and his animal howled in pride, his human’s eyes snapped shut. Shit. As an afterthought, she added, “Don’t tell Mommy.” “Sweetheart,” Greg exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This call is recorded.” “What’s recworded?” “It means everything we’re saying now will be on your Mommy’s phone and she can replay what we’re saying like how you watch cartoons over and over again.” A stretch of silence followed before Enora innocently asked, “So I should thwow away Mommy’s phone, Uncle Gweg?” “What? No! Just…” How was he going to resolve this? “Alright, Enora. Lesson one: never tell secrets through a phone, a computer
Sush was in a simulator on the archer’s floor, versatile earplugs stuck into each ear and a twelve-gauge shotgun in hand. Eyewear that brought out the simulation and protected her sight painted a shade of violet over her eyes. The archer behind the control panel, Millicent, gave her a thumbs up from behind the glass partition, signaling that the simulation was about to begin.Millicent faded away, as did the control room.Darkness sunk, and for a moment, there was nothing. As Sush’s eyes adjusted, her surroundings welcomed her in strides. Leaves rustled from the high trees with branches flung wide, branches that seemed to nearly touch yet ultimately grew parallel to its neighboring limb, almost as if nature forbade them from ever meeting. Breezy fingers of the forest grazed her cheek as the crickets serenaded like a
Greg locked his phone after replying to her message, sighing to himself, wondering why she was suddenly shutting him out. He thought they were getting along well. Better than well, even. Why the sudden change of behavior? Where was the playful sass, the ease that was there whenever they were together? How did something like that get flush out overnight?And honestly, why did he care?In his defense, it would’ve been easier not to care if she didn’t draw him in like a fucking magnet with everything she did: the way she talked, walked, ate, drank, puzzled over a task at hand. Goddess, especially the way she puzzled over a task at hand: the way her brows arched, the manner her body stilled, the way her eyes got lost into the page or on the screen. It was mind-consuming.