"MCNICHOL!"
Leon looked up at the sound of his name being roared. It cut through the incessant cacophony of the precinct like a knife, and though the ambient noise
didn't stop, it quieted momentarily.
"Oh, is that you he's after?" the clerk behind the desk said with an impish grin. Leon matched it with one of his own.
"It is," he admitted, "though I usually prefer my first name being shouted, and under different circumstances." He winked.
The clerk -- one GAINES, R. according to her nameplate -- laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Get outta here, Detective. That's the chief,
you don't want to keep him waiting."
"Tomorrow, nine o'clock?" he said, taking her hand in his own and raising an eyebrow.
"We'll see," she said, removing her hand and pushing his shoulder to spin him around. "Now scram!"
Leon let himself be sent on his way, grinning. "Not bad, McNichol," he told himself. "Less than an hour in town and already you've got a
date."
"MCNICHOL! FRONT AND CENTER!" This time, the shout rattled windows, and the secretary seated just outside the chiefs office winced but kept working
with an air of long-suffering patience.
Leon raised an eyebrow as he made his way across the crowded, bustling room. "Almost sounds like Todo got himself transferred as well." He stopped
by the secretary's desk and picked up his backpack from where he'd left it after checking in, favoring the tired-looking girl with a wink. She stared
back at him with flat eyes and jerked her chin at the door.
"The chief will see you now." It was delivered in a tone that suggested the speaker wasn't even conscious of saying it, and Leon couldn't
help but chuckle. He moved past the desk and stepped between two large filing cabinets flanking the doorway like beauracratic guardians.
"Close the door," the chief grunted from his desk, not looking up from his paperwork. Leon shrugged and did so, dropping his bag onto the floor next
to the visitors chair and collapsing into the chair with only marginally more grace.
The old-fashioned clock on the wall ticked forward for nearly a minute before the chief finished reading the file. He closed it and dropped it on his desk,
then raised his gaze to meet Leon's. He was a wiry individual; Leon was surprised that a voice as deep and penetrating as the one that had summoned him
could have come from so slight a man. His salt-and-pepper hair was thick and he wore a bushy mustache, but no beard. That, and the round wire-frame glasses
perched on his nose, made him seem more a professor than a police chief. Leon found himself warming to the man almost instantly, and decided that that instant
charisma, like an old tomcat, must have been how this guy rose to his position.
"So how is Chief Todo?" Leon's new boss asked. Leon raised an eyebrow.
"Doing well, last time I saw him, sir." He straightened in his chair. "I didn't know you two knew each other."
"Oh, we go back a long ways," the chief said, leaning back in his seat. The wood and leather highback chair creaked softly. "He came over for
a course I was teaching at the Academy. You could say, in a way, that if it weren't for that you wouldn't be here."
Leon frowned. "I'm not looking for any favors --" he began, but was cut off.
"Don't worry, you're not getting any." The chief pulled open a drawer and rifled through it briefly, extracting a thick manila folder which
he tossed to Leon. "You have a reputation as a man who can get things done, who takes risks but makes them pay off, and most importantly, a proven
ability to keep his mouth shut. I need all of those." His grizzled face crept up in a lopsided grin. "If you are what Todo says you are, I've
got that, even if I -do- have to put up with a goddamn playboy messing with my clerks' productivity."
Leon blinked and opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, then clamped it shut at the warning glare from across the desk.
"Just read it, and tell me yes or no after you're done."
Wearing a puzzled frown, Leon opened the folder and began to read.
* * * * *
The clock had ticked forward twenty-two minutes when Leon closed the folder and sat quietly, his eyes staring at a point far outside the walls of the room. He
shook his head and handed the folder back to the chief.
"Well?"
Leon looked right at him. "Oh, I'm in." He grinned. "Are you kdding? Turn THAT down?"
The chief smiled grimly. "Good! Rebecca will expedite your paperwork and handle the FBSA. She's the only one, besides me, who you may discuss your
operations with -- aside from other members of the division, of course. You'll file your reports through her most of the time." He tapped a few keys
on the terminal built in to his desk. "You'll be active as of tomorrow. Any questions?"
