Regulation 20 – Suspicion Can Keep you Alive, but be Mindful

Nobody moves. I haven’t budged and so neither has my squad and there’s a rush of relief at that fact. Mx. Jones can bare their teeth if they want, at the end of the day they hired us and we can still walk.

I glance up at the hotel in a search for the name of this place. Looking it up is a good first step since Mx. Jones only gave us the location and I forgot to do that earlier. My plans to do that, however, are sidelined by the bombardment of ads my eye gets slammed by. Flashing text sears across my vision so quickly that I feel myself flinch as I shut my bionic eye as tight as I can. This does nothing against the swarm of ads but it does make me feel a little better so there’s that.

Someone presses up against my currently blind side. Just close enough for me to feel a pebbly texture but not box me in. Chaisee is the only non-furred member of the group so it must be her. Besides, I can feel Rehema’s fur on my still sighted side even if my eyes aren’t registering external existence properly – all blurry through my flesh eye as I focus on the onslaught of ads. I can sense more than feel Sara covering my back, partially looming over me.

I… it’s touching. It’s the kind of sweet and touching activity that always confused me in movies, but now that it’s happening I can only make the purr gesture at them and hope they understand what it means. I’ll talk to them once I can focus.

One of- no, at least two of these damned ads are playing music. Several of them have hard to see exit buttons – tiny or only a few hex codes off from the base color of the ad itself. A few have both and try to invite me to feeds that I have no interest in while I’m trying to close them. Most of the ads are for various betting sites. A handful look to be for the hotel and stuff this place offers. The rest are commonplace visual noise claiming untold riches are available for a click or that one’s data has been stolen or… asking if my transport has insurance. That last one gets my attention for a second just based on how bizarre that is, but I focus on murdering the ads one by one regardless of what they are. I assume personal transports are more common on the ground, so more folks have them, which would make the transport insurance ad make sense.

At some point Mx. Jones came back down the stairs. What for, I can only imagine, but I hear Chaisee’s chipper tone in response to a comment and turn my attention to hunting down the ads playing music. Once those are handled, I can actually hear and process what’s being said.

Chaisee is trying to engage Mx. Jones in small talk at this point. Trying being the key word. It’s clear that Mx. jones is still under the effect of the noomorphy, which hints at a few things. Either the mage is around nearby to renew it, or they’re very good, or very powerful, or two out of three. …I hope it’s not all three. Anything that would give us more of an idea of what we’re dealing with is treated to repeated commentary or blank stares. I cannot muster the ability to speak yet – I am still working on clearing out the ads. I can see darkness between some of them now. A sign of progress.

I do make sure I’m listening now that I’m able.

“How long have you lived here?” Chaisee asks. There’s an edge of frustration to her tone that I can tell she’s trying to swallow.

Mx. Jones jerks in their movements. An expression, then a succession of them, crosses their face before they respond with a curt: “That information is not relevant to your mission.”

A new response and facial expressions that I can sort of see with most of the ads gone. The facial expressions are more valuable than the new answer as far as I’m concerned. The answer is more of the same but in a different phrasing. Facial expressions – well, I’ll have to confer with the members of my team that know better than I if they have true value in figuring out what’s going on. My assumption is yes, but I could be wrong. I won’t have a recording to go off of either, thanks to the ads. My tail lashes as I kill the last of the ads; I let it.

I have a very good set of adblockers for my eye. If anywhere was going to bombard me I would have expected it to be the plaza, not a hotel. Not the hotel we’re expected to stay at.

“I’m here.” I murmur quietly as I open my eye once more. I save thanks and explanations for later, unwilling to give our mysterious client an edge to use against us.

If they even heard me, they don’t react. Instead they survey all four of us and heave an irritated sounding sigh.

Before they’re able to say anything, Sara speaks up. “We just wanted to admire the outside of the hotel.” she says, adding a tiny whine to her tone as she speaks.

It’s effective. Mx. Jones concedes with a tip of her head. “Are you all finished yet, then?” they ask rather than express any further annoyance or anything along those lines.

I have an idea. “Must not have lived here long.” I say, tilting my head to one side all innocent like. This is one of those skills that I studied, though I’ll admit that I have never used it in actual practice. “Do you not know anything about this fellow here?” I gesture at the horse statue. As far as I’ve ever experienced, grounder folk love to talk about their named statues. Who they are, why they were named – everything. It’s a big deal.

