Lizard Man (part I)

Vyntrraten? Vinterhaschten? I don't really know...

And to tell the truth... It doesn't matter. That's the name of the planet I commented about with Friday's black fighter, that clownpiece.

As soon as he ran away and I sat down in the car with Howard I started searching on my cell phone, but I couldn't remember the name.

It is a distant planet, which can only be visited with alien technology, since the human beings, at least the human beings not connected to the alien influence on Earth, have not yet managed to overcome the speed of light on travel.

A planet where the lizard men come from. One of ten prominent races under observation, according to the SAD.

Lizard men, as the name implies, are lizards with human skin.

Actually, their skin is variable. It's like the chameleon. Only instead of the color it's the shape: they can choose the shape they want. Of course, when they come here, they prefer to carry a human skin so they can blend in effectively, without bringing attention to themselves.

Very similar to other aliens, they are agile and possess superhuman strength; characteristics that come from the close relationship of their species with the class of reptiles. And they can also climb walls, just like lizards do. And when they do, they leave a trace detectable by the scanner, just like the other aliens.

Lizard men look a lot like aliens in many ways. So what's the reason for the separation in the classification? Well, to answer this question we must go back about sixty years ago, when the policy of persecution of supernatural beings was still being established in the country: the sixties were a time of barbarism, where women and blacks were still fighting for their full rights because of the prejudice of the majority. Homosexuals, then, you don't even talk about that, it was an unforgiveable sin.

Now imagine how these people felt about paranormal beings! All that mattered at the time was killing them as quickly as possible, to avoid causing panic in the population about their existence.

It didn't matter much what these beings thought or whether they would occupy a prominent place in special departments or anything like that. The only concern was 'how am I gonna kill this thing as fast as possible?'

Thus, the classifications appeared mainly because of the way which the races die, among other aspects that helped those responsible in the collective information. Who cares if an alien is a Euphorbia? A titaceus? If it came from Devant-Netisserie?

But there was one race, why not say aliens, that deserved distinction: the lizard men born of Vyntrraten, if that is the correct name. Because they had one distinction: they died easier.

They're easy to kill. There's a direct way of dealing with them.

And so if someone is informed that they are dealing with one of them, they know immediately how to proceed: just aim for the weak point.

Lizard man's biology can't stand poison. They don't have the metabolism; the antibodies necessary to process, and thus perish under the effect of inhaling it. Any small amount of poison ingested, or in several cases even inhaled, is enough to knock out with one of these formidable beings who carry several times the physical capacity of the average human being.

This way when it comes to cat and mouse hunting – paranormal fighting – it is essential for the lizard man to hide his race.

And why am I telling you all this? Because I fought one of them that day. It was the Monday of the following week: the morning had been busy. To recap, we received a call from Chapman about an alleged face-to-face encounter with Eliott Solis, the long-haired paranormal prime suspect of the Johnson's murder. Once there, we found Alexander Sprohic, who had been abducted on Friday, in a coma at the combined site. And not only that, I also received a call from Sarah asking me to investigate an alleged illegal transaction in South Gorem, where theoretically the real version of Arthur Cooper's invitation would be.

All that was already over and it was only two p.m.

The DEA and SAD vehicles surrounded the perimeter of the former Dalilah transport company headquarters, each working in its own jurisdiction: Howard and his boys seized packages of drugs that arrived on the train after I beat Friday's black fighter who behaved like a ninja, and apart from the packages they were bringing arrested drug traffickers who were on the scene.

Our patrol was trying to find the Friday bandit who had escaped.

Cooper's invitation, on the other hand, was in my pocket.

I'd swiped the same from the black fighter's pocket before he ran. It was my plan B. Remember the SAD had the invitation for about two days before the robbery last Monday? Well: Sarah, without warning, had been able to make fake versions so that we could use them in case of interception or blackmail by bandits, which is what happened there. By the way it's worth noting that Sarah hides more tricks in her sleeve which I'm not aware of, because she was the one who located the invitation there from Silverbay, while we here didn't leave square one.

Returning to the subject, I will briefly explain how I proceeded: in the first exchange of blows with the holder of the invisible stick, I noticed it carried the invitation in its second left pocket of his jacket; I also noticed that it possessed high agility, that its strength endowed with indarra was smaller than mine, and that it had experience with a fighting style in which I am not versed, a kind of contemporary Wung Shu, used by cowards to deviate from blows instead of actually fighting. Very himlike.

'That bollock is gonna run away at the first opportunity' I noticed right away.

It wouldn't be good to try to use all my strength and finish it in the beginning. First that it wasn't that lame like the zombie I beat with one blow the other day, and second that it might be expecting a finishing blow from me so it could use a dirty trick he took off its coat. It was known for using dirty tricks. The other time it tried to use the invisible piece of stick it got from his country; that was the way it had knocked Joey down on Friday.

