The fat man was dying. Or rather the fat man was already dead, but his remaining biological functions just hadn't taken the hint yet. As Thibor emerged
from Derrick's Place, the EMTs were loading him into the back of an ambulance. Thibor could hear the man's heart, but there was an interrupted blood
flow to the brain; a stroke that had occluded flow to, well pretty much everything above the neck level. Behind him Thibor could hear the parrot continuing its
laughter. There was a pause. A horrific avian fart. Then the cackling continued.
Derrick had been forthcoming. Thibor had a name. Eddie Collins. The name meant nothing to Thibor. Or rather it meant the same things it had before he had; but
while sparkling vampiric douchebag did convey a certain amount of information, it did not increase his own knowledge. Chances were good that it was a
pseudonym; but depending on how entrenched it was, there might be a mark; Credit cards; Drivers license; library card. Library cards were sometimes overlooked,
but occasionally turned out to be very useful. The IRS might track you down; a dedicated librarian deeply upset at your failure to return a particularly
popular or rare book would follow you to the ends of the world like a bespectacled albatross. They were less likely to take a crap on your car, but did have
other, equally repulsive tricks to employ. He phoned it in.
"Operations. Go ahead Major." Simon Bitterbuck's voice came through the communicator.
"Is having a name. Eddie Collins." Thibor said. "Am not expecting miracles on this one."
"If you get one, do we get dinner?" Naoko's voice chimed in. The slight echo indicating she was leaning over Simon's shoulder. Officers were
responsible for the care and feeding of soldiers. This included junior officers. It just so happened that Naoko was the junior officer equivalent of a baby
bird; mouth agape and cheeping in a loud, demanding, tone. Any bird imagery was wholly unwelcome at this point in time. The parrot was still laughing. Would
Naoko actually eat the filthy thing. Possibly. But there would have to be a good wine and lots of expensive side dishes.
"Order pizza. On me." Thibor grated. "No special gourmet with fugu and Norewegian goat cheese. You get pepperoni. Give me intelligence, can
negotiate for proper dinner."
"Good Hunting Major." Simon signed off, as he did, Thibor could hear Naoko already on the phone to her favorite pizzeria.
The next step. Thibor considered it. Another beer, one without the glass fragment or presence of a deeply troubling bird. Tempting; but not necessarily useful.
He considered the picture again. Where would such a creature hunt? Who would he hunt?
Thibor nodded to himself. He phoned it in and asked Simon to make the arrangements. All he had to do was buy a set of coveralls. After another beer.
from Derrick's Place, the EMTs were loading him into the back of an ambulance. Thibor could hear the man's heart, but there was an interrupted blood
flow to the brain; a stroke that had occluded flow to, well pretty much everything above the neck level. Behind him Thibor could hear the parrot continuing its
laughter. There was a pause. A horrific avian fart. Then the cackling continued.
Derrick had been forthcoming. Thibor had a name. Eddie Collins. The name meant nothing to Thibor. Or rather it meant the same things it had before he had; but
while sparkling vampiric douchebag did convey a certain amount of information, it did not increase his own knowledge. Chances were good that it was a
pseudonym; but depending on how entrenched it was, there might be a mark; Credit cards; Drivers license; library card. Library cards were sometimes overlooked,
but occasionally turned out to be very useful. The IRS might track you down; a dedicated librarian deeply upset at your failure to return a particularly
popular or rare book would follow you to the ends of the world like a bespectacled albatross. They were less likely to take a crap on your car, but did have
other, equally repulsive tricks to employ. He phoned it in.
"Operations. Go ahead Major." Simon Bitterbuck's voice came through the communicator.
"Is having a name. Eddie Collins." Thibor said. "Am not expecting miracles on this one."
"If you get one, do we get dinner?" Naoko's voice chimed in. The slight echo indicating she was leaning over Simon's shoulder. Officers were
responsible for the care and feeding of soldiers. This included junior officers. It just so happened that Naoko was the junior officer equivalent of a baby
bird; mouth agape and cheeping in a loud, demanding, tone. Any bird imagery was wholly unwelcome at this point in time. The parrot was still laughing. Would
Naoko actually eat the filthy thing. Possibly. But there would have to be a good wine and lots of expensive side dishes.
"Order pizza. On me." Thibor grated. "No special gourmet with fugu and Norewegian goat cheese. You get pepperoni. Give me intelligence, can
negotiate for proper dinner."
"Good Hunting Major." Simon signed off, as he did, Thibor could hear Naoko already on the phone to her favorite pizzeria.
The next step. Thibor considered it. Another beer, one without the glass fragment or presence of a deeply troubling bird. Tempting; but not necessarily useful.
He considered the picture again. Where would such a creature hunt? Who would he hunt?
Thibor nodded to himself. He phoned it in and asked Simon to make the arrangements. All he had to do was buy a set of coveralls. After another beer.