Steven O'Neill - The tales of a Libertonian detective.

[Armageddon]

In a small run down office on the Planet Houston, a call came in. The shrill noise disturbing the quiet. Outside, the sun has just began to make itself visible. Casting the dry land outside the window in an eerie pink glow.

Shuffling could be heard. As a young man appeared at the door, most of his features hidden in the darkness of the office. His face pale and tired though, his eyes were alert. Pulling on his shirt he sat down behind his desk and thumbed the accept call button.

"Liberty Investigations LLC - O'neill, what you got for me?"

On the screen of the call window was the LPI logo. A short second passed and he heard the voice of a dispatcher.

"We have a case for you. Locals are on scene, they've raided an apartment in downtown Manhattan. Investigating officers think there is something weird about the place. Raid was based on a tip for a illegal weapons cache, nothing there but it looks a little too clean apparently. You up for it?"

"Sure I can take it, if it's priority i'll need priority clearance to get up there quick." O'Neill said, as he began grabbing several bags from the corner of the small office.

"We will see if we can push you up the queue." With that the line went dead and the screen dimmed.

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Walking into the sunrise O'Neill headed west towards the local landing pads. His slim, tall frame easily slipping through the hustle and bustle of early Houston foot traffic. His blonde hair blowing slightly in the morning breeze. Dark blue eyes cold and alert as his eyes moved across his surroundings with a trained and steady gaze. Being the last major stop before the Rhienland border there was often a mix of Libertonian and Rhienlander transport crews either relaxing from a long voyage or preparing to set out. Led to things being rather rowdy from time to time. A perfect place for an independent investigator to ply their trade. He had started out as a regular PI but had recently been dealing with a few cases for the LPI when their investigative branch was overworked. Or, more realistically... on matters that they thought were beneath their notice.

Wasn't uncommon that he would be called off planet though. Which is why he kept his ship operational and ready to fly as needed. An old Rhino class freighter, it wasn't built for speed or combat. But it's large cargo bay allowed him to safely store his equipment and run some basic analysis on evidence at the scene. A cost saving measure which reduced his reliance on LPI resources. Walking up to his landing pad, C3. He opened the cockpit and keyed into departure control.

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The voyage to New York had been relatively painless. The lanes and gates had been running without disruption. After landing his ship he pulled out his identification and handed it to the Officer at the evidence tape, as usual. There were civvies trying to find out what was the cause of the disruption 'always looking for gossip' he thought.

The LPI officer was still looking at his identification intently. It was pretty common for reporters and less scrupulous citizens to try and forge crime scene access paperwork in search of a payday. After several minutes and a call to his superiors he grudgingly let O'Neill past the barrier. (To the disappointed groans of several onlookers who were clearly looking forward to a beat down).

Walking into the apartment O'Neill took a look around. The paint on the walls was peeling and unkept. There were stains on the uncarpeted floor and rattling from the environmental system. 'Standard downtown 'Hattan...' however, there was one thing that wasn't standard downtown. Everywhere was clean, not clean as in keeping upto the apartment. Clean as in, there was no trace that anyone was living there at all. No dust, no personal effects of any kind and a slight smell of bleach.

'Something definitely isn't right here...'

//To be continued