It started trying to blind me with smoke and then surrounding me with short steps more obvious than whatever. I thought there would be some intoxication in the smoke so I got scared for a while, but later I realized there was nothing. It was in that environment I made the exchanges of the invitations: during the first exchange of blows I attached an almost invisible thread to the envelope so that it could be pulled at any time from the outside. So when it came near me again I pulled and put the fake paper in its pocket with one hand, while it took a blow with the other, which it ended up deviating because it changed its mind: it thought I might be bluffing and that I could see in the fog and so it decided not to approach. Typical cowardly thing.

'He' is the one who doesn't see in the fog! It didn't even notice the exchange!

And I also had a lot of other opportunities to make the exchange because, let's face it: I was mopping the floor with it.

A shame there was no opportunity to knock it out, I always had to keep an eye on its tricks, and when these were over, it became clear that it could end the conflict at any time by breaking the wall outside, which occupied more than half the room. And that's exactly what it did.

While I was trying to hold it in the room I stood there as an excuse for provocation because I was trying to use Morse code on the radio buttons for Howard's channel warning him to stay in position outside, however I don't think that damned Howard must've been even be near the radio, because it broke the wall, came out, and in the end there was nobody there waiting. Too bad. At least I got the invitation back.

And to tell the truth, the invitation was safe since I tied the wire in the first exchange of blows. If I hadn't been able to fool it during my attack, I could have stolen it with a tug. What was he going to do? Come after me? That coward? No... No chance. The fight was won and the invitation secured from the start.

The important thing is that I had the invitation in hands and now if the terrorist groups in Sproustown wanted to get their hands on it to watch an illegal tournament on another planet, they'd have to face the SAD. It would be much easier to stay on the trail of the real bosses who were behind that fetid practice.

I was in such a good mood that I was standing next to the car, with my hand on the hood, smoking another red Tar Light. I knew that the guy from Friday who ran away, if he had a minimum of skill, would not be found easily so I knew the search for him would happen only to fulfill the workload, but nothing of that mattered. That tide of cases seemed to be coming more and more to the end.

And it was when I was there in the morning that I convinced myself I had fought (and defeated) a lizard man that afternoon. Was it the fact that it used a katana of invisible material from their planet? Not exactly... Of course, that alone dramatically increases the chance that it came from there, but it could still be another being who took this weapon from someone he killed or something.

What convinced me of such was the fact that it didn't use smoke poisoning to get me out of the game. If it was carrying a smoke grenade of that kind with it, it could as well carry tear gas or a similar kind. It could release it and knock me down because I would certainly inhale some of the contents before I knew it while it could hold its breath before blowing the grenade with the indarra, since it had the advantage of knowing the exact moment when it would decide to blow it up.

And why didn't it? Because its body couldn't handle the toxin! It must've been a lizard man!

It was when I was meditating on these possibilities that I received a scandalous phone call. It was Sarah Harmon.

I picked up without saying anything.

"Lieutenant Dotson!? Argh. Finally! Is that you!? Where are you!? I called eight hundred times!"

She seemed to be in a mixed state of anger and boredom. It reminded me a little of Jane's speech. I slipped my finger on my cell phone screen. She really did call a lot of times.

I answered in such a calm tone as I found myself:

"Hey, Sarah. What do you mean? I'm where you told me to: Dalilah. We intercepted Cooper's invitation."

"What Cooper invitation? And who is Dalilah?" She waited briefly. "Argh, whatever! Lieutenant Dotson, come to headoffice now! We need to..."

Now wait just a sec...

Wasn't it the little SAD captain herself who called me in the morning and revealed to me the clue about the transaction?

Now why the hell would she...?

It was quickly that the thoughts invaded my mind as she finished dictating her orders without losing her aggressive tone on the other side of the line.

And suddenly everything made sense.

I can't imagine how hard she must have tried to call me while I had the phone on silent, and I thank her for calling me, but... I had to hang up the phone in her face and postpone the conversation one more time.

"Howard! Howard!"

He signalled with his hand for me to wait, he was talking on the transmitter with one of his teams. He was standing next to the car in front.

I ran to him and took the transmitter from his hand:

"Howard! It's a trap! We have to get the teams out of here as soon as possible!"

"What?? Why? Now I am..."

"GO!"

Noticing I wasn't for jokes, he accepted the suggestion and we started working to remove the teams from there, also taking care to return the already stored boxes in the vehicles again to the original location.

Between hurried cries sent by the transmission lines, and team discipline, we managed to get everyone out of there in less than fifteen minutes.

And then, a minute or two later, the explosion happened.

