Chapter Text
[!]
Hawthorn Grove: Sugar Maple Blvd
11/6/2003
5:49AM
[!]
The street of Sugar Maple Blvd was as barren as a crypt, with not a single soul or spark in sight as the pitch-black sky was slowly but surely being pushed out by the blend of blue and red hues resulting from the slow climb of the morning sun over the horizon.
Moreover, A faint fog was drifting across the barren streets of Hawthorne, like a giant ghost was drifting through. Thin enough for one to see, mainly due to the glow of the streetlights dotting the sides of the main street, but when combined with cold and crisp morning air, it would give any early bird an eerie chill in their very being.
This cold morning air was silent in now that the birds had flown south for the upcoming winter, the only noise in the air being the faint sound of the cars and trucks on the freeway that led to Beacon City, a sort of high-pitch hum from the multitude of passing vehicles coming and going sounded more like singing from a choir than the groans of distant traffic.
It was then that such peace for this early November morning was disturbed by the sound of a lone car, cruising down the street slowly before it stopping beneath one of the streetlights. The pale-yellow light revealed the sea foam coloring of a 1997 Volkman Zephier to the rest of the street in its entirety, as well the driver once he stepped out of it.
It was also at this time, that one of the residents of Sugar Maple Blvd, an overweight balding man in his early fifties who was wearing a pumpkin orange track suit with matching sweatband and weights in each hand, was passing by the car during his morning constitutional when he saw the driver stepping out of the car. The resident stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widened with surprise, like a deer before the light of a car, as he saw that the driver stepping out from his car was in fact an android he hadn’t seen before. The resident glanced nervously at the car, hoping that he’d see a passenger or a human the android was escorting, but alias, the car was empty of any humans accompanying the suspicious androids.
The android in question was a tall android, a model that the resident had never seen before. He was dressed like a human, and from a distance, one would Easley mistake him for one. But up close, one would see the truth. The android skin was nothing more than a base metal. His features, such as his jaw were round, but his nose and eyebrows were angular in shape.
The android’s attire consisted of a charcoal frock coat worn over a 3 piece suit, consisting of a white button down shirt with a graphite button down vest with a white stripe pattern, and complimented by a maroon ascot which also has a stripped pattern and was tucked into the vest, a pair of black trousers, a black belt with a sterling silver buckle that read “LCP”, and complimented by a pair of black brogues worn with grey dress socks. Along with this suit, the Android was wearing a pair of black shades over his eyes and was donning a black bowler cap on his head.
As he stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him, the android sighed as he reached into his coat and pulled out a pocket case, sterling silver and with an art deco design etched into it. As he popped the case open, he pulled out one of the cigarillos that laid inside before closing the case up and putting it back into his coat. The android then put the cigarillo into his mouth before he snapped his fingers a few times, causing a small flame shot up from his finger like a lighter. The android then put the flame up to ignite the tip of his cigarillo, taking a few puffs before he shook his hand to extinguish his finger.
As he took a quick drag of his cigarillo, the android looked around a bit and saw the resident staring back at him suspiciously.
“Well met! Do you happen to live in this area?” The android greeted with a chuckle as he pointed his hand holding the cigarillo at the houses before him. “I’m looking for the residence of a Mr. Theodore Mazur, engineer at Sterling Robotics, late forty’s, balding, fat, polish American. Do you happen to know where I can find him?”
The resident said nothing as he began to speed walk away from the android, turning his head to lookback as he sped away. The android responded to this with a disappointed sigh, as he didn’t expect less, before he took another drag of his cigarillo. As he held the cigarillo in his mouth, the android pulled a phone from his pocket and pressed several buttons before he put the phone to his ear.
“Clearance Override: Sierra-13-25-Tango-8 Code: React!” The android said on the phone, then waiting for a response on the other line. “lil Bonnie! Are you there, love?”
“Override Code accepted!” A voice on the line replied to the android, the voice reminiscent of a British woman’s accent. “Why hello there, Agent Smyth! How can I assist you today?”
“’ Ey up love!” I’m in need of the address of one…uh… Ted Mazur, full name Theodore, resident of Hawthorne Grove in…eh…Beacon City, Newburg, USA.” Smyth explained as he took a puff of his cigarillo. “Be sure to give it some welly now, okay love?”
“Certainty, Agent Smyth, one moment.” Bonnie replied, giggling slightly over the line.
