Billy Goats Gruff - Oontz, Oontz, Oontz
The briefing room was down in the basement, where Kimura had been setting up as an office. It afforded a layer of cement security, which given the nature of most of their missions were a must.
Mal gave a polite knock on where the door would be when construction was complete. “You wanted to see me, Lead?”
“Mal.” Kimura said, motioning him to take a seat. “How is everyone settling in?”
“Five by five,” he said confidently. “We appreciate each getting our own room, I think the boys are planning on decorating. Cain’s already claimed the bookcases.” He grinned as he took a seat across from her.
“No shock there. I’m glad you all are getting cozy.” Kimura said, a small smile growing. “Sounds like you and the boys have plenty of energy, which is good because we are hitting the ground running.”
“No better way to hit the ground,” He said, clapping his hands together. “What do you have for us? Where are we shipping off to?”
“It's a local job.” Kimura said, sliding a tablet to Mal. “Some guy hopped up on half a pharmacy and lost his marbles. On the surface, it looks like a Dissociative Psychosis but turned out the guy isn’t even heavily chromed up just tweaked. Take a look at the toxicology.”
Mal took the tablet from her desk, whistling through her teeth. “Party drugs?” He asked. “You think it was some sort of cocktail?” He clicked until he found footage taken by Arknet security. He smirked, proud of his team lead. She was well connected, no matter where they went.
“Keep going, there are some interesting facts if you scroll down further. Drug wasn’t the only thing they found.” Kimura motioned.
Mal pressed on the footage and watched as a scrawny, 6 foot something guy wearing iridescent shorts and a matching mesh tank top tossed half a dozen Arknet peacekeepers around like rag dolls, without ever losing his bucket hat or sunglasses, all while simultaneously being tased and completely ignoring the electrodes. “Fuck … I mean… Holy cow, is he an Anom? “ He asked, scowling down further to read. Anom, or Anomaly was a less kind way of saying someone affected by AC-17, the mutation gene.
“No, unless he manifested in the last 24 hours of the incident. He was eventually subdivided and they had medical check him out. The interesting face is he tested AC-17 positive … til the drugs all clear out of his system then suddenly he was a baseline as you could get.” Kimura explained.
Mal stopped scrolling, and looked up over the tablet at Kimura, not fully believing what he heard. Someone doesn’t just stop being Altered Carbon. DNA doesn’t fix itself. “And he’s not documented? No records?” He confirmed, anticipating a lot of that in the Sprawl. No citizen in their right mind would choose to live in a place like the Sprawl.
“That is the downside of all this. Poor, nonexistent record keeping. It’s just the way it is down there. There were two other incidents and we are anticipating more … Jagg’s wants to pass this off as faulty equipment or as a one-off. I get it. It’s the sprawl and no one invests time in a place that's pretty hostile to authority. But I see a developing pattern and if something is starting in the Sprawl it's only a matter of time before it spreads like wildfire.” She said coolly.
“We have any leads?” He asked, running a hand over the back of his neck, as he set the table back down. “Aside from the fact that he’s dressed like Cochella chewed him up and regurgitated him back on the street? He’s wearing a ton of kandi - either he was well liked, or the boy enjoyed himself some arts and crafts.”
“All that plus the drugs, I feel like you already know where this is going.” Kimura smirked.
“Oontz, oontz, oontz oontz,” Mal said, miming an edm beat while whipping his head forward and back. “I’m going ravin’!”
“You are, so snap on those hot pants." Kimura replied with a smirk.