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Felix Dancer: Sanctioned Op

Little Girl Lost

Chapter One

A 'Polite' Summons

A Sombernoon Story

byRedFox6

I was sitting in the Broken Wing that afternoon, drinking and chatting with the proprietor, Angie, when the second messenger found me.

Angie would deny it of course, but the Broken Wing is a less than reputable bar near one edge of Angel City. I was allowed to hang out and use it as an alternate office because I was a silent partner. A few years back I had made a good size chunk of change, and had bought a share of the establishment. My 'contributions' to running the place were basically to agree to whatever Angie wanted to do. So far, I had no complaints. I was earning enough return to be able to pick and choose what jobs to take. No more living paw to mouth like in the old days. No longer did I have to take divorce cases to pay the rent and eat. Those were always messy and ugly, even when the straying spouse was not hooking up with a succubus.

Angel City wasn't as bad as it had been ten years ago, before the angels had moved in, (or moved back in as they claimed,) but it was still a rough neighborhood near the bottom of the socioeconomic scale. Not the type of place one expected to see a servant from High Town, home of the most important movers and shakers of the city and country. The human was dressed in slightly dated formal wear, standard uniform for high ranking servants from High Town. If he was nervous, he was hiding it well. He peered around the bar with a faintly disdainful look on his face, looking for someone. Based on both the last messenger and the voicemails from the Countess Bathory I had received lately, I had a bad feeling I knew who he was looking for.

When he saw me, he moved forward, carefully threading his way around the tables and other patrons as if he didn't want to touch anything and maybe catch something. The other customers kept their heads down and watched him covertly, hoping he wasn't looking for them.

I sighed, put down my beer and waited for him to arrive.

Angie went perfectly still as she watched the man approach. She was one of the angels who had moved in to claim Angel City. No one was sure how many angels there actually were, but nobody really wanted to argue with them either, so the government had essentially ceded Angel City to them. The only way to remove them from the former slum was all out war, and no one wanted to find out how powerful the angels truly were. Plus, Angel City had vastly improved under their rule. Once one of the worst slums in Boanye and a virtual no go area for the Arbitrators, it was now on the way to respectability. Legitimate businesses were moving in, attracted by the stability provided by the new leaders, and the low tax rates. The Arbitrators still didn't enter, but that was because the angels had taken over the enforcement of the laws and had managed to reduce the crime rates significantly. Their methods were fair but harsh. And effective. Drug dealers, murderers, rapists, and other major criminals had left Angel City. The smart ones had seen how things were going and gotten out during the grace period. The others had tried to fight, and what remains could be found had left in very small body bags. Petty crimes like shoplifting were about the only crimes that were still committed in Angel City, and even they were getting less and less. You couldn't quite leave your doors unlocked yet, but the place was getting safer and safer as time went by.

Angie was the only one I really knew, or really wanted to know. She was the Angel of Shadow, and spent a lot of time interacting with us mere mortals. Hence, the bar. Where else are you going to get quite the same variety of people coming to you. Normally, she cloaked her aspect in the guise of a beautiful human, but if you squinted at her shadow just right, you could see the faint outline of her wings. Tall and slender, with pale skin and black hair, she favored long, Gothic dresses and matching corsets, usually in shades of dark purple and red. When trouble arose, she had an elegant longsword that she could pull out of Somewhere if needed. If the trouble was really bad, she would uncloak her aspect and set the sword on fire. An angel with a flaming sword is a sight that gives most mortals pause for thought.

I had been there the last time she had had to do that. A very surprised looking demon had materialized in the main room and started tearing it up, killing the customers and destroying the furniture. Angie had leapt over the bar, drawing her sword and transforming in mid air. I, along with the other surviving patrons, had gotten out of there as fast as possible. The ensuing fight had finished demolishing the interior. Angie kept the demon's head above the cash register. Sort of a less than subtle warning about not paying your tab.

He reached the table, and I got a good whiff of his cologne, rather overpowering but it did a good job of masking his scent. It caught in my nose but I managed not to sneeze. He peered down at me as if he had found something distasteful in his coffee cup. " You are the Sanctioned Operative, Felix Dancer?" It wasn't really a question, and the slight disbelief in his voice rather grated on my nerves. He gave a sniff that implied that he'd seen better furs than I face down on the floor in their own vomit.

I knew that what he was seeing didn't quite match the image many had of me. If one believed some of the stories making the rounds, I was four meters tall and bulletproof, capable of bench pressing large automobiles and ripping the walls off buildings. (Okay, that last had actually happened. But I'd had help, and the building had been poorly constructed to boot.)

In reality, I'm a normal red fox anthro, average size and average looks, the only thing out of the ordinary being my deep blue eyes. Most beings didn't give me a second look, and some didn't even give me a first. That had definite advantages in my line of work, especially when someone was watching for a four meter tall, bulletproof anthro. I was dressed in my normal off duty outfit, worn boots, jeans and work shirt. My field jacket was draped over the back of one of the empty chairs at the table. Being as I was off duty and not expecting trouble, I was unarmed. Generally speaking, the Broken Wing is pretty safe; no one really wants to get an angel pissed off at them.

"Yes," I replied in my best disinterested drawl, not looking directly at him, as if that would cause him to go away and leave me alone. Unlikely, but worth a shot.

When I allowed as how I was, he drew himself up stiffly, and announced, "I am Humberto Roland, Head Butler to Her Grace, the Countess Erzebet Bathory. She requests your presence at her residence in High Town tomorrow at 1 P.M. to discuss a matter of utmost importance."

