Cop Craft – Dragnet Mirage Reloaded

Parking his car on the side of Methuselah street, Matoba pulled out his phone. However, he did not press any buttons. He silently gazed into the screen of the phone, his mind wavering with uncertainty.

He couldn’t get himself to make the call. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to a woman that was going to become a widow.

Matoba had stalled for almost three minutes already when a stranger gently knocked on his driver’s seat window. Outside, three young men stood, peering into the car.

They were Semanians.

Rolling down the window, Matoba looked up at the three young Semanians with weary eyes.

“Mister. I’ll clean your car for you,” one of them said.

“Is that so? No thank you, I think I’m fine. Now please go away, I’m busy.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. Here, I’ll give you some extra service.

The man spit on the car window and wiped it off with the dirty rag in his hands. Matoba wondered who on earth had taught them to put on such a filthy display of contempt.

“That’ll be three hundred dollars. You’ve got the money, haven’t you? Now hand it over right now, or else your precious car is going to be damaged.”

“Hey, cut it out.”

Their fake smiles had already faded away, leaving behind fierce, hateful expressions. They viciously attacked the car, striking the hood and kicking the tires.

“Come on, get the hell out of your car! You tryna get killed!?”

“You filthy Earthling, hurry the fuck up!”

“It’s just three hundred, you know?”

Matoba sat in his car, silently wondering if he should pull the badge out of his pocket, the pistol out of his holster, or the shotgun out from underneath his seat.

Though he hesitated for a moment, he decided not to go with any of these options. In these kinds of situations, he often found it best to just get some quick “exercise” in. Pretending to follow along with their orders, Matoba climbed out of his car and raised his hands above his head.

“I get it, I get it. Just calm down, please.”

“Hurry up.”

“I’m getting it right now. Uhh, where did I put it… Oh, here it is!”

He grabbed a handful of quarters out of his pocket and scattered them across the ground. For a moment, the men stood confused, glancing back and forth between Matoba and the coins, not quite sure what to think.

“Now pick them up. You should be thankful.”

Their eyes filled with an intense rage. Swearing profusely, the man closest to Matoba lunged at him.

Here they come.

Swatting away the arm that reached out for him, Matoba slammed the heel of his palm into the man’s chin. He staggered back, stunned by the attack. Pulling the man’s body back toward himself, Matoba dug his knee deep into the pit of the man’s stomach. He crumpled to the ground, yelling in agony. Matoba immediately swung around to face his second opponent, who had run up behind him. He was significantly larger than Matoba. Two fists flew at him. One on the left, one on the right. Effortlessly blocking the two blows, Matoba let out a swift, powerful low kick. A satisfyingly sharp sound rang out in the air as the man nearly collapsed. Finally, Matoba threw out a boxer’s one-two punch and finished it all off with a devastating roundhouse kick. The back of his coat spread gracefully into an arc as the man was left sprawling on the ground.

He turned around to catch his last opponent attempting to sneak up on him. The man was stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s wrong? Come over here.”

Matoba gestured to him to approach. The man hesitated, shaking his head.

“You’re not going to?”

“Uh…uhh.”

“Even among the ‘weak earthlings,’ there are plenty of men that you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with. If you have so much time to waste pretending to be a thug, use that time wisely and go to school. You hear me?”

“Ye-, yes.”

“That’ll be yes ‘sir.’ Show some respect to your elders.”

“Yessir”

“There, you’ve learned your lesson. Now get the hell out of here.”

Dragging their passed-out friend up to his feet, the young Semanians ran off. Brushing off his clothes, Matoba let out a deep sigh.

If those Semanians had been any older, that entire situation could have taken a horrible turn. Those kids had definitely grown up in San Teresa. In terms of strength, they weren’t any different from the thugs that he often encountered around the area. However, if they had been from an older generation—around Matoba’s age—the results could have been absolutely disastrous.

Up until the recent past, the entire Semani world had been stuck in a constant state of war. In a world without guns or cannons, only the strongest, toughest men could survive. They were men that had been hardened by years and years of endless fighting, warriors that could come up with a thousand ways to kill you based on their experience on the battlefield. Even the martial art experts of Earth couldn’t hold a candle to the inhuman strength that they possessed. Even with his extensive training, Matoba wouldn’t be able to handle more than one without a gun.

But either way, he felt refreshed. He had vented his frustration through the fighting.

Having cleared his mind, Matoba thought that he’d finally be able to get the deed over with, but things didn’t go as smoothly as he wished. As soon as he returned to the driver's seat and looked back down at his phone screen, his mind was filled with an overwhelming sense of melancholy that ruined his mood once again.

There was no getting around it.

Tossing his phone onto the passenger’s seat, Matoba turned the car engine back on. He had barely traveled a hundred meters when he smacked the steering wheel and groaned to himself.

“Goddammit”

He had to get it over with. Bringing his car to a stop once again, he picked up his phone and rushed to dial in the numbers. He couldn’t pause, or else the thoughts would begin to flood in once again. Ring… Ring… The ringtone repeated itself over and over again. If he was going to cut the call, he had to do it now. But before he even had the chance to contemplate the decision, the receiver had already picked up.

“Hello?”

Ringing out from the other side of the call was the cheerful voice of Amy Fury. Matoba could hear the faint sound of laughter leaking from the TV show that she must have been watching.

“Amy. It’s me.”

“Oh, Kei, it’s you. Why are you calling this late? If you’re looking for Rick, he still hasn’t come home yet—”

She froze, seeming to have understood the weight of the situation just by the tone of Matoba’s voice.

“This is about him.”

“Please don’t tell me he…?”

