The day I tricked the SAD with a little drop (part I)

What really is the question here is: why do I know the invitation is with Verde? Look, all I know is the facts. And besides this week I played a very small role on those.

That time when the Dragon called Craig to talk I went to the house of that old couple who died, climbed on the roof and found that the invitation had been purposely delivered to SAD. Craig pretended not to but in reality agreed with my theory.

Since then what has happened is this: three random mercenaries stormed the police building and stole the invitation. This invitation would only benefit influential people from the underworld, and here in Sproustown the only groups that fit into the category are the three renowned Deluxes distributors: the Dragon, Verde, and Wilkinson. The one who sent the mercenaries is the one who has the invitation in hand now.

I, as Bubble Tots, the mercenary, work for the Dragon. So I know it wasn't the Dragon who sent them. So only the other two options remain.

But here's the other part of the truth that you don't expect: I, as Barbarah Connor, was hired as a mercenary by Wilkinson himself, the mysterious illegal distributor in the northern part of city.

I can't use the code name I'm known for when I come to meet them, of course. Imagine if they research and find out that I'm a double agent working for the competition? They'd kill me on the spot! That's why I chose Barbarah. I like Barbarah. It matches the look and feel of my carcass: an underage girl, orphaned, surviving on the streets of the big, cruel Sproustown.

I know that the ideal was to change carcasses every time I went to talk in person with Wilkinson and / or the Dragon, that is: to have two different appearances: one for a boss and one for the other, but although it is possible is very uncomfortable. I, as a parasite roach, spend a lot of energy to take care of a body until I adjust all the nerve positions, arrange them so that it's easy to handle and everything. And after I get out of the body it goes back to its dead state and all I got has to be fixed back when I enter again... What I mean is, even if it were possible it wouldn't be viable.

And what else is: how should a small insect like me take care of a dead body so that it doesn't rot while I'm in the other and vice versa? No... It would be too much work. More work than baking a wedding cake.

This way... What I do is just using a different name. It's not like Wilkinson or Greta ever saw me talking to Craig or something. And even if they did, they may not even know Craig himself is part of the Dragon gang. Although he has that ridiculous tattoo on his biceps, but whatever.

That's why I know the invitation is with Verde. I work for the Dragon so I know it's not with him. I'm an undercover agent pretending to be under Wilkinson's orders, so I know it's not with him. Only the third option remains.

That afternoon I had gone to Wilkinson's hideout, that is, where Greta does the operations. Wilkinson himself almost never shows there in person, so Greta is like my superior, brokering the orders of the big boss.

Wilkinson's hideout is nothing more than the second floor of a snooker bar on a worse state than an old Beetle which stood in the rain. The name of the bar is Bodongo Bar. (What a name). You enter this bar, go upstairs and there is a closed door. Inside is where Greta Thompson, member of the Wilkinson gang, is. I call it a gang, but she hates that I use that term.

Greta Thompson is a woman in her late fifties who has big glasses and even bigger eyes. She must also have a back problem because the way she walks is really odd. And more frightening than her physical appearance is her personality.

I hate working with Greta Thompson.

Good thing I chose Dragon over Wilkinson for my main job. At least working for the Dragon, my main co-worker is Craig.

"Understand what you have to do?" Greta asked with that shrill, condescending voice as she stared at me with her big, listless eyes.

"Yes."

"Repeat."

"I have to go to Marshmoore, do the work in that dead zombie apartment, and then repeat it in the park downtown. And then I have to go to the news girl's house."

"The zombie is not dead, Barbarah. The one who died was tehe citizen."

"Yeah, yeah! That!"

She sighed.

"I hope you can do everything properly."

"Ok. Will do."

We were just getting right the details about my part of the service. Greta called me in the morning, asking to meet me that afternoon because Wilkinson wanted me to do a job about the murder of this colleague of his named Jim Sanford. As far as I know, he was one of those corrupt cops who let him in or out of illegal drugs.

When he died Wilkinson was all upset! I could barely talk to him when I arrived. Yes: Wilkinson showed there on that day, it was one of those rare occasions when he showed up. He was in the back room of the computer room, which is where Greta usually was. He came, complained a lot of everything, then went there and locked himself in, and then Greta gave me the information. He came because he wanted to make some phone calls and for that he needed the equipment Greta has. You know... To avoid bugging devices and things like that. From what I heard he called that Jack guy, he called another friend of his, some customers and the package delivery people.

The computer room is something I've always found mysterious: Only Greta stays there and she always uses the same one, but the others are always on and running for some reason. I know Greta is a hacker or something, but I have no idea why she uses so many computers at once. How am I supposed to know?

Really, if I were a cop I'd find it a little suspicious to find a computer room above a dirty bar like Bodongo.

"Shit!" I heard the old Wilkinson mutter as he left the room. His clothes had got caught in the latch.

He fumbled with his garments until he broke free, then strode across the room, taking the opportunity to address Greta.

"Greta, don't forget to warn Jack about Sanford. I need this for today."

"Understood."

"Huh?" I did it in an inquiring tone. I didn't know what it was about. But I got no response.

They accepted me as a mercenary there, but I just did the jobs I was told. Inside, I didn't have a shred of rights and I was the minimum authority. It was different from exchanging ideas with Craig. Looks like this Jack they mentioned every once in a while is their agent who never shows up or something.

After addressing her, Wilkinson walked past me without a word and descended the stairs toward the exit.

Looking closely, Wilkinson is an old man who gives the impression of being an individual entrepreneur who's had a thriving business but is still busy. Dresses well, though not formal in exaggeration. Although old he's lucid and his countenance exposes such quality completely. His features don't show how grumpy he really is, but neither does he seem to be a kind grandfather, he seems like something in between.

In short he's the typical old man inserted into his business. Whoever sees him would never suspect he's a trafficking leader. he's missing the cigar, the hat, the mustache and the woman in bikini.

"Well? We need the service as soon as possible." Greta told me right after Wilkinson left. This is what I get when I ask what are they about.

(It's hard to get good information to pass to the Dragon if everyone treats me like that... They don't tell me anything and just give me work.)

'We need the service as soon as possible': that indirect from Greta was a command for me to sod off and do what I had to do, leaving her alone. Therefore after that I left that unpleasant woman after all.

Greta had informed me that the police department put in the report of that Gerald who was eaten alive last week the result of run over. But there were some suspicion from the DEA. And if any of them decided to investigate, they'd find out that the SAD reports are fake; that they made them to hide the existence of paranormal beings.

Wilkinson by no means didn't want the DEA to make any connection between Jim and his gang, and these things can come to light now that he's dead. So the first thing I was going to do was get something for the DEA people to believe. They wouldn't fall for the runover fallacy, of course. They are also police after all.

What I had in mind was to make it sound for someone who went to Gerald and Sanford's crime scenes who knew nothing about paranormal beings that it was a normal human being who forged their deaths. The investigator would then come to believe that it was a deed of some sort of serial killer who altered crime scenes premeditatedly, but would not suspect anything supernatural.

And tanother thing was that I needed to remove all references to Deluxes. No one can know that Jim Sanford had even a little thing to do with Sproustown youth's favorite bullet traffic. If the DEA learned that one of their officers was involved in drug trafficking, they would investigate and all the mercenaries involved would end up with more police in pursuit, which would be the worst case scenario

We've had enough police with the SAD.