Frame for Murder

[Wellingstone]

Officer Morgan stared at the open letter on his table. He hated getting these letters. Again he’s been “asked” to accompany Dr. McMourning on another secret assignment. He hated working with the doctor. There is something wrong with him, something about the way he smiles, something about the way he looks at you… makes your skin crawl. As always this assignment comes from the office of the Governor’s Secretary, and refusing is a sure way to get assigned to sewer patrol. The scrip loose inside the letter is little comfort, secret assignments were always dangerous, and there was no guarantee that you’d come home in once piece. His pneumatic arm was testament to that.
 

Tonight’s job was to accompany the doctor to the quarantine zone where he needs to retrieve a high value objective from a pair of statues. What this objective is was not specified, it never is, and Morgan knows better than to ask questions. All that was in the letter was the directions, the scrip, a scrap of cloth, a large vial of water and smaller vial of water. He tucked these strange objects away into his belt pouch.

It was nearly time to get to the rendezvous point. He checked his peacebringer, reached to his belt with his good hand to make sure he had plenty of extra ammunition. Satisfied he stood and lifted his pneumatic arm. With a flutter of feathers, Abigail, his raptor flew from her perch in the corner of his small apartment and landed on his outstretched arm. Her talons scratched into his steel forearm, of course he felt nothing but the addition of her weight. Together they exited the cramped abode and made for the streets.
 

Within a few minutes he made it to the Guild checkpoint leading to the Quarantine zone. Sebastian, McMourning’s assistant was already there, accompanied by a pair of “nurses” clearly not kitted out for field work. Short dresses with tall boots and low cut neckline were good for looking, but not much for combat. However he knew better than to underestimate them all that being said.
 

“Ma’am” he said as he tipped his wide brimmed hat.

He certainly did not look at them for very long, not out of bashfulness, more out of fear. Abigail picked under her wing and gave not a second’s thought to their strange company. Sebastian looked at him with a blank expression. If the tiny man had any thoughts, he gave no indication.

Down the street, his heart sank, the characteristic red hair and laboratory coat came within view. He was whistling a little ditty, which made the otherwise quiet night that much more unnerving.

“Ahh what a lovely party we have here! And it looks like we are all dressed to impress!” exclaimed the doctor though an unnaturally wide smile.

“Doctor” Morgan uttered.
 

“Good to see you again Austringer! We’ll be needing your services tonight. I trust you’ve been prepared?” Asked the doctor excitedly.

“Yes doctor.” Morgan replied.
 

“Looks like your arm is doing well.” Mcmourning remarked as he planted a “friendly” arm around the officer. His arm lingered in a way that it was less than comfortable.

“Yes sir.” Morgan answered, annoyed and ready to just get to work.

“Well, lets get going, no need to waste time with small talk, there’s a job to do!” Said the doctor in such a way that it seemed to imply everyone else was stalling for time.

After an hour’s walk in the quarantine zone, the temperature lowered significantly. Frost formed on the cobblestones and he soon understood what he’s probably going to see. Morgan’s heart sank even further.
 

“Up ahead is the objective. Take position in that alley, out of sight. We’ll call out targets as we need support.” The doctor said in a very clinical way.

Morgan followed orders, and took his position as directed. The rest of the crew advanced down the street. His breath turned to fog in the progressively colder air. He kept his senses sharp. At any moment he could hear an order.
 

“Ice Gamin!” Shouted a voice with a Scottish accent.

With a practiced motion he reached to his belt pouch and retrieved the small vial of water, uncorked it, and lifted it to the Abigail’s beak.

“Go Girl!”
 

With that Abigail took to the sky. Within seconds she returned, her talons covered with ice shavings.

“Acolyte!” Screamed a shrill female voice.

Again, he reached to the pouch and took the scrap of fabric, lifted it to Abigail, and she was off. In seconds she had returned, Talons slick with blood.

“Golem!” Droned a dim-witted voice.

This time he gave Abigail the larger vial of water and she took off to harass the target. In that same instant a click of ice on stone rounded the corner and a vicious looking gamin was in his line of sight, damaged, but still combat capable. He knew it was dangerous to have even the small ones in sight for more than a moment. Abigail was still gone so he reached for his peacebringer. He leveled it at the gamin.
 

Click.

Click.

Nothing.

How?

His mind raced, the Doctor, his embrace. But it was only for a second or two. How was that possible? Why would he sabotage his own man?

It was too late, a blue wintry beam struck the gamin and a yard long icicle propelled itself toward Morgan. Impaling him through the chest. He wavered in and out of consciousness…

Maybe minutes later the doctor was standing over him. Morgan’s dimming vision and dulled hearing could only faintly pick up what he was saying.

“Ahh yes, another one to blame on the Witch. Sebastian, the camera!” Ordered the doctor.

A flash, and then darkness…

Abigail circled above her austringer, her sharp eyes finding no movement. She landed on his metal arm. Nudged his face with her beak. Cocked her head waiting for a response.

None came.
 

She looked to the sky and single shrill screech pierced the chill of the night.