We have a grand total of one named statue in the LAGOON we came from. It’s of the Duce and we have it because ours is the first LAGOON that was founded. No one talks about it. Everyone already knows – even transfers from the other LAGOONs – so there’s no need to.

Mx. Jones starts to step towards the statue, expression softening in a way that reads as fond. For a moment I think that we’re about to learn about this horse and I brace myself for it – the question was a test more than curiosity. But then Mx. jones jerks and stops short, scowling. “That information is not relevant to your mission.”

She’s only said it twice and I am already tired of that response. The momentarily softer expression is worth making a note of though. Maybe the grasp from the noomorphy isn’t as bad as I had thought? I shake my head and start forward, stepping smoothly around them and the statue. The other three move with me as a unit without pause and there’s a growing bundle of feeling about that that I’ll investigate another time.

Mx. Jones speed walks to get ahead of us and then leads us into the hotel proper without looking back. I note that she doesn’t have a visible tail. Is it something worth noting or is it actually just a quirk? Who knows, but I’m keeping my eye out for anything worth attention right now as it is.

The inside of the hotel is… well. Dominated by a limited color palette in browns and greys with greens as the fancier trims. I’m certain someone else would know the names of the colors or be able to name the kinds of furniture that are here. All I have is that it looks expensive and fancy. And that the color palette is boring. Not my kind of boring either – there’s too many different shades, turning the number of colors way too high for me. It’s not what I’d expect out of a place with a front that looked this expensive, but maybe that’s the point?

I sweep my gaze this way and that, pretending to be interested in the decorations. In reality I’m passively scouting for others who are acting strange and gathering footage to review later. Mx. Jones hasn’t said anything further and there’s no reason to continue to try to engage them in talking as far as I can tell. We’ve essentially confirmed the continued presence of the mage that used noomorphy and that the metaphorical leash is tight enough that any temporary lapses are choked out quickly.

We keep walking past the front desk and into a common area. It’s not very populated but I can tell at a glance that my squad is drastically underdressed compared to everyone here. I don’t know if any of us have clothing that suits this place in our packs; it could become a problem if we’re not careful. Rich folks are much more likely to act when it comes to perceived outsiders. We’re clearly that based on dress alone.

I send the rest of my team a ping on our private feed. They need to know about the potential problem looming in front of us. It’ll be some time until they see it but – scratch that. Chaisee yawns dramatically and pulls out her phone as we stop in front of the elevators.

“Gonna play a game while we walk.” she announces. “I’m tired an’ I don’t want to fall asleep standing up in the elevator.”

The elevator dings, we file in, and Mx. Jones doesn’t respond to the words at all. They hit a button for the thirty-fourth floor. I wonder if Chaisee even needed to make the announcement.

pettyinpink: good catch. this is fucking hinky an’ i do NOT like it jsyk. almost wanna sidequest an’ get our client free from whatever noomorphic bastard is around here. they’re not dressed for this place either

She makes a frustrated sound and mutters about maintenance before swapping to a game. It’s a good cover. Quiet adventure music comes from her phone, chasing away the silence of the elevator with upbeat tones and occasional mutters from Chaisee.

Sara’s just pulling out her own when the elevator comes to a smooth stop.

Mx. Jones is off before the elevator doors finish opening. They don’t stop to check that we’re following, though we do so anyway. Chaisee slips her phone back into her pocket and Sara sighs before doing the same. The two of them hang back a bit, leaving me and Rehema to follow Mx. Jones the closest.

It’s a short walk. The elevator is still in easy line of sight when Mx. Jones stops in front of a door and gestures. “These are your accommodations.” They proceed to open the door with a key and stand next to it, hands folding together.

…There’s a step missing here isn’t there?

I am a suspicious creature. I know this of myself. My suspicion has thus far been both my arch enemy and started to gnaw at the threads of what’s looking like a conspiracy. A conspiracy that Yilmaz could be here to help deal with. And there’s a step missing. “Is that our key?” I ask, gesturing to the one in the door. “Do we only get one?”

“The rest of the keys are inside.” Mx. Jones says. They gesture, but they’re very careful not to actually cross into the room. Not to let any part of themself do so.