"Just one, sir. That bit about 'licensed hero'? Does that mean I can wear a costume?"
"That's up to you. Whatever it is, just keep it tasteful. You may be operating outside the usual channels, but the PPD still has a reputation to
uphold."
"Darn. I guess that means the leather bustier is off-limits?"
A growl was the response. "Get outta here, McNichol. Todo was right about you."
* * * * *
"Back so soon, Detective?"
Leon winced.
"I thought you said nine o'clock tomorrow?"
Leon winced again and smiled a sheepish grin. "Heh. Well, um..."
Rebecca Gaines smirked at him from behind the fortress of her desk. "What's the matter, Detective? Catgirl got your tongue?"
"You're good," Leon admitted. "You must have known who I was and what the chief wanted the whole time."
"Yep."
"And you didn't say a word," he remarked admiringly. "Just let me waltz in and trip off all the landmines. Slick, very slick," he
said approvingly. He staightened up and smiled, a normal smile rather than is usual rogueish grin. "Hi, I'm Leon McNichol." He proffered a
hand.
Rebecca took it and shook it firmly. "Rebecca." She raised one eyebrow. "What, starting over?" she inquired.
"No, just admiring a skillful play," Leon said. "You're good. I admire skill." He cleared his throat. "So. What's
next?"
"The bane of your existence, Leon," Rebecca said sympathetically. "Paperwork." She produced a thick stack from the recesses of her desk.
Leon shook his head and sighed.
"I used to let my partner handle all the paperwork," he said, and picked up a pen. "Oh, for the good old days."
Some minutes later, as he skimmed through the stack: "Rebecca?"
"Hm?"
"Do I want to know why the PPD is asking if I've ever attended an inter-species communication course?"
"Oh, that. Yeah, all the newcomers ask about that one." She shrugged and went back to her work.
"... you didn't answer the question."
"It's Paragon City."
Leon looked at her doubtfully for a minute, then shook his head and went back to his task.
* * * * *
The last of the sunlight had departed long ago when Leon stepped out of the precinct building into the employee parking lot, with Rebecca following.
"Y'know, when the chief said I'd be all set as of tomorrow, I thought he meant I'd get a night off first," Leon remarked, glancing at his
watch. It was past midnight.
"That's what you get for thinking," Rebecca pointed out. She nudged him forward. "C'mon, I'll give you a lift."
"I can walk, thanks though," Leon replied.
"I insist, Detective," she said, and guided him towards her car. Once they were safely inside, she turned to him and shook her head.
"You're new at this hush-hush stuff, aren't you?"
"I prefer the straightforward approach," Leon grumbled. Rebecca handed him a packet.
"There's the info on your assignment." She held up a hand as he began to protest. "I know, I know, zero interference, pick your own
assignments, all that jazz. Think of this as your primary goal, then. You just need to investigate them and file a report, the brass'll decide from there
if action needs to be taken."
Leon tipped the packet up and caught the files that slid out. "Not much here," he remarked. A set of grainy long-distance photos, a couple of bio
sheets lacking most of the detail, and copies of hero registration forms. It wasn't much at all, and certainly not enough to give him a sense of motive
for the investigation.
"It's all we have."
He nodded and put the files back in the envelope, and put that in his backpack. One photo fluttered out and landed on the floor; he picked it up absently.
"Okay then." He regarded Rebecca steadily for a moment, then grinned. "So. Where's a good coffee place in this city? My treat."
Rebecca returned the grin as she started the engine. "Both of us should probably go to bed, Detective. It's late, early day tomorrow and all
that."
"Sleep is overrated," Leon replied. He returned his attention to the photo as Rebecca navigated the city streets. It was in black and white and
showed an obviously female figure clad in tight-fitting body armor, with an opaque facebowl for a helmet and twin blades skewering an unfortunate Hellion. It
was impossible to tell from the angle of the photo if they were lethal wounds or not.
"Are they a danger to the city?" he asked quietly, almost rhetorically. Rebecca shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road.
"That's your job to figure out."
