Chapter 6: RCPD – Chrome Reaper – Chapter 2

"Sending the MW through to you now, let us know if anything shows up, thanks Tammy."

"No problem Becker, by the way did you see what the receptionist said to-

Andre hung up before Tammy could continue.

"Say sarge, how come no one else calls you Becker like that?"

Terry eyes gleam with expectations

"Shut up junior. We've got work to do."

Andres dismissive tone frustrates Terry however she has no choice but to slump in her seat and retreat. It goes against every bone in her body to take on a superior in verbal battle... On the other hand.

"Wait a minute sir, what work, I thought we had no leads until the mw comes back?"

Just as Terry's gotcha moment took place, Andres intercom recieved a call.

"Andre? We've been putting her through the grill, got some infortmation you might like."

Lily perky tone was like music to Andre's ears.

"Sounds like you've got a lead for us lils, hit me."

Andre joins Lily in her playful tone.

"So all of her implants have the same signature on them... Meaaanninnggg..."

Andre jumps at the chance.

"The same doc, got a name?"

"Viktor Petrov, runs a clinic a few blocks from Club Strange. Sending you the location now."

"Thanks again lil's."

Andre immediately hangs the call up and sets the car in motion.

"Did you really know that was going to happen sarge?"

Terry asked with doubt.

"Tricks of the trade Peterson, you'll learn one day."

 

A short drive later, the pair arrived at the clinic ran by Viktor Petrov. 'Petrov's Chrominium' plastered above the door in blue and red neon lights, fitting for the district but tacky to say the least. The exterior wasn't clean by any means but they had made an effort to seem like a somewhat respectable establishment. With no reception desk to speak of, the shop opened up straight into a workshop with two seperate chairs, surrounded in cyber decking equipment. As the pair entered, A bald man of average build greeted them.

"Welcome to Petrov's Chrominium! Looking to chrome up? You're looking a little on light side... Hmm... You a cop?"

Petrov's face dropped as he reviewed Andre's attire, the beige trench coat alone screamed undercover law enforcement. 

"Is that a problem, Mr Petrov?"

Andre took the lead, stepping one foot closer to Viktor.

"Yes, свиньи(pigs) aren't here to buy, only piss me off. What do you want..."

Petrov's voice trailed off as he waited for a response.

"Detective Beck- Detective Andre and Detective Terry Peterson, we just want to ask you some questions about a client of yours."

Terry stumbled under Andre's glare.

"Oh detectives, unfortunately I don't answer questions about clients, confidentiality, I'm sure you understand."

Petrov's thick russian accent loosened up slightly.

"I appreciate your subtlety however this is a matter of importance, Mr. Petrov."

Terry's voice remained calm as she leaned forward, trying to close the gap between the two and establish some familiarity. 

"That sounds like, not my problem, detectives."

Petrov dismissive tone started to agitate Terry.

"Listen-"

Andre stepped forward, cutting her off.

"Maria Mikhailov, she's dead."

Petrov fell a step backwards, eyebrows furrowed. He desperately searched Andre's eyes for a hint of deception before dropping down into his surgical chair.

"fignya,  she was here just the other day. How? How did it happen? Who did this? Tell me now."

Petrov became agitated, gripping the armrest until it creeked under his cybernetic strength.

"Thats what we want to work out, Mr. Petrov, if you'll help us. Maria's optical implants were taken from her body, we know they were an older model but could you think of any reason someone would do that? Or if anyone would be out to hurt her?"

Andre adopted a softer but firm tone, standing tall.

"нет(no), Maria kept to herself... As for her implant, maria had some issues with compatibility to cybernetics. All of her work related enhancements were custom made for her but the optics? Outside my speciality so I used most widely compatible optics available to me."

Petrov sunk into his seat, the shock refused to pass as he started to drown in sorrow.

"Forgive me, Mr. Petrov but... You seem to be on closer terms than just a clientele basis?"

Terry approached with tact, but a sensitive subject is a sensitive subject.