“I’m sorry.”

Choosing his words carefully, Matoba told her everything.

It was painful beyond words. If he had the choice, he would rather have been beaten up by those Semanian thugs than subject himself to this mental torture.

It was already well past 2 AM when Matoba finally made it back to his place in Newcompton.

Newcompton was a warehouse town located near the harbor of San Teresa. Matoba had rented out an old warehouse that had since been transformed into a fully livable residence. The garage and storage rooms were located on the first floor, while the second floor served as the living space.

Parking his Cooper S in the garage, Matoba staggered up the steep, narrow stairs that led to the second floor. There was an elevator that had been used to transport resources back when the building was still a warehouse, but it had broken down shortly after he moved in three years ago. He would probably have to get it repaired when it was time for him to move out, or else he wouldn’t be able to move all of the furniture.

“So”

Before he opened the door to the living room, Matoba put on the pollen mask that hung on his door knob. Taking one last breath of the freezing air outside the room, he stepped inside. He turned on the light. The mysterious black shadow under the sofa began to move. It slowly walked toward him.

It was a black cat.

Because her right hind leg was crippled, she limped as she walked. Once the cat reached Matoba, she walked in circles around his legs and let out a loud meow.

“Don’t yell at me like that. I was really busy, okay?”

Matoba bent over to pet the cat, gently rubbing her head and neck. The cat purred loudly. Quickly taking notice of the plastic convenience store bag that he held, she walked over to sniff its surface. Matoba took a can of cat food out of the bag and opened it up.

“Here—”

Before he could even finish saying the word, the black cat had already begun devouring the food. Matoba poured some water into an empty bowl and left it next to her. When he had told Fury earlier that night that he had “plans to meet with someone,” this was what he had been talking about.

He took the massive pile of letters that had accumulated within his mailbox and spread them out on the table. Because of his location, he rarely ever received any direct mail. He ran his eyes over the letters. A postcard from an old war friend, a bill from his credit card company, and… a letter from the management of his warehouse.

“Goddammit”

It was an invoice for additional charges. Written on the paper was some nonsense about how the rent was supposed to be raised by 1,200 dollars a year if it only housed one person. He hadn’t been told about anything like this when he first moved in. He had confronted the company multiple times in the past, but at this point he was ready to take it to court. Should he give up and pay the rent? Should he fight through the extra work of taking it to court? Or maybe he should just bite the bullet and move into an actual residence? No matter which option he chose, it was bound to cost him massive amounts of money.

As he contemplated the decision, his phone started to ring. Inspector Roth was calling.

He picked up the call.

“I’m calling to talk to you about your plans tommorow. There’s been a change in schedule. Report to the Coast Guard Base at eight o’ clock. Board the ship ‘Golden Heart.’ It should be anchored to dock three.”

“What?”

What kind of business did the city police have in the Coast Guard’s ships?

“Are you familiar with the knights of the Farbarni Kingdom?”

“A little.”

The Farbarni Kingdom was one of the largest kingdoms of the Semani world, with a long, rich history. The main language of the entire Semani world was Farbarnian, so they were clearly very important. Their role in the Semani world was similar to that of Great Britain on Earth.

In their world, there were no such things as “police” or even “regular armies.” The closest thing they had to these entities was the “Knights of Mirvor,” a band of knights tasked with the protection of both the kingdom and its people. 

“A certain noble from the Knights of Mirvor is to be dispatched to this city, one that comes from the great Exedilika family. We will have to give them a warm welcome. So I am asking you to meet with them and escort them to our headquarters.”

“Escorting a noble? Me?”

His ears must have been deceiving him.

“Are you kidding me? I’m a police officer, not a diplomat. I never signed up to be an escort for some high-status alien.”

“We don’t have any other people for the job. Also, you’re the only one available that can speak Farbarnian.”

“I’m not about to spend my entire day following around some sight-seeing nobleman geezer. Please, won’t you just let me hunt down the man that killed Rick?”

“That can wait. Bring them to headquarters. This is an order.”

“Damn it”

“Whatever you do, don’t screw this up.”

The call was cut off.

Cursing his bad luck, Matoba threw his phone onto the table. In the midst of his cursing, he broke into a coughing fit. His throat was dry and full of phlegm. His lungs let out a faint wheezing sound with every breath that he took.

He couldn’t breathe. It was a symptom of his asthma.

Only a minute had passed since he took off his mask. Putting it back on, Matoba finished his dinner with sullen eyes and glared enviously at the satisfied-looking cat.

“Things must be easy for you, huh.”

The cat let out a long, carefree meow.

Matoba headed toward the back of the living room, toward his bedroom. The room was isolated from the rest of the warehouse, so he could safely take off his mask. Seconds after he opened the door, the cat trudged into the room.

“No.”

Matoba picked up the cat and tossed her onto the living room sofa. Landing on the pile of cushions, the cat let out a bizarre sound.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I can’t share my bed with you.”

Pointing his finger at the dejected-looking cat, Matoba slammed the door shut. He flipped the switch on the vacuum cleaner on the wall, sucking up the dust that had built up around the door frame. He used a wet wipe to wipe the germs from the cat off of his hands for good measure.

That should be enough.

Not even bothering to take his shoes off, Matoba collapsed into bed with only his mask and tie removed.

His thoughts wandered. His boss must be consoling Amy right now as she mourned over Rick, whose body must still have some heat left within it as it lay in the morgue. And the unidentified Semanian murderer must still be somewhere out there in the city, grinning with satisfaction.

But even then, Kei Matoba fell sound asleep.

Fortunately, he was so exhausted that he couldn’t even dream.