The Castle Club

Status
Not open for further replies.
ze_kraken

ze_kraken

Professional Squid
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
Online Availability
16:00-20:00 US Central
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Genres
Cyberpunk, Sci-fi, Fantasy, and other low-tech/fantasy.
He'd been dead for an hour, that's how long it had taken it for the two to arrive at the Castle Club at the base of the Beanstalk. The occupants were standing around the entrance, being held back by several bioroid security guards as they lined them up for questioning. With a flash of their ident-cards, the two were through. A 'borg and some disheveled man who looked he hadn't seen a happier day.

After sparing a glance at the club - cutouts of strippers dancing, private booths, serving bots floating around aimlessly, and a bioroid bartender still walking to and fro behind the counter - Flint strode over to where the man lay. Not a man, he realized, a clone. The barcode shone at the back of his head in the light of a multi-spectrum bulb dangling by a thread. A turned-over chair laid next to the clone, and the back of his pale, hairless skull was cracked at the neck with a thin, pale ooze dripping from it - nothing unusual, just the normal ichor substance that replaced blood in clones. Flint knelt next to the corpse and grimaced.

"Spence, check this out." His voice was haggard and cracked as he waved over for the other. The punk-kid, he called her. With a sigh, he creased his hat with a hand and glanced around for any sort of post-mortis specialist. None. Looked like they'd need to get their hands dirty for this one.

Charged for obstruction of property at the worst, damn it, of course there's no post-mortis specialist... He thought, grinning at his own morbid humor.
 
As Spencer walked behind Flint over to the body she looked around the Castle Club with her hands causally in her sweat shirt pockets. As she walked her katana, which she took just about everywhere with her, bounced slightly against her leg. When they got to the body Spencer looked at it, saw the bar code and realized it was a clone. She stood next to Flint as he knelt beside the body. She didn't seem to have a problem with the dead clone nor any of the other corpses she had seen before but ever sinse her mother she never did like the smell
As he said her name Spencer looked at him, nodded and then kneeled beside the body with him. As the oder came to her noes she said "Even as a clone the smell is still bad." She mumbled and sighed some. She saw Flint glance around and assumed he was looking for the post-mortis specialists. She looked around and frowned as she saw there wasn't any.
 
"See that, there?" Flint grumbled, placing a now-gloved hand at the base of the wound. He gestured inside the wound and tapped his head with his free hand. "No brain."

As if to prove what he just said, Flint knelt down and looked into the wound, nodding foolishly as if believing his guess false. He was usually right, and this was no exception. Standing and walking around the corpse he let out a sigh and ran a hand over the wall. He often did this to ease whatever tension there was on the job.

"Give me a dollar for every debrained clone and I'd be fuckin' rich.." Flint muttered, flicking the holo-display of a dancer off. The machine buzzed and dispensed a bill which he promptly tore off and threw to the side.

"See if you can find anything, Spence." He called back, walking towards the body. "Any prints, any other blood, anything other than the body." Flint didn't like clones, as the majority of the population didn't. They were a means of labor, the only thing cheaper were interns. Something about them didn't particularly seem human in anyway. He told himself it was the barcode, or the wrinkled scalp devoid of hair, or maybe the froggish appearance most took on. Tossing the idea aside, he shook his head and tossed his hat away as he began the unpleasant business of checking the newly debrained Frog.
 
As Flint pointed to the wound, Spencer looked at it and her noes scrunched up slightly, as it usually does when she sees something that meets her definition of gross or unpleasant. As Flint was running his hand over the wall Spencer simply glanced at him then looked back at the body, studying it in a way. She often did this with the other corpses that her and Flint had seen. She also found the way he calmed him self down by running his hand on the wall both strange and funny. But she has gotten used to it. She looked at him and chuckled slightly as he threw he threw the money to the ground.
Spencer once again nodded at him and stood up from the body. Not feeling like rollong up her sleeves, Spencer took off her sweat shirt and tied it around her lower waist. Before putting on one of her gloves she picked up his hat, made sure there wasn't any blood on it and set it on her head. Spencer liked wearing his hat and would often steel it from him when he wasn't looking. Then Spencer started to walk around the area where the body was laying to see if she could find any prints or other blood as Flint told her to do.
 
Italics will be clues/GM-description
Across from the clone stood the turned over chair with a small fragment, about the size of the tip of Spencer's finger. The shard was spiraled, with a sharp tip and it was coated in a thin film of some greasy substance that must have been the clone's blood. Fallen from its hand was a note, which upon further investigation revealed a promissory note for 200,000 credits to a...man. The greasy stain covered the majority of the note's surface; it'd have to be looked over later by the IT team back at the headquarters.

