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Meon Jong

A private eye looking to do right in a world he doesn't believe in.

0 · 1,130 views · located in The Morbus-verse

a character in “Neo-Noir”, as played by Nulix

Description

"I'm one of the good guys, kid. You just don't know it yet."

ImageName: Meon Jong
Aliases: Dick Wolf
Age: 49
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Korean
Date of Birth: July 21st, 2068
Place of Birth: Neo-Seoul

Physical Description: A middle-aged Korean man: Meon had soft features once, an innocent look, upward brows, wide eyes, a toothy smile- but whatever face he once had has been replaced with one world weary, squinting at his enemies, doubting. There's a look of uncertainty now plastered on the hardened features of Meon's face, a look of doubt. He's meet too many liars to be wide-eyed.
Augmentations: Meon has two augments. One in his legs, the result of extensive surgery on his Achilles heels, both legs having the muscles replaced with far more durable robotic ones- allowing him to land harder and embrace more impact. The other is extensive inner-ear enhancements, with a control switch behind his ear on his left Meon is able to enhance audio from a distance- allowing him to eavesdrop with precision and ease.
Clothing: Meon prefers to cover up, his clothing designed to make him hard to follow. A trench coat, a hat, and a thick pair of leather gloves are his preferred attire. Even in the heat of summer he tries to keep his heat covered. He knows who could be watching.
Height: 175cm / 5'ft 9"in
Weight: 86kg / 189lb
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Black

Current Address: 1899 Nusaj Avenue, Apt. 312, District 8, Neo Seoul
Occupation: Private Investigator, Jong Investigate Services
Pre-N.S.P.A. Biography: Born in Neo-Seoul to a rigid North Korean family, Meon Jong had a strict upbringing. Growing up at the end of the Long-Winter Jong was born into a changing world, a world about to emerge from it's cold isolated hole and rebuild. His family stood opposed to the immigrants and expansion of Neo-Seoul once the Long Winter ended, and he was urged to join the military. Upon failing the entrance exam, Jong joined the N.S.P.A. as a customs officer. During this time Jong married his first wife, Su, a Chinese lawyer that had managed to legally immigrate into the city. The marriage caused a rift between him and his family. The marriage lasted three years before ending in divorce and Jong's termination from the N.S.P.A. for unlawful use of authority.

Unemployed, Meon Jong's returned to his family in Kumgang, where he worked for their local shop for a number of years in his 30s. During this time he got acquainted with another local family, the Gogwihan's, and soon married their daughter, Kwon. Kwon and Meon both shared an ambition beyond the shops of Kumgang, and soon made a move to the city, Kwon working for a corporation and Meon finding work as a private investigator, his experience in the N.S.P.A. serving him well as a small time private eye. In the city Meon, taking on private cases, Meon was soon exposed to a dark underbelly of crime- one he had seen before, from a distance with customs, but never stepped in. Never truly submerged in. Meon Jong and Kwon divorced after six years. Two years after their divorce they had a son together named Ryu. Jong is currently dating a 26 year old named Pae. He continues to work as a private investigator to this day.

Personality profile: A self-described nihilist, Meon Jong is perhaps beyond believing in anything but pleasure, for himself and others- and to Jong pleasure comes from peace. He believes in dispensing justice, maintaining order, and trying to give those around him the best world he can- though he rarely shows it under his grumblings. His parents he sees as people who did not better the world, they tried to maintain their own peace, but through fear, through isolation. Jong wants to be better. For himself. For his girlfriend. For his son.

Unique Skills/Abilities: Meon Jong is considered one of the most prolific private investigators in Neo Seoul, having solved several crimes over the course of his career. He has long been a valuable asset or obstacle to the N.S.P.A., depending on the case.

So begins...

Meon Jong's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil

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My parents were Christian. I don’t think I’ve prayed since I was a kid. Not like he ever answered me. But today I deserve a miracle. I ask for one thing: get me out of this city alive.

It was only a matter of time, I suppose. Before the facade came crumbling down. At my apartment door looking back at it now. The holograms are off, dusty wood floors, brown leather couch, ripped out panels. Lanterns outside the window, laundry hanging neighbour to neighbour in our small syphoned block. Most windows bolted shut, harsh blue of LED light’s slipping through the cracks in the metal. Only one window remains open year-round, warm bulbs: Pak Hyo-Jung, eighties, maybe nineties, cooking her meals. Reminds me of my mum. You could see prints on her walls, photographs of family, friends. On my walls? Nothing.

