...after Morgan's bad guy is subdued, it's time to get ready for...a wedding...
The agents were able to get a large straw into the Neptunian's mouth before the goo turned solid. He was now like an insect trapped in amber. As they propped him up, Morgan wanted to have one last word with him. Later they would spray a chemical on the goo to make it fall off of him, and he would be left unharmed. And, of course, the spice weasel would be quickly taken from him and checked into Weapons Division for evidence.
Her eye make-up was running, and her eyes still burned from the spice. "Spice weasel," she told him, "the oldest trick in the book. You could have blinded me with that. And I'll just bet that you don't even have a permit to carry one."
He mumbled something.
"What was that?" she asked.
"I think he's asking for a lawyer," said a woman agent.
"You'll be appointed a Bureaucratic counselor in due time, Mr. Nama. Get his smelly hide out of here." Morgan jerked her thumb, and the ISB agents carried him off to a nearby air van.
When Morgan got back to the crime scene, agents were collecting the scattered paperwork. "You forgot one over there," she told them. "I don't want a single paper left in this alley."
A jubilant young drone pilot came out to chat with Morgan. "Hey, Miss P - what do you think of my piloting skills?"
Morgan smiled. "Mr. Keung, your reputation is still intact. Nice flying tonight."
"Concealed and congealed," the young man boasted as he gave Morgan a high-five. "It's like our unit motto says, 'Born to Goo.'"
"What was he shredding?" asked Bernie.
"It's about time you made it over here, you slouch." She picked up one of the papers, and then showed it to him. "Board of Health, Mr. Simard. You could have taken your family to eat here. Just remember the first bureaucratic law - frivolity is a stern taskmaster. We can't afford to let our guard down...not even for a minute. There's a whole city full of citizens that depend on us - and I'm not letting them down on my watch."
"What now?" he asked.
Morgan walked back to the aging black Kamov air-car. "Now? More paperwork. And then I'll go home and collapse with exhaustion. I don't have long to prepare for the wedding." She then turned back to her partner. "Are you ready for tomorrow? There's a pizza joint down near Clifford Simak Park - I'm pretty sure that they're underpaying their staff."
"Why don't you take some time off and actually prepare for your own wedding?"
"Time off is for slackers, you know that. Besides, I've already been preparing for it. Fortune favors the prepared. And then - I'll be married to the bureaucrat of my dreams."