More to come...
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
Leon looked up at the sound of his name being roared. It cut through the incessant cacophony of the precinct like a knife, and though the ambient noise
didn't stop, it quieted momentarily.
"Oh, is that you he's after?" the clerk behind the desk said with an impish grin. Leon matched it with one of his own.
"It is," he admitted, "though I usually prefer my first name being shouted, and under different circumstances." He winked.
The clerk -- one GAINES, R. according to her nameplate -- laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Get outta here, Detective. That's the chief,
you don't want to keep him waiting."
"Tomorrow, nine o'clock?" he said, taking her hand in his own and raising an eyebrow.
"We'll see," she said, removing her hand and pushing his shoulder to spin him around. "Now scram!"
Leon let himself be sent on his way, grinning. "Not bad, McNichol," he told himself. "Less than an hour in town and already you've got a
date."
"MCNICHOL! FRONT AND CENTER!" This time, the shout rattled windows, and the secretary seated just outside the chiefs office winced but kept working
with an air of long-suffering patience.
Leon raised an eyebrow as he made his way across the crowded, bustling room. "Almost sounds like Todo got himself transferred as well." He stopped
by the secretary's desk and picked up his backpack from where he'd left it after checking in, favoring the tired-looking girl with a wink. She stared
back at him with flat eyes and jerked her chin at the door.
"The chief will see you now." It was delivered in a tone that suggested the speaker wasn't even conscious of saying it, and Leon couldn't
help but chuckle. He moved past the desk and stepped between two large filing cabinets flanking the doorway like beauracratic guardians.
"Close the door," the chief grunted from his desk, not looking up from his paperwork. Leon shrugged and did so, dropping his bag onto the floor next
to the visitors chair and collapsing into the chair with only marginally more grace.
The old-fashioned clock on the wall ticked forward for nearly a minute before the chief finished reading the file. He closed it and dropped it on his desk,
then raised his gaze to meet Leon's. He was a wiry individual; Leon was surprised that a voice as deep and penetrating as the one that had summoned him
could have come from so slight a man. His salt-and-pepper hair was thick and he wore a bushy mustache, but no beard. That, and the round wire-frame glasses
perched on his nose, made him seem more a professor than a police chief. Leon found himself warming to the man almost instantly, and decided that that instant
charisma, like an old tomcat, must have been how this guy rose to his position.
"So how is Chief Todo?" Leon's new boss asked. Leon raised an eyebrow.
"Doing well, last time I saw him, sir." He straightened in his chair. "I didn't know you two knew each other."
"Oh, we go back a long ways," the chief said, leaning back in his seat. The wood and leather highback chair creaked softly. "He came over for
a course I was teaching at the Academy. You could say, in a way, that if it weren't for that you wouldn't be here."
Leon frowned. "I'm not looking for any favors --" he began, but was cut off.
"Don't worry, you're not getting any." The chief pulled open a drawer and rifled through it briefly, extracting a thick manila folder which
he tossed to Leon. "You have a reputation as a man who can get things done, who takes risks but makes them pay off, and most importantly, a proven
ability to keep his mouth shut. I need all of those." His grizzled face crept up in a lopsided grin. "If you are what Todo says you are, I've
got that, even if I -do- have to put up with a goddamn playboy messing with my clerks' productivity."
Leon blinked and opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, then clamped it shut at the warning glare from across the desk.
"Just read it, and tell me yes or no after you're done."
Wearing a puzzled frown, Leon opened the folder and began to read.
* * * * *
The clock had ticked forward twenty-two minutes when Leon closed the folder and sat quietly, his eyes staring at a point far outside the walls of the room. He
shook his head and handed the folder back to the chief.
"Well?"
Leon looked right at him. "Oh, I'm in." He grinned. "Are you kdding? Turn THAT down?"
The chief smiled grimly. "Good! Rebecca will expedite your paperwork and handle the FBSA. She's the only one, besides me, who you may discuss your
operations with -- aside from other members of the division, of course. You'll file your reports through her most of the time." He tapped a few keys
on the terminal built in to his desk. "You'll be active as of tomorrow. Any questions?"