Out the elevator into the streets and you’re hit by the goddamn noise. The ads, the music, not even from my block. Echoing down the boulevard, Jellen Street. Deafening and loud, I can see the lights- so bright so colourful says the ADHD ridden child in me. Holographic man with a nice cock stands over the sex club. Wearing skin-tight jockstrap. Great censorship, Korea. I wish he was real. I wish robots could look like humans so I could fuck one.

It’s cloudy and hot, a humid night and stained with summer sweat. Perfect night for Gasan. Steams blasting out of vents as I walk to my car. It’s boxy, it’s grey. It’s a car. Overhead I hear the electric hum of a cruiser. Flying car, here? In my part of town? Bad juju.

Driving through the city you forget what night looks like, that the sky isn’t meant to be purple and red with light, that holograms and skyscrapers and cruisers and rocket launches aren’t all there are. You forget there were once stars.

Now I’m cruising. Traffics lite, even on streets with no CCTV. Plates are censored, anyway. Three sure ways to tell when you’re going east, out of Old Seoul to the shit part of town. Slimier than Gasan, I know. One: immigrants start piling the streets like rats. The signs read less like Korean and more like a jumbled mix of Hindi/Japanese/wasteland/whatever. Two: the bots get shoddier. Uptown they’re sleek, they’re shiny, they’re quiet and out of site, or trying to sell you something with the perfect pre-recorded Gangnam accent. Here they’re loud, uneven, tagged by kids with metal plates bent out of place with no money to get straight. Three: everyone’s packing. They try to hide it, but you drive down the wrong street you can see it in their eyes, and in their augs.

I’m approaching Yangyang. I see the water. I see my ride. An orange freighter, something Hindi on the side. Leaving my car behind. Keys in a dumpster. Good luck, criminal scum.

Lots of shirtless men, lots of tattoos, lots of sweat. Hatch is closing. Neo-Seoul slips away.
Look, I’m numb to this shit. Don’t know what to say. It’s home, but home is hell.

Used to think the city was broken; result of bad cops, bad mayors, bad people in power- a neon Seoul for our neo souls. And I thought if you fight hard we could change things. If enough good people fought hard D.U.S.K. could change things. And we tried, we really fucking tried. But I was wrong. Nothings broken. It works exactly as it’s meant to. The system isn’t broken because it’s run by bad people… the people are bad because of a broken system.

No winning when the rules aren’t about doing right.

Dot. Dot. Dot.

Sweat dripping off moist skin, dotting the paper with wet periods. The D.U.S.K. inspector paused her writing, the warm glow out the end of the laser-pen illuminating the page, waiting for her to write another word. But none came. She sat in her cabin, a single red light swaying above her head, and the metal walls thinly veiling the noises of the other rooms. Laughter and yelling in foreign languages, wine-bottles being shot open, a Japanese couple arguing next-door, the loud echo of the frigate’s electric motor.

No better than Gasan on any given night.

She scribbled the the final words down before flicking the pen’s switch, the device dying down and being tucked away inside the binds of her case book. This was no night for writing, and from the sounds of things no night for sleeping either.

Shirt unbuttoned- fiber weave off-white, sweaty armpits, suit pants. She needed some air. The hatch door led out into a corridor, wide-enough for one sailor at a time but right now filled to the brim with sea-sick or unconscious passengers. With a judgmental look and not much else the inspector began to trudge through the waste of life lining the level corridor, getting closer and closer to the spiral staircase at the end. Her hand grasped the rail, yellow paint chipping off metal, when suddenly a sweaty palm tapped her shoulder. In a heartbeat she flew around, pinning the stranger against the metal corridor wall, causing a few of the stowaway passengers to look up in curiosity. He was a boy- sixteen, seven-teen. Thin teenager mustache, cut up eyebrows. Dry lips.

“Sorry, miss, sorry! I- I didn’t mean to!” The young man began in his best Korean, raising his arms innocently as the Inspector held him against the metal, forearm over neck. “I was just-look, you’re- you’re a Korean going to Neo-Tokyo is all.”

The inspector squinted. "Koreans not allowed in your city anymore?”

“No! Of course, I’m just-“ The man slobbered over himself slightly, sweat dripping from his brows into his eyes as he tried to figure out the words. “I just- I don’t- I wanted to know why.”

