†††
“SO you’re Zelaide, eh? Mm-hm, you’re a keeper. You got caught between a rock and a hard place this time around, huh? But your patience is admirable.”
Zelaide was escorted into the filthiest room at the back of the police station. In other words, it was the janitor’s closet near the rear entrance.
Zelaide suspected his release was top secret, but didn’t expect to meet with two men in a cramped closet. He recognized one face—the chief of police.
The other man looked strange. He wore gaudy clothes over his short and plump body, and his shaggy hair was thinning at the crown of his head, drawing attention to the roundness of his face. He topped his peculiar looks off with perfectly round, antiquated specs.
The man was round and curvy from top to bottom.
“Come along—”
“W-Wait, President Murakami! We still haven’t proven he isn’t the murderer yet. Seeking help from him is like playing with fire,” advised Gothic City’s Chief of Police with a gruff tone seeped in irritation. “This man is a purebred Beast Blood without any documentation. He’s a ferocious, unintelligent, dangerous creature. He’s about as useful as using fire to put out fire. His brain doesn’t work the same way as ours. Don’t treat him like he’s human.”
The chief could only be so frank because he held absolute confidence that Zelaide would never hurt him inside the police station. Case in point, Zelaide ignored him entirely and focused his full attention on the middle-aged man called Murakami. He recognized that name.
“Oh dear, are you racist? I’m not.”
“Some of my direct subordinates were slaughtered by a Beast Blood when I was working the field as an inspector. That monster had the same eyes as this one here,” the chief hissed in a voice laced with vitriol.
“My, you had a painful experience there. That’s a shame. But you know, I actually love all primates from bonobo to homo habilis. Oh, that includes all extinct species too, mind you. Naturally that also extends to humans and Beast Bloods. So I’m very intrigued by this young man with those supremely striking eyes.” Murakami casually brought up the sciences in a way a layman might be able to follow him. This was the president of the world’s leading research institute’s method of dealing with the grim-faced police chief. Then he turned to Zelaide. “Everyone envies those eyes of yours, don’t they?”
“…You’re Biotech’s president?” Zelaide asked moodily.
“Bingo! You know me? I’m Murakami. Akio Murakami. You’d make me the happiest researcher in the world if you remember me!” Murakami winked with his small, beady eyes. Unfortunately for him, both the Beast Blood and the police chief pretended not to see it.
“Why are ya here? What’s goin’ on?”
“Hoho? It’s not ‘What do ya want with me?’ but ‘What’s goin’ on?’ eh? See, chiefy, this young man’s intelligence far surpasses what you give him credit for. Don’t you agree?” Murakami asked Zelaide and cheerfully gave the peace sign only to be ignored again.
“Sorry, but can ya cut to the chase?”
“Ooh, my bad. Sorry for playing around at a time like this… I’ll tell you then, but it’s a bit of an embarrassment for us, so I’d rather not talk about it.”
Zelaide patiently waited for him to continue.
“To tell you the truth, three of the Bijours in our care slipped out of the breeding pens due to a work blunder.”
“Bijours got out?” Zelaide’s eyes widened.
Bijour—a beautiful and ferocious reptilian Muta. They should have been kept in Biotechnology’s Tier 1 Hazardous Organism Sector under their highest security.
Yet Murakami calmly spoke of an security breach that shouldn’t have been possible at the world’s leading research facility.
“Did they escape outside? Or inside?”
“The silver lining in all this is that they’re still in the building. We managed to seal off that sector. Feeding and cleaning is automated, so we fortunately only lost several drones and don’t have any human casualties on our hands. However, those agile, intelligent Bijours escaped through the feeding crane when it opened, smashed through the air vent, traveled through the piping, and are hiding somewhere deep within the walls. This is a Level D Emergency.”
Yeah right. There’s more to this.
Murakami casually returned Zelaide’s look of intense disbelief.
“It’s a separate sector where we keep the most dangerous Mutas. Of all the facilities that research Bijours, ours has been around the longest and was the safest until this happened. Drones are currently searching the vents and pipes, but even if we know where they are hiding, catching them is another story. They are known for mauling anything that moves. So much money has been lost in destroyed equipment.”
“What ’bout the sensors?”
“The normal heat sensors don’t work well on coldblooded Muta. Plus, they’re extremely slender. We have motion sensors, but Bijours move so quick, it has a hard time tracking them. We can’t send the hunting dogs in against such bloodthirsty creatures, and Guardians would demand an artillery strike on the facility rather than put people in danger. So that’s why…” Murakami purposely paused there.
“You need me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Doesn’t it sound a little too convenient? I’m a murder suspect. You guys didn’t listen to me for days no matter how much I insisted I didn’t do it,” Zelaide said to the police chief. The police chief shamelessly turned his nose up.
“Come now, hear me out without getting angry,” Murakami said persuasively. “Letting the Bijours escape is on me. I don’t look the part, but I’m actually an authority figure in this city. I don’t stand out much, but I’m a big player. That’s why I want to quietly and peacefully solve this issue before it gets out…or it could end bad. So I looked into Gothic City’s Muta Hunters for the best beasty for the job.”
“……” Zelaide cocked an eyebrow at him.
“And what do you think the results were? I checked every databank, talked directly to people in the know, and everything led me back to the same person. You.” After a slight pause, Murakami hardened his tensionless round face. “So I’m asking you to recapture the Bijours.”
“For free?”
“No, no. I’ll compensate you, of course. I will back up your innocence and have a third party organization reevaluate the evidence presented against you at this station. You will be able to get out of here depending on the results.” Murakami deliberately lowered his voice.
“This is actually Erica’s doing. According to our own investigation, a normal suspect in your situation would have been released due to insufficient evidence, but under the current special circumstances, you won’t be released unless something major happens. It’s not like they can keep you under house arrest, and everyone knows no cop can keep tabs on you. So taking down the Bijours is your little offering to the big guys upstairs. You understand, right? You have to do this job right. Otherwise I really will be fired.”
“Can I kill ’em?”
“Such a waste of resources, but I will allow it. I can just send you out into the Wilds to catch more. Just don’t blow up the building and we’re good.” Murakami grinned.
“You have a lot of demands.”
“Sorry. But you’ll still do it. You have to, right? Just so you know, Bijours are immune to pain despite how agile they are and tranquilizers don’t work on them. Oh and they become even more ferocious when they are hungry.”
“This offering might cost me my life…”
With all that said and done, Zelaide finally set foot outside his interrogation cell for the first time in a week.
The winds were already showing signs of the coming autumn.