Michael, Nothing to Report

Ao3 Link

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“Dammit,” Michael mutters, to his screen. He’s been following a trail for over three linear hours, and it’s just dried up.

The outlaw he’s tracking had been here, he’s sure of that. Just like he was sure the asshole had been in the last few places he’d tracked him to. But now he’s just vanished. No bio-trace, no temporal signature, no spatial aftershock. All of which translated to his quarry functionally not existing.

But he does, because he’s stolen the object that had been housed here, a small fork with four prongs of unequal length and no handle. And Michael tracked him all the way here. The unireader isn’t wrong, but it also hasn’t led him to anything.

And Michael is increasingly sure that it’s happening on purpose. That he’s being led around for fun. And that pisses him off. He wishes his tail were out so he could bang the floor with it, but he’s hidden it for the sake of period accuracy.

He’s running a scan for extradimensional interference—may as well try everything—when he gets a notification of an incoming communication from his direct superior. Great. Michael answers it. “Sir.”

“Michael,” says the short, fuzzy anthropomorphic cat who runs Michael’s division. His name is Kelvin Fluffypaws, which Michael has been assured means “bringer of plagues” on his home planet. “Can I assume he got away?”

“Yes,” Michael growls, as a hologram of Kelvin takes shape in front of him. “Whatever tech he’s got access to, it’s powerful. As far as all our instruments are concerned, he doesn’t fucking exist.”

“No need to take that tone,” says Kelvin, shaking his head. “Tell me you at least have a working theory. You’re not the only one with bosses to report to.”

Michael takes a breath, the spot on his back where his wings should be itching. It’s a big spot. “My theory isn’t one you’re going to want to repeat to your bosses, sir.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m going to like, just tell me what you think.”

“I don’t think he’s working alone.”

Kelvin is quiet for a second, his ear flicking twice. “You’re right,” he says after that second. “I definitely don’t want to repeat that without substantiation.”

“I know.” Michael sighs. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Right. Keep up your search, and then come back to headquarters. We’ll talk in my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

The hologram disappears, leaving Michael alone in a dark, underground room. He runs more scans and finds nothing, and ends up leaving empty-handed again.

Michael is going to find this fucker and bring him in. If only because there’s nothing that insults his draconic pride more than leaving a hunt empty-clawed.

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