The Gifted Ones by Milo James Fowler

Author:Milo James Fowler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, detective, murder mystery, superpowers, future noir
Publisher: Future City Press
Published: 2018-07-13T00:00:00+00:00

10

Not a single weird nightmare that night. Probably because my reality had become something of a nightmare itself, and my brain needed time to adjust to the recent turn of events. Regardless, I needed the break, and for the first time in far too long, I woke up feeling more than a little refreshed.

Until I noticed the mandroid staring down at me.

"You must not tell Ivan about the mindwipe, Mr. Madison," Frank droned, looming like a stern giant, his red eyes glowing against the horizontal stripes of dawn peeking through the blinds behind me.

"Good morning to you too." I ran a hand over my scruffy face and felt the sudden need to reload my revolver. "Been watching me sleep?"

"Ivan cannot know what Agent Adams did—"

"About that." I reached into my desk drawer for a box of shells. "How'd she pull it off? I've always wondered."

"That is classified."

"Of course it is." I flipped open the .38's cylinder and dropped fresh rounds into the chambers, one at a time with a satisfying clink. Not that they would do much against a refurbished killing machine, besides rearranging the faux-skin on his face. But I'd be ready if any other Russian kneecaps made an appearance.

Which reminded me: I'd have to get the carpet cleaned as soon as possible. The super wouldn't be thrilled about all that blood.

"Nothing can be allowed to interfere with the working relationship established—"

"Between the United World government and the Russian mob. Ten-four, Frank."

The mandroid paused. "So you will not tell him."

I flicked the loaded revolver shut and tucked it into my shoulder rig. Getting to my feet, I stretched and yawned like some kind of prehistoric creature greeting the day. "I'll try not to. How's that?"

"Unsatisfactory."

"Deal with it." I made a wide circuit around my desk and the automaton who'd planted himself in front of it. Buttoning my suit jacket, I headed for the front office. "Wanda in yet?"

"Never left, Charlie," her perky voice chirped from her desk. "And we've got company."

My hand slid toward my holster as I stepped into our client receiving area.

"Sarge." I stopped dead in my tracks with a grin that almost stretched ear to ear. "You're all right!"

"Aye, and why the hell wouldn't I be?" With a grunt and an oath, he heaved his oversized Scottish frame up from the futon sofa, his lumpy face flushing scarlet with the effort. Sergeant Archibald Douglass had the rugged build of a small mountain range and a persona big enough to match. He clasped my outstretched hand in a solid grip. "But you've got a dead pair of yakuza downstairs, and the carpet in here looks like a battlefield. What sort of trouble are ya mixed up in now, lad?"

"Had a bounty on my head for a little while."

"The Japanese?"

"Russians. Sanitoro sent his men to keep an eye on Wanda—"

"Mr. Sanitoro doesn't think I can take care of myself." She gave me a pointed look. The Uzi sitting nonchalantly on her desk said otherwise.

"Sanitoro knows Ivan has a bad habit of going after the friends and family of his targets," I said.

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