by The Eurostar and I'm Not Mister Mxypltk
The telephone in Edulcore Cicciotto's house rang three times before the answering service kicked in.
"Risponde la segreteria telefonica di Edulcore Cicciotto, non sono in casa, lasciate un messaggio, grazie."
At the other end of the cable, across half the globe, there was what an hour ago was a human being, a living human being. Now Karl Starr was technically a zombie. He didn't understand the answer, which was in Italian, but he realized that it probably said what an answering service usually said: "I'm not at home -- please leave a message."
So, the undead Karl Starr spoke: "Mr. Cicciotto, I need your help. My name is Karl Starr. I'm in Chicago." Then he hung up the receiver and realized that Cicciotto could not possibly reply, since he was calling from a telephone box. He would have to find Cicciotto in person.
Cicciotto lived in Bologna, Italy. A zombie could not take a plane without being noticed, so Karl Starr began his travel to the other part of the globe by the only means he had at his disposal: his legs.
Meanwhile, in Washington, at the MCCA headquarters, an officer entered the office of General Gerald Forrest. "General, a man named Karl Starr has just phoned Cicciotto's number asking for help -- from Chicago!"
"Find him!"
At the same time, in Mandelovia, at the headquarters of the Mandelovian Security and Intelligence Agency, an agent knocked at the door of the head of security. "Captain, a man named Karl Starr has just telephoned Cicciotto asking for help. He called from Chicago."
"Find him!" responded the bearded man, sitting behind the desk. On his right arm, instead of a hand, there was a hook. A sign on the desk read Captain Nemo.
Malvan-X headquarters, Mandelovia:
In the office of Security Chief Arnold Bobowsky entered Agent Digigrrll, visibly excited. The Mandelovian Security Corps agent took a breath for a moment and then said, "Chief, Lexicon has just hacked into the system of Mandelovian Intelligence. Lorena Burgos has not been killed by a bullet in the head. Her head exploded from within!"
The cigarette dropped from the open mouth of Bobowsky. "What? Her head was blown up? It's the work of a meta. Well, maybe Eurostar is really the killer, but why is the state security keeping it a secret from us?"
"Mr. Frederico?" a short man said softly as he knocked on a door in a hotel. "Mr. Frederico... it's been three days since you last came out of your room, sir," the man said.
"We... uh, should have left the hotel yesterday. We were forced to pay an extra day." The man took a small pause, hoping to get an answer from Eduardo Frederico, the famous runner he represented. "I realize you may be having problems with... you know... your 'condition,' but I have had a hard time explaining the situation to Mr. Hutchkinson. I can't tell him you could be having troubles with your... M-E-T-A-G-E-N-E, can I?" said the short man, with a nervous laugh.
"Mr. Hutchkinson is more angry about the hotel bill than the delay, Mr. Frederico, and to be honest, I'm more scared of him than I'm scared of you, so I'm afraid we are gonna have to leave today, sir."
He waited for another moment, and then took a key from his pocket and said, "Okay... here I go," as he used the key to open the door. When he entered the room, he noticed that Frederico was not there, the television, the bed and a chair were broken, and the window was on the floor.
"Oh my God," he said. "That's gonna cost at least three hundred bucks."