Chaisee seems to have noticed as well. “Mx. Jones, why don’t you show us around? Where the phones and wall sockets are, and let us know any rules this hotel has?” she suggests, tone patient and gentle.

“I am hiring you for an assassination.” Mx. Jones says. I’ve lost count how many times they’ve said this. “I have shown you to your accommodations. Please enter and take your rest or begin your plans.” their tone is clipped.

It’s the kind of clipped that impatient clients often get. I recognize it. The regulations for calming down an impatient client are among those that I’ve memorized. I even know the regulations for reassuring your team without blowing your cover.

And there are no regulations for walking into a potential trap with a noomorphy affected client who refuses to enter a location and goes back to their pre-loaded phrases when you try to convince them to. No regulations that mention noomorphy at all beyond its illegality.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to at least get a drink, Mx. Jones? We did just stock up.” I gesture at the bags that all of us are carrying, coming up with the plan as quickly as I can bear. “We could take the time to get to know each other?” it’s a suggestion. I don’t mention trust but I do smile; it’s a fake, plastic thing and it still tastes better than my attempt at small talk.

Mx. Jones repeats themself. No changes in expression or inflection.

I consider my team. I consider the client. I make a call.

“Your loss then.” I say, forcibly flippant, as I stride into the room like I don’t think anything could possibly be wrong. Chaisee and Rehema make strangled noises while Sara gasps. The reactions are too obvious, we’ll have to work on that. Nothing happens once my tail is safely within the room. No explosions. No hissing of gas from the vents. It occurs to me that maybe I’m running into a culture hiccup, with the way Mx. Jones carefully doesn’t enter.

Or the trap could be for later. Or need all of us in the room first. I gesture for the team to join me with one hand, ears perked and magic gathered in my fingertips just in case.

Nothing happens.

All four of us look around, expecting anything at all. But no. To all appearances this is just a normal large suite in a fancy hotel. Sara even has the keys from the door.

Mx. Jones nods. “I will see you all in the morning. I will have some information then.” And then they close the door. It clicks behind them. Nothing continues to happen. The other three spread out.

“Huh.” Chaisee says, opens her mouth to say more and stops short when she spots my held up hand.

I connect my eye to every camera I can find. Several hit me with that strange error code but there’s nothing else suspect that I can find in my radius. Even rotating a few of the cameras to follow the path Mx. Jones takes… all I can see is that her shoulders sag near the elevator. Information for my notes, sure, but no evidence of small hidden cameras. I put down my hand.

“Surveillance?” Rehema asks, not even glancing in my direction. They’re midway through putting away some of the cold supplies we grabbed.

“If there is any, it’s not visual.” I say.

“Or audio!” Sara chimes in, trotting back into the main room from a hallway. She’s rubbing at one ear with a wince.

I blink. Open my mouth to speak. Shut it. I know that I don’t take that long to do my own check, so how did Sara get a sweep done that quickly?

She squeaks and ducks her head. “Right. Right I forgot… Sorry, most of my ear on this side had to be reconstructed.” she lifts a hand to part her hair around the ear in question. The metal stands out – cold greys next to warm light brown. Her ear above it, now that I’m looking this close, isn’t the same texture as the other one. “There was a big accident during one of my tries at making Riptide. Anyway – it buzzes if it comes too close to other microphones. Think Hema called it interference?”

Rehema gives her a thumbs up and a nod in response.

“It’s nowhere near as useful as your eye but I can use it to find most microphones if I wander through places.”

“That’s good to know.” I say before it occurs to me- “Is the buzzing an intentional feature or something that causes you pain?” if it’s the latter then while I’m pleased at the utility, I’m going to ask Mao to help me find someplace reputable to fix it.

“I mean… it hurts?” Sara says, dropping her hand and taking half a step back. Her ears flatten, gaze darting between me and the floor. “Especially if I make a mistake and get super close. I can get knocked flat by a migraine then. …But it’s useful!” she perks a little as she says that, like that’s the part she wants to focus on.

I take a step back as well. Take a breath. I glance toward the other two. Chaisee’s back is to the rest of the room; she’s staring out of the window through a gap in one of the blinds, tense. Rehema is watching me. “Sara,” I say, trying to keep my voice level and my tail under control. “I am not the kind who values utility over the safety and comfort of my squad mates.” there’s a heartbeat before I say squad mates that I can feel anticipation heavy on the air. I know what word they’re all hoping to hear. So I try to correct myself. Use the word.

