MONSTEROPOLIS EPISODE 2:
Rock and A Hard Place

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

Chapter 1

-Megaopolis, 118799 Pac Street, Figaro Towers Apartment Building
-February 15th, 2096
-Account Subject: Detective Lara Croff

It figures that the first day John has off in four weeks; I get stuck with the new girl.

I HATE new people. I mean, I hate dealing with them. I hate the whole ‘getting to know you’ phase, that whole ‘you swear too much’ thing everyone eventually brings up, and the questions about my chest. Oh, yeah, can’t get e-fuggin’-nuff of THOSE. YES, THEY ARE REAL. So get off my back because it hurts enough already.

Of course, Officer Aran, the super transfer, doesn’t have that problem. Bitch. God, and look at her hair. It looks like she showers maybe once or twice a month. And she still wears a button down shirt a size too small even if she doesn’t have anything to show off. God, superficial bitches like her make me sick to my fuggin’ stomache.

I’ve been known to make snap judgments, by the way. And I can be a pretty mean bitch to when I want to. Some people just bring it out in me.

Fuck, some ASSIGNMENTS bring it out in me. And this one was more bullshit than any other. A missing persons report that got filed a day or so ago, and since my actual partner is sleeping in, I get to go out to bum-fuck skyscraperville in the goddamn residential district a two hour drive with dippy the blonde bitch to check it out because Johnson thinks it’ll be a good experience for her. FUCK her. What about me? Do I ever get to have a good day, Sam? Huh? DO I?

Cocksucker. Cigar chomping bald ass cocksucker. Between him and that radio bitch Lumine I don’t know why I get out of fuckin’ bed in the morning. There is no love for Lara.

And this was such a bogus call in anyway. Some guy who refused to identify himself told us his son was missing. Some kid named Rocky Volnutt. Yeah, fuckin’ Rocky. Right? I know. Who DOES that to a child? Fuckin’ hippies. And don’t get me started on Volnutt. That sounds like a bad time in the bedroom, get my drift? And of course, daddy Volnutt can’t check in on his boy because he’s so busy. Jackass. Parents like that are why people like ME happen.

I’ll give Officer Ponytail this though: she’s smart enough not to fucking talk to me during a two hour drive at 7 in the morning. Men have died for less, and women for WAY less. The relative silence of the trip almost brightened my mood until we got to Figaro Towers. Nicest place I ever got evicted from.

We stayed quiet as we left the car double parked (‘Cause fuck meter maids. Find a meter MAN, HE can give me a fucking ticket if he’s got the balls.) and we got into the building with a flash of the badge. When some guy at the elevator gave me trouble, I flashed my gun. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t necessary, but it made me feel better.

25th floor apartment. Room with a view of the industrial complex between here and the river. Swanky for some missing guy. I kicked in the door, and I thought I almost heard Aran protest before she thought better about it. Whatever. 9 in the morning is not a time I like being nice at.

First glance? The place was clean. No sign of any kind of struggle, the door had been locked, and there weren’t any random puddles of blood lying about. That was a good sign.

Then I took a second glance. Some people think I’m stupid because I’m pissed off and swearing most of the time. Some people are really the stupid ones. This apartment was immaculate. It was like a maid had cleaned the place… five years or so ago. It was lived in, with impressions on the couch and in the bed, as well as worn patches in the carpet, but the neat freak this Rocky guy must have been… If he had a roommate, I had a suspect.

Aran found the next weird thing. The fridge was empty. The shelves weren’t even put in right. It was like someone had bought it, plugged it in, and walked away. It still had that fresh appliance smell to it, for fuck’s sake. All of the dishes were clean, yes, but they also had that slight layer of dust on them as they sat in their piles that suggested they’d never seen use. None of the cupboards had food in them.

And the bathroom… Soap, shampoo, tooth paste, yes, but past that… nothing. No toilet paper, only one towel, no hand soap or moisturizer? It was like someone lived here in name only. Like they didn’t have to do all the things the normal human body does to live.

Officially stuck with a head scratcher and a rookie. Lucky me.

Aran went downstairs to get a description of our missing guy while I poked around some more. A side room that probably should have been a bedroom of some kind had an elaborate work bench. The guy must have been an electrician or engineer, or maybe he was just a hobbyist. A dismantled electric clock radio, a large water gun or something, and some weird green foam stuff… Of course, in this city, who knew what people were up to? He probably worked at the STC and this was stuff he’d brought home to work on.

I made a mental note to check into Rocky’s employment status when I had a computer in front of me again. Aran came back with enough notes to get a good sketch from Relm Aarons, our precinct’s artist, and we made our exit. I wasn’t upset to leave the place behind. It was… it was fucking unnerving.

We made it back to the car without undue talking (or a parking ticket) and started the drive back to base. Two more hours stuck in a car with Ms. Strawhair and my own thoughts. Fuckin’ fun.