//Ludari Baby, a child without a second name born to an uncaring parent, is commonly assumed to be a child born into prostitution. These children repeat criminal cycles and are ostracised for their lack of surnames.//
Locke could still taste the tobacco on his lips while he gazed at the last painting to emerge from the remains of Armenia before the country vanished. A city with lights on, people on the street painted in extreme detail, the imperfect strokes from human hands remained underneath, painted over to show attention, effort, and the beautiful human error in the work. He wondered at the statement that the work of art drives people mad. Isolated in this chamber in the back of the hotel, though from how clean the room was and the regular staff that came here, he suspected that his own coming here was a convenience.
He lit a cigarette, and the public alarms did not go off, confirming more suspicions. To gain access to this room, you'd have to sign away any responsibility the place would have to take for any damage to you. Unless, of course, you were TPSB. The second and third options: be rich or influential enough to force them to be held responsible. Rumour on the street was that the result of the painting's influence rendered you misanthropic. Made you seethe into becoming a hikikomori or go on a murder spree. Stories online when these room gremlins shared their reasons, did mention pictures or images, but most of them were related to— he decided it wasn't worth the thought right now. He looked at the painting of people who prayed outside a church. Those humble robed people who believed in one God. One God who never showed his face or influence. Now they had many, many gods.
He left the painting behind with the cigarette burning on the marble floor.
"Fuscian Niji is here." Brillian said with a flash of anger in her eyes.
"Stay here." he said, "And tell me what you think of that picture when I get back." he pointed at the painting, "That one."
"Mhmm." She lazily shrugged and sauntered into the room.
Locke adjusted his collar and belt, then made his way up the corridor and was surprised to be greeted by Fuscian Niji himself, who had a bot that bowed to his lanky form. The man's dark eyes thinned a little.
"Where's that 'Painter of yours?" he looked behind Locke.
"She found an image to stare at." he gestured to the shop nearby, "Shall we?"
Niji led the way inside and opened a tab on his card. Locke ordered a coffee and Niji went with a caramel chocolate milkshake. They sat at a table in the middle of the crowded fast food franchise. Niji slapped the arse of that same robot as it walked away. Disguised as an attractive waitress, he wasn't even sure how the man got it out of the place.
"She's got a fine ass, don't she?"
"I'm not interested in machines." he muttered.
"They make for amicable toys when you need to destress."
Locke took a mouthful of coffee, "Business, sir, I'm not interested in robot arse."
"Suit yourself." he took out a memory chip, "Cedarbrand is doing well, so I need you to go down to Amberend. Not for Kishi, that's being taken care of in its own time."
Locke took the chip and plugged it into his phone. He felt warmth at the back of his neck, looked to see Brillian wasn't there.
"There's a process to Boreal that causes the death of Reignpainters and people who were not suspected but later turned out to be Reignpainters to take their own lives. You know it already."
Locke nodded, "What does this have to do with me?"
"Boreal Death is the natural process of any form of Reignpainter, and as this city is a hotspot for Laenic, these deaths keep Boreal happy." he cleared his throat, "But lately, there's been disappearances of women and doxies who work high-end clubs who are all pregnant. I set Greenethorne on it, but you know Greenthorne. So I need you to hunt him down, send him back and map out this case. Full immunity, do what needs to be done if it's fucking a doxy for information or torturing a pimp who's out of line. Black Cloud and Mountain Eagle are coordinating with us on this mission. Any other gangs are a liability but if you get the sense you can get them on our take, then go ahead, all means. Get this done, and we'll handle your promotion to Reignwarden, same as our girl Jade."
"Thank you, sir." he stood up.
Niji nodded sagely, "You start tomorrow, let your ass relax after last night's raid."
"Nah, we've got a city to run and this mission's more important. I can relax on the way, I know a girl who'll let me stay in a secure place in Amberend once things get rolling."
"I thought you broke up with that whore." Niji slurped his milkshake.
He shrugged, "She's got the same status as Mika now."
"But she still sells the caring wife experience just without the sex," he said, "That's a whore."
