08-04-2019, 04:31 PM
So Night Follows Day Pt. 09
"But no one ever changed The Church by pulling down a steeple.
You'll never beat The System by bombing Number Ten. Systems just ain't made of bricks, they're mostly made of people.
You may send them into hiding, but they'll be back again."
-Crass, "Big A Little A"
Interpol had a Master Detective, known for being able to solve the most elaborate of crimes in mere minutes. Criminal organizations hated and feared him, there were prices on his head all over the world, and his services were in constant demand. He was frequently heralded in newspapers as "France's Own Sherlock Holmes." He was so brilliant and sexy, so detached and brooding, that women, men, and movie studio executives all over the world wanted him.
Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez called Interpol in the middle of the night; stating that there was an urgent matter of national security that only he could resolve, which could not be discussed over the telephone, and demanded that man come to San Finzione immediately! When he was told that The World's Greatest Detective was far too busy to come at this hour, Ramirez started shouting obscenities into the phone, demanding the name and badge number of the person he was talking to and that the Chief of Inspectors be gotten out of bed and put on the phone immediately.
When the supervisor came on the line, Ramirez demanded to know if the supervisor knew who exactly he was and whom he served, and he wanted his badge number and everyone he'd spoken to so that he could see to it that they would be fired if he didn't put that man on the case. The supervisor apologized profusely, stating that their Great Detective was on a case on the other side of the world, but that he knew someone just as good, right there in the Lyon HQ and working hard at his desk even now, that he could recommend. Ramirez calmed down and thanked the man before the supervisor foisted him off on Detective Inspector Luc Tomas Allaine.
Allaine's supervisor didn't care for him at all, nor did most of his co-workers. But because his success rate was even higher than the Master Detective's, and the supervisor's entire division rode the coattails of his conviction rate; reaping prestige, budget, and pay increases largely because of the uncredited work of D.I. Luc Allaine, the supervisor knew that he was stuck with him, making him dependent on that fucking asexual queer who solved more crimes from behind his desk than his entire department did by showing up at crime scenes in billowing black trenchcoats with high-tech C.S.I. gear.
Ramirez knew that if he'd asked for his old friend directly, they would have kept him on hold, sent him into voice mail loops, and "accidentally" dropped the call, until he really had been as mad as he'd been pretending before they put him through, so skipping right to that part was the best way to save time.
Luc was at his desk, as usual. He worked the night shift and had a corner office, opposite the corner of his supervisor's own. This, like all of the occasional rewards that Luc received for his work, followed the motif of "Keep that prick in his office; way the fuck over there, where I can pretend he doesn't exist." The supervisor had approved having a television, comfortable sleeping couch, microwave, and refrigerator in Luc's office; as well as his own private lavatory. Thus far, all of his requests to get Luc a private elevator or personal building entrance/exit directly to his office had been rejected as structurally unsound after they'd already knocked down a wall to make room for the lavatory. In addition to the office television, a second was housed in a home entertainment center, containing all manner of gaming consoles both new and retro, that had been put in after someone said that they overheard that he liked video games.
A story breaking in international news had just mentioned the city of Seattle, when his phone rang and he saw the incoming number. Luc began typing, then answered.
"Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of San Finzione, goes through the trouble of calling me at work." Luc said into the phone. "Why do I feel compelled to begin searching news sites for 'San Finzione' before answering?"
He could hear the noise of hurried activity on Ramirez's end. People coming up to him with questions and reports as he tried to convey that he was on an important call.
"But no one ever changed The Church by pulling down a steeple.
You'll never beat The System by bombing Number Ten. Systems just ain't made of bricks, they're mostly made of people.
You may send them into hiding, but they'll be back again."
-Crass, "Big A Little A"
Interpol had a Master Detective, known for being able to solve the most elaborate of crimes in mere minutes. Criminal organizations hated and feared him, there were prices on his head all over the world, and his services were in constant demand. He was frequently heralded in newspapers as "France's Own Sherlock Holmes." He was so brilliant and sexy, so detached and brooding, that women, men, and movie studio executives all over the world wanted him.
Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez called Interpol in the middle of the night; stating that there was an urgent matter of national security that only he could resolve, which could not be discussed over the telephone, and demanded that man come to San Finzione immediately! When he was told that The World's Greatest Detective was far too busy to come at this hour, Ramirez started shouting obscenities into the phone, demanding the name and badge number of the person he was talking to and that the Chief of Inspectors be gotten out of bed and put on the phone immediately.
When the supervisor came on the line, Ramirez demanded to know if the supervisor knew who exactly he was and whom he served, and he wanted his badge number and everyone he'd spoken to so that he could see to it that they would be fired if he didn't put that man on the case. The supervisor apologized profusely, stating that their Great Detective was on a case on the other side of the world, but that he knew someone just as good, right there in the Lyon HQ and working hard at his desk even now, that he could recommend. Ramirez calmed down and thanked the man before the supervisor foisted him off on Detective Inspector Luc Tomas Allaine.
Allaine's supervisor didn't care for him at all, nor did most of his co-workers. But because his success rate was even higher than the Master Detective's, and the supervisor's entire division rode the coattails of his conviction rate; reaping prestige, budget, and pay increases largely because of the uncredited work of D.I. Luc Allaine, the supervisor knew that he was stuck with him, making him dependent on that fucking asexual queer who solved more crimes from behind his desk than his entire department did by showing up at crime scenes in billowing black trenchcoats with high-tech C.S.I. gear.
Ramirez knew that if he'd asked for his old friend directly, they would have kept him on hold, sent him into voice mail loops, and "accidentally" dropped the call, until he really had been as mad as he'd been pretending before they put him through, so skipping right to that part was the best way to save time.
Luc was at his desk, as usual. He worked the night shift and had a corner office, opposite the corner of his supervisor's own. This, like all of the occasional rewards that Luc received for his work, followed the motif of "Keep that prick in his office; way the fuck over there, where I can pretend he doesn't exist." The supervisor had approved having a television, comfortable sleeping couch, microwave, and refrigerator in Luc's office; as well as his own private lavatory. Thus far, all of his requests to get Luc a private elevator or personal building entrance/exit directly to his office had been rejected as structurally unsound after they'd already knocked down a wall to make room for the lavatory. In addition to the office television, a second was housed in a home entertainment center, containing all manner of gaming consoles both new and retro, that had been put in after someone said that they overheard that he liked video games.
A story breaking in international news had just mentioned the city of Seattle, when his phone rang and he saw the incoming number. Luc began typing, then answered.
"Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of San Finzione, goes through the trouble of calling me at work." Luc said into the phone. "Why do I feel compelled to begin searching news sites for 'San Finzione' before answering?"
He could hear the noise of hurried activity on Ramirez's end. People coming up to him with questions and reports as he tried to convey that he was on an important call.
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