He was managing to ignore Angie's presence. I was quietly impressed, though I didn't show it. When she went perfectly still like that, her humanity seemed to slip away, and her potential for violence crackled on the air. Most people were disturbed by this, but this human didn't seem nervous at all. He was either supremely self confident, exceptionally well protected, or very foolish. Or perhaps a combination of all three.

"You do know what happened to the last messenger?" I asked.

"Quite," he replied, his posture altering slightly, moving with practiced ease into a stance more in keeping with that of a professional bravo ready for violence than a butler. Watching the subtle change, I decided there was more to him than met the eye.

"And if I don't wish to come?"

"Her Grace has instructed me to inform you that there could be unfortunate 'difficulties' with the details of your license," he answered. "Her Grace has further instructed me to say that she will pay you twice your normal rate, and has authorized me to advance you a retaining fee here and now."

"Pretty clear threat," I thought. "I guess they decided to go with unsubtle this time around."

He handed over a credslip. I glanced at it as casually as I could. When I saw how large the retaining fee was, I just barely managed to keep my face blank. There were a lot of zeros after that number.

"The Countess must be really desperate," I thought, my paranoia immediately going into overdrive. "The kind of money she has, she could easily hire one of the big Sanctioned Op firms. So why me?"

I carefully put the credslip in my pocket, and said, "Let her Ladyness know that I'll come and chat."

He didn't like that I hadn't been respectful enough to use the correct title, but, to his credit, Humberto Roland was smart enough not to push his luck. "I shall inform Her Grace that you will attend on her tomorrow. Until then, sir." He turned and walked out of the bar, his back ramrod straight, looking neither left nor right. It was an impressive display of forced nonchalance.

After he left, Angie looked at me and said, "You're not going to go, of course."

"Don't look like I got much choice," I answered. "You heard him, if I don't go, they yank my license." I went on before she could respond, "And yes, I know it's a setup of some kind. But they seem to have me over a barrel with my pants down, my legs spread, and my tail up. Looks like I'm going to High Town tomorrow."

Angie went totally still again, eyes blank, and I knew she was gone. I drank my beer and waited for her to return.

After a few moments, she blinked and was back. "High Town seems to have improved their defenses," she said, looking at me in that unsettlingly direct way she had. "Very impressive.

"I have spoken with the others," she went on, meaning her fellow angels. "This does not concern us, so I will not be allowed to help you this time."

I considered the matter, then said, "Well, I should be okay for a while. They won't try and shank me right away, they'll wait until I've found whatever it is that they're after. After that, all bets are off.

"First order of business is getting this money transferred into my account," I continued. Angie graciously allowed me to use the bar's ATM to do that. I must admit, I did breath a small sigh of relief when the transfer went through right away, with no holds or conditions attached. Some rich folk figure they're so rich they don't have to pay for anything, especially when dealing with their 'social inferiors'. At least the Countess was willing to pony up the cred.

I hung around for a little while longer, but my earlier good mood was gone. Humberto Roland's visit left a sour taste in my mouth. It's never a good thing when our Lords and Masters take notice of you.

Arriving back home, I powered up my computer and waited while it ran the standard programs against magical and technological viruses. Some of the new GENIE viruses were especially vicious; not only would they corrupt your hard drive, they could sometimes manifest and try and kill you. Definitely a good reason to keep your antivirus software up to date.

I used the very best, from Quest Corporation. Expensive, but well worth it. Especially when someone has attacked your computer with a custom tailored technomagical virus designed to destroy all your data and then kill you. My cases were rarely big enough for someone to go to that much expense to eliminate me, but it did occasionally happen. The last time hadn't been pleasant at all. I had managed to destroy my computer in time, but the fight had wrecked my office and put me in the hospital for two months. Worse yet, all my data had been lost. The virus had even managed to penetrate and destroy my backup systems. By the time I'd gotten out of the hospital, the case had come to an unexpected conclusion. The courts were still redefining the rights of clones in the aftermath of it.

When everything came up clean, I logged on to the standard search engines and began research on my new client. Unsurprisingly, there was very little in the public databases other than PR fluff. The PTB like to keep their secrets.

Fortunately, I have access to some databases that the public doesn't. They're expensive to subscribe to, but are more than worth it. What I found wasn't as reassuring as it could have been.

According to TrueLifeSearch, the Bathorys were the official Proctors of High Town, in essence the police force with authority to enforce the law amongst the nobility. The Proctors had been formed so the nobility wouldn't have to have the indignity of being investigated or arrested by commoners. Reading between the lines, they were also responsible for keeping the foibles and crimes of the PTB out of the public limelight. It would be interesting to know what political maneuverings were used to get that through, and why it was felt necessary in the first place, but that data was buried too far for even TrueLifeSearch's best muckrakers to find. The family had held this position for several centuries. It had gained them quite a lot of power, as well as more than a few enemies.

So I would be working for someone whose job was equally divided between punishing crime and keeping it all secret. There would also be rival Families trying to embarrass the Bathorys or maybe even take their place as Proctors. Whatever I was being forced into was going to be a mess of Family rivalries, politics and secrets. I estimated my odds of getting out in one piece at 50-50. Like I said, it's never a good thing when High Town notices you.

I copied all my data to Angie's computer, just in case. Given the peculiar limitations the angels operated under, she probably wouldn't be able to do anything, but at least someone would know what was going on. And besides, just the knowledge that an angel was following my case could give someone pause before they killed me. No one really understood what restricted the angels' activities in Boanye and, given the massacre in Angel City when they moved in, no one really wanted to find out.

I closed down the computer and went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a less than good day, and I wanted to get a little sleep before it started.