The Inspector let out a sigh, releasing the man reluctantly and making her way up the base of the stairwell again, not answering his question. “You don’t look like the rest of us here, ya know! No offence, I just wanted to know why you were leaving, is all! I’m- I’m a curious guy!” The Japanese man called, scurrying up the metal stairwell after the woman. “They call me Shifty!”

“Is that name supposed to make me trust you more?” The Inspector asked.

“Nah, I mean, nah, it’s just cool name,” Shifty dismissed, continuing to follow.

“Wanted out.. Simple as,” The Inspector grumbled, passing by the level above, the mess-hall where heavy smoke, boxing holograms, and holo-cards could be seen on boxes and makeshift tables. “Just like the rest of you.”

“Wanted out?” Shifty repeated, pausing on the stairs behind her. “Not me, miss. Not… honestly, not anyone else here. My visa ran out. But Neo-Seoul is- it’s the destination, does that make sense?” The man swallowed, trying to find the words. “When I first arrived, it was like a gemstone. It was bright, and magical, and… advanced. It was like all the stories of paradise over the ocean were real.” He smiled to himself.” Neo-Seoul… is the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen.”

The Inspector looked down at Shifty. And though she couldn’t understand it, why anyone would love the haven of disgrace that was her home, there was sincerity in his words. “Stay in school,” Was all the Inspector responded, continuing up the stairs. “Change the name.”

Cool ocean air hit her as she reached the metal walkway of the deck, save for a single orange lantern on the side of the freighter the world ahead mostly consumed by darkness. Beside her the black waves of the Sea of Japan smashed against the freighter’s side. She felt every sway the vessel made as it pumped forward. The Inspector leaned on the railings, breathing in the salty sea air as another wave smashed up against them.

There was darkness here. Actual darkness. The neon lights of Seoul had faded away, and above her in the sky, the Inspector could swear she could even make out the glint of a star through the night-time clouds. And fuck, if not for the first time in her life did she feel like God had listened. Like he’d delivered her miracle. She was free.

It took her only a moment more to realize that the light in the sky wasn’t a star at all.

---

An explosion lit up the dark screen of the monitor, the freighter having ignited into fire as the drone strike hit. “Down she goes,” A suited man spoke. Fire spread across the orange freighter as it’s hull cracked in two, pixels on the screen clearly vaguely displaying the flailing arms of the passengers being pulled out to sea as the waves consumed the vessel. The man leaned forward, pressing the button again. A few moments later a second strike smashed into the sinking ruins, making sure to destroy what was left of the wreck, and the survivors.

With a sharp breath he let his finger off the button and turned back, looking across the blue control room. “That’s it.” He said. The other operatives in the room looked at each other, and though the atmosphere was tense, on all their faces was relief. An Indian operative in the corner simply glanced down bitterly at the news. “That’s the end of D.U.S.K.”

And then: the music starts playing.

CASE 00: REFORMATION OF THE GUARD

8 Years Later,
November 14th, 2117
District 2


Pink holograms and day-dream vibes, the baseline shaking the plaza as the shoppers moved to-and-fro across the illuminated walkway. The holographic dancer grew in size above the fountain, her form changing between pink and yellow light at seizure inducing rates, deafening music accompanying her moves to the delight of the passing consumers of the plaza. The rich Gangnam shoppers holding overfilled bags of bought goods, lit-up logos on the sides matching their flashy clothing. And, whether he liked it or not, Meon Jong was one of them.

He watched from afar, arms crossed at the edge of the plaza, pink neon light shinning in under the brim of his hat. His pupils lit up at the spectacle, but all he managed to say was: "Jesus Christ I hate winter."

Through the crowds Jong spotted something- the flashing of a police safety vest, walking straight for him. Jong sighed, igniting a cigar as he prepared to face the N.S.P.A. boy. The fourth one they'd sent this month.

"Officer Mun-Tong," Jong began, turning to face the man, lit cigar in mouth as he gave a cheap smile to the uniformed patrol officers. "We saw you arrive, Mister Jong," The officer replied.

"Right, of course. Gangnam matters enough for your camera, of course," Jong smirked poisonously, his voice barely audible over the music. "Listen, rookie- I'll tell you the same thing I told Rusty, the same thing I told those two who stopped me in midtown. The Dhavale case is a civil lawsuit, there are no charges against my man. The police have no right to interfere with my investigation," Jong squinted. "Quote me on that, jackass. Same words as the last three times."