Flint finally stood from the corpse and grimaced, taking the hat from Spence's head with a shallow smile. "Uniform first, hat later. It works with the coat."

With that, he rolled off his latex glove and shrugged at the corpse. With a grunt, he sunk gratefully into a chair - his leg had never quite healed right from a break some years past - and rolled the hat from hand to hand in a roundabout way. If he wasn't walking by a wall, he was rolling his hat. His quirks and mannerisms were well tolerated: it meant he was thinking. After a lengthy pause, he perked up and, as if just noticing Spencer was still there, asked. "You find anything?" There was something to his eyes, madness or hope she could not tell. For once, it seemed he might have been stumped. He'd find a way, he was Flint after all, but it might actually pose a challenge this time...

 
Spencer chuckled as he took the hat from her head. She stuck her tongue out slightly at him for a second just like a little kid then went back to finding evidence. She first looked over by the turned over chair and found a small fragment. It was a spiraled, with a sharp tip and, what Spencer guessed was the clones blood. She glanced at Flint as he grunted and sat in a chair then went back to what she was doing. She looked at the shard and wondered what it was then set it back down. She went back to the clone and saw something in his hand. 'A note?' She thought as she opened his hand to grab it, assuming again that the grassy substance was the clones blood. When he called her she looked up at him, slightly confused as to what it was. She held up the note with the gloved hand. "Yeah. Two things actually. Do we have any bags to put them in?" She ask looking at the note again.
 
Flint shrugged and took the shard. "No one'll give a fuck anyways...." That was under his breath. He had a rule of honor about cursing in front of anyone, but he still did it like a sailor. He turned the shard over and over in his hands and placed it on the table with a noticeable click and a thud. Like a top, he spun it before grabbing the note.

"Two hundred thousand credits." He rubbed a finger at the bloody smudge and grunted. "And no answer for the person it belongs to. And paper, too. These guys are serious about not getting caught...."

The shard stopped spinning and Flint jumped up, coming to some revelation. "Drill....No, can't be...." Before slumping back down. It seemed too ridiculous, too....Off the wall crazy. Glancing at Spencer he said. "Start asking some people around outside." He offered her his flechette pistol and badge with a dry wink and propped his feet against the table, asking the bioroid for a drink before twirling the shard again and rolling his hat between his hands. He was thinking. Thinking. Think...
 
Spencer shrugged, took the glove off of her hand, then stood up as Flint spun the shard on the table. She looked around for a trash can and when she found one she threw the glove in it. After she put her sweat shirt back on Spencer looked over his shoulder at the note. She raised her eye brow as she tired to read it. She jumped back a bit in surprise as he jumped up and Spencer just starred at him, again a little confused. After a second her face went back to normal and she nodded. She took his pistol and badge, rolling her eyes a bit at him but in a playful way. "Right away sir." She said and chuckled. She then turned around and started to walk away then turned around again. "Also, about the note, the people that did this kinda killed some one, I wouldn't want to be caught either." She said attempting to be a smartass, smiling at him then walked out side to ask the people questions.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
"Oh, I thought we enjoyed looking at dead Frogs..." Flint shouted back, grunting from where he sat.

Outside were grouped several "key suspects" as deemed by the bioroids. An old woman claiming to have seen the clone die, Thomas Haas - son of the CEO of Haas Bioroid - and a few common criminals with parole out on them. None of them looked quite enthusiastic at being held so long, as it was near around four in the morning. Still, above the procession hovered several lines of cars and other vehicles. New Angeles was never truthfully quiet, always an engine, ad campaign, or other urban sounds. Rush hour, it was said, was every hour and the real rush hour was just called Hell. Either way, the potential witnesses were there and they were growing more impatient by the minute.

Thomas Haas, along with Haas Bioroid, has a strong corporate rivalry with Jinteki, the manufacturer of clones and other biological devices. Just a note to keep close by.
 
Spencer chuckled at Flint before walking out the door and looked at the suspects. Then she walked to one of the other police officers holding the suspects for a quick minute to get more information on the suspects. She glanced at one of the cops wrist watches, sighed and shook her head as she read the time. 'Alright let's get this done so I can go.' She thought to herself. After she was done talking with the officer she decided to talk to the old woman first. As she walked she looked up at the tall buildings, skyscrapers, and a few planes passing by. She looked at the old woman with a pretty convincing fake smile as she said, "Hello miss. I'm going to ask you a few questions about tonight. You claimed to have seen what happened, is that right?"
 
