The Troubleshooter: Fears in the Rain

Flask jerked a thumb in the direction of the manor. "That's what I was coming to tell you. I think we found something."

We followed him through the debris, slipping in the sooty sludge while the rain fell on us like karmic punishment. Kessler glanced at Flask.

"You were saying something about tracking Kilgore's energy signature."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here instead of Downtown. Nothing but mop-up there, and I wanted to be proactive. So, I ordered Central to keep me posted on any of the same anomalies. At the same time, they're triangulating the signature points to see if we can find out where he's holed up."

"Excellent work. I'm going to need access to Central as soon as possible."

Flask eyed him suspiciously. "So you can lower the shielding and let your HSSC pals waltz on in here and take over the place? No can do."

Kessler shook his head with a sad smile. "We're way beyond that now. And if you knew where this place was, you'd understand why it's so hard to get more than a couple of agents smuggled in here at a time. I need access to Central for a more benevolent reason, I promise."

"The word of a spook? Forgive my pessimism." Flask pointed to a recess in the floor where smoke wafted from a set of damaged doors. "Looks like an emergency bunker. Beck might have survived after all."

I coughed into my hand, staring at the smoke rising from the dark interior. "You go ahead. I'm not feeling the fumes right now."

Kessler pulled a small, aerodynamic mask from his inner pocket and handed it to me. "Brought it for me, but you're welcome to it. Haven't used it yet, don't worry."

I gratefully accepted it, removing my Bogart as I slid it over the lower half of my face. Straps automatically slid out the casing and secured together against the back of my head. My lungs felt better instantly as the smoke was filtered out, and fresh air funneled in.

Poddar smirked. "That's a good look for you."

"Every look is good for me, Ace." The thin fibro-flex material only slightly muffled my voice. "Howzabout we see what ol' Beck's hiding under here."

It took a team effort to open the battered doors. I entered first, using my holoband to illuminate the darkened interior. The steep stairway led to a small safe room made even smaller by the amount of junk scattered inside: a collector's dream of artifacts, weapons, and relics that appeared to pre-date the Cataclysm. It probably had been carefully arranged and exhibited, but someone trashed the place: overturning tables, breaking glass display cases, and ripping shelves and cabinets from the wall. The priceless treasures were strewn across the floor, most centered around the body in the middle of the room.

Beck's corpse.

The old man had been savagely tortured and beaten: face nearly unrecognizable, body shredded by blades, blood dripping from his grievous wounds. So much blood. In the light of the safe room, it looked otherworldly, blue instead of red.

Wait a minute…

I leaned in for a closer look. It wasn’t the illumination; Beck's blood was blue. But that could only have meant—

Kessler shook his head. "I'll be damned. The mayor of New Haven is a synoid."

I shook my head. "Gotta be a decoy. I met Beck, and there's no way he was a synthetic humanoid. Synoids have that uncanny valley look, like living mannequins."

Kessler smirked. "Yeah, maybe going back to the Gen 5 models. The current ones are indecipherable from human beings outside a baseline test or the obvious factor: the blood in their veins — or fuel, in their case, generated by a fusion generator in the place of a heart. That's why we call them bluebloods. You've been undercover for too long if you've forgotten that, Mike."

I ignored Poddar and Flask's accusing stares, fingers drifting to the tiny empty port behind my ear. "The memories are all jumbled. I remember seeing Beck bleed before, but I can't trust those recollections. Doesn't matter. The real question is: if Beck was a synoid the entire time, how many other residents are also synthetic too and don't even know it?" I glanced up at the others, realizing the same question struck them at the same time.

"Or which one of us might be?" Poddar's expression was grim as he pulled a long dagger from the folds of his coat. "One way to find out."

"What — take turns stabbing each other to see the color of each other's blood? Not exactly the brightest of notions if we're supposed to be working together."

"Nothing so drastic, Mick. A small cut works just as good." He lowered the blade to his other palm, letting the glimmering edge rest against the skin. "What are you afraid of?"

I shrugged. "I got no kick with it, Pod. Might as well see if we're all red-blooded creatures around here. Kessler?"

"I get tested every time I report back in, but I'll do it if the rest of you do."

"Flask?"

Before he could answer, Beck's body spasmed in the chair. Blue liquid spilled from his mouth when he sat up, head lolled to the side because of his broken neck. Revenant eyes stared from his waxen face, flickering as if trying to focus before settling on me.

"Michael Trudo." His voice was slightly off-kilter, faded like warped speakers.

I stepped closer. "You know who I am?"

"The Hunter. The Liquidator." A smile tugged at his blue-spattered lips. "Two souls in one body. You're a Gemini, aren’t you?"

"Cut the crap, Beck. You're not in very good shape right now and might wanna save your words for something that counts. Were you ever real, or did Faraday create you?"

Beck winked an eye. "Of course he did. Just like he created the Troubleshooter."

My jaw clenched. "What did Kilgore want from you?"

"The same thing you want, Agent Trudo. The key to the city. The location of our friend Dr. Glen Faraday."

"Did you give it to him?"

"What incentive would I have to do that? One benefit of being a synthetic humanoid is the inability to perform outside of one's programming parameters. Oh, and the inability to feel pain is a bonus, I must say."

I stuck a gasper between my teeth, started to strike my lighter, but thought better of it. The chance of collapsing in a shuddering fit of coughing in front of everyone just wasn't worth the risk. "Yeah, I bet. Figure you'd tell us if we said pretty please, though."

"For you? Certainly, old friend."

I blinked. "Just like that?"

"Why not? Faraday didn't spend the last few years reconditioning you for nothing."

"Is that what he called it?"

"Of course. It takes a lot of fine-tuning to transform an enemy into a champion, Michael. When you first arrived here, your mission was to kill Dr. Faraday. Now, you will be the man to save his life."

"Don't be so sure about that, Beck. I'm not the persona he created with his memory cocktail. I'm my own man now."

"And just like that: free will. I'd applaud, but my arms appear to be broken."

I felt angry heat scald my face. "Look, you got something for me besides sarcasm? 'Cause I don't have the time for small talk."

"You're right, of course. My fuel reserves are spent, and I stare into the synthetic abyss. One last thing to do before I pass into the great circuit board in the sky."

He extended a finger as if pointing at me. The tip split apart, and a small, cylindrical drive emerged from the hollow.

I pulled it out and took a closer look. "What's this supposed to be?"

"As I said: the key to the city. Or to be more precise: the key to Faraday's room."

"Yeah? Where can I find him?"

The light faded from Beck's cloned eyeballs, and his body slowly went limp. His words were dying exhalations, barely audible. "Home, of course."

"Where the hell is home?"

A final smile touched Beck's lips. "Home is where the heart is, Michael." His head lolled forward, and he went completely still. The resulting silence was uncomfortably familiar.