"I’m not here for that, Mister Jong," The officer called, his voice lost in the sound. "I came to deliver a message, one too important to send via hypernet," He yelled, before leaning in to Jong's ears. "December 1st. N.S.P.A. Headquarters. You've been summoned by Commissioner Dikshil."

As the officer moved away from his ear Jong smirked at the man. "Summoned, huh? On what charges?"

"No charges, Mister Jong," The officer said, handing him a sealed N.S.P.A. plastic evidence bag. "A job offer." With the package delivered Officer Mun-Tong backed away into the crowd of flashing shoppers, leaving the private-eye alone. Jong rose an eyebrow before unzipping the evidence bag, pulling out the stiff paper print within. At the top of the letter was one clear word, written in all caps: D.U.S.K.

Meon Jong held the letter and almost let out a laugh. "Jesus Christ," He breathed as the music continued, the world around him lost in the music as he read. "Dikshil, what are you doing now."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva

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A few heads turned to Amen as he swore, his backpack of shit and the vehicle he leaned against all he had to his name. Legally, anyway. But soon the immigrants and their worn bucket-helmets, dirty jumpsuits, and cheap augs continued on their day. A new sucker in the Knut Sack was not a rare sight...

Jong Investigate Services, Guri, District 7
November 15th, 2117
2:14 P.M.


A cruiser shone it's headlamps through the slit shades of Meon Jong's office, the bright purple lights sliding across Meon's sleeping face as it passed. The loud rumble of the cruiser shook his office slightly, the musky papers and holopads on the desk shaking gently- but this was Guri. An industrial vehicle was always passing by. Neo-Seoul was a city of noise. Of people's noise, of advertisements. Guri's noise was that of vehicles. You got used to it. Or at least, Meon Jong did.

He sat slumped against his couch, snoring loudly, rolled up in the blankets on the other end of the treated leather was a girl half his age- silver-hair, messily clumped about her slightly chubby face- black roots sprouting from the base of her Korean head, also passed out. A pizza box lay at their feet, empty beer bottles lining the carpet.

Suddenly a buzz. A harsh vibration on his heart. Jong's eyes snapped open irritably as his hands went to his chest, where the intense vibration of his phone caught him off guard. He slid open the thin piece of glass, the holographic display within showing a woman's face flashing and the words incoming call beneath them in orange. It was a woman he recognized well. His ex wife. Kwon Jong.

Meon bit his lip slightly, still not sure how he felt with her using his name, but with a grunt he rose, coming his hair back with a hand and pressing answer. "Hello?" Meon's voice was that of a man just woken up as the video-call went through....

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong

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"Where the hell are you?" Kwon's angry voice replied, her face scrunched up in a frown. It looked as though she had just gotten home from work - dressed in a black woman's suit, her long dark hair pulled up into a bun. She carried the phone around with her, the background of the video call showing a modern, sleek white interior of a house.

"You said you would meet Ryu -" her shrill tone suddenly quietened down into a gritting, hushed whisper, glancing behind her as if she were trying to hide her words from someone, "You said you would meet your son four hours ago, Meon. He's been at home, alone, for four fucking hours waiting for his father to come see him for...what, the first time in 2 months?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong

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Meon squinted at the bright light of the phone, the image of his ex-wife shining threw and illuminating his small, dank office. "What, no? What? No, that was the twentieth, Ryu visits on the twentieth," Meon said, raising an eyebrow into the screen. "Shit... Okay, maybe I fucked up. But you know I'm working, I'm working at the office right now."

A high-pitched moan came from behind Jong as from the couch his girlfriend shifted, grabbing at the covers as they fell to her side, revealing a chubby mole covered breast as she adjusted position. Jong quickly tried to block her from the screen with his face. "I'm working hard," He repeated.