It was a thunderous bang. And the suddenness of the event blinded our sights. It was a flash so strong, and it happened so close, that we were even thrown back on impact.

It was a sequence of bursts, which exaggeratedly smudged in red and orange palletes, exhausting the most stinking of fumes. We had to cover our nostrils to stand the event.

It was a quick and overwhelming sequence which wiped the whole place out in a matter of seconds.

Inside those boxes were bombs... And all that drug dealer transaction talk was a trap to cause mass silencing. A police silencing? A silencing of the criminals who were there? Were they planning on getting rid of them too? Why were those guys there? Why did more criminals come for that shipping? Were they not warned? Was that a selection?

All of that was speculation.

Whatever it was, some bastard was doing it for his own benefit, and he was determined to play dirty.

We stood staring at the burning caused by the explosion, side by side. Me and Howard from the DEA.

I was used to it, but he carried on his countenance a discredited expression. I turned to him for a moment and he stared ahead helplessly. What was going on in that head? 'The whole team could have turned to fries if it wasn't for the last fifteen minutes'?

I left him in his state of shock and checked my phone. Sarah had called me a few more times.

Now that operation was over. There were no more boxes of drugs, there were no more criminals, there was just an explosion and a bunch of curious people who started leaving their homes to disturb the police work. I took my men and got out of there. We needed to meet Sarah and the others.

I believe I'm owing an explanation.

It's completely clear that it wasn't Sarah who sent me to the operation. I had already found it strange that she had located the invitation there from Silverbay, but I assumed it was information that the department there had gotten from Sprohic's mouth or something.

But seeing Sarah's several missed calls, I could see the reason: she was calling me in despair, eager to find me, which meant that something urgent was happening. Whoever set that trap was not only thinking of taking me to death in the explosion, but taking me away from their true purpose: Alexander Sprohic, who was under Chapman's care.

Somehow the subordinate bandits of Verde had lost possession of Sprohic, 'if' the name of the person who ordered the transaction was really right, considering the person who had told me about it was the one who called me on behalf of Sarah...

And that fighter from Friday, seems he was working for them. He was the one who had kidnapped Sprohic the very day Chapman set up the meeting to arrest the delinquent, and now he was there. What did he want? To delay me so he could run away and let me die in the explosion? You mean all that was planned? Did he lose on purpose? I don't know...

But what was at stake was the alternative goal: this Verde bloke always wanted the SAD to be away from Sprohic, because he must have some kind of information that must be silenced. So they invented this transaction just when we recovered the addict in a coma state in that abandoned establishment of the center. And the fact that they used this trick to get me out of the game meant they would somehow try to recover Sprohic to finish him while I was gone.

Damned Verde! Using explosions! That's too low! How long is he gonna play with the SAD like that?

And that wasn't the first time. I still haven't forgiven him for Crane.

That chain of events cleared two things: one; these followers of Verde were somehow infiltrated in the SAD, because they knew in real time where the investigators were: they knew about the invitation, they knew about the day Crane would be alone in the building, they knew my phone, they knew Sarah was in Silverbay, they knew Chapman and I were in Noble Avenue, all in real time.

And second, someone had a finesse that mimicked Sarah's voice perfectly. As far as my understanding goes, that's not possible for an ordinary human being. It has to be a finesse. These Verdes are a bunch of drug dealers who employ paranormal beings.

How could they know? How did they know about the SAD movements? On any given day, I'd say it was Chapman's fault. But not that day... It didn't make sense... It was Chapman who called me, finding Sprohic's unconscious brother. If he had any involvement with Verde and wanted to silence Sprohic he could have done it himself without telling me and no one would have ever known. Which meant Chapman was out of all of that...

I was completely silent as I meditated on that whole series of events.

I was in the car.

I was in the front seat and Mike, from the team, was by my side.

Mike was sweating from his forehead and he was quiet and shivering. Yeah. He had just escaped death.

"Sorry Mike... For putting you through this." I let out without knowing exactly what I was saying. I was the one driving. I kept going:

"I didn't know anything like that was gonna happen, I thought I'd get there and..."

I nodded at the invitation that was inside the glove compartment in front of him.

Mike didn't react. I thought it was best to keep quiet.

I got a call from Sarah again. I answered with my free hand.

"Sarah? Where're you?"

"We left the SAD. We're heading to High Cheawuld Garden. 664 Merson st, NW. Got it? 664 Merson st, northwest."

"Got it. On my way. Sarah… You're not gonna believe..."

"The explosion? I saw it. We're getting the news from the drug department. What exactly happened? Well... Just get over here! I have good news and bad news. See you later."

"Later..."

I hung up and went to the suggested address.

I invited Mark and the other agent who was in the back seat that I never remember the name to come along with me. So they did.