Andriod Shorts - Junior Detectives

Pacific Creation, Sector Seven Seven Four. Midhours to the Seventh Ration Period.

The rusty staircase creaked meekly under their weight. The two detectives moved along the chest of the wall with pale moonlight beaming through the dusty windows of the run down building. Precisely seven greened signals ago, the House had received information of a local smuggler and dispatched two junior detectives to the slums of Sector Seven Seven Four for justification.

'This is it.' Whispered Detective Smoz, throwing his head towards the nearest door near the stairs. He pulled out a pistol shaped Disabler and started charging it with red bulbs of crystals. The Disabler churned silently and clicked to confirm energy satisfaction.

'Smuggler, right?' Smiled Detective Banks. 'I get to crack open his head this time, right?' He played with a mean looking baton with his gloved fingers.

They proceeded to get closer.

'What's the creeper smuggling?' Banks asked as he spun the baton faster. 'Sapient related ding a dong?'

'Why are you asking me?' Hissed Smoz in annoyance, keeping his eyes on the door. 'You heard the radio!'

'Yeah. Yeah. Bugbed.' Said Banks. 'Since when they dispatch gismo like us to smuggling cases? I swear that folks at the House are pulling this one on us. Shitbags never forget a debt. I will mend their Pods one day, I had promised, right?'

'Just shut up.' Said Smoz as he kicked the door, exploding away. He pointed his Disabler into the dark hall and went in cautiously.

'Wait! Wait! I'm not ready yet!' Shouted a teary voice from the master room.

Banks bolted and bashed his way into the master room, yelling, 'We don't care!'

They saw a young android packing furiously and spun in shock as he saw their presence. He raised his arms in surrender quickly.

'What you have there, droid?' Asked Smoc as he pointed his Disabler and proceeded to ransack the bags on the bed.

'No! No! No!' Shouted the suspect in panic but raised his hands back in the air with Smoc's Disabler churned red towards his eyes. 'Please don't touch them! Please! I haven't figure out what I'm supposed to do with them yet!'

'Shut up. Banks, you are permitted to hit him as much as you desire.' Said Smoc as he went for the bed.

The suspect ripped open his shirt and exploding from his chest, he shot a brick size rocket at Smoc. A loud crash and Smoc was decapitated in flares and smokes. The young suspect grabbed his bags and darted for the exit. He rocketed another shot, barely missing Banks. Banks leaped onto him, snatching away at his shirt and hair, trying to steady a firm grip. And when he did, he hacked his baton repeatedly at the suspect's head.

Five dozen times later, Banks stopped and found wires and blue goo splashed all over his coat. With disgust, he kicked the head and it rolled to the edge of the hall.

'Carry me! I want to see him!' Yelled Smoc.

Banks grabbed the bags and went into the master room which had now started a small fire. 'Look what that bleedin' creeper got here?' Banks brought out some jars of organs. There were two wet hearts and a floating brain.

'We got a trafficker.' Shrugged Banks. 'Probably rotating them to the Cyborgs.'

'I said carry me! I want to see him!' Repeated Smoc.

'Okay! Alrightey!' Spat Banks and he carried Smoc's head in his arms. He brought it to the hall and stood over the suspect body, now draining electrical fluid all over the place.

'The head! Why did you bring me to the body! I want to talk to the head!' Yelled Smoc infuriately.

'You best be careful with your manner. I'm the only one with head kicking legs in this room. Want to fraternise with my sole?' Smiled Banks.

Banks carried Smoc's head and went to the edge of the hall where the head of the suspect was. The suspect's head moaned in agony.

'Always shoot the head, mister! You never aim for the body, you aim for the fucking head! That's why you criminals are idiots! That's why you never win!' Laughed Smoc.

The suspect's head opened his jaws wide and shot a walnut sized rocket at Smoc, blasting it into pieces. Banks reeled in his surprise and stomped his boot over the suspect's head, killing it.

Banks dumped the burning head of Smoc down the rubbish chute with a snicker, gathered the bags in the master room and went to sit at the moonlit corridor while the fire had spread to the hall from the master room. He gently pushed his temple and muttered to himself, 'Detective Banks to House. Officer down. Suspect killed in action. Requesting backup and statement protocol.'