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Character Portrait: Meon Jong

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Kwon's expression softened slightly, not seeming to notice or hear the girl behind him, "I know, listen, I know. But he's your son, Meon, he's already starting to ask questions. He thinks you don't want to see him - he, he seems fine right now but he's..." she bit her lip and glanced behind her, "He's like you. He wont tell me if there's something wrong. He wont tell me if he thinks his father doesn't love him." She swallowed, "Don't make promises to him and not show up. That's - God, that's the worst. Call me if you get busy with work but I...I cant keep making excuses for you forever."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong

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Jong paused, a glint of anger in his eyes. He paused, not sure what to say. But something in her words, as they so often did, lit a fire inside him. They hit him just the right way. "First off, don't whisper to God that I'm the fucking worst, I'm not the fucking worst. I'm on the street fighting the fucking worst. I'm not the one who made the kid promises, either. He's my son," Jong scoffed for a moment. "Kwon, okay- listen- it was the twentieth, and I think you know it was the twentieth, and it's parentally wrong to tell a kid to wait at my house on the wrong day and expect me to come. You want me to act like he's my son? Sure," Jong raised his non-phone holding hand innocently, as if trying to indicate he was backing off. "You won. He's my son. Even though I wasn't at the hospital, I couldn't even name him, and we conveniently don't know how many men you were with that week- he's my son."

There was a sudden door shut from behind him. Jong glanced back to see his couch abandoned, the door to his wash closet shut closed. Jong looked worriedly at where his girlfriend had hidden before turning back to the woman he once loved. "How 'bout we both fucked up?" He offered after a moment.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong

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Kwon's face seemed blank, unreadable for a moment. She was good at that; swallowing down her emotion when it mattered. It's what made her good at a job in business. It's what got her through the divorce.

"I'm not letting you see him until you can get your act together. Not that it seems to matter to you anyway," she pushed a hair away from her face, "You know I have the rights to do that. You know I have the right of sole custody."

Silence consumed their conversation for a moment. Kwon looked down awkwardly and cleared her throat, "We've been through this before. You act like you don't care and then you call me back a month later asking to see Ryu. Or to see me. You're a mess, Meon. You're fucking up my child. He deserves better than you."

And with that, her stinging words cut off as Kwon hung up the phone.

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Character Portrait: Meon Jong

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"Right, you tell the kid half the time I can see him and half the time I can't, and you wonder why he's confused," Jong shot back before the screen snapped off. Jong looked into the blank glass as it went back to his homepage, his sweaty fingers visible through the phone. And he just stared down at it, as if he had more to say, but instead just swore. A long, precise, fuck.

He threw the phone onto the couch before collapsing back himself, letting his head hang off the top of the leather. After a moment he reached down beside him and picked up the glass phone, thumbing to his calendar. The screen lit up to November 17th, the document edited by both him and Kwon. "Fucking... psychopath," He breathed for a moment, pocketing the device.

The wash closet door opened to reveal the young woman, Pae: her hair still messy but now dressed. Black jeans and a t-shirt on tight, a pulsing light on the chest. "You okay, Meon?" Pae whispered in a high pitched coo.

"No, Kwon sent my son halfway across the city to wait at my door alone- apparently for hours," Meon replied, pushing up from the couch. He moved forward to his desk, grabbing his car keys off the table. "I'm going to pick him up. The woman doesn't even give me his number so I don't even know-"

"Weren't you gonna investigate the D.U.S.K. stuff?" Pae questioned, a confused look on her face as Meon headed toward the door.

"He's more important," Meon sighed, grabbing his hat off the coat-stand and tightening it on his head. He turned to the woman. "I'll be back."

"I know," Pae whispered. "I love you." And with that she leaned forward, onto the tips of her toes, and planted a kiss on the man.

Meon smiled as the kiss released, looking at the young beauty before him. "I love you too... money's on the table." And with that he turned and left.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong

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N.S.P.A. Headquarters, District 1 - Downtown
December 1st, 2117
11:46 A.M.


Meon Jong squinted up, bright blue korean signage and skyways upon walkways upon roads stretching above his humble vehicle as it approached. Bright lit holographic lights stopped the civilians as he drove by, out the bustling lane and into the large driving entrance to the N.S.P.A. building. Outside the sounds were muted, well, as best as downtown could be muted. It was as loud as any other place in Neo-Seoul, but there was an unsettling crispness to the district that few other areas in the city had. The ads were new, crystal clear audio drowning out the rest of the downtown commotion, each louder than the other. And the other distinct image of downtown were the skylanes, the fleets of drones, the verticality of it all. In most of Neo-Seoul the sky was drowned out by light- here, there was no sky at all.