The word friends sticks in the bottom of my throat and refuses to budge no matter how hard I try to make it.

Instead, I continue. “While I am glad for the utility and the safety it assures us right now, I think you should talk to Mao when we get to her LAGOON and see if there are any surgeons she trusts. You can get a replacement that has a microphone alert as a feature, or other features.” a loose shrug. “Or none at all. You don’t have to weaponize it in any fashion. I’ve got the features in my eye I do because I wanted them. You should have the same kind of say in your ear.” I breathe and add “That said, thank you for doing the walkthrough.” because that does seem important to add and then I falter because I want to make sure she understands what I’m getting at and the words have abandoned me.

“You didn’t tell us that it was causing you pain.” Chaisee says, stepping away from the window and glancing over at Sara. She frowns.

Sara makes a little distressed noise and I feel like somehow I’ve misstepped. I open my mouth to speak and then Sara is talking so I stop. “I just… I just want to be useful to the team. I don’t have a lot of skills and I need a lot of sleep and- I’m big? That’s what I’ve got. But you’re really good at tanking hits and defending others.” Sara gestures at Chaisee. “And you’re really good at knowing all kinds of stuff and knowing how to act on it.” a wave at Rehema. “And you’re The Ice Princex – everyone knows you’ve got the regulation handbooks memorized and you can take down some of the nastiest fiends all by yourself!” and that motion is aimed at me. “But I’m just… me.”

“Kind.” Rehema says. “Optimistic. Friendly.”

“Those are just- traits. They’re not-”

“They’re the kinds of things each of us struggles with.” Chaisee murmurs. “Kali’s bad at being optimistic an’ so am I. An’ Hema’s not exactly known for being kind. But you? You’ve got those on lockdown.”

“Your kindness endeared us to the kebab seller without effort needed. You have valuable insights as a member of the team.” I add. “If it had been a feature you chose I would be complimenting your choice. But as it stands the LAGOON paid for an ear replacement so bad that it reacts to any microphone. And I’ve never seen you hold your phone to that ear so it must react to your phone as well. If you choose to keep it, that’s your choice, but I want you to have the option to not have to wonder if simply living your day is going to cause you migraines and dizziness out of nowhere.”

This, I admit, is one of those things I feel strongly about. In our line of life, prosthetics and replacements are typically a matter of when rather than if – and I’ve had more than enough of the LAGOON looking at someone and deciding to give them something lesser based on the color of their skin.

Sara flops onto the nearest chair with a huff and a quirk of her lips. “I’ll talk to Mao when we get there.” she says. “It reacts to phones and microwaves and sometimes to lightning. Do you… think I can get an ear as cool as your eye?”

“I’m sure if anyone knows how to make that happen, Mao knows.” Well. Alright. Jolvi would know better but I’m not taking this squad to Jolvi’s LAGOON. “Don’t try to overload yourself. You’ll have to do training and get used to the ear and controlling it. It took a while for me to be ready to take on the exams again after my eye.” It feels… right, somehow, to warn her just in case.

She nods and the silence that falls is… warm. If we are being surveilled there’s no way for us to know and nothing we can do about it. More and more it seems like the noomorphy employed by the real client was just… just a matter of trying to be secure. I can certainly understand that. The need to hunt for security is one of the things I understand the most.

“Confirming. Meeting with Mx. Jones tomorrow?” I don’t want to break this warm silence, but I need to know that we’re all on the same page.

“Might as well. I figure we’ll probably learn enough and then go ahead with this.” a beat. “Or flee to Mao with more intel.” Chaisee says while the other two nod. “…Maybe it really was McCrae that was gunning for us. He can’t touch us now and nothing has really happened.”

“Maybe.” Rehema leans against the counter. “Caution.”

That’s something we agree on easily. Caution will keep us alive.

Nobody’s hungry, so we split off to take up beds and make ready to sleep.

I hate this part. Sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. I lie awake long after Sara and Chaisee have started snoring. Sleep remains elusive and I worry that we won’t wake up here.

At some point though, I fall asleep anyway.