"Maria... How you say, daughter-in-law? Her parents were immigrants from old country, only mother made it past border alive. So we're not actually father daughter but, I cared for her like my own."

Petrov sighed, the more he spoke, the more deflated he became.

"Listen, her killer is out there, right now. Is there anything about those optics that could lead us to them? A way to track them? Anything?"

Andre drew closer once more, eyes locked to petrov's.

"If there was, I would've already told you. I know nothing..."

Petrov hung his head, ignoring the two detectives, lost in thought.

Not to waste his time and in some form of respect to the cyberdoc, he lead Terry out of the store with a simple 'thank you for your time'. Aggresively throwing himself into the driver seat of his car, Andre gripped the steering wheel tightly. Terry carefully sat down in the passenger side, avoiding eye contract with her sergeant as she desperately thought of something to say.

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"Sarge, if the implant isn't going to lead us anywhere, maybe we should just backtrack maria's steps? This guy knew what he wanted out of her, which means he must've followed her for some time right?"

Terry wouldn't say it, but taking the lead like this caused her confidence to skyrocket. Andre slowly drifted his head backwards towards the rest, gently twisting to make eye contact with her.

"Make a call to the cyber divison, ask them to trace her steps. See if they can find anything on the camnet. Lets call it for today, I've got a meeting with the captain first thing tomorrow. Want me to drive you home?"

Terry nodded and so Andre set off down the road.

 

Later that night in Andre's 9th floor apartment located in the commerical district. Andre slouched into his sofa, drew a long breath from his off-brand cigarettes that he had been smoking for 20 years and flicked the tv on. Within the dark room, only the illumination of the tv, he lost himself in thought. Breaking news flashed across the screen and broke Andre out of his spell, quickly increasing the volume he watched in shock.

Outside of the police HQ, not 30 minutes from his apartment, a psycho geared to the teeth in cybernetics laid waste to the street, officers and pedestrians alike. Bullets bounced off his chrome like rubber, the psycho leaped from person to person crushing bones and ripping off limbs. 

"We warn anyone in the commerical district right now to stay inside and avoid the district center... We've just got news that the Death Stalkers are en route, watch live as the mayhem ensues, here on River City's premiere news channel."

Andre fell back into his seat and watched intently. Suddenly the news aerial unit shot back several hundred feet as three Police commisioned air units entered the scene, all of them bearing the signature of a crossed out skull held a circle. Death Stalkers. Cover fire rained down ontop of the psycho as an entire squaron of stalkers rappelled down around him. Everything was executed to the dotted line, lay suppressive fire, surround the target and clear the scene. Round upon round flew into the psycho as the ground units prepared heavier weaponry. The psycho didn't stand by idly, making use of his countless cybernetic enhancements, he took to the air leaving a small crater in his place. Catching a stalker out of the air and dragging him down to earth, the blood exploded out of his suit as the psycho screamed out.

The general clothed officers fell to their knees, the metal monster activated a banshee call, incredibly illegal and incredibly dangerous vocal cybernetics. Capable of bursting eardrums from five hundred yards away, luckily every officer is fitted with an ear protection unit. Unluckily it appears a couple of the officers in shot didn't have them and are now flatlined on the ground due to their proximity. Death Stalkers aren't exactly known for messing about, but the reaction to such dangerously illegal tech being brandished forced a far more drastic resolution. 

Every officer induction has a manual on stalker scales. Simply put, certain triggers will force certain outcomes from a stalker. If an unshootable target reveals a vocal modification on the level of a banshee scream... An area wide neural lock down will commence. Essentially, they cause everyone unprotected in a 100 yard radius to suffer brain damage.

With immediate effect an invisible wave surrounds the psycho and any officer who didn't manage to flee in time. General police were not equipped with protection, this method has been used on rogue cops before. The psycho dropped to the floor like a sack of bolts as the heavily armoured squadron rushed in around him, secured his body onto a stretcher and loaded him onto the airship. The stalkers evacuated the scene as quickly as they entered, leaving the evidence gathering and clean up to everyone else. 