Jong's car came to a stop. Ahead of him the N.S.P.A. building stretched up, the massive art-deco titans on it's corner edges disappearing in the maze of light and advertisement and holograph laden walkways above him. But, blocking him from the building were three metallic bars, stretching across the driveway- preventing any vehicle from entering. With a sigh Jong rolled down his window, the sounds of the city hitting him like a rock. "Jong, Meon," He called out to the booth- a black screen staring back at him with a single blue light in the centre. Jong stared at the screen for a moment. "I'm here for a meeting."

"There's a parking spot for you, go into lot B," A voice suddenly cut in from the booth. "Fortieth floor, Detective."

And suddenly the metal bars blocking the garage spread apart left and right.

"You too," Jong thanked no-one as he rolled his window up and drove into the concrete depths of the N.S.P.A. building...

---

White was the overwhelming colour, or lack there of, of the N.S.P.A. headquarters. Not a clean white, either. A used white. Lit up white walls and desks with case notes and holographs and coffee stains on them. Jong's eyes passed each floor as the glass elevator flew up them, except for the rooms blacked out by red visor screens of course. He'd been here of course, before- but the low levels, usually. Lockup, the patrol units, the garages. But going up, the manpower of the N.S.P.A. could truly be seen. Hundreds of people lined each floor, digital works, cubicles, weapons, outfitters, forensics, scientists, detectives, saviours, killers- all being passed in a blink of an eye as the elevator rose.

Suddenly the jetting box came to a stop, the glass doors sliding open to the reception of the fortieth floor. A young man with jet black hair, red mechanical augged out circles for eyes, sat behind the desk, a trio of holoscreens surrounding him. Jong stepped forward, coughing slightly as the man typed.

"Jong, Meon," The receptionist began shooting a hand out with a keycard attached. "Room Ten."

Jong took the card as the receptionist began typing again. With a grunt he moved passed the island reception, into the open space office proper. In the centre of the floor a large lounge and communal space was sanctioned off, along the walls several large, glass offices surrounding the space like walls. They were all full of coppers, of course- but a few less than the other floors, at least- as though the fortieth floor was still in the midst of reorganizing itself.

Jong's eyes looked over the sea of cops in the open area until he spotted a large number 10 printed on the glass of an office- empty, save for several chairs, a view out the city, and a few figures sitting inside. Jong swallowed at the scene. "Alright... let's do this shit," He mumbled before marching through the open-area as discretely as he could. A few officers looked his way but did not seem concerned. He was expected, after all.

---

Inside room 10 only one man sat: blonde haired, blue eyed, with police armour as white as his skin- and slumped in a leather swivel chair. G.H.S.T. Officer Laszlo Kardos sat bored out of his little mind- the coffee in his hands half empty. Thirty minutes, he'd been waiting. In case they came earlier, the Comissioner said.

"Senki sem korán," Kardos hissed under his breath before taking another sip. He glanced up before noticing a figure approach the office, keycard in hand. With a laugh Kardos pelted the still full coffee in the trash across the room and rose. "Velcome!" He called out in accented Korean as the first arrival stepped into the room. "First one here, are ve?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva

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"So," Laszlo began, his eyes tracing Amen's N.S.P.A. uniform. "You are a beat cop?" He smiled at the man. Laszlo cracked his neck before swerving it in Park's direction. "And you are a D.T.R. analyst?" Laszlo squinted at the two. "Be careful, you know. If der is a hierarchy here... you two are low on it."

Suddenly the door opened, a middle-aged korean man with a bent hat walking in, keycard in hand. "Jong, Meon," He introduced briskly, folding his arms as he stepped in. "I'm looking for Commissioner Dikshil?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva

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"Park, Su-min," Su offered, looking up to Meon Jong and feeling overwhelmingly grateful to him that he had entered at that very moment. He seemed normal enough, "The Commissioner isn't here yet."

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Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva

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"Don't really care about the hierarchy..." Amen told Lazlo. "We get called up for somethin' like this, I'm not too sure it matters who was where on the totem pole before."

As Meong Jong walked in Amen gave a half-hearted nod. "What's good? Amen Rodrigo da Silva."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva

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Jong glared at Amen, before turning to Laszlo, who sat upright on his swivel chair like an eager dog. "Kardos, Laszlo- I am sorry, what department are you from?"

