Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 19 (Patreon)

Marlot savored the meat, along with a glass of blood, both warmed to body temperature. It wasn’t exactly the same as ripping the flesh off a body, but after more than a week of the artificial stuff, he might as well be rolling into a body’s bloody remains for how good he felt. He felt well enough that when he remembered Trembor was who he’d done that with; he didn’t spiral down into sadness.

The portion wasn’t as large as he’d like; he had Ezk’Eriel cut them smaller to stretch how long it would last him. If running out had taught him anything, it was that he’d rather eat a little less with each meal than run out again.

Feeling better and being sated Marlot, had an easier time going back to his training, even alone. Grebor’s was a popular gym and there were always a handful of people there without partners, so pairing up was as simple as checking and putting a name on the schedule.

After a week, he’d cleared two of his bodies out of the freezer, and to ensure he had the money for his next hunt, he took side work, cleaning malicious programs out of computers, and tracking a hacker for someone who wasn’t interested in having the enforcers look into her life. And since he’d have the money, he found people to add to his tracking program.

As a way to stay busy and not think of Trembor’s vanishing scent, Marlot made a copy of his tracker program and altered the parameter, trying to get it to anticipate a predator’s movement instead of prey. It should be easy, all he had to do was program in how he thought; unfortunately, instinct wasn’t something he spent a lot of time analyzing, and computers didn’t process that well.

The one thing he could easily deal with was programming in the need for a predator to hunt. He could even link it to the kiosks’ database to analyze hunting patterns using the rating system. Technically the database was private, but the kiosks were public access connected to it, so the company managing them couldn’t complain about someone pulling more information out of them than they’d intended.

Greed had consequences.

While his tracker 2.0 sniffed through the data, Marlot looked for other ways he could have it build profiles of people. Could he use IDs to track a predator’s movement? Those weren’t like tracking a car via its tag. The city’s incomplete camera coverage ran through a series of public servers, so intercepting that information was easy enough. IDs were almost exclusively used in private transactions. The one place he could think where they were used over a public system was public transit, and not enough people used them to build a reliable picture.

It would also require obtaining someone’s ID before they were in danger, and right now, he wasn’t sure he’d have enough time from the moment he received it to when they might die to do much more than run a cursory check.

Sitting back and looking at the data publicly available on prey and predator movement, Marlot wondered if prey did what he was doing now. Writing programs to map out behavior, work out what part of the city to avoid. And if any did, could he get tracker 2.0 to infer those prey’s behavior once it was done? Could tracking predators increase his available pool of prey? That was an interesting thought. Something he’d be able to work on once the hunter was caught and brought to justice.

He’d be able to show Trembor how using technology wasn’t that much more different from how he hunted. It simply added to it.

His typing slowed, and he found himself sniffing the air, searching for any traces of the lion. He looked at the empty desk, fought the sadness that built, and took out his pad.

“Hey Trem, it’s me again.” He said once he started the recorder. “I miss you.” He wanted to tell him about his work, about tracker 2.0, how he’d screw up with the moose, but for that, he needed the lion to reply. To comment, roll his eyes, fold his ears. He needed Trembor sitting at the desk; or at least breathing on the other side of the conversation. They’d never been big on leaving each other messages. This was too much like talking to himself.

“I wish you were here to tell me what set you off. I know, I’ve said this on every other recording, but how do you expect me to fix things, to explain why I did whatever I did; if I even did anything. Right now, it looks like what set you off is that I said no. Is that it? I’m not the helpless, pliable male I was when we met and you can’t deal with that? If that’s the case, why did you work so hard at helping me rebuild the confidence the council made sure to rip to shred?” He fell silent, considered shutting off the recorder.

“I don’t believe it. You don’t want things easy. You don’t want someone to control. If you’d have been bothered by me outgrowing your shadow, you’d have set me free, not walked out. You’re not callous. I just… what happened? I want to fix this, but I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me.” He sighed. “Once I’ve caught the hunter, I’ll bring him to you. You’ll see I’m not—” the knock at the door caused him to fumble his pad as he hurried to turn the recorder off.

Then felt silly for being embarrassed as Hela’han entered and handed him a few envelopes along with data slates. Those would have updates on his bodies hopefully. People who traveled always ended up being more complicated cases, all those out of city connections made building the full picture difficult.

He forgot about those on seeing the Revenue Bureau stamp in the corner of an envelope, ripping it open and watching the ID card fall out and bounce and settle on the desk. The face of a bobcat looked at him, Delmer Shortfur.

He entered her name in tracker 2.0 and watched the results. Delmer Shortfur, female, thirty-eight, factory supervisor. Those results he expected, the prey version did the same. She was another mid-level productivity predator.

Did the hunter target that productivity range, or was it simply that those were the people in his surroundings? The latter seemed more likely. He didn’t pay for the meat, so their rating shouldn’t impact his decisions.

Delmer’s hunting records appeared on the screen, courtesy of the connection to the hunting rating system. She kept to preys in her mass range, erring on the side of lower value rather than risking going over budget. Then tracker 2.0 handed him a surprise. A city map with the locations where she’d paid for her kills. He hadn’t expected that; but realized it made sense. The map was part of tracker 1.0, and while, technically, where she paid shouldn’t be public data, it would remain attached to the recording of her kills for the placement within the rating system.

She had three preferred hunting grounds and didn’t approach them from the same direction each time. She’d pay at the closest kiosk to her car, and the map showed she used different ones around each of the hunting grounds. Her latest kill was only a week old, so that was one aspect of this Marlot didn’t have to worry about this time. She wasn’t going to go out and turn herself into prey out of desperation.

Tracker 2.0 brought up her work records; she’d scanned into work this morning. Not her ID, but a work-issued identification. Could she not realize she’d lost her ID? She drove, so no need for it on transit. She had food. No need to pay for that, and until she ran out of some minor thing, she wouldn’t need it for anything else.

Or was she confident in her ability to fight off anyone realizing she was with ID long enough for the replacement to arrive? Did this mean the hunter needed to strike before that happened? No, it couldn’t. He sent the card to Marlot as the invitation to take part, not as part of the killing ritual.

Right?

Marlot rubbed his temple. He didn’t know enough about how this hunter did what he did. Why didn’t any of the researchers build more accurate profiles on them? He looked at the screen. More information on it indicating Delmer occasionally used transit. Could he modify tracker 2.0 to build the patterns for hunters? Did he want to tackle version three before he was even done with two?

Another project to add to the list of things to keep busy with once the hunter was caught. He turned off the screen, letting tracker 2.0 work so he could access it while he was out, and left his office.

“I’m heading out,” he told Hela’han. “I might not be back today.” He paused at the door. “Or tomorrow. I need to deal with something.” The hunter didn’t always kill within hours of Marlot receiving the ID, he might be watching Delmer Shortfur for a few days.

“Do you want me to forward calls to you, or the buffer?” she asked.

“The buffer, I’ll access it throughout the day.” Unless a body showed up in his territory, he didn’t expect anything urgent. “Unless it’s Trembor, if he calls, transfer him to my pad.”

He could hope.

It wasn’t like he had much else right now.

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