unusual happenings

Christmastime in Ohio used to mean bright lights all over, moderately snowy weather, and people who were normally the scum of the Earth giving some token effort to donate to the Salvation Army or the like. Now, it meant that while there were still bright lights, the only snow was the one that appeared on the television screens playing Christmas specials, and the scum of the Earth… well, they were being dealt with by a woman wearing a red wool beanie, a long white scarf, a brown winter coat and makeup under her eyes to make her look like she had been staying up for the past five days, high on something that was a mixture of rocket fuel and an octuple espresso.

俄勒冈的圣诞节通常意味着到处都是明亮的灯光和中雪天气,地球上的渣滓人类会给救世军或者其他什么组织捐款。在当下这个圣诞节仍然有明亮的灯光,但唯一的雪出现在电视屏幕上的圣诞节特辑里。至于那些地球上的渣滓人类…他们被一个女人解决了。一个棕发,戴着红色羊毛便帽,身着白色长围巾和棕色冬大衣的女人。她眼睛下的妆饰让她看起来像是在过去的五天一直没睡,靠着火箭燃料和八倍浓缩咖啡过活。

The woman toyed with her scarf, while her partner on the other end of an ear piece and a few other agents watched from the top of a building. It was a classic sting op; dealer comes by, maybe with a couple of friends, and tries to sell her drugs. She buys some, and the boys follow them back to their den, seize the rest. Classic honeypot; almost too classic. The woman was afraid they would see right through it.

在她耳机另一端的搭档和几个代理人在建筑顶端观望时,女人玩弄着她的围巾。经典的骗局:交易者到来,也许身边还有几个朋友,尝试卖给她白粉。她会买一些,然后小伙子们就会跟着他们回到他们的老窝,完成剩下的工作。这种陷阱经典到老套,女人甚至担心他们会直接看穿它。

She breathed into her hands and shivered, her hand brushing up against the gun under her coat as she held herself. Why her partner wasn’t doing this was beyond her, but then again, women were less likely to be profiled as law enforcement of any kind. One of the few times where sexism was useful.

她向手上呼了口气,打了个寒颤,手碰到了她自己藏在大衣下的枪。她不理解为什么不是她的搭档来干这份活,不过话说回来,女性更不容易被认为是任何形式的执法人员。性别歧视少有的几个作用之一。

Soon, she heard boots hitting the pavement, and turned to see two men (she put a question mark after that word in her mind; they were so bundled up she couldn’t tell) carrying a metal briefcase with them. Classy, she thought, For a bunch of low-level Cinncy Dealers.

不久她听到了靴子在人行道上的声音,她转过身,看到了两个男人(对那两人的性别她在心中打了个问号,他们的装束紧到她看不出来),带着一只金属公文包。经典剧情再现,她想,一群低级的辛辛那提毒贩。

They stepped up to her and opened the case, grinning at her as they revealed several glass vials filled with bright green powder, with dots of blue scattered around in it. The people grinned with rotten teeth, and one of them spoke.

他们在她面前停下来打开箱子,冲她咧嘴一笑,同时展示出几个装满亮绿色粉末的玻璃小瓶,周围散布着蓝色的斑点。两人在咧嘴笑时也展示出他们的一口烂牙,其中的一人说话了。

“See this, girlie? V.D.. 100% pure Spirit Dust with chunks of Vic mixed in. Imported straight from Japan; it’s one hell of a fuckin’ trip.” The man, as she could now tell by her voice, howled like a wolf and cackled. “It’s good stuff. What’s your offer?”

“看见了吗,小妞?V.D,100%的纯货加大块Vic,原材料直接从日本运过来,这他妈就是一场地狱般的精神之旅。”那人用狼嚎般的声音喋喋不休道,她在他开口后确定了他的性别“这可是好东西,你出多少价?”

“Well,” the woman said, “It’s hardly pure if you mixed it with Vic. That devalues it by about a hundred alone. Also… how does it smell?”

“嗯,”女人说道,“如果你混了进去Vic它就很难保持纯净,那就已经让它掉了100的价了。还有…它闻起来如何?”

The dealer frowned, showing off his meth-mouth. “Smell?”

交易者皱起眉头,开口时又露出了他那口常年吸毒而蛀坏的牙齿1“味道?”

