The Quicksand Singularity ArQive: Array.init:0

A0T5.5 Clean House (Abridged)

"Aa fagga lamm!" Old Sawbones returned. "Gitnae rars ab in hai!" (Ah fuck a lamb! Get your arse up in here!)

Steeling himself, Ullifrikh pushed the door open.

_end memarq...

_returning to root directory...

Talvo_02.meme

_loading memarq...

_loading sequence successful...

_entering VRScape

Ullifrikh fished his cigarette case out of his breast pocket as he stepped out of the house. The pungent odour of synthotine smoke was already strong on the air as he took up station next to Læfeln. Without speaking Læfeln pulled a lighter out of his pocket and offered it. Ullifrikh took the lighter, lit his cigarette, and handed it back.

"You asked if I'd seen anything like this," Læfeln said, slipping his lighter into his pocket.

Ullifrikh took a long draw off his cigarette before replying.

"Yups."

"No," Læfeln said, flicking his half-finished cigarette off to the side.

"Worked homicide didn't you?"

"Vice," Læfeln corrected.

"Right," Ullifrikh grimaced, taking another draw off his cigarette, "The profile Guv sent reads like homicide. Cleaned up a lot of messes."

"This," Læfeln reacted, gesturing behind him toward the house, "this ain't no mess."

"What is it?"

"Don't know," Læfeln answered, "don't want to neither."

Ullifrikh took a long draw off his cigarette before stamping it out on the wrought iron hand rail and tossing the butt aside.

"Still," Ullifrikh said, "we owe it to the old man to find who did this."

"Find who did this?" Læfeln scoffed. "Trust me, the kinds of people who do this, without being heard, without leaving a trace? Yeah, you don't find them. Poke around their business, they'll find you."

"You have something to share, Detective?" Ullifrikh asked.

"Just saying," Læfeln responded, "seen a lot of shit. Whoever did this was looking for something. Tore the place apart, tortured the old man for days, but the neighbours don't hear a thing? Don't see a thing? Then, out of the blue, we get flooded with calls about this shit. The guys did this, they cloaked the place up and worked that man for days. Nothing about this feels right, Cap. Nothing. I'd say let the Guvs handle it."

"Fuck," Ullifrikh swore, spotting a pair of suits—one male, one female—stepping out of a car. "Who invited GSIU?"

"Like I said, boss," Læfeln commented, "something ain't right about this."

"Damn straight," Ullifrikh grumbled, as the two agents ducked under the police tape. "Better go see what the suits want."

Ullifrikh trudged down the steps, burying his chin as best he could in his chest. Even his beard couldn't keep the bite of strengthening southerlies off his face. And they were picking up, the winds. Daylight was on its way, all two hours of it they'd have.

"You must be the sheriff," the male suit greeted with all the warmth and pleasantness of a dehairing brush. "GSIU."

"I know," Ullifrikh grunted, "don't recall calling you here."