this story is REALLY getting good
It was night. Conan was unable to sleep. Oh, how he wanted to go home. Rolling out of his cot in the crawlspace of his master bedroom, he didn’t even bother putting his robot costume on as he reached for his radiophone and dialed a number.
“I need information on Walter Hamperton’s last sighting,” he said to the concierge at the police station. This desk was for police personnel only and was inaccessible for civilians.
“Understood,” he replied, unnaturally peppy for someone working in the boneyard hours of the night, “Who is this?”
“C0N4N. Officer 234.”
“I see. As you probably know, the army is allowing limited access to oversea intelligence officers so Hamperton can be apprehended.”
“Very well. You are being handed over to a communications center.”
There was a click right as Conan was about to ask what the concierge meant. After a few seconds of silence…
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