No Need to Retreat
Chapter 3
Kathy's P.O.V
As we were finishing up breakfast, my watch beeped. Payton briefly glanced up, and muttered "Go ahead." I went into the bathroom to answer. A hollographic video screen appeared before me. This was the work of my right hand man, Scribble. We all called him scribble, because all of his super high tech inventions started out as scribbles on spare pieces of paper. Scribble wasn't your everyday super genious. At 15, he was the closest thing to a brother I ever had. He was the most layed back guy I knew. To him, rushing wasn't an option. It usually took him a year or so to finish the official designs for something.
On the screen, my boss, Detective Marsh, had another mission for me. I had to go to Turkmenistan to catch a potential drug-dealer. Great. I went back to the patio to tell Payton, but she was gone. "I'll have to decline on this one boss, I just got a top priority. Payton's missing."
My watch beeped as I signed out, and examined the mess before me. The tabel had been upturned, and the fresh fruit was everywhere. Dad wouldn't be happy about that. Payton was a fighter, I knew, so who-ever took her was pretty skilled. As I looked around, I noticed a bright red clump of hair stuck in a crack on one of the banisters. With my rubber gloves on, I picked it up and placed it on the screen of my watch.
"DNA scan. The watch was voice activated, and specially made for on the go forensics.
"Match found. DNA belongs to Viktor Turnsill." My watch informed me.
"Search files for information on Viktor Turnsill please." I asked.
"ERROR! Viktor Turnsill died in January 2004. Cause: Heart attack"
As we were finishing up breakfast, my watch beeped. Payton briefly glanced up, and muttered "Go ahead." I went into the bathroom to answer. A hollographic video screen appeared before me. This was the work of my right hand man, Scribble. We all called him scribble, because all of his super high tech inventions started out as scribbles on spare pieces of paper. Scribble wasn't your everyday super genious. At 15, he was the closest thing to a brother I ever had. He was the most layed back guy I knew. To him, rushing wasn't an option. It usually took him a year or so to finish the official designs for something.
On the screen, my boss, Detective Marsh, had another mission for me. I had to go to Turkmenistan to catch a potential drug-dealer. Great. I went back to the patio to tell Payton, but she was gone. "I'll have to decline on this one boss, I just got a top priority. Payton's missing."
My watch beeped as I signed out, and examined the mess before me. The tabel had been upturned, and the fresh fruit was everywhere. Dad wouldn't be happy about that. Payton was a fighter, I knew, so who-ever took her was pretty skilled. As I looked around, I noticed a bright red clump of hair stuck in a crack on one of the banisters. With my rubber gloves on, I picked it up and placed it on the screen of my watch.
"DNA scan. The watch was voice activated, and specially made for on the go forensics.
"Match found. DNA belongs to Viktor Turnsill." My watch informed me.
"Search files for information on Viktor Turnsill please." I asked.
"ERROR! Viktor Turnsill died in January 2004. Cause: Heart attack"