WDOG - Chapter TEN: The Leash (Patreon)

The Leash

The elevator descended with a smooth hum, its reinforced titanium alloy walls reflecting the cold, sterile light of embedded LEDs. Chief Anderson stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He watched the floor indicator tick down, his expression impassive as the numbers descended into the negative double digits.

Finally, the elevator stopped with a soft chime at Sub-Level 50. As the doors slid open, a blast of frigid, conditioned air greeted him, accompanied by the subtle hum of machinery and the faint smell of antiseptic.

The hallway before him was wide and meticulously clean, its walls made of reinforced concrete layered with an advanced composite material designed to dampen sound and resist explosive force. Embedded in the ceiling were arrays of cameras and sensor nodes, their lenses tracking every movement. 

Anderson stepped out, his footsteps echoing slightly in the vast, cavernous space. He walked past rows of SPURs, their humanoid frames, crafted from advanced composite materials, were sheathed in segmented matte black and dark grey armour. The police robots' expressionless metal faces featured an array of specialised, hardened sensors and a grid of micro-speakers for a mouth. Their limbs, comprised of visible hydraulic actuators, powerful servos, and dense cords of synthetic muscle fibres, promised explosive strength, and the weapons they held slung across their chests packed enough of a punch to destroy lightly armoured vehicles of the early 2000s with a single shot.

The chief approached a large, reinforced door at the end of the corridor. A biometric scanner flanked by two heavily armoured SPURs secured the entrance. With a small frown, he pressed his hand against the scanner and leaned forward for the retinal scan. The device beeped, and the heavy door slid open with a low hiss, revealing a large control room.

The room was dominated by a central console bristling with monitors and touch interfaces. Several technicians sat at their stations, fingers flying over keyboards as they monitored the various cells within the containment facility. A holographic display in the centre of the room projected a 3D map of the prison, highlighting various sectors and the status of the inmates.

"Chief Anderson," greeted Agent Maeve Harrison, the facility's lead supervisor. She was a petite paranormal with sharp features, her large white fur coat contrasting starkly against the dark backdrop of the room. "We’ve been expecting you."

"Good to see you, Maeve," Anderson replied. "I am here for Newman: Take me to him."

Agent Harrison nodded. "Please, follow me, sir."

They walked through another series of corridors, each one more fortified than the last. The lighting grew dimmer, casting long shadows that danced eerily along the walls. They passed several observation windows, each revealing a different containment cell, all housing individuals with sometimes strange, sometimes extraordinary abilities.

Finally, they arrived at a cell isolated from the rest. The door was massive, reinforced with multiple layers of alloy and embedded with energy dampeners to prevent any escape attempts. A small observation window provided a view into the interior.

Corporal Newman sat in the centre of the room, his lean frame hunched over on a metal bench. His hands were restrained by thick, alloy cuffs connected to the floor by a short chain. 

"Open the door," Anderson ordered.

“...But, sir—”

“Open the door, Maeve.”

Grumbling under her breath, the woman placed her hand on the biometric scanner before inputting a password, and the thick metal slid open. Newman looked up, his eyes narrowing for a moment before recognition shone in his eyes

“Chief,” Chris intoned, his voice rough from disuse.

Anderson entered and sat down beside the bound corporal, but said nothing.

“How is Evelyn, sir?”

“She’s recovering and will continue to remain under witness protection for the foreseeable future so you have nothing to be worried about.”

The pair fell silent for a moment as Agent Harrison eyed Newman with suspicion, poised to intervene should he get any funny ideas. 

“...How bad is it?” Chris asked eventually.

Anderson leaned forward, his expression serious but not unkind. “You have been charged with failing to register as a paranormal, manslaughter, destruction of property, and assaulting a government agent. These charges come with a three-week suspension and significant penalties. Thankfully, there’s a way forward. I’ve managed to negotiate a deal on your behalf. You’ll be fined heavily, but you’ll be transferred to the Special Operations Unit where your salary bracket will be much higher, which will help you manage the fines on a structured payment plan.”

Chris frowned. Then a tired sigh escaped his chest. “Special Ops, huh? I guess, I should have expected that; you have, after all, been working on finding an excuse to get PASIT’s thumb off our necks for a while now. I do hope I am still somewhere under your purview. I am not sure if I could handle being a lackey to some corpo prick with more money than brains.”

“Mostly,” Anderson replied. “SynthiCorp and OmniTech would be sponsoring your re-training and augmentation, while Cortex Dynamics negotiated to buy your debt outright. Those three and the precinct own you, at least until you pay off your fines probably in a decade or two.”

“Augmentation? Chief, but…”

“I understand your distaste for implants, Chris. But the Corpos have to have a tangible handle on you if we are to get them to back this. Without their aid, all my policies and machinations might as well be puffs of warm air. Don’t worry, I managed to argue their requirements down to just a few frontal lobe implants, a cyberdeck and an operating system on the basis of incompatibility with your abilities.” 

“...I don’t just feel comfortable handing someone—”

“You should have thought of that before you did what you did,” the chief interjected irritably. “To be frank, I am disappointed in you, Chris. And I am sure if your mother were here she would be too. You didn’t even think to inform me of something as important as a trigger? Are you aware of the number of things that could have gone wrong with your harebrained attempt at subtly? You do know what would happen if PASIT had gotten their hands on you, right? A powerful paranormal who so happens to be afoul of the law? One with family they can hold ransom to force compliance? They don’t call the expeditionary forces suicidal squads for nothing, you know.”

Anderson sighed as he rose to leave. “After your release is processed, you are to stay out of trouble for the duration of your suspension. Afterwards, report back immediately for onboarding. Understood?”

“...Understood, sir.”