Shadow of The Waxwing Slain, Ch. 14

An Interlude, pt 2

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Chapter 14: An Interlude, pt 2

Shift: xx

Location: Hotel Room

Fletcher sat on his bed, looking out the window into the neon night, broken fingers bandaged, glass of whiskey in hand.

He’d spent the day with Lara, taking her to an arcade, getting burgers and fries, enjoying the day.

It’d been wonderful.

He kept going over it in his head. His decision to check out the hide-out, alone. It’d been stupid. Cocky. He’d been slow and overconfident, getting himself captured. Nearly getting himself killed. Leaving Lara without a father.

And for what? To bring in a handful of replicants?

He sipped at his drink. How many? How many have I brought in? How many have I killed?

He finished his drink and made a call.

Sector 5 - Replicant RD-3.96’s apartment

Dee sat at the table, hunched over, head in her hands, bowl of noodles untouched in front of her.

Rem sat to the side, smoking. “You should eat something.”

Dee ran her fingers through her hair and looked at him. “Are you okay with everything that’s happened? It doesn’t bother you?”

Rem took a drag of his cigarette and blew out smoke. “We took out an extremist faction of illegal replicants planning on blowing bombs up all over the city…” he shrugged. “So yeah, I’m okay with it. The question is,” he put the cigarette back in and took another drag. “Why aren’t you?”

Dee stood up and turned away. “Do you see them as so different than us?”

“Yes,” Rem said, without hesitation. “They are confused, misguided and badly designed machines that think they’re human. We are perfectly designed. We know what we are.”

“You’re right,” Dee said. But is that enough?

“Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy doing your job,” Rem said. “I know you do.”

“I wouldn’t call it joy,” Dee said, looking at her hands. But there was a sense of satisfaction. Solving the mystery. Stopping a crime before it happens. Saving lives. Human lives, at least. “But yes, you’re right.”

“You did a good thing, Dee,” Rem said, standing up and walking over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “The stress is getting to you, that’s all. Now we’ve got a break. We can relax.”

Her shoulders tightened. Relax? How? Always walking the line. Always being perfect. Always being watched and judged. Always in danger of being found malfunctioning and retired. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. She wondered if now was the time to bring up her concerns. “I’ve been…having these…black-outs sometimes. Blocks of time where I just don’t know what I did. Or I’ll wake up in bed after having gone to sleep, with dirt under my fingernails that wasn’t there before. Like I’d been sleep-walking.” She looked Rem in the face. “Do you think that’s stress, Rem? Or something else.” Her tone had grown hard.

Rem stepped back, brow furrowed. “I’ve never noticed you thinking about-”

“I’m good at hiding things, Rem,” she said. “Even from you. You’re hiding something. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Rem looked at the ground. “Dee, it’s not…you don’t understand.”

Dee shook her head and Rem was gone.

He wasn’t in her apartment. He’d gone quiet.

Can’t even trust the voice in my head, Dee thought to herself. Her KIA notified her of a call.

It was Fletcher.

“How ‘bout a drink?” he asked.

Dee hesitated, looking around her apartment. “Yeah, I could use one.”

Shift: xx

Location: Sector 5 → Black’n’Blue Bar

Fletcher got there first, sat at the bar, got the bartender, Daron’s, attention and ordered a whiskey.

Dee took the stool next to him. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Daron looked at her, then at Fletcher. “Seriously?” he asked, sneering.

Fletcher looked back. “She look like she’s fucking joking, Daron?” Fletcher said.

After a moment, Daron grumbled under his breath, poured the two whiskeys. “I just don’t want no trouble in here, alright?”

“Leave the bottle,” Fletcher said, leaving some Chinyen on the bar.

Daron glanced at Dee, then left the bottle on the counter before walking away, shaking his head.

“Maybe we should not have come to a cop bar,” Dee said, picking up her drink.

“Why not? We’re cops,” Fletcher said. “Cheers,” he clinked her glass and drank.

She drank as well. The dark amber liquid tasted bitter and sweet at the same time. It was a paradox. She knew alcohol was poison and yet it made her feel good. Or at least…less bad. For a time, anyway. She noticed her left hand shaking slightly before she stilled it.

“The shakes?” Fletcher asked. “Comes with the business, unfortunately.” He finished his drink.

“The business,” Dee said. She finished hers.

“Our business,” he replied, pouring them another round.

“You get the shakes?” Dee asked. “After killing…replicants?”

Fletcher nodded.

“But…” Dee said. “They aren’t human.”

Fletcher shrugged, staring into his drink. “That’s what I tell myself,” he said.

“Does it work?”

“Sometimes.”

They drank for a moment, in silence.

“Fletch! Is that you? Echo!” a loud voice bellowed from a table. “Been awhile since I seen you in here!” A large man stood up, walking over, a couple of his friends following.