"Suit yourself." Locke kept his anger pressed down and gave him a good, curl of his lips into an emphatic grin. Focused on the promotion, the money, and the goal of internal systemic change.
They shook hands, Niji sauntered off, and slapped the robots behind again.
When Niji was out of earshot, Brillian sat down in his seat, "I hate that man."
"Thank you, Missy Obvious. I told you to stay in the gallery."
She rolled her eyes, "I don't trust that man, what if he did-"
"I appreciate your concern, Brillian. But you need to trust me to know what I'm doing," he put his phone away. "We've got a job."
She nodded, "People who'd do that to children..."
"Reignpainters aren't considered human, so you know what that means for Reignpainter children, especially white and East Asian." Locke said grimly, "The human trafficking market has them at high pounds."
The girl lowered her voice to a whisper, "And you think you can change this internally?"
"Excuse me, Reignpainters aren't allowed-"
He raised a hand to the manager, "She is a TPSB enforcer who is working under me. Now get her a chocolate milkshake and make it free."
Brillian watched the manager walk away in a strop and muttered thanks.
"You alright?"
"That's the third time. I'm fine. I just had to learn a lot yesterday," she folded her hands. "So you think you can really change all of this internally when there are so many corrupt officers?"
"We're not having this conversation right now."
The manager placed an extra-large milkshake on the table. "Sorry for earlier."
He waved her away, "Drink your milkshake and we're leaving."
She quietly took it up and vanished into the ladies' toilet.
Locke lit up a cigarette in the AV as he thought about his position in the hierarchy, they'd likely make Kyoya or Ishida shoot him if he made the fuckup choice last night. Brillian interrupted his thoughts when she rapped on the door with her knuckles. He unlocked the vehicle. She stepped inside, and lay on her back across the third passenger row.
"You alright?"
"No." she said, "There's a storm happening, not weather. Bad people in the middle of Suhou."
He took a long drag on the cig, "Storms, really? Storms and people?"
"Central Suhou."
"None of our business for now."
"You're lying."
*I know.* He tapped the auto for the AV after he started the engine and set a course for Amberend. The scanner flagged a known gang member from Cedarbrand syndicate, Mavro, on their way up. He elected to ignore the opportunity, there would be many, many more to come. The engine spun up. Laenic spread through the chamber. The AV hurtled across the TPSB airway toward Amberend with two blue flashes to indicate authentication and verification confirmation.
Twenty minutes dragged by. They went past Skye Street, he looked back at Brillian to see that she was sound asleep. Locke opened the case files only to be greeted by the word 'My blessing' in Niji's fugly handwriting. It hit him that this was probably the consequence of his altercation with Greenthorne a few days ago. Now he had to wonder what hoops Irine leaped through for this to be his only reprimand... They landed in Layla Stre--
"Where'd you say that storm was?"
"Central Suhou, people are doing trouble," she said with her eyes closed.
"Any more specific?"
"No."
He returned to browse the files of Jimothy-Bobbert Greenthorne. He went missing in Orlaith Hay in the Oranger district of Amberend with numerous dots of contact at random intervals until they came to a stop thirty-two hours ago. The last one being in Ibu's Bar.
"Why is it called Amberend?"
"Named after a Filipino woman with a natural giant arse." Hit lit another cigarette, "Looks like Greenthorne worked with Kiisiner to end a ring of Rebirther traffickers. Brought them down, and Kiisiner went underground to hunt Kishi while maintaining their drug rings."
"What kinda drugs?"
"Weed." he said curtly, "You should know this."
She shook her head, "I didn't focus on Kiisiner."
"Regardless," he opened the gun compartment and armed himself, "We're going to hit fetish clubs, some of them start early, most of them start at ten or twenty-two hours."
"And Greenethorne?"
"All on the way, kid." he said, "Now there's gonna be people after kids your age and under, keep an eye. If you spot a pregnant woman, you females have a supernatural ability to get that done. Let me know, and we'll put a tail on her."
"Yes, sir."