Stray Cat Strut Chapter Seventeen - Shit Bureaucracy

New Montral is an interesting city for many reasons, one of which is its governnt. Originally a city in Quebec, after the Great Split, Montral declared itself a city-state and was rechristened New Montral.

Its fledgling governnt discovered an imdiate issue when its mixed-language groups both started to wrestle for power within the city. The end result is a municipal governnt thats nearly entirely French, serving a population thats nearly entirely English, while in actuality being run by an upper-crust that is entirely non-Canadian.

--Excerpt from the Guide Touristique du Nouveau Montral, dition, 2049

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I figure we walk on in and just go straight to them, I said with a gesture to the Oasis entrance. Wed wasted enough ti asking questions and trying to get to the bottom of things, but the Sewer Dragons seed about as organized as my kittens halfway into a pillow fight. There was so semblance of a hierarchy, maybe, but there wasnt a boss, and no one quite knew what the others were thinking except that they were all thinking along the sa chaotic lines.

Gomorrah nodded. Might as well. Either well find soone to help us or well find the people were looking for. Do you think we need anything special to head in?

I guess well need masks and things able to keep us alive in there. Does your armour cover you entirely?

Did you think I was nude under my robes? Gomorrah asked.

I raised my arms in surrender. I wasnt even thinking it. I thought you had so sort of underarmour on. But... now that Im imagining it, its not a bad ntal image.

Gomorrahs hand snapped back and she smacked my arm with the back of her hand. Pervert, she said.

Are you always this horny? Franny asked.

I grinned. Your Delilahs the one that started it... this ti. But, before we start talking too much, we really do need a gear check. Myalis, we going to be okay in there?

If by we you an you and I, then yes. Your underarmour is intact, reading at 99% integrity. It should prevent most chemical or radiological contaminants from touching your skin. Your Lions Manes structural integrity is still replicator-perfect. Your helts filtration system should allow you to breathe in nearly any environnt, and with the stored air, you could survive in a vacuum for up to a quarter of an hour.

So, no dying from fart air. Nice, I said.

A disgusting way to put it, Gomorrah said. But not entirely wrong. Im ready as well, although... I think I might need to disrobe.

I blinked. Huh?

Gomorrah tugged at the front of her black robes. These wont be great in what might be a wet environnt.

Made sense. Gomorrah and I looked for a place for her to change, and we ended up sneaking into an alley between two small maintenance buildings off to the side of the Oasis. I stood by the entrance, making sure no one was around, then I looked back in.

Gomorrah shifted her shoulders, then carefully reached up and tugged at the edge of her collar. It loosened and she tugged down the outer hood of her habit. She had a tighter, white hood beneath, one stuck to the sides of a helt that looked about as high-tech as my own. Well, it has little glowy bits and was made of tal, so I was guessing.

She placed a leg forwards, then bent down and swept the robes off in a single, languid motion, the cloth riding up along her legs and back and revealing the Gomorrah underneath until she straightened, a bundle of cloth in her hands. She started to casually fold the robes while I stared.

I thought my armour was a bit... feminine, but Gomorrahs was on another level. Tight, fitting to her calves and thighs and butt, with armoured plates and so sort of blacker-than-black weave over the parts that needed any flexibility. Her back-mounted flathrowers rested below her shoulders like a pair of folded wings, and there was a cross-shaped cut out under her bust.

Fuck .

I blinked. The whispered words werent my own. They were Frannys. I doubt anyone else picked them up though.

Right, so thats yeah. Ready to go? I asked.

Im ready, Gomorrah said. She placed her folded robes next to a box on the ground, then picked up her flathrower. She slid a strap over her shoulder.

She looked a lot smaller without the volu of her robes making her bigger.

What? she asked.

Nothing, I said. We heading out?

The Oasis lood large above us as we moved towards it. Gomorrah didnt have the advantage of being invisible, and I couldnt help but notice a few of the people near the sewer entrance looking her way.

Sothing told they werent staring to check her out, exactly.

Myalis, can we have a map of the sewers? I asked. And highlight any places big enough to house a bunch of civilians.

Myalis was quick to create a small hovering map on the edge of my vision, and when I tried to peek at it, it grew larger before . The three-dinsional wirefra was a confusing ss of tunnels, side passages, more tunnels, and a few boxy buildings. So of those were flashing slowly.

The map expanded, and then expanded further. I frowned as it continued to grow, mostly getting wider and longer, but occasionally there were sections that rose or fell below. Fortunately, the map beca smaller, zooming out as it covered more territory.

What the hell, I said once it finally stopped.

Thats the entire sewer system, Franny said. It sounded like she was guessing, though it was an educated guess. The system for the entire city.

Which ant its footprint covered the whole city too. A city with nigh on a hundred million living in it.

Fuck, I said. Covering this on foot is just not going to happen.

Gomorah paused. Youre right. I didnt expect it to be quite this large. Atyacus, can you overlay the location of the kidnappingIs over the map?

Dots appeared, a couple hundred of them sprinkled atop the sewer lines. Oh, thats better, I said. For the most part, the abductions were happening in an area that was more or less oval shaped. There were lots of tunnels beneath that, but they mostly joined up to one or two larger passages.

Do the Sewer Dragons have vehicles? I asked.

Likely, Gomorrah said. I imagine theres sothing that can travel through the large sewers, at least.

I nodded. That made it more complicated. Still... Lets start with the places nearest the kidnappings. There were two larger locations being highlighted there. If I was a creepy sewer-living person who wanted to... I dunno, eat surface dwelling hobos, I wouldnt want to travel far for my lunch.

Disturbing, but probably not wrong.

I dont think the whole dont shit where you eat thing applies down here, I said as I minimized the map back to a square in the corner of my vision.

Raccoon giggled, and I heard her feet patting against... what was likely the front seat in the Fury. Gomorrah groaned. And now you went from disturbing to disgusting.

I do that, I said.

No one stopped us--or at least Gomorrah, who was the only one visible--from entering the facility. I was expecting a sewer. Like, a large tunnel half-filled with shit water. Instead, it was all cinderblock walls and a cent floor, lights hung from the ceiling, most of them functional enough to brighten the place up.

Crates were pressed against one wall, so shipping containers against another, and on either end was a long tunnel that curved around.

A few tal doors at the far end seed to open up into so offices, of all things.

Not what I expected, I said.

This is an access area, Gomorrah said. The map... isnt terribly clear.

Hey, miss, whatcha doing here? soone asked.

It was a rotund man, with a ketchup-stained button-up and slacks. He had a helt on, like a large glass bubble with the bottom half over his mouth covered in filters, but otherwise he could have been any mid-level factory foreman. At least, I figured he was a foreman; thats what the tag on his shirt said.

Hello, Gomorrah said. Im... who are you?

Im Bob, he said. Whore you?

Im Gomorrah. Im looking for access to... this area.

Bob frowned the frown of soone who had both been interrupted--there was so sauce on his patchy moustache--and of soone whod been sent a pile of data that they didnt want. Thats a ways from here. Do you have permission to be down here, miss?

Gomorrah gestured to so of the others in the large room. Sewer Dragons, with their long coats and tallic limbs. So were looking our way, others were fiddling with tablets or pushing crates along or just minding their own business. Do they? she asked.

Yes, he said. They do. Theyre all commission-based, temp-contract workers for the city of STE New Montreal.

STE? I muttered.

The departnt in charge of the citys sewerage: Socit de transport des gouts du Nouveau Montral.

Oh, fuck , I said.

Bureaucrats.

Id rather have my legs eaten by an alien than deal with that kind of shit.

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