Time Off, Part Five

Two soldiers in cord-and-plaque armor, their queues immaculate, marched in unison to a deep, rhythmic drumbeat on either side of the long rosewood table. The litter between them cradled an ornate silver tureen, filigreed with the slender, graceful loops of dragons in flight. The other tables and chairs in the restaurant were stacked in balanced rows on the opposite walls.

With a tap of Hi Pan’s long, black finger nail, the drumming stopped . The tureen lowered to rest in front of Katrina. Gold, dressed in a green pien fu, floated to the table, bowed low, and with a flourish removed the lid. Katrina, engulfed in a steamy wave of anise, chrysanthemum, and ginger indicated her thanks to Gold with a shallow nod, her brows arched in mild surprise.

Now you’re serving me soup? Katrina taunted Gold with a smile. Gold’s eyes narrowed and her hand clenched around the handle of the lid.

Time Off, Part Four

The coffee tasted as if it has been boiled for six hours, and held a bitter, reassuring bite. Despite the cigarette stained walls and the meager “Thank you for not smoking” sign, Nancy Surhoff’s tiny office held for Katrina a certain warmth and sadness. Nancy Surhoff had her red hair tied back in a scraggly ponytail. Still, her face looked a little fuller than Katrina had seen it last. Too thin, Katrina heard her grandmother, or her aunt scoff. With an irritated shrug, she brushed the fractured memory away.

“Kat, didn’t you read the weather report? You’re lucky you didn’t get soaked.”

“Just have to stay under awnings, it's not that bad out,” Katrina lied. The Maniac would worry her, and Drifter -- No.  “Thanks for letting me drop by so late.”

Time Off, Part Three

Her phone faded into smoke before she could press the speed dial. “Hey-- I’m responsible for the equipment issued to me, you know.”

Drifter tipped his hat. “Sorry Missy, but I’d just as soon you didn’t call in the calvary just yet.”  The rain fell hard enough for the water to bounce off the concrete, but no drops hit either of them. 

Katrina noticed that her clothes felt dry, and smelled hot, like they’d baked in the desert sun. “Drifter, I’m under standing orders to call in any contact with a type seven mystic. The Office of Superbeing Relations can provide -- ”

Time Off, Part Two

Technically, leave started tomorrow, so there was just enough time to discreetly check on some things, provided little things didn’t become complicated. Which meant Katherine was just another hoodie and jeans in Westside, hustling through the evening drizzle. The downpour earlier had washed the concrete to a dull brown. While most of Westside’s gangs avoided the wet, the Maniacs loved to cause mayhem in the rain, especially on the weak and unsuspecting.