“Yes, smell. Good smells like nothing; the bad stuff smells like rotten Bender Blood.” She held out her hand. “C’mon, if it’s good, I’ll give you an extra 200.”

“是的,气味。好货什么味道也没有,次品闻起来像腐烂的带硬币味的血液。”她伸出手,“来呀,如果这是好货,我再给你加200.”

The dealer grumbled and presented the case to her; in return, she took out a vial, uncorked it, held it slightly away from her face, planted a small tracking device inside the briefcase, and took in the scent of the Spirit Dust. The smell wasn’t exactly nothing; it was more of the scent of reality, ready to be turned into putty in your hands. But reality smelled like wherever you were right now. The woman grinned, taking out a bundle of Benjamins and handing it to them. “Thank ya kindly.” The dealer counted the bills and handed them to his partner, who took them in his hand, put them up to his face, and ate them. The woman blinked at this. “Uh.”

供货者边抱怨边把箱子递给她,作为回应,她拿出一个小瓶,打开瓶塞,把瓶子从脸旁移开些许,在公文包中植入了一个小型跟踪装置后嗅了一下瓶子里的东西。那种味道并非完全的一无所有,它更像是现实的味道,随时准备着变成你手中的一把油腻的灰尘。但现实闻起来像是此时此刻你所处的地方。女人笑笑,拿出一捆本杰明肖像递给两人。“非常感谢。”供货者数了数钱然后把它们递给他的搭档,后者把钱拿在手中举到面前,然后把它们吃了下去。女人对此眨了眨眼。“吓。”

“What’s the matter, girlie?” grinned the dealer. “Ain’t never seen a Banker before? He eats money and shits out unmarked bills. It’s great stuff; sometimes he even shits gold.”
“怎么了小妞?”供货者又是咧嘴一笑,“从来没见过保险柜?这人吃下去的钱拉出来可都不带指纹的。这可是个好东西,有时候他甚至会拉黄金。”

“Useful,” the woman said, scratching at her ear. “How Can this Man do that?” She heard cursing from her partner on the other end of the earpiece; he had picked up on the slight emphasis she had put on the words “Can Man”. The dealer just shrugged.

“厉害。”女人答道,挠了挠她的耳朵。“这个人是怎么做到的?”她听见耳机另一端的搭档咒骂道,他注意到她对“罐头人”一词的轻描淡写。供货者对此只是耸了耸肩。

"I don't question it, girlie, and neither should you." The dealer grinned and walked off, chatting with his Banker colleague. Once they were gone, the woman heard a voice in her ear.

“我没问过,小妞,你也不该问。”供货者笑着走开,边走边和和他的保险柜聊着什么。他们一离开,女人就听见了耳机里的声音。

"Special Agent MacAllister, do you copy? This is Agent Christman, over."

“特别探员MacAllister,收到了吗?这里是探员Christman,完毕。”

"I'm here, Darnell, don't be so formal." She paused just to mess with him. "Over."

“我在这Darnell,别那么正式。”她故意停下来只是为了激怒他,“完毕。”

"Protocol, Mac. I got the big boys up here. Over."

“那是规定,Mac。我把小伙子们都带来了,完毕。”

"I got some of the merch. They had, like, ten vials of the stuff in there. Over."

“我这里有些他们的货,”

"All right. Get back to the car. Over."

“好吧,现在回到车上,完毕。”

"Right. Go after them, with the chance that they could find the tracker and ditch the briefcase, making off with the merch. Great plan. Did Higgins come up with that? Over."

“好啊,在他们可能发现手提箱里的跟踪器并把整个箱子丢到阴沟里然后带着剩下的货跑路的情况下继续跟着他们好了,好计划。是Higgins想出来的吗?完毕。”

"We already have a shadow on them, Quinn. Don't do anything stupid. Over."

“我们已经有他们的踪迹了,Quinn。别做傻事,完毕。”

"Darnell, do I ever do anything stupid?" asked Agent MacAllister as she walked off after the two people in the darkness of the December night. "Give me a little credit. Over."

“Darnell,我做过任何傻事吗?”探员MacAllister边跟着那两人走进十二月夜晚的黑暗中时边问,“给我一点机会。完毕。”

"…Shall I call Harley? Tell her you'll be home late again? Over."

