Fiction: Kraken
May. 25th, 2014 06:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: Kraken
World: other
Word count: 1,542
Rating: PG
Prompt: Continuing with the prompts from K. Orion Fray, except I think I missed the point... so I'm just posting what I wrote. It was fun to write.
Zane had just started reaching down into an inexplicable box of old doorknobs when he hear the unmistakable whirr of a ray gun behind him. He raised his head slowly, then his hands above his shoulders, and finally turned around.
There was a woman standing in the doorway of the storage room; a woman dressed to kill in a tailored black skirt suit, heels that could probably literally kill, dark hair in a severe bun, and bright red lipstick. And, of course, she was pointing a ray gun at him, the barrel glowing ominously.
“Zane Peterson,” she said. “It is you.”
“Who are you?” he asked blankly. “Are you one of them?” If she had been with the people who were threatening him, she would know who he was but not where to find him—after all, if they knew where the object was, they wouldn’t have sent him in search of it. But she seemed to have the opposite knowledge.
She shook her head, smirking contemptuously. “Of course not. I’m one of the people trying to keep them from getting it.”
“Oh.” He kept his hands up. Her hands were steady, and while the gun wasn’t firing yet, there didn’t seem to be anything stopping her. “If you don’t want them to have it, are you going to help me? Rescue my daughter?” he asked hopefully.
Her eyebrows lifted and the gun lowered incrementally. Which wasn’t reassuring—now instead of making a perfect hole right between his eyes it would probably hit him in the neck. “Your daughter?” she asked.
He took a deep breath. “Yes, my daughter, Kelsey. She’s twelve, and they have her.”
The woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “You’re not here to take it for yourself.”
“Do you think I would really have come here of my own accord?” He gestured at the filthy room. “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.”
“Hm.” To his relief, she loosened her grip on the ray gun and the glow faded. He kept his hands up, though. She was still pointing the thing at him, and it wouldn’t take long to warm up if she did decide to shoot him. “Well, Mr. Peterson—it is mister now, isn’t it?—I’m Kara Clements, and I’m part of Kraken’s investigative division.”
He felt himself gape. He knew it looked foolish, and yet he couldn’t help it. “They have an investigative division?”
“Of course. You didn’t really think that your division was the only one, did you?”
He shook his head slowly. “I knew there was a research and development division, but I thought that was all Kraken did. Find the stuff, protect it, learn from it. That’s all they told me about.”
She seemed to smile faintly. “Well, they do like to keep things compartmentalized. And if they hadn’t decided to keep me from the knowledge about you, I would have been able to keep you from the knowledge about that.”
Dread pooled in his stomach. “You don’t have to kill me now, do you?”
“I certainly hope not.” She sighed and holstered her gun. “Do put your hands down, Mr. Peterson. Now, what exactly is it that they want from you? To find it?”
“Yes. They know I was one of the few—at least one of the few alive—who would know how to track it. I have to say I didn’t know where exactly I would be tracking it to.” He lowered his hands and grimaced.
“How were you able to track it?” Kara asked, her eyebrows drawing together slightly in confusion.
Zane sighed. “A former colleague of mine—Jack May—had left me a tracker. Actually, I didn’t find it until I was already retired from Kraken and home, unpacking my stuff. I never thought I would have to use it.” He reached into his breast pocket, wincing at the way the filth of the storage room was probably getting on his flannel shirt, and grabbed the tracker.
Except… it wasn’t there.
He felt his eyes open so wide it almost hurt. “Shit,” he breathed.
“What is it?”
“The tracker. You know the type, they look like a little button? Give a little tug like a magnet?”
“Yes.”
“It’s gone.”
“You might have dropped it.”
“I might.” The top button of the breast pocket was unbuttoned, though he could have sworn he’d buttoned it when he was sure he’d found the place. It could have fallen out while he was bending over to look in that box of books or something. He eyed the floor with distaste. “Well, I hope the tracker isn’t important. Or if it is, you’re going to help me find it.”
“It’s not sensitive enough to tell you exactly where in the room the object is, is it?” she asked.
“Clearly not.”
She shrugged. “Then it’s of no further use to us. We’ll search for the object, and if we happen to come across the tracker while we’re here, that’s fine. But it isn’t as though we don’t have plenty of trackers back at headquarters.”
He stared at her, not sure whether to celebrate or not. “You’re going to help me look? After you came in with a gun pointed at me?”
“As I told you, my goal is to keep the organization that has your daughter from getting their hands on it.” She flashed him a strangely sympathetic smile. “And considering when you told me about your daughter, I made getting her out alive my second priority, the best way to do that seems to be to locate the object, find out what they wanted, and take them out.”
A wave of relief washed over him, despite the fact that the loss of the tracker was still niggling at him. “Thank you.”
“So do you have any more insight as to what we’re looking for than I do?” she asked, picking her way delicately over to a child’s dollhouse and beginning to open the little doors and windows.
