“They’ve gone to ground, sir. I suggest activating the hunter swarms.”

  The starched, pressed suit standing before Cain smirked. Cain could imagine the young buck’s shortsighted thoughts. Intending to show up a low-level executive, the young man had made some mistakes.

  “What about this report, Shamus?”

  Cain flicked a file to Shamus’s AR space.

  Shamus looked up at Cain and said,

  “Sir, I don’t know what you mean?”

  Cain remained seated. The time to stand and decide what to do with this particular subaltern would come. For now, Cain wanted to give him enough slack to tangle himself.

  “Explain that response. You don’t know what I mean when I hand you a report? Or you don’t know how to explain this report in light of your lack of ability to find Ezekial or Althea?”

  Shamus’s eyes darted to the door. Would the young fool try to run? Cain hoped so, he had not chased anyone down in days and his feet and hands grew stiff from being left idle.

  But then the young man took a deep breath and said,

  “I had not considered this report verifiable, sir.”

  “Because?”

  Shamus’s breathing changed. When he heard the young man pace his inhalations Cain felt his own hands start to warp the metal in his chair. Images of flying from behind his desk and ripping the man’s head off pushed themselves onto Cain’s psyche.

  At the very least, Shamus knew how to lie, though he did not realize how controlling his breath implicated him or how subtle Cain’s hearing was.

  Shamus needed the time to collect his defense,

  “The sources, sir. Street children, beggars, and drug addicts. Multiple studies have shown how unreliable those groups are for investigations.”

  Cain’s jaw clenched in response. He pondered whether Shamus was astute enough to recognize the signals Cain put out.

  “So you’re saying that, despite the utter lack of alternate information, we should ignore these reports. Even though the investigation methods were impeccable?”

  Shamus flipped through pages of the report, Cain spied on the young man’s AR space. Cain recognized the motions of someone desperately trying to justify their behavior after being caught. On a hunch, Cain searched though Shamus’s message and mail history. Finding the smoking gun he sought, Cain sat back in his chair and frowned.

  Shamus nodded at his question and said,

  “I am not sure I would call the investigator’s methods impeccable. We cannot tell from this report if they asked leading questions, offered money on anyone the contractors could identify, or if they just showed the contractors pictures of the target, which then prompted them to admit to knowing him for the payout.”

  Narrowed eyes and a mouth pressed into a thin line formed Cain’s only response to the man’s words. He had read the report, and now Shamus grasped at straws. Rather than challenge the young man again, Cain locked his own features into his current mask and initiated dismissal proceedings for Shamus Cully.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  After almost two minutes of silent staring, Shamus broke and said,

  “Is that all, sir?”

  “Indeed. Lying to an investigating officer and impeding the course of a corporate investigation is grounds for immediate firing. Your desk has been cleared by security and your other possessions will be mailed to you.”

  Shamus’s mouth hung open and his eyes spent a few seconds wildly searching the room. Cain had seen the like before, the young man’s mind went to one of the ubiquitous unscripted AR shows that features a summary dismissal and hoped to find the hidden camera filming the whole episode.

  Time to disabuse him of that notion.

  Cain opened the door with his AR controls and a large, eight-foot security drone covered the doorway. He could hear Shamus’s muscles twitching at the sight.

  He stammered as he found his tongue,

  “What are you doing? This is unacceptable! Do you know who I am?”

  Cain stood in a single terrifying motion. He knew how scary it looked from the way Shamus cowered from him. He stopped well within Shamus’s personal space and dropped his voice,

  “I am authorized to use lethal force to find my targets and how I apply that force is left to my discretion. In other words, firing is the least damaging thing I can do to you, Shamus Cully.”

  He trembled and Cain watched the man closer now. With their proximity and the heavy impact from what Cain just did, now would be a perfect time for Shamus to do something stupid.

  Almost as if he heard Cain’s thoughts, the young man pulled something from his pocket and stuck his chin out as if celebrating a victory.

  Whatever he intended to say was cut short then the SecDrone cut off Shamus’s hand and disposed of the device. Cain stepped away and turned down his aural receptors so he did not have to listen to Shamus’s screaming.

  The SecDrone destroyed the flash bang grenade with a perfunctory crash and lifted Shamus out of Cain’s office, still shouting and crying. Before the door closed, the young man had been sedated. In all likelihood, the drone had already started the process of stripping Shamus’s Persona Implant of proprietary corporate information. If Shamus was lucky, that would not include the whole implant.

  Cain sat back down and Bernie said,

  “If you knew what he was doing in the first place, why did you trap him?”

  A trio of janitorial drones entered the room and sprayed the spots on the wall and floor with cleaning solvents where Shamus’s blood stained the room. The second drone scrubbed the stains away while the third helped spray and dry. The little cycle repeated twice in total before all visual evidence of Shamus’s injury were removed from the office.

  As if the young man had added his blood to the AC, Cain could still smell the copper tang. He adjusted the temperature down with his AR hoping that would help with the smell.

  Bernie flashed again in his AR and Cain took notice.

  “Right, you asked why. Because a good hunter would have seen my trap, anticipated it. Shamus was right about the hunter swarms, it is time. But he let ambition and appearances lull him into a false sense of superiority.”

  “The message you mean?”

  “Of course. The email to his supervisor and to one of the Director’s assistants that my own incompetence delayed the investigation. A good hunter knows when a better hunter is on the field and knows to yield to their expertise.”

  “I see. Who will replace Mr Cully?”

  Cain flipped a switch on his AR display. Around him the walls of the steel and glass building shimmered and faded, replaced by a wide open vista. Terraces with gardens and robed men discussing philosophy rose above Cain’s balcony. But here, and below, Cain mastered all.

  And stretching out below him were the layers of corporate staff that let Telepesona function in the first place.

  He raised his hands to those workers staring at screens and clacking away.

  “A dozen Shamuses died today, and a dozen and a half were born. Even more work their way up the corporate ladder, waiting for the chance to serve under, with, or over me. In short Bernie, Mr Cully’s replacement is already chosen. As is her replacement and so on.”

  Bernie nodded,

  “But never you, master?”

  “Of course not. The hunter would have to eclipse me in skill and power. And other than the Director, no such employee exists in Telepersona.”

  “But you accept Mr Cully’s recommendation?”

  “Of course. He may be foolish as a political actor and a terrible as a hunter, but his reason in this respect is sound. Naturally, I intend to follow up on the other leads.”