Meon Jong squinted at the trio before him, unimpressed, and reached into his coat. In a swift movement he pulled out a card and placed it on the table. "Meon Jong, private eye," He breathed, sliding the plastic card across the table. Laszlo stared the card down before shifting his blue gaze up at Jong. "Not wid the N.S.P.A.?"

"Apparently not," Jong replied, not sitting. Laszlo glanced at Amen and Park, as if letting them in on some funny joke, before clasping his hands together at Jong. "Well- hierarchy changed," Laszlo commented before leaning back in his chair again. "If the Commissioner is bringing in outsiders I am afraid it does not look good. Vhatever this meeting is it is an experiment. And if you are vhat she is choosing an expendable experiment." Laszlo shrugged. "I am a friend to all who serve the law... and I dink you should valk into this carefully."

Jong turned to the other two in the room. "Who is this asshole?" He asked after a moment.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva

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"He's, ah..." Su-min looked at Laszlo, "He's a G.H.S.T officer. Here to oversee all of this...uh, D.U.S.K. That's all I know."

She glanced over to Laszlo, "You talk as if we have a choice in this. What we received was a summon - not a request. If we don't report to a summon we get penalized or..." a pause, Su looked over to Meon for a moment, "In Mr. Jong's case, in trouble with N.S.P.A. You didn't receive a summon, Officer Kardos?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva

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#, as written by Nulix
Laszlo stared at Su-min. "No," He replied. "I received a promotion."

With a swallow Jong sat, pulling out his phone to check the time. He was on point. To what, he wasn't quite sure. D.U.S.K. The division left to do what the rest of the police couldn't. The division that died. If Dikshil wanted to reform the guard, she needed more than this...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: James Kyo

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James leaned back in his chair, his gaze on a small paper crane that sat on his desk. He made one every year on his birthday. It wasn't very good, even if the design was easy enough. James had never taken up paper folding, except once a year.

He could still see the paper crane his son had given him on his birthday twenty four years ago. That one had been better than this one, Chung-Hee had spent his entire morning folding it, making it perfect. He had the biggest smile on his face when James had come home, proudly presenting his birthday gift with both hands out stretched. It was the last birthday gift James ever got from his son. He had made twenty three more since then, none of them were as perfect as the first one had been.

Looking at his watch he slid the crane into a small square box and tucked it away in his pocket, he would bring it to the apartment later. Filing away the last of his reports on the computer he turned the monitor off and slid the chair neatly under the desk.

This meeting had at least given him time to finish some outstanding office work he thought. He turned toward the elevator, passing Lee's desk on the way. "Off to meet with the commissioner Haraboji?" the man asked without looking up from his computer. "Yes, don't let the children get into trouble." James replied with a smile. Lee looked up, winked, and returned to his work. James knew the man had quite the backlog of reports to file, he'd be at that desk most of the shift.

The elevator whisked him upwards to the fortieth floor. James couldn't recall ever actually visiting this particular floor, not that it was a surprise, there were a number of floors he'd never been on. As the door opened to the reception area.

"Captain Kyo." the man at the desk acknowledged him, a key card slid across the desk, "room ten." James picked up the card curiously, wondering why they wouldn't simply update his existing credentials for access. "Thank you." he nodded slightly and continued toward the designated room.

Four people were already at the table, the commissioner not among them. He didn't recognize three of them, two of which were NSPA employees, he did recognize lieutenant Kardos however, who was saying something about a promotion as James entered the room.

"Lieutenant." he nodded towards the man, then looking at the others "Captain James Kyo." he introduced himself. "So this is the commissioners new D.U.S.K."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: James Kyo

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Laszlo's smile disappeared as into the room James Kyo entered, the strange but affable foreigner's face turning to steel. "You're here?" Laszlo called, Meon noticing the man's changed demeanor to the new arrival. "...Interesting, interesting choices," The man mumbled.

Meon raised an eyebrow at the two. A history. The police were a infected nest of traitors all wanting and waiting to stab each other in the heart, that was a statement he could make with zero hyperbole. "Jong, Meon- private eye," Meon introduced with a casual bow of his hatted head.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: James Kyo

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Another G.H.S.T officer and a Captain at that. The uneasiness increased.