“I doubt it.” He bent to poke through the box of doorknobs again. “I just know it’s small, and it’s blue, and it’s powerful. They seemed to think it was going to be able to hide them from the US government, and I could find it.”
It was in the bottom of the box of doorknobs.
Zane knew it as soon as he saw it; something blue and glinting at the bottom of the box, and power coming off it in waves. The way it was screaming at him made him wonder why he hadn’t been able to find it before. Maybe all those metal and glass doorknobs had been shielding it somehow.
He reached in and grabbed it. Thankfully, there did not seem to be any bugs in the bottom of this box. Maybe the object had scared them all away. When he drew it out into the light, he could see that it was round, about the size of his palm, and faceted like a jewel. The texture of it felt like plastic, but it was far too heavy to be made completely of plastic. None of that surprised him, of course. He’d never seen this particular magical object before, but he’d hunted enough of them as an agent of Kraken to know that they didn’t usually follow any natural laws.
“Hey,” he called to Kara. “I found it.” He held it up.
She turned, pursing her lips. “Are you sure?”
“You can’t feel it?”
She shook her head, crossing the room in long strides to touch the object. “It just looks like a piece of plastic to me. But I’ll trust your instincts.”
He felt something uncomfortable pool in his stomach. “How long have you been with Kraken, Agent Clements?”
“It will be a year in—hmm—a week and four days.”
And they’d sent her after him? What was going on? This was definitely very strange. Wouldn’t they have sent—no, she’d said they didn’t know who to expect. They’d just known where to go. So maybe they hadn’t even realized that the person after the object would be a former Kraken agent at all. They might have sent her because she was young and hungry to prove herself.
Or because she was expendable.
Sighing, he held out the object to her. “Well, I assume you have somewhere more secure to keep it than my jeans pocket.”
“Indeed.” She lifted it with two fingers, pulled her jacket away from her side, and dropped it into the inside pocket. From the clunk it made—and his own memories of magically-shielded pouches—he suspected it was a better place than any ordinary jacket pocket.
“Shall we go, then?” She began picking her way back toward the door. “Did they give you instructions as to what to do when you’d retrieved it?”
“I’m supposed to go back home and wait for further instructions. I assume they’re watching me.” He turned slowly in a circle, feeling as though he were missing something. The tracker; of course. Well, it wouldn’t do him any good now. And maybe he would be able to avoid any evil organizations kidnapping his daughter in the future if he didn’t have any way of tracking magic.
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World: other
Word count: 1,542
Rating: PG
Prompt: Continuing with the prompts from K. Orion Fray, except I think I missed the point... so I'm just posting what I wrote. It was fun to write.
Zane had just started reaching down into an inexplicable box of old doorknobs when he hear the unmistakable whirr of a ray gun behind him. He raised his head slowly, then his hands above his shoulders, and finally turned around.
There was a woman standing in the doorway of the storage room; a woman dressed to kill in a tailored black skirt suit, heels that could probably literally kill, dark hair in a severe bun, and bright red lipstick. And, of course, she was pointing a ray gun at him, the barrel glowing ominously.
“Zane Peterson,” she said. “It is you.”
“Who are you?” he asked blankly. “Are you one of them?” If she had been with the people who were threatening him, she would know who he was but not where to find him—after all, if they knew where the object was, they wouldn’t have sent him in search of it. But she seemed to have the opposite knowledge.
She shook her head, smirking contemptuously. “Of course not. I’m one of the people trying to keep them from getting it.”
“Oh.” He kept his hands up. Her hands were steady, and while the gun wasn’t firing yet, there didn’t seem to be anything stopping her. “If you don’t want them to have it, are you going to help me? Rescue my daughter?” he asked hopefully.
Her eyebrows lifted and the gun lowered incrementally. Which wasn’t reassuring—now instead of making a perfect hole right between his eyes it would probably hit him in the neck. “Your daughter?” she asked.
He took a deep breath. “Yes, my daughter, Kelsey. She’s twelve, and they have her.”
The woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “You’re not here to take it for yourself.”
“Do you think I would really have come here of my own accord?” He gestured at the filthy room. “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.”
“Hm.” To his relief, she loosened her grip on the ray gun and the glow faded. He kept his hands up, though. She was still pointing the thing at him, and it wouldn’t take long to warm up if she did decide to shoot him. “Well, Mr. Peterson—it is mister now, isn’t it?—I’m Kara Clements, and I’m part of Kraken’s investigative division.”
He felt himself gape. He knew it looked foolish, and yet he couldn’t help it. “They have an investigative division?”
“Of course. You didn’t really think that your division was the only one, did you?”
He shook his head slowly. “I knew there was a research and development division, but I thought that was all Kraken did. Find the stuff, protect it, learn from it. That’s all they told me about.”
She seemed to smile faintly. “Well, they do like to keep things compartmentalized. And if they hadn’t decided to keep me from the knowledge about you, I would have been able to keep you from the knowledge about that.”