“……要我打给Harley吗?告诉她你又会晚回家?完毕。”

"If you'd be so kind. Over and out." Quinn said into her earpiece, before bundling up and continuing after them in earnest, and hoping they weren't using portable doorways or insta-holes or anything like that.

“如果你想的话。通话完毕。”Quinn对着耳机说道,然后她将耳机收起来继续她的跟踪,暗自希望他们不用活板门或者暗洞之类的手段。


The west side of Cincinnati wasn't exactly the nicest part of town. That much was no secret; granted, the worst part of it, Over The Rhine, was showing significant improvement, and it was nowhere near as bad as some parts of Cleveland (or, as Quinn liked to call it, 'The Serial Killer Capital of the World'), but it was still pretty bad. And honestly, if it weren't for the fact that weird shit was happening here, Quinn wouldn't have bothered coming, and probably would have asked the P.D. to handle it. But, this was unusual, so she kind of had to do it.

辛辛那提的西侧完全不像城里的好地段,事实上,它是当地最糟糕的地界这件事早已不是什么秘密。即使它与克利夫兰的某些地方(Quinn喜欢称之为“世界连环杀手之都”的地方)比起来简直是小巫见大巫,而且越过里内河情况就会改善许多,它还是很糟糕。说实话,如果不是因为这件怪事Quinn并不会为此费心,她很可能会叫警察来接手这件事。但是这件事并不寻常,所以她只能亲自上阵。

So, Quinn MacAllister tromped around in the cold December night, going after a person who made and/or sold drugs that could turn you into a demigod and his friend who ate money, and all she could think about was what life decisions had led her to this.

于是,Quinn MacAllister在这个寒冷的十二月的夜晚里到处乱跑,跟着一个能让你飘飘欲仙的药贩子(或者他们自产自销也说不定)和他那位吞钱的朋友,而她此刻满脑子都在想,是什么人生抉择让她走到了这一步。

Regardless, she soldiered on, always staying one corner or a block behind her marks, who were illuminated by the lights from televisions playing through windows late at night, or the occasional street lamp that actually worked, or even the headlights from a car passing by. And they were easy to follow, anyway; the dealer, it seemed, took joy in smashing trash cans and car windows with a crowbar. Quinn half-thought of a snarky comment related to Gordon Freeman on meth, but decided that it was best to save the snark for later.

无论如何,她继续她的工作,随时呆在能隐藏住她踪迹的拐角或是街区,那些地方被电视机上的晚间节目穿过窗户的光芒或者偶尔几盏真的能工作的路灯甚至是路过的汽车头灯照亮。那两个人很好跟踪,至少,那个供货者看起来在用撬棍击打垃圾桶和车玻璃这件事上得到了极大的乐趣。Quinn短暂的想到了一个关于吸冰毒的戈登•弗里曼2的尖锐讽刺,但她还是决定留着以后再说。

Soon, the pair came up on the most stereotypical-looking Drug Lab Quinn had ever seen. Broken windows, a strong smell of… something highly illegal, weird graffiti everywhere from various gangs, overturned trashcans… all of that good stuff.

很快,两人来到了Quinn见过最老套的制毒所。破损的窗户,还有到处都是的强烈的病态气味,各种帮派的奇怪涂鸦,翻倒的垃圾桶和…所有的那些“好货”。

One piece of graffiti stood out to her; she'd seen it before in other, bad parts of town before, and it wasn't associated with any gang. It looked like a set of quadrants, with 2/3rds of a triangle in the upper-left corner, the number two in the upper-right, and a square in the lower-left. What was odd about it was the chalk seemed to give off a soft glow; luminescent chalk, Quinn guessed.

其中的一块涂鸦格外显眼,她曾在其他城市的不良地带见过它,它和任何帮派都没有关系。它看起来像是一个象限图,在左上角有一个画了三分之二的三角形,右上角有一个数字2,左下角有一个正方形。奇怪的是用粉笔画出的图案却能发出柔和的光芒,大概是用了荧光粉笔吧,Quinn想。

sign%20of%20one.jpg.jpg

After a bit, she looked at the address on the building, and called it in. She wasn't stupid, nor was she Batman; she knew full well she couldn't take on a house of possibly anomalous individuals on her own, so it was probably best to call in a team.