Andre turned the tv off as he dragged himself to the bedroom, he'd seen enough today and was sure he'd see more of that tomorrow. A simple glance towards the photo framed on his bedside table, he let his body crumble onto the bed.

 

The next morning, Andre received a call from his boss, Captain Arnold Teller. 

"Becker, Forget about the meeting today, last nights psycho bullshit has left me up to my ears in fucking paperwork. I'm going to say it anyway however."

Arnolds voice was filled with frustrations and grievances.

"Captain we've gone over this fifty times-"

Andre sounded exasperated, almost pleading in desperation.

"Andre you've been on the force for 24 fucking years, almost as long as I have, you should be sitting where I am right now. I know, I know, you want to work the streets. You're not getting any younger Becker."

Arnold sighed, almost resigning himself to hearing the same answer regardless of what he said.

"With all due respect, I do far more good for this city down here, than up there."

Arnold sighed again, pausing for a brief moment.

"I've got to go, think about it Andre, think for your daughters sake."

Before Andre could retort, Arnold hung up the call, leaving him to his thoughts.

"Low blow captain."

Andre shook it off and prepared for a days work ahead.

 

On the way to the precinct another call disturbed Andre's personal time.

"Anddddddddddddddyyyy reeyyyyyy, guess who?! It's your favourite Tammy in the entire universe!"

The delightful tones of Tammy the netrunner blasted into his ears with unfettered rebuke.

"Tammy, I hope this joyous attitude is accompanied by some good news?"

Andre steered the conversation to work, before Tammy begun her tyrade of gossip.

"The weaver was a dud, the freaks in shot almost the entire time but he's completely obscured. Whoever did this is an expert, I can't unscramble it to save my own life. However, something I could make out was a phrase."

Tammy's tone fluctuated from pissed off to flirtatious.

"A phrase?"

"Yeah, its distorted as hell but... 'You can't leave regrets behind'."

Tammy carefully spoke out each word with deliberate intention.

"You can't leave regrets behind? Maria knew this person?! Perhaps an ex? She owed money?"

Andre's eyes lit up, a lead he was desperate to find just revealed itself to him.

"I'll ask the cyber divison to narrow its search around that, you do what you do best andre baby."

Although he couldn't see Tammy, he clearly heard the wink she shot him. 

"Thanks tammy, don't call me baby."

Andre immediately hung up the call and followed with a call of his own.

On the other line a tired, weak sounding Terry voiced a feeble greeting. Luckily Andre was in a shiney new positive mood and simply reminded Terry to get off her ass and into gear, they had work to do.

The pair met up outside of Maria's apartment. Terry kept making subtle brags about how she had the right idea and probably deserved more respect, not that Andre paid any attention. The apartment was fairly clean, not obsessively clean but rather tidy. Not entirely what they expected the home of an 'entertainer' would look like. They searched for hours, for any clue the house could give. Nothing turned up, no notes, no pictures, no sign. Andre's optimism quickly flattened as they ran out of places to check. 

"Well, maybe the cyber crew will find something? God she even had a full wallet, I bet her bank account didn't look half bad too, I can't see her owing money like this. Not even a cut out photo of an ex, no momento, nada."

Terry flopped down onto Maria sofa, disgruntled.

"Dead ends happen rookie, whoever this is, had to have known her. You can't leave regrets behind."

Andre repeated for the umpteenth time.

"You can't leave regrets behind.

Terry mimicked, hoping the mantra would lead to breakthrough.

After another hour of doubling back on themselves, the pair left the apartment empty handed. Checked with neighbours who offered no help and returned to the car once more. They sat for moment, contemplating their next move. Suddenly the car system bursted out with an urgent notification.

"Report, Detective Sergeant Andre Becker, Closest active homocide investigator to the housing district, Location uploaded."

The deadpan tone of the car left nothing to the imagination.

Andre sighed, before placing the car in gear and speeding off.

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