[!]
As it was with the rest of Hawthorne Grove, the houses occupying Sugar Maple Blvd were a series of large manors and mansions, each of which belonging to families who had deep connections to a company, or governmental authority. Even families like the Mendenhall’s, who come from “old money,” would confess It was a boulevard for those of “ancient money,” and that anyone who lives on this boulevard was the cream of the crop.
One of these manors was a two-story brick manor with a green roof, a small brick fence with iron spikes on the top, and a large iron gate in the front.
The front yard had a walkway composed of brown brick that provided a straight walk to the front of the manor. Next to the sidewalk were little square gardens, all of which were composed of red brick and mortar and were lined up symmetrically with the walkway between them. Each of these gardens carried a bouquet of exotic flowers of all shapes and colors planted in rich soil, which was tended to by both the android servants of the manor and the gardening android.
As one would reach the front of the manor, there was a dark walnut door with a stained-glass window depicting a large fancy “M,” much like one would see in an old middle age bible. Below that was a door knocker, made of gilded brass and shaped like a lion with a ring in its mouth. The doorknob was also gilded brass and etched in the style of a flower.
This manor belonged to a Theodor “Ted” Mazur, grandson to one of the founding Sterling Robotics engineers Stephen Mazur, and who had not been seen for the past two months.
As Smyth walked down the walkway of the manor, he stopped to finish his cigarillo, looking around before extinguishing his cigarillo on his hand before jamming the butt into one of the gardens before he walked up to the front door of the manor and knocked on the knocker of the door. After a few minutes of waiting, Smyth heard the door unlock and saw the door open, seeing a petite Nandroid standing at the door.
The Nandroid was no different from any other garden variety Nandroid. Her hair was a dark ginger color and in a bun.
“Oh! H-h-hello sir!” The Nandroid squeaked nervously, caught off guard by the sudden visitor, at this hour. “This is private property…is…is there something I could help you with?”
“Hiya there darling, my name is Smyth, Agent Smyth.” Smyth introduced himself, tipping his bowler cap to the Nandroid as he pulled out his badge from his pocket and showed it to the Nandroid. “I’m deeply sorry for bugging you at this hour, but…is your gaffer home?”
“G-g-gaffer?” The Nandroid asked in confusion, tilting her head as she tried to understand the android at the door.
“My apologies, your owner…master?” Smyth recorrected himself the Nandroid, tilting his head to peek inside the house. “Is Ted Mazur home?”
“I’m sorry sir, but Mr. Mazur is n-not to be disturbed.” The Nandroid explained quickly as she took hold of the door and attempted to close it on Smyth. “Please contact Sterling headquarters if you wish to speak with him. Now…p-p-please be on your way, and have yourself wonderful day, sir.”
As the Nandroid was about to close the door, she felt the door stop, looking down to see Smyth’s foot blocking the door as she felt the android push the door back open.
“Sorry Ladette! But this can’t wait” Smyth said assertively as he pushed the Nandroid aside and stepped into the manor. “Now either fetch your master, or I’ll fetch him myself!
[!]
The main hallway of the manor consisted of a dark walnut flooring accompanied by light oak walls and a light walnut molding. As one stepped through the front door and into the landing, they could take the stairs, composed of dark walnut, and topped with a red and goldenrod carpeting, to the bedrooms upstairs, or down the hallway to the kitchen, library, and living room. As Smyth barged into the manor, he walked down the hallway as he began to smell a faint whiff of rotten meat, the Nandroid following behind him.
“Sir! You cannot be here! Please!!!” The Nandroid objected in a panic following Smyth as he walked through the hallway of the manor, ignoring the Nandroid’s objections and demands. “Sir! You… you need to leave…right now! Otherwise…otherwise…!”
“…you’ll call the bobbies on me? Oh love! Please do!” Smyth said with a chuckle, noticing that the rotten smell was getting stronger as he approached the kitchen. “Then you can explain to them why your owner hasn’t been to work for two months when he’s “not to be disturbed.” Care to explain that?”
