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Chapter Sixteen: "Paperwork"
After dinner, there was little else to do besides get to work. They cleared the remnants of their meal, and the astronomical maps were spread out on all table tops and pinned to the wells of the hotel room. No candles were lit, but there was some special geometry very lightly penciled in among the sliding glass window array on the northern wall of the room, in case the girls encountered any astral situations in which their spiritual benevolence and purity was not sufficient to park a system of darkies, just in case they had to collectively hurl any non-linear projectiles with an organized burst(s).
The white-witch derby women would remain in the hotel room. Wilson, Chapel, and Crimson were dispatched to the lobby and bar downstairs, in order to keep a general local lookout outside of the “war room.” In the event of any melting walls or the manifestation of any dark armies, for example, their instructions were to return immediately to the hotel room and warn the women of the ensuing collateral phenomenae.
The Bay Area winter had begun to set in, and rain and cooler temperatures replaced the sunshine that the group had been enjoying since their arrival some two days prior. The downstairs detachment headed for the elevator, and the girls all made themselves comfortable among the couches in the den of the suite.
The mothership in Oakland had been polite enough not to break its stealth disposition in the local waters, so to speak. But even the dispatchers in greater Tacoma, though spared for the time being from calls about rampaging werewolfwomen, were getting their fair share of UFO reports. Also, the seas had been higher and burlier since the overt visit, and the West Coast surfers were out in significantly greater number.
Detective Thompson was taking the opportunity provided by the relative peace to catch up with his casework amid modifications to his and the department's overall moxy, in light of the freshly realized metaphysical realities of forensics come about since the arrival of the good and bad werewolves.
He and Lieutenant MacKinney sat in the break room. It was about 6 a.m. Tuesday morning. The supernatural events were affecting the detective on the inside, and positively so—the liquid speed was flowing but he had knocked off the coffee as well as the booze and cigarettes.
“Significantly, when the tools of your job include handcuffs, there is a tendency to reinforce a kind of us-and-them perspective as a natural default,” MacKinney said. “We try to be aware of the tendency, because a blanket application of it can ultimately get in the way of some of most fundamental goals of law enforcement, namely rehabilitation and reintegration.”
“The point is, the tendency toward such a natural default already makes police work resemble, in some very canny ways, that of a zoologist,” Thompson said. “On the other hand, there are times when it is absolutely necessary, and we all know that. The shootout after the derby match, for an extreme example. Not much gray area now. That was no court-ordered rehabilitation program or citizen's police academy. It was Brother Grimm versus the Iron Age and it was a bloody fucking mess, if you will pardon my Portuguese. Deals like that require us-and-them-or-die reaction. And planning, moreover.”
“Yes, it does not really sound logical or right to say it, but as we sit here and try to define and adjust our role in light of supernatural changes, it is good news in the sense that some things will remain intact in our days' work. That is the sort of judgment that has to be exercised by peace officers, then and now,” MacKinney said. “Your actions were exemplary that night, and throughout this whole affair, and you know that.”
“Right, well, you gotta do what you gotta do. And certain things remain the same,” Thompson said. “But many things don't. It changes the mission, and it serves us for it to reflect at a policy level. For example, dead bodies don't stay dead—they walk out of the ocean without a scratch, or turn into werewolves. Moreover, monsters exist, and they are mean, and they are from outer space. Luckily these ones are pretty stupid, strategically, but they are organized and can be highly effective at times. Future vectors may be far more formidable in terms of intelligence and scope.”
“So how to you propose we outfit ourselves to accommodate these changes?” the lieutenant asked.
“Number one, we put the good wolves on the payroll, for starters,” he answered without pause. “And secondly, we have to keep the collaborative communications open with the other agencies who we have worked with during this deal, to maintain investigation and enforcement parameters and use coordinate our firsthand knowledge of the things we have experienced. This includes not only the local agencies, e.g. San Diego, Oakland, and Olympia, and all of the other ones from the original October 11 homicides, but the posties and the Coast Guard as well. That is enough to establish a standing, functional enforcement network. Moving forward for now, I see these as the two most important moves at this time.”
“OK. Call the agencies. I am behind you on that,” the lieutenant said. “Also talk to our lady friends. Perhaps a part-time advisory role would serve properly. As they do not seem to be particularly beholden to secular budget institutions, they might even be willing to do it on a volunteer basis. We might offer a badge in lieu of wages.
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