过了一会,她看向建筑上标着的地址,然后报了警。她不是傻子也不是蝙蝠侠,她明白自己不可能独自面对一栋很可
能有异常个体在内的房子,所以,最好还是打电话叫一队人来。

However, as she was talking into the earbud, she heard the unmistakable click of a 10mm pistol behind her. "Well, well, well… Girlie's a cop. More than that… Girlie's a Skipper."

但是,在她对着耳机交谈时,她听见了一把10mm手枪上膛的声音。“好吧…好吧…好吧…小妞不光是条子…还是个船长Skipper

"…call me Girlie one more time. I dare you." Best to keep him talking. Druggies liked to gloat.

“你再敢叫我一次小妞试试看。”最好让他说下去,瘾君子都喜欢保持洋洋得意的状态。

"Girlie. Girlie Girlie! Girlie." Methmouth the Dealer stepped around her, to the front, keeping his gun trained on her. "That explains why you didn't say nothin' about Terry."

“小妞!小妞!小妞!小妞!”烂牙仔在她身前走来走去,枪口一直指着她,“这就能解释你为啥对Terry的事没啥反应了。”

"Your 'Banker' is hardly the weirdest thing I've seen in this city." Quinn rolled her eyes as she knelt on the ground before him. "Also, I'm not a god-damn Skipper. Don't call me that."

“你的‘保险柜’几乎是我在这个城市见过最古怪的东西。”Quinn即使半跪在地上还是翻了个大白眼,“还有,我才不是他妈的船长Skipper,别那么叫我。”

"What are you then? Gawker?"

“那你又是谁?偷窥狂?”

"Nope."

“不。”

"…Hi-Guy? You guys usually ain't about doing bee stings- ah!" Methmouth the Dealer grinned. "You're
a UIUseless! Fuckin' hell."

“…嘿伙计?——啊!”供货商的烂牙随着笑容一闪,“你是没用的UIUUIUseless!干他妈的。”

Quinn laughed softly, looking up at him. "Really? That's the best nickname you guys have come up with? Not Useless Idiots Unit?" Quinn tried desperately to keep him talking.

Quinn轻轻地笑了,抬头看着他“真的?这就是你们能想到的最好的外号?不是没用蠢货集合Useless Idots Unit?”她拼命地让他保持谈话。

"Shut up. Nobody cares if a UIUseless dies in a back alley. The Skippers'll just say that it was a… raid gone wrong or something." He turned the safety on his gun off. "Where should I shoot you fi-"

“闭嘴,你们这种人死在后巷没人会在乎。船长Skipper们只会说这是个…突袭事故或者随便他是什么东西。”他拉开枪的保险栓,“现在我应该先对着哪里开——”

Methmouth's speech was interrupted by a punch to the nose. It glanced off slightly, but sent him reeling nonetheless. He hissed in pain, rubbing his nose and growling. "Oh… you…" he took a step forward with each word. "Fucking… bitch!" He aimed his gun at Quinn.

烂牙仔的演说被直击面孔的一拳打断,那一拳稍微有点偏但还是让他晕头转向。他因为疼痛嘶嘶作响,揉着鼻子咆哮着,每说一个字就逼近一步:“妈的…你个…贱人!”他举枪对准Quinn。

Just as he pulled the trigger, Quinn grabbed his arm and twisted it upwards. The gun went off next to her ear, causing it to ring as a bullet grazed her beanie. She winced at the noise and tried to swat the gun away from his hand. No good; he had it in a vice grip.

当他按下扳机的那一刻,Quinn抓住他的胳膊并把它朝上扭。子弹擦过她的帽子时叮当一响。她畏缩了一下然后试着把枪从那人手上打掉。没成功,他的手劲堪比管钳。

Fortunately, Methmouth was also in a state of shock from the gunshot, and momentarily forgot the gun was in his hand. He punched Quinn in the chest, and she winced as she felt a rib crack. The sound of it made her adrenal glands wake up and have a pot of coffee made with pure antimatter. All of Methmouth's action's seemed to slow down.

