It took Emma a couple minutes to find information about The Golden Man in the embassy’s databases. There were a couple reasons for this, but it all boiled down to the same thing: she hadn’t known what to look for.
Her eyes darted back and forth, absorbing the information. First, The Golden Man wasn’t a Fleminicki weapon. He was listed as a threat to them, because his origin was actually Renflaxxxian.
He wasn’t a weapon in the traditional sense — you didn’t really send him to attack like a tank. He was a subtler weapon, probing the emotions of others to figure out what they’ve done wrong. He would immerse himself in a society, figuring out what they were guilty of (because every individual of every species was guilty of something or other).
Then, when the time was right, he would strike, attacking those around him with a righteous anger, a self-important fury. If Jesus had asked The Golden Man to throw the first stone, he most certainly would have.
As this went on, Anne and Superfreak stood in the lobby, grabbing the attention of the only Fleminicki in the building.
“Don’t push me, Officer!” Anne yelled. “Don’t push me to do something crazy.”
“Please don’t push her,” one of the Fleminicki said (it really doesn’t matter which one).
“Ma’am,” Superfreak said, putting on his most convincing police drawl, “I’m going to have to ask you to–”
He was interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone.
“Hold that thought,” he said, taking out his phone. He read the text message from Cat, informing him that their escape plan was fucked.
“Okay so we’re kind of in the middle of a thing here,” Anne said. “Can you put away your phone? I mean seriously I don’t want to be rude I’m just saying–”
“Uh, freeze,” Superfreak said, struggling to get back into character, “in the name of the law. And stuff.”