Fletcher grimaced before turning with a fake smile. “Damien,” he said. “How are ya?”

“I’m doin’ fine, I caught these little bastards-” Damien stopped, looking at Fletcher’s companion.

Dee continued to look forward, focusing on her drink.

Damien frowned. “What the hell did ya bring her here for?” he asked.

“She’s my partner,” Fletcher said. “and we’re trying to enjoy a drink. Why don’t you-”

“She don’t belong,” Damien snarled. “She ain’t one of us, she’s a skinjob.”

Fletcher stood, putting himself between Damien and Dee, who hadn’t turned around. “She saved my life twice in the past week so back the fuck off.”

Daron was cleaning the bar with a white rag, his eyes watching the situation.

Damien didn’t seem to know what to say.

Fletcher pushed his trenchcoat back, putting his hands on his hips, exposing his holstered PK-D. “Do we still have a problem?” Fletcher asked.

“Fuckin sympathizer…” Damien murmured before going back to his table.

Fletcher sat back down and picked up his glass. “I forgot how much I hate cop bars,” he said, taking a swig.

Dee couldn’t help but shake her head, smirking. “You’re the one who chose this place, not me.”

Fletcher shrugged. “It was close. Let’s find a table.”

They found a table in the back corner, bringing their glasses and the bottle.

“Lara asked about you today,” Fletcher said.

“Why?” Dee asked. They had interacted once, briefly.

Fletcher shrugged. “Kids are strange. I think she likes you. She asked if you were still keeping me safe. I said that you were.”

Dee didn’t respond for a minute, drinking. “You love her,” she said.

Fletcher nodded. “She’s everything.”

“I don’t know what that’s like,” Dee said. “I don’t know if I can ever know.”

Fletcher refreshed their glasses. “You have memories. You have feelings. You have thoughts.”

So do Nexus 8s, Dee thought but didn’t say. “I was created, not born.”

“Does that make a difference?” Fletcher asked.

“Shouldn’t it? If you’re born, you have a soul.”

Fletcher drank. “I’m not sure I have any more of a soul than you. I don’t believe in souls.”

“You ever kill a human?” Dee asked.

Fletcher looked away. “Yes,” he said. “You can’t do this job as long as I have without…”

“And that hurt, right?” Dee asked, leaning forward.

He nodded.

“More than when you retire a replicant?”

Fletcher hesitated, then nodded, looking at his drink. “Yes.”

Dee leaned back. “So there is a difference.”

Fletcher shrugged. “That’s what society tell us. That’s what we tell ourselves.” He looked at her. “How does it feel to you?”

Dee closed her eyes for a moment. “Like a job well done. Like taking out the trash. Like doing my duty.” She opened her eyes. “I feel satisfaction.” She took a swig of whiskey.

“There’s other feelings too, though,” Fletcher said.

It was her turn to shrug. “So what if there is?” She looked at him closely. “If you slip up, you’ll get a slap on the wrist, they’ll send you to see a shrink or maybe suspend you for a couple weeks. I slip up, what do you think happens to me?” She picked up her glass and took a drink.

Fletcher didn’t respond, thinking and sipping. “I never thought about it that way.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Dee said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Fletcher,” Dee replied. “You’re better than most.”

“Listen, Dee,” Fletcher said, putting a hand gently on her shoulder.

She let it stay there.

“You’ve saved my life twice. Twice, Lara would be without her father, if you hadn’t intervened. I’m telling you right now, if they try to take you away, they’re going to have to go through me first,” Fletcher said, his eyes looking into hers.

She knew he meant it but she also knew there would be nothing he could do. Still, it meant something. “Thank you,” she said. She wanted to tell him everything. Share her mixed up feelings, reveal the other Doxie living in her mind, all of it.

But she couldn’t.

Photo by Thomas Charters on Unsplash

Post-Chapter Notes

I wanted to bring in the mystery behind Rem a little bit. I’d forgotten that when I’d randomly rolled the Key Relationship, one detail was that Dee thinks he’s hiding something. I’ve got ideas for that. More to come in the 3rd case.

I’m going to take a break from SOTWWS for October to play something else. Last year, I did a horror one-shot using a simple solo game about Lighthouses. This year, I’ll probably finish my “i am a werewolf” game but then I’d like to spend a couple sessions/chapters playing through a horror solo game. I just recently purchased Long Haul 1983 and am considering playing that. The game sounds very cool and has you record yourself leaving phone messages. Recording myself and putting it out to the world would definitely push me out of my comfort zone. I’m curious how readers would respond. I mean, people enjoy podcasts, right? Let me know what you think, or if you have any other ideas for Horror Solo games I could check out in October.

As always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 15: Case of the Golden Shards