Dread pooled in his stomach. “You don’t have to kill me now, do you?”
“I certainly hope not.” She sighed and holstered her gun. “Do put your hands down, Mr. Peterson. Now, what exactly is it that they want from you? To find it?”
“Yes. They know I was one of the few—at least one of the few alive—who would know how to track it. I have to say I didn’t know where exactly I would be tracking it to.” He lowered his hands and grimaced.
“How were you able to track it?” Kara asked, her eyebrows drawing together slightly in confusion.
Zane sighed. “A former colleague of mine—Jack May—had left me a tracker. Actually, I didn’t find it until I was already retired from Kraken and home, unpacking my stuff. I never thought I would have to use it.” He reached into his breast pocket, wincing at the way the filth of the storage room was probably getting on his flannel shirt, and grabbed the tracker.
Except… it wasn’t there.
He felt his eyes open so wide it almost hurt. “Shit,” he breathed.
“What is it?”
“The tracker. You know the type, they look like a little button? Give a little tug like a magnet?”
“Yes.”
“It’s gone.”
“You might have dropped it.”
“I might.” The top button of the breast pocket was unbuttoned, though he could have sworn he’d buttoned it when he was sure he’d found the place. It could have fallen out while he was bending over to look in that box of books or something. He eyed the floor with distaste. “Well, I hope the tracker isn’t important. Or if it is, you’re going to help me find it.”
“It’s not sensitive enough to tell you exactly where in the room the object is, is it?” she asked.
“Clearly not.”
She shrugged. “Then it’s of no further use to us. We’ll search for the object, and if we happen to come across the tracker while we’re here, that’s fine. But it isn’t as though we don’t have plenty of trackers back at headquarters.”
He stared at her, not sure whether to celebrate or not. “You’re going to help me look? After you came in with a gun pointed at me?”
“As I told you, my goal is to keep the organization that has your daughter from getting their hands on it.” She flashed him a strangely sympathetic smile. “And considering when you told me about your daughter, I made getting her out alive my second priority, the best way to do that seems to be to locate the object, find out what they wanted, and take them out.”
A wave of relief washed over him, despite the fact that the loss of the tracker was still niggling at him. “Thank you.”
“So do you have any more insight as to what we’re looking for than I do?” she asked, picking her way delicately over to a child’s dollhouse and beginning to open the little doors and windows.
“I doubt it.” He bent to poke through the box of doorknobs again. “I just know it’s small, and it’s blue, and it’s powerful. They seemed to think it was going to be able to hide them from the US government, and I could find it.”
It was in the bottom of the box of doorknobs.
Zane knew it as soon as he saw it; something blue and glinting at the bottom of the box, and power coming off it in waves. The way it was screaming at him made him wonder why he hadn’t been able to find it before. Maybe all those metal and glass doorknobs had been shielding it somehow.
He reached in and grabbed it. Thankfully, there did not seem to be any bugs in the bottom of this box. Maybe the object had scared them all away. When he drew it out into the light, he could see that it was round, about the size of his palm, and faceted like a jewel. The texture of it felt like plastic, but it was far too heavy to be made completely of plastic. None of that surprised him, of course. He’d never seen this particular magical object before, but he’d hunted enough of them as an agent of Kraken to know that they didn’t usually follow any natural laws.
“Hey,” he called to Kara. “I found it.” He held it up.
She turned, pursing her lips. “Are you sure?”
“You can’t feel it?”
She shook her head, crossing the room in long strides to touch the object. “It just looks like a piece of plastic to me. But I’ll trust your instincts.”
He felt something uncomfortable pool in his stomach. “How long have you been with Kraken, Agent Clements?”
“It will be a year in—hmm—a week and four days.”
And they’d sent her after him? What was going on? This was definitely very strange. Wouldn’t they have sent—no, she’d said they didn’t know who to expect. They’d just known where to go. So maybe they hadn’t even realized that the person after the object would be a former Kraken agent at all. They might have sent her because she was young and hungry to prove herself.
Or because she was expendable.
Sighing, he held out the object to her. “Well, I assume you have somewhere more secure to keep it than my jeans pocket.”
“Indeed.” She lifted it with two fingers, pulled her jacket away from her side, and dropped it into the inside pocket. From the clunk it made—and his own memories of magically-shielded pouches—he suspected it was a better place than any ordinary jacket pocket.
“Shall we go, then?” She began picking her way back toward the door. “Did they give you instructions as to what to do when you’d retrieved it?”
“I’m supposed to go back home and wait for further instructions. I assume they’re watching me.” He turned slowly in a circle, feeling as though he were missing something. The tracker; of course. Well, it wouldn’t do him any good now. And maybe he would be able to avoid any evil organizations kidnapping his daughter in the future if he didn’t have any way of tracking magic.
Did you enjoy this story? You can see all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!