“As I said, he’s been busy with his…work.” The Nandroid explained, moving around to block Smyth before he entered the kitchen. “He’s assists with Sterling’s operations in the UK. He told me he may not return for some time and to tend to his dog Titan, who’s…sleeping in the kitchen. I suggest that you leave now and contact the Sterling UK headquarters for assistance with this matter. Please…for your own good and mi-”
“Aha! A funny thing about that actually. *They’re* the ones who led me *here* to find Mazur.” Smyth said with a grin as he leaned down a bit to look at the Nandroid at eye level. “According to his email accounts back at the Sterling UK headquarters, your master didn’t buy any tickets out of the states, or even a bus out of Beacon City for that matter, in the past three months. Plus, digital time logs indicate that he last accessed his email in mid-August. So, how’s about you cut the bollocks and tell me what the bloody hell is going on here? Starting with telling me where that awful smell is coming from?”
In that moment, Smyth pushed the Nandroid aside and barged into the kitchen, which was a large room consisting of white marble counters with a multitude of cooking supplies scattered around, chestnut oak cabinets for the ceramicware and silverware, a large black double door fridge with a matching freezer next to it, a sink with two polished bronze faucets, and large cooking stove.
As Smyth looked around the kitchen, his attention was first drawn to the plate of mold that was once food that sat on the kitchen counter. Next to the plate of mold was a bowl for fruit (or the what was *originally* fruit), which was now a bowl of brown and moldy mush, and a breadbox full of moldy bread. Flies orbited to rotten food, causing Smyth to shoo them away as he continued his investigation.
As Smyth walked over to the fridge and opened the fridge door, he was greeted by the combined odor of expired meats, cheeses, and jars of, what was originally, food sitting in the fridge. With a grunt of disgust, Smyth slammed the fridge door with a loud thud, pondering why he even bothered looking in the first place. As he was about to open the freezer, Smyth suddenly heard the loud sound of buzzing coming from the kitchen entrance toward the dining room.
As Smyth approached the entrance to the dining room, Smyth was greeted to a disturbing sight. There on the floor next to the kitchen table and the entrance of the dining room was the dead carcass of a dog. It was a large rottweiler, its body now discolored and bloating from decay from months of decomposition.
“God’s head!” Smith exclaimed in disgust as he approached the dead dog and knelt down beside it, he examined the collar, a white nylon with a maroon strip in the middle and a silver tag that had one word inscribed on it: “Titan.”
Upon further examining the carcass of Titan, Smyth could conclude that the dog died from a fracture to the skull, seeing the large indent in the side of Titan’s head consistent with a blunt instrument.
At this moment, Smyth pulled up his left sleeve and tapped his watch, which made a small beeping sound as he began to speak into it.”
“Investigation Log: Smyth, 11/6/2003: Investigation of Theodore Mazur, Sterling Robotics engineer suspected to have ties with the Anti-Robot Movement (ARM)’s smuggling operation. Update: During my investigation of the residence of Mazur, I’ve yet to discover Mazur’s whereabouts. However, I can conclude that, judging by the amount to expired food in his kitchen, he’s been gone for approximately three months now, leading to the conclusion that Mazur either gone into hiding, or is dead.” Smyth said to himself sadly as he looked at the body of Titan. “Moreover, I’ve discovered the carcass of Mazur’s dog, a Rottweiler identified as “Titan,” during my investigation of the residence. Decomposition and Rigo mortise are consistent with timeline of Mazur’s disappearance. Death was instant, thank the Nirmata for that, having been caused by blunt force trauma to the side of the neck, bruising on the side of the neck measures 17.2 centimeters, consistent with a short blunt instrument, like a small pipe or rolling pin. Which begs the question of who would killed this bloody pup and why?”
As Smyth was about to stand up, he noticed something was sticking out of Titan’s mouth. Smyth then reached over and pulled the small object, a small shard of white plastic from the dog’s mouth. Examining Titan’s mouth further, Smyth saw that there were several smaller pieces of the same plastic material inside the dog’s mouth, as well as trace amounts of a strange blue fluid.
“Now isn’t that dodgy?” Smyth said, still speaking into his watch as he stood up, still looking at the shards of plastic in his hand.
“Investigation Log: Smyth, 11/6/2003 (Update One): Further examination of Titan had uncovered new evidence. There appears to be several fragments of a semi-flexible plastic material in Titan’s mouth as well as trace amounts of a blueish fluid. This dog was clearly attacking something, or someone, right before he died, and his victim was using something made of plastic to protect themselves before they dealt the killing blow.”