The frizzled, though not quite as old as previously thought, woman nodded briskly and shook a hand forward. Her forehead creased in lines, her jawline had sunk into jowls as she spoke, and a thin line of spittle coated her mouth constantly. Still, beyond her aged face the morose woman looked no older than thirty. Finally finding her voice, she spoke up in a reedy voice.

"Oh, yes. The poor, poor clone.....Saw the man go up behind him and...Well, slurp. I didn't see him get away, though. He was too quick. Too sneaky...." She chided. Thomas rolled his eyes at the woman's comment.
 
Spencer nodded as the woman spoke, the nice, fake smile still on her lips. Spencer's smile went away as she saw Thomas rolled his eyes out of the corner of her eyes. She turned her attention to him ,also glanced at the other suspects, recognizing some of them. She didn't put on the smile for him and said "Mr.Thomas, did you see something different?" She said, sounding polite as she could.
 
"Oh fuck off, if I wanted some Frog dead I'd hire someone." He mentioned to two women next to him, one of which whose hair was astray and disheveled. "Does it look like I was going to murder anyone?"

His arms crossed as the woman, looking rather cautious towards the young man, looked back to Spencer for confirmation to continue speaking. Across her back was a piece of luggage marked with a stamp for the Beanstalk return trip from the moon, and a ticket with a sun shining dully (electronic, of course) protruded from her left hand. She'd been to the Order of the Sol, the biggest connection of "official" alibis for a relatively cheap price. It was said they were in league with the top hackers, which made finding evidence for your innocence easy. Still, they worked in a court of law and they weren't to be messed with.
 
Spencer's eyes twitched slightly as he cursed at her but by now she had learned how to control her self while on the job. Spencer sent a small glare his way before turning to the woman, the smile returning to her face. Spencer had noticed the ticket and looked down at it then back at the woman. "I apologies about that. Continue." She said sounding a little apologetic to the woman.
 
"I just came back from the moon, I was getting an alibi for my, son. You see, he wanted this new playset for his son that Weyland was releasing...He took one home and gave it to him, and they threatened to drop his job on criminal charges! The audacity of Weyland..." She continued grumbling for a while before going on. "And I find this Frog dead from some drill. I don't know, I think the camera's might have a shot of him...."

"OH, GENIUS!" Thomas shouted, patting the back of the woman. "You just said what the N.A.P.D. agent couldn't! Very well done...." His statement was heavily laced in sarcasm as he turned back to Spencer. "Go on, borgie, go tell your boss to get some camera feed."
 
Again Spencer's eye twitched as Thomas shouted and it was like an angry vein was showing on her forehead. She didn't know why but for some reason her passions wasn't that good tonight. Most likely because it was four in the morning. Though it wasn't her favorite thing in the world to get ask the questions to the suspects. Shooting a glare at Thomas again she walked back inside, her katana once again bouncing against her leg, with a sigh in an attempt to calm down. She walked to Flint, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Hey, one of the suspects said the camera might have caught it."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Flint nodded, shrugging. "That'd be great if we had a way of accessing it...." He paused, a light coming to his face as he jumped up and grabbed for his PAD in his coat pocket. A PAD was about the size of a modern-day table, a piece of transparasteel with the strength of most plastics and the ability to project a screen about an inch above the surface. His hands ran rather clumsily over the images leading to a list of contacts. Another momento of the war, he told himself, trying to shove aside the ill effects of age.

"I've got a guy who owes me after I turned the blind eye in a scandal..." Flint muttered, flipping through list after list. Military contacts, N.A.P.D. corrupts, Kate, personal files, Spencer and the other co-workers, and so on. It was amazing he could keep any of it straight. After a long moment of his hands flipping through the PAD's files, he nodded and pulled up an image.

"Mike." He said calmly, offering a hand for Spencer to stay hushed. "I've got a camera that needs hacking."

"That important?" This supposed Mike's voice came from the other end of the PAD.

"Castle Club, I'm calling up my favor."

"Working."
 
Spencer pulled a chair out next to Flint and sat down as he jumped up. She stretched her arms over her head and stretched her legs under the table, as she did so a sigh escaped her lips. She set her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. She looked at the PAD, leaning over slightly to look at it as he went threw the list and raised an brow at how many things he had on it. She wasn't reading any of it, just looking looking like she usually does when Flint was doing something. As he was looking Spencer tapped against the table slightly and her leg bounced up and down. But she stopped as Flint gestured for her to stay quiet. She leaned away, looking at the wall instead but also glancing at the image while listening to them. The PAD looked fimiler to Spencer the more she looked at it. She thought it was possible that her mother had gotten her fathers after he died.
 
Flint tapped his fingers impatiently against the table as his contact worked through the process of illegally hacking into the Beanstalk's computer feeds. Clicks, grunts, and other sounds