"Investigator Park, Su-min," she offered with a polite nod to James, "So far. I think there are more on their way."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: Taku Saito Character Portrait: James Kyo

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"Agent," A voice called from the elevator a moment later. Form beside Taku's Commissioner DIkshil emerged, flowing black robes, almost trench-coat, almost fashion. In the N.S.P.A. it was hard to tell. Dikshil marched forward, handing Taku a keycard as she walked and talked. "Taku this is an experiment, a very dangerous experiment, and you know why it has to be," Dikshil muttered as she marched passed the reception, into the lounge of the fortieth floor. "I know you think of this as a demotion," Dikshil responded, turning to Taku as they approached the door. "But play your cards right... and D.U.S.K. may be something we've never before seen." Dikshil blinked at the Japanese man. He'd been a top agent when she was Director of S.I.L.O., and despite his heritage being a troubling subject, they'd grown close in their times with the department. "It could be justice. Real justice." Dikshil placed a brown hand on Taku's shoulder before turning to the room, ready to enter.

---

"Well, all present but one, better than I expected," A commanding voice called into the room. Jong glanced up to see Commissioner Dikshil enter, the rich but worn Indian face he'd seen on the news so many times. Behind her a japanese man, black outfitted. Maybe a lawyer?

"Commissioner," Laszlo stuttered, raising suddenly.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Dikshil dismissed as she moved to the end of the table. From her side she pulled out several holopads and lay them across the table. "Signatures," Dikshil commanded. "For the information you are about to receive will not leave this room."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: Taku Saito Character Portrait: James Kyo

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Amen slowly slid his feet off of the other chair, scooting up to the table to grab one of the holopads. "Before I sign, can I ask what kinda information is so secretive that we need to keep our mouths shut about it?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: Taku Saito Character Portrait: James Kyo

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"Sign the N.D.A. and you'll find out," Dikshil replied, her gaze like stone. "It involves D.U.S.K. Past and future."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: Taku Saito Character Portrait: James Kyo

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"Wasn't an answer..." Amen sighed, distrust oozing off his gaze, but he signed the damn thing anyway. Not like he could say no to a what amounted to a promotion out of nowhere.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: Taku Saito Character Portrait: James Kyo

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James rose in the same fashion Laszlo did, neither of them getting fully upright before the Commissioner dismissed them to be at ease. He noted the lack of similar response from some of the others, not ones for formality, or unaware of the etiquette. It made him wonder just what kind of unit this was going to be.

The man behind her wore a fitted suit, not standard issue attire, but James had seen him in the building before, a S.I.L.O. agent of some sort. That was almost every department of the agency represented and a civilian. He recalled Laszlo's comment, interesting choices.

James picked up the holopad and scanned the agreement quickly before signing it. He had signed hundreds over the years, in the workings of G.H.S.T. there were more than a few projects that were classified to various levels. This agreement was standard fare, though it was certainly among the highest rated classifications he'd signed.

The patrol officer was clearly not comfortable with the situation. "I imagine we will have many more questions than answers before long." James said matter of factly.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: Taku Saito Character Portrait: James Kyo

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"That's reassuring..." Amen replied sarcastically. He seemed to mentally debate adding something else, scratching his chin before deciding to speak his mind. "You and uh, fuckin' motor mouth over there.. " Amen pointed his thumb over at Lazlo. "Y'all are G.H.S.T, right? Matter of fact, you said you're a captain, right?" Amen asked, leaning back in his seat with an amused, slightly mocking grin in his face.

Amen had heard of G.H.S.T before he's ever stepped foot in Neo-Seoul. They had quite the...reputation. You fuck with the law and are stupid about itin most of Neo-Seoul, you take a risk of facing one of the harshest judicial systems in the world. You can manipulate it if you're rich or have the right friends in the right places...line the right amount of pockets with just the right amount of sheets. It's difficult to manage but if you do....you always have an escape.

You fuck with the law and get the attention of G.H.S.T? All you risk is your fuckin' life. Sure, other Neo-Cities had an equivalent, but....nothing like this. Amen wasn't particularly a fan.

"You gonna be able to adjust?" Amen asked. "I don't know what the full duties of D.U.S.K will be but I don't think we're doing some 'bust in the room, shoot motherfuckers immediately in the face type shit' like you're used to...."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meon Jong Character Portrait: Su-Ji Dikshil Character Portrait: Su Min Park Character Portrait: Amen Rodrigo De Silva Character Portrait: Taku Saito Character Portrait: James Kyo

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Su-min raised an eyebrow at Amen but said nothing, instead signing the holopad promptly and leaning back in her seat.