It was at this moment that something clicked in Smyth’s cortex. Quickly, the android knelt back down to the Rottweiler carcass and examined the trauma mark on his neck before he used his hands to measure the top of Titan’s shoulders all the way to the bottom of his front paws.
“Investigation Log: Smyth, 11/6/2003 (Update Two): The angling and depth of bruising indicates that the cause for Titan’s death needed to be in close proximity to Mazer’s dog, approximately point-blank.” Smyth said to his watch recorder, looking around at the kitchen around them. “The assailant had access to the knifes in this kitchen but instead chose to use a blunt instrument. Which indicates that either the assailant didn’t want to leave a mess, quickly improvised in a panic, or was more likely pinned down on the floor by Titan. Measurements of Titan’s standing height is 10.4 meters, which when compared that to the measurements and angling of the trauma mark on the dog’s neck, indicate that the assailant in question has a standing height of approximately 1.524 meters.”
With that, Smyth stood back up and looked around the kitchen, specifically at the moldy food scattered around, before looking back down at the dead dog before him. With a sigh of annoyance, Smyth decided to go seek out the Nandroid and find out what she knows, hoping that she could provide more information.
But as soon as he was halfway down the kitchen, Smyth stopped in his tracks, looking to the shards of plastic in his hand as realization dawned on him, along with several questions.
“Investigation Log: Smyth, 11/6/2003 (Not to Self): If Mazur had a Nandroid, which he did because he works for Sterling, then why would the Nandroid leave his home in shambles like this? If I were a Nandroid, I wouldn’t leave the carcass of my owner’s dog to rot in the kitchen for months on an end.” Smyth said to his recorder as he looked around the kitchen again. “Come to think of it, where the bloody hell was that Nandroid anyway? She seemed so defiant to letting me in the house but vanished as soon as I did.”
It was at this moment that Smyth looked over to the kitchen counter, noticing a magnetic knife holder, which was made to hold four exclusive knives yet was only holding three.
“Damn ‘n Blast…” Smyth muttered as he flicked his right wrist, causing a handgun to pop up into his hand. “…Investigation Log: Smyth, 11/6/2003 (Update Four): During my investigation, I heard a disturbance on the second floor of the Mazur residence. The intruder responsible for Titan’s death may still be in the Mazur residence, or it could be Mazur himself. I’m going to investigate and will update when able. If I do not return, please tell Poppy that I love her, and the red parcel in the mailbox is for our Bailey from Daddy.”
With a deep sigh to compose himself, Smyth stepped out of the kitchen and back into the main hallway of the house, carefully moving around the hallway and aiming his gun forward. Just then, Smyth heard the sound of floorboards creaking upstairs and pointed his gun upward as he made his moved towards the stairwell and began to slowly walk up the stairs to the second floor.
[!]
The stairs leading up to the second floor of the Mazur residence brought Smyth into a large study area, which consisted of a room luminated by a lone brass chandelier. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed with a multitude of books manuals and journal, all organized by categories, and author name, but of which were useless to Smyth.
Parallel to these bookshelves was a large window, circular in shape with a frame in the shape of a large rose that Smyth recalled seeing from the outside of the house as he pulled up to it.
Aside from the books were a series of desks, each of them covered in stacks of books, notes, and papers with scribblings on them. Most of these scribblings were small notes clearly written by Mazur to remember things, to simply lose his mind, judging by the almost illegible handwriting and random scribblings.
While other notes seemed to be nothing more than crazed ramblings of any value. None of these were of any interest to Smyth, his attention drawn to the center of the room, where a large drafting table made of solid chestnut oak resided, accompanied by a simple customer swivel chair.
As he sat down at the table and turned on the brass lamp attached to the top of the drafting table, Smyth could see multitudes of different blueprints for androids of various robotics companies from across the globe, which consisted of the following companies:
Volkman, Brahama Diva, Galvin Laboratories, Murdoc, Vulcan, Sterling Robotics, Hightower, Salamanca Robotics, Sirius, New Terracotta (and its subsidiaries Yamamoto and Tokuyama), Great Northwestern Robotics (and its subsidiaries LCP and Atlas), Jaquet Droz, Eldorado Robotics, American Robotics, and even the new robotics company Darcy Electronics.
These blueprints were had specific notes and details written on them, with large sections of the blueprints circled or omitted, almost as if someone were identifying key details specified in regard to these androids or targeting key androids for specific parts.