幸运的是对方也被枪声吓了一跳,一时忘记了手里有枪而是给了Quinn当胸一拳,她听到骨头裂开的声音时愣了一下,那声音唤醒了她的肾上腺并给它们强灌了一整杯纯反物质制作的咖啡。烂牙仔的所有动作看起来都变成了慢镜头播放。

Quinn, despite the pain, swung around her hips into a cutting kick, trying to take him down before he could raise the gun again. One well-aimed kick to the side put him on the ground like a deflated tungsten zeppelin, and as his head asked the sidewalk if he could have its hand in marriage, he fell unconscious.

Quinn,压抑着疼痛抬起大腿,在他再次举枪之前用目标明确的一脚像给齐柏林飞艇放气似的将他放倒在地。在他的脑袋给了人行道重重一吻并询问他们能否就此结成夫妻之后,他便不省人事。

Quinn radioed in her position, and then promptly proceeded to practically pass out next to the building. She hissed as the adrenaline stopped, the danger now passed. The rib fucking hurt. It was minor, but it hurt.

Quinn报告了她的位置,然后靠上了墙。肾上腺素的停止分泌疼得她嘶嘶作响。肋下真他妈的疼。伤口不严重,但它很疼。

By the time the FBI squad got there, Quinn's endocrine system had compensated enough that she could stand up, albeit shakily. Agent Christman came up to her, looking at Methmouth the dealer passed out on the sidewalk. "…you okay, Mac?"

等到FBI小队赶到的时候,Quinn的内分泌系统已经恢复到能让她晃晃悠悠站起来的地步。探员Christman走向她,看了一眼倒在人行道上的供货商那嘴烂牙:“…你还好,Mac?”

"Please," Quinn spat out a clot of blood; she had bitten her tongue when she got punched. "The trainers at Quantico prepare you for hard stuff." She grinned as trucks filled with an FBI Raid Team pulled up, and quickly overtook the building. She didn't go in with them; her work was done.

“拜托,”Quinn开口时吐了口血,那一拳让她咬了自己的舌头,“我这个匡提科出身的教练可给你准备了不少东西。”当她看到被FBI小队填满的卡车停下来,队伍进入建筑时她笑了。她没有和他们一起去,她的任务已经完成了。


Carla Bosch: Earlier this morning, some drug dealers got an early lump of coal in their stocking when the FBI raided their drug lab in East Westwood. The lab was purportedly used for cooking a hallucinogen similar to LSD, the name of which the FBI is not releasing due to public safety concerns. The raid was reportedly carried out with help from SpearCross Protections, a private security company, who had an unknown interest in the property…

Carla Bosch: 在今天早上早些时候,FBI对于一群运气不好的毒贩设立在韦斯特伍德东部的制毒所进行了突击。这间制毒所专门用于制作类似于LSD一类的强力致幻剂。出于安全因素节目不公开那名探员的姓名。本次突击在长矛突击队SpearCross Protections,一家财产所有权未知的私人安保公司的协助下完成…

Quinn watched this on the 8:00 news with a smug look on her face, sipping at some coffee while her wife sat next to her. Harley Sterling smiled back at her. "Another good night?"

Quinn看着这条早间八点新闻上的报道,一脸得意,当她妻子坐到她身边的时候她啜了口咖啡。Harley Sterling冲她笑笑:“睡得好吗?”

"Yeah," she said. "Nobody really got in the way at all. Plapps is thinking of writing me a commendation for my work. I don't think I really did anything that good. Just shut down one of several dozen meth labs around here."

“是啊,”她说,“没人来碍事,Plapps在想要不要就我的表现给我开个表彰会。我真没觉得我干了啥,只是阻止了那附近成打的制毒所里的一间而已。”

"Hon," Harley said, kissing her cheek. "You did fine. Now, you should probably get along to work."

“亲爱的,”Harley说道,亲了亲她的脸颊,“你做得很好。现在,你最好还是去上班。”

Quinn nodded, finishing her coffee, kissing her wife goodbye, and heading down to her black station wagon. She drove off into the Cincinnati morning, leaving her mundane life behind like she did every morning, and entering the unusual.

Quinn点点头,喝完她的咖啡,给她的妻子一吻以作告别,然后走向她的黑色旅行车。她开入辛辛那提的早晨,把她的平常生活一如既往地抛在身后,然后,进入未知。

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