Mardock Scramble

“I know what ought to be done, I just don’t know what the right thing to do is… I never imagined in a million years that the girl would mesh so well with the abilities we gave her…” A shiver ran down his spine as he spoke, and his voice was drowned out by the echoing gunfire.

The Doctor gulped, and as he did so there was a ping—a message had arrived.

“We’ve just had a newsflash from the DA. I set him to gather information on Shell—anything on the net or from internal police reports,” the Doctor said.

Balot took a seat, listening. She had already detached both guns from her sleeves and handed them over to the Doctor, and when she did so his expression lifted ever so slightly in relief.

“He’s come up with something, has he?” Oeufcoque asked, sticking his torso out of one of Balot’s hands.

“The five neurosurgeons who were looking after Shell have all disappeared. Every single one of them, simultaneously. One of the surgeons had even just prepared dinner. No signs of a struggle. And no witnesses…” The Doctor’s eyes flicked over to Balot.

She understood the significance of this glance straightaway.

–Don’t worry. I won’t be afraid. Carry on.

“Okay. Well, it’s strange. All five of them have these large sums of money deposited into their accounts by an unidentified source. But considering the salaries they’re on from the state, it’d hardly be worthwhile for any of them to abscond with the sorts of sums we’re talking about—not with all they have to lose.”

“The deposits are obviously a red herring, Doc. Boiled doesn’t do things by halves. Once his mind is set on an effective course of action, he carries it through to the bitter end. I imagine he hired professionals to do the job. Whenever we find something that looks like a lead, it’s safe to assume that it’s more likely to be a decoy, or a deliberate bluff,” said Oeufcoque.

“I think you’re right. Well, I’m going to use these mysterious disappearances to press our case further, try and crank up the Life Preservation Program to the highest level. We strike a blow inside the courtroom, they go on the offensive on the outside. We’ll need to shore up our escape routes—and we may need to start scouting for a new hideaway. I’d better go and negotiate with the Broilerhouse directly.”

Even as he spoke his fingers were tapping away at the keyboard furiously. He was evidently in communication with the DA.

There was another ping, and the Doctor’s expression brightened.

“Marvelous, our man at the Broilerhouse has given the go-ahead to open negotiations. I’d better head straight there…hope we don’t get attacked while I’m out. Mind you, even if I was here, I doubt I’d be much help in battle.”

“Well, we’ve vetted the police protection that we were assigned after the trial, and their histories all check out. We trawled through the files for all eight of them, spanning the last twenty years—spotless. They should be able to protect us for long enough for you to have your Life Preservation Program discussions, at least,” said Oeufcoque.

“Let’s hope so. Still, let’s not discount the possibility that the enemy will see my absence as a window of opportunity to attack. Be careful.” The Doctor flicked a switch on the machine, pulled the cord out, and headed over to the red convertible in giant, lanky strides.

“Right, I’m off. Make sure you lock all the doors. And listen to what Oeufcoque tells you.” He called out to Balot and the car left the parking lot, letting in the crimson light of the evening sun from beyond the shutters.

Balot snarced the shutters closed, and then made the pitching machines set themselves up to fire automatically. She was about to recommence her training.

“Best not tire yourself out,” Oeufcoque advised.

–Let me go on a little while longer, please? It takes the edge off my mood.

“Fine, but don’t overexert yourself.”

–Just a bit of stationary target practice, then.

Balot stepped back on top of the silver platform and gripped the gun with both hands. She fired in time with the balls as they flew toward her.

She fired with her right, she fired with her left.

As she did so, she snarced Oeufcoque to ask him some questions.

–Who’s going to attack us? Your former partner?

“I don’t know. And we don’t know for sure that anyone’s going to attack us.”

–Did Shell have those surgeons rubbed out? Why?

“Something to do with the business deal he’s involved in at the moment, no doubt. It’s probably safe for us to assume that Shell’s memories are being recorded and preserved in physical form somehow. That’s given us a useful clue, anyway.”

–Who do you think actually killed the surgeons?

“A gang of professionals, I imagine. The sort who work as a team, kidnappers-for-hire.”