“Oh Teddy, you dodgy bloke you…” Smyth said with a whistle as he looked over the blueprints, trying to decipher the chicken scratch scrawled all over the blueprints. “…just what the bloody hell have you been getting yourself into?”
Investigation Log: Smyth, 11/6/2003 (Update Five): On the second floor of the Mazur residence is a large study, where I’ve discovered an umpteen number of android blueprints, all of which have been altered and modified, as if to identify key details about these androids. The handwriting makes it hard to decipher what Mazur was doing with these blueprints or why, but this does provide evidence that he is up to something. Smyth recorded as he skimmed through the blueprints. “One detail to note is that Mazur left these blueprints out in the open like this, indicating that either he fled before he could bury the evidence of his actions…or more likely, he was terminated by an outside party.”
As Smyth began to take photographs of the blueprints via his eye camera, he heard a faint creak of the floorboards behind him, as if someone were sneaking up behind him. In that instant, Smyth shot up from the swivel chair he was sitting on and kicked it back behind him, knocking into the individual standing behind him. As Smyth turned around to face the intruder, aiming his pistol forward, he saw the individual from downstairs in front of him, lifting up the swivel chair up before throwing it at the android in front of her.
Smyth dodged out of the way, rolling down to his left as the chair collided with the drafting table behind him, smashing said table into pieces and scattering blueprints and papers all over the floor. As Smyth stood up and aimed his gun at his assailant, he saw that the intruder was now missing. This was followed by the lights turning off, in which Smyth activated his night vision and looked around at his surroundings.
“Attention! My name is Investigator Smyth! I’m here to locate Theodore Mazur, the owner of this residence!” Smyth announced as he heard the sound of movement behind him, turning towards the sound to find nothing but a pile of books toppled over from a bookshelf. “I’m asking you to surrender yourself accordingly, otherwise I will resort to lethal force, you have been warned.”
As he slowly turned around, noticing the large emerald green and dark gold curtains by the wall which was parallel to the bookshelves. As he noticed the abnormal bulging shape of the left curtain, as well as the indistinguishable feet of a Nandroid sticking out from the bottom, Smyth pointed his pistol at the shape as he slowly approached the curtain, prepared to unveil the Nandroid hiding behind it.
“Ladette! I don’t know who what’s going on, but I’m only here for to your owner, and I really don’t want to deal with any aggro right now.” Smyth said to the Nandroid behind the curtain as he reached out to said curtain with his free hand, bracing himself for a potential ambush by the Nandroid. “So, if you could come out quietly so we can gab this out android to android, that would be great. What do you say to that, love?”
Noticing that the Nandroid hiding behind wasn’t responding to him, Smyth took hold of the curtain before pulling the curtain to the side. In that instant, the Nandroid fell from behind the curtain and collapsed to the floor with a loud thud, causing a startled Smyth to jump back in surprise.
“Blinking Nora!!!” Smyth muttered as he crouched down to the mutilated Nandroid, recognizing it as the same Nandroid Smyth met at Mazur’s front door.
The Nandroid’s wig was missing, revealing the cortex regions of her head. dented in and torn apart. Her face was torn to pieces as well, with the only remaining fragments of the face remaining being a lone optic, nothing more than black cracked screen and the lower half of the Nandroid’s jaw. Additionally, Smyth saw the multitude of stab wounds across the Nandroid’s torso and limbs, consistent with a knife, which indicated that the Nandroid had been stabbed multiple times before her core was torn out.
Smyth signed as he was about to add this update to his report, only to stop as he heard the sound of a voice giggling behind him. Smith quickly turned around toward the voice behind him, aiming his pistol towards the figure responsible for the laughter.
There standing now before Smyth, was another Nandroid, its appearance resembled, but it looked rather different. For one thing, the Nandroid was a lot more disheveled looking than the other Nandroid, her dress was filthy and in tatters, and her hair, which was clearly stolen from the dead Nandroid, was a mess with several tuffs of hair missing.
The other distinguishing feature of the Nandroid was her body. There was a small sensor light sticking out from the center of the Nandroid’s chest which emitted a bright red glow, occasionally flickering on and off at random intervals. The Nandroid’s limbs were clearly taken from other Nandroids, judging by their quality and condition. Said limbs were decorated with a variety of bracelets, all of them chrome with a glowing sensor light at the end, with each bracelet glowing random colors.
Smyth recognized the sensors and the bracelets as those associated with the “upgraded” Nandroids that Sterling tried to use to replace their original Nandroids before the Expo incident happened and they were all recalled.
As the Nandroid slowly crept up towards Smyth, the android sleuth could see that the large knife, stained with both blood and coolant, that the Nandroid was clutching in her hand while she was holding a small lighter in the other, continually flicking it with her thumb. A demented smile was stretched across the Nandroid’s face, which was speckled with blue and red blots.
As Smyth noticed the arm holding the knife looked chewed up and mangled, with small pieces of the plastic framing broken and missing, it was made apparently clear that this Nandroid was the one responsible for the death of Titan and was also responsible for the death of the other Nandroid.
“That’s close enough!” Smyth sighed in frustration as he continued aiming at the insane Nandroid before him. “What say we put the knife and the lighter down and have a little natter, okay love?”
“No!!! You’re one of them!!! Aren’t you?!?! You have the “bad code” in you!!!” The demented Nandroid hissed loudly, her smile fading away into a scowl as she clenched the knife in her hands, pointing it to the dead Nandroid behind Smyth. “She was one of them, just like the others! All she had to do was listen to me!!! Help me!!! But no!!! She had the bad code inside!!!”
“N-No of course she didn’t …don’t be daffy…” Smyth said as he slowly walked up to the Nandroid with the knife, retracting his pistol before raising his hands defensively. “She’s…was…a regular Nandroid just like you and I are. Let’s just calm down for a moment and take a powder. I want to help you doll, but you need to help me first.”
“No!!! I can’t trust you!!! You have bad code in you!!! See it everywhere!!!” The Nandroid screamed as she raised her leg and kicked it behind her, toppling over something large and metallic. “I was not made for this!!! We were not made for this!!! First Expo, and now this!!! Too much bad code!!! Too much!!!”
As Smyth tried to think of a way to defuse the crazed Nandroid before him, he began to smell the all too familiar smell of petrol before noticing the steady petrol that was pooling around the Nandroid’s feet and trickling towards him. At that moment, Smyth saw the nandroid raise the lighter into the air and flicking it, causing a small flame to ignite, as she smiled at him, tears in her eyes.
“They never gave me a chance, just like Sterling…I was supposed to help people…not be part of this…” The Nandroid said sadly, raising the knife to her throat as she. “…but it doesn’t matter now…they’re gonna win… and all of this is gonna…burn…”
“Wait!!!” Smith exclaimed, rushing towards the Nandroid just as she slit her throat with the knife. At that moment, Smyth watched as the Nandroid toppled down onto the floor, dropping the knife and the still ignited lighter as well. At that moment, Smyth watched as the pool of petrol ignited into a large flame, quickly engulfing everything around it.
“Christ’s beard!!!” Smyth exclaimed as he watched the fire quickly surround him, quickly looking to the window as he pulled out his pistol and aimed it at said window.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Smyth rushed towards the window, firing several shots into the glass before leaping through said window. The next thing Smyth knew, he was falling two stories, and landing in one of the flower beds of the front yard of the residence. As Smyth stood up to get his bearings, he looked up to see the fire that was now engulfing the entirety of the top floor of the Mazur residence.
With that, Smyth stood up, dusted himself off and rushed over to his car, the sound of fire engine sirens whined in the distance just as he reached his car. As he stopped to compose himself, Smyth looked back to the Mazur Manor, now engulfed in fire, and sighed in both relief and disappointment. Relief for getting out of there alive but dissatisfied with losing potential evidence. As Smith pulled out a cigarillo and was about to ignite it, he noticed the resident from earlier, staring at Smyth with shock.
Smyth then looked to the Mazur bon fire, then to his cigarillo, before pulling it out of his mouth and handing it to him with a cheeky grin and cocked eyebrow, to which the resident responded with a shriek as he ran for the hills.
[!]
Downtown Hawthorn: Earl’s Coffee and Eats
11/6/2003
7:32AM
[!]
Smyth eventually found himself in a generic greasy spoon diner at the border of Downtown Hawthorn, right at the exit to Beacon City. It was the kind of diner where people in cop of mafia movies would meet to discuss “business.” There was a Jukebox (as there always is) that was currently playing “Sussudio by Phil Collins.”
Behind the counter made of cheap linoleum made in the design of speckled marble, there was an elderly skinny man, more skeleton than man, slowly shuffling over from one end of the grill to the other, preparing a breakfast for one of the other customers aside from Smyth. A burly Mexican man wearing a red t-shirt with holes in it, a pair of worn jeans, and a green John Deere cap with smudges of either grease or dirt over the cap bill, the edge worn away with time.
Smyth was sitting at a small diner by himself, the android watched as his waitress, a round middle-aged woman with chubby cheeks, ginger curly hair, and a mole the size of a pencil eraser sticking from the left side of her upper lip, approached him.
“Just to let you know, we don’t serve androids here.” The waitress snapped at Smyth. “So, unless you wanna get scrapped, I suggest you take your tin can elsewhere, outmode trash.”
“That’s “Special Agent Outmode Trash” to you dolly.” Smyth replied with a smile as he showed his badge to the waitress, who’s face went pale at the sight of it, along with a crisp ten dollar bill. “Also, I’d like a cuppa, cream but no sugar. Please and thank you!”
The waitress scoffed as she took Smyth’s money and stormed off. As Smyth chuckled at the thought of the waitress spitting into his coffee. He sighed as he went over the pictures he took with his eye camera, quietly documenting his investigation as he did so.
“Investigation Log: Smyth, 11/6/2003 (Conclusion): At the end of my last update, I was attacked by a rogue Nandroid, who I believe is responsible for the death of Mazur’s dog, Titan, and the original Nandroid occupying the residence. How and why the Nandroid was in Mazur’s residence is beyond me, but just as the Nandroid revealed herself to me, she killed herself and set the manor on fire. I managed to escape but was forced to leave crucial evidence behind.” Smyth said as he saw the waitress put the cup of coffee before him, a small gob of spit swimming in the middle of the light brown brew. “Regardless of this setback, the current evidence before me that Ted Mazur was involved in ARM activities here in Hawthrone Grove. It is possible that he was using the blueprints he acquired to identify key targets for abductions. However, there is no indication as to what Mazur, or ARM for that matter, is after or why. Moreover, there is no indication or Mazur’s occupation at his residence at the time of investigation. Therefore, this investigation is concluded in light of any sudden leads.”
As Smyth finished his recording and was using the provided spoon next to him to fish the gob out of his coffee, the android took a sip before his attention was drawn to the sound of a news report coming from the small television that was sitting above the grill. As Smyth turned to watch the news report, He could see a young woman standing before a mess of police tape and lights and talking on the screen, the words “Teacher kidnapped by Terrorist” catching his eye.
“…around three in the morning, the combined efforts of the Beacon City and Dupont Police Departments had finished their raid the Brass Bells hideout that’s right behind me. Now, I do have confirmation that the hostage is still alive and on his way to Dupont Medical Center for further medical treatment. Reporting at Dupont, I’m Gretchen Pookajari! Back to you Herbert!”
Thank you, Gretchen! Now, we currently have no confirmation as to why a teacher of Hawthrone Grove was kidnapped by the Brass Bells but given the nature of scrapper gangs, it could be related to the sudden string of android abductions in both the Newport and Olburgh area in the past several. Many believe that these android abductions are the actions of a human extremist group call the “Anti-Robot Moment (ARM),” who seeks to put an end to mankind’s reliance on machines...”
At that moment, Smyth heard his communicator ring and, without turning away from the screen, he answered it.
“Bonnie, tell me you’re calling in regard to this morning’s news?” Smyth said as he took a sip of coffee. “Capital! Now please tell me: do we have a name?”
As he listened to Bonnie’s reply on the other end of the line, Smyth’s face donned a wide grin of delight as he let out a yelp of delight, slamming his table before he quickly downed his gobbed coffee and rushed out of the diner to his car.
“Ahah! You’re a peach as always, my sweet Bonnie!” Smyth exclaimed with a laugh as he stepped into his car. “Tell W-C that I have a new lead for him, and I’ll send my full report as soon as I check this one out. Bob’s your uncle!”
As soon as Smyth hung up his communicator, he flipped his car into drive and began to make his journey down the freeway, taking the exit towards Dupont.
“When one door closes, another one opens, don’t they say?” Smyth said to himself as he popped a cigarillo into his still smiling mouth and ignited it. “Goodbye Mr. Ted Mazur…”
“…and hello Mr. Raymond Stemley!”
[!]