Chapter 2: The crime scene was a picture of horror.

Blancas partner, Mike, arrived at the crime scene in the meantime and received a picture of horror. Don Fusar, the name under which the dealer was known in the City, layed half eaten away by insects on the ground before him. He was a handsome young fellow, blond, muscular, younger than thirty years old. From its former attractiveness and charisma not much was left. The only thing that still emanated from him was a disgusting smell. Neighbors became aware of the stench. Recognized that in the residential Container next to them something was wrong. Following the state of the corpse, Fusar probably has een dead for several days already.

Mike dabbed a little menthol paste under his nose to rid the stench, and looked around. Right next to the front door, on a small console he found

the snake eye contact lenses

the drug dealer carefully preserved in two small containers. The lenses were custom-built, with integrated CPS, City Positioning System. Mike found liked them, they seemed to be a practical thing in illegal activities. They helped to see if someone was approaching, who approached and how near he already. Mike and all the other system employees had installed the CPS in their helmets. CPS was not provided to ordinary People, it was much way too expensive. But as elsewhere, there was a black market here and Don might have bought his contact lenses there. If a dealer did not have the wherewithal for such a toy, then who.

“Somehow funny,” Mike thought. When he bought somethin from the Don, he found the contact lenses with the Snake Eyes Motif always kind of silly, so childish. Now he liked them.

That it hid a great technique in behind, he had no idea.

Not once he had seen in the eyes of the pusher when he bought fuel from him. Now the Don was dead. Sad, really. And he, Mike, no longer had the bike. This was even sadder.

He looked around the room further. A small picture from Monet hung at the small wall opposite the entrance door. For Mike it was only a small colorful painting, Monet told him nothing. But he recognized that the colleagues of the forensics Team were making a big deal out of it. In front of the painting stood an easel with a picture frame and colorful colors. Mike coated his Hands with a spray to not contaminate the crime scene. After a few seconds, when the spray had dried and a thin layer had pulled on his hands, he raised one of the brushes.

“Things you would never expecting in Usguard…”

he wondered.

The whole town knew about the unusual friendship between Rudy Fusar and Aron Preston, former Assistant of the mayor. Only few know that Aron had made his friend this precious gift.

Mike thought of the coach. He had been the one who had delivered the coach at Mina. Mina, his boss, the mayor of Usguard, was the most powerful person of the city. She received her assistant, Aron Preston “The Coach” as the whole town called him, in handcuffs.

A few days later he was executed. Sure, the coach deserved it. He was the second-highest system employee and he had to abide by the law like everyone else. Actually, more than that, he should be a role model, because the city looked up at him. But he took drugs, had hung around with the dealer, murdered two people for personal reasons. He abused his position and has, if not intended, but nevertheless contributed to the large explosion. On the island many have already been executed for less.

Now the coach was history. And his friend also.

Rumors say that Rudy did never come over the death of Aron Preston. Mina also, by the way. Mike had therefore more expected to suicide than murder. Most suicides jumped from the deck into the sea. In most cases, they packed up heavy metal parts on the clothes and were drunk. For the system that was an unpleasant thing, because the island patrol had to catch  them up and fish them out from water.

Mina, the mayor, was a diva, a bitch and she had definitely not many positive attributes. She bathed in their privileges as administrator of the city. But the laws that her father Leo has established, were sacred to her. She had no mercy, even on the Coach. She had no mercy in most cases.

Mike began to examine the body,

He could still remember his first investigation. He was about  twenty years old and was Assistent of his former trainer. It smelled disgusting and the sight, as the insects made to tamper with the semi-decomposed body, made him vomit. Meanwhile, he was callous.

Author: Mentha

Ich mag Science Fiction, Philip K. Dick und liebe es zu schreiben.

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