"Just one, sir. That bit about 'licensed hero'? Does that mean I can wear a costume?"
"That's up to you. Whatever it is, just keep it tasteful. You may be operating outside the usual channels, but the PPD still has a reputation to
uphold."
"Darn. I guess that means the leather bustier is off-limits?"
A growl was the response. "Get outta here, McNichol. Todo was right about you."
* * * * *
"Back so soon, Detective?"
Leon winced.
"I thought you said nine o'clock tomorrow?"
Leon winced again and smiled a sheepish grin. "Heh. Well, um..."
Rebecca Gaines smirked at him from behind the fortress of her desk. "What's the matter, Detective? Catgirl got your tongue?"
"You're good," Leon admitted. "You must have known who I was and what the chief wanted the whole time."
"Yep."
"And you didn't say a word," he remarked admiringly. "Just let me waltz in and trip off all the landmines. Slick, very slick," he
said approvingly. He staightened up and smiled, a normal smile rather than is usual rogueish grin. "Hi, I'm Leon McNichol." He proffered a
hand.
Rebecca took it and shook it firmly. "Rebecca." She raised one eyebrow. "What, starting over?" she inquired.
"No, just admiring a skillful play," Leon said. "You're good. I admire skill." He cleared his throat. "So. What's
next?"
"The bane of your existence, Leon," Rebecca said sympathetically. "Paperwork." She produced a thick stack from the recesses of her desk.
Leon shook his head and sighed.
"I used to let my partner handle all the paperwork," he said, and picked up a pen. "Oh, for the good old days."
Some minutes later, as he skimmed through the stack: "Rebecca?"
"Hm?"
"Do I want to know why the PPD is asking if I've ever attended an inter-species communication course?"
"Oh, that. Yeah, all the newcomers ask about that one." She shrugged and went back to her work.
"... you didn't answer the question."
"It's Paragon City."
Leon looked at her doubtfully for a minute, then shook his head and went back to his task.
* * * * *
The last of the sunlight had departed long ago when Leon stepped out of the precinct building into the employee parking lot, with Rebecca following.
"Y'know, when the chief said I'd be all set as of tomorrow, I thought he meant I'd get a night off first," Leon remarked, glancing at his
watch. It was past midnight.
"That's what you get for thinking," Rebecca pointed out. She nudged him forward. "C'mon, I'll give you a lift."
"I can walk, thanks though," Leon replied.
"I insist, Detective," she said, and guided him towards her car. Once they were safely inside, she turned to him and shook her head.
"You're new at this hush-hush stuff, aren't you?"
"I prefer the straightforward approach," Leon grumbled. Rebecca handed him a packet.
"There's the info on your assignment." She held up a hand as he began to protest. "I know, I know, zero interference, pick your own
assignments, all that jazz. Think of this as your primary goal, then. You just need to investigate them and file a report, the brass'll decide from there
if action needs to be taken."
Leon tipped the packet up and caught the files that slid out. "Not much here," he remarked. A set of grainy long-distance photos, a couple of bio
sheets lacking most of the detail, and copies of hero registration forms. It wasn't much at all, and certainly not enough to give him a sense of motive
for the investigation.
"It's all we have."
He nodded and put the files back in the envelope, and put that in his backpack. One photo fluttered out and landed on the floor; he picked it up absently.
"Okay then." He regarded Rebecca steadily for a moment, then grinned. "So. Where's a good coffee place in this city? My treat."
Rebecca returned the grin as she started the engine. "Both of us should probably go to bed, Detective. It's late, early day tomorrow and all
that."
"Sleep is overrated," Leon replied. He returned his attention to the photo as Rebecca navigated the city streets. It was in black and white and
showed an obviously female figure clad in tight-fitting body armor, with an opaque facebowl for a helmet and twin blades skewering an unfortunate Hellion. It
was impossible to tell from the angle of the photo if they were lethal wounds or not.
"Are they a danger to the city?" he asked quietly, almost rhetorically. Rebecca shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road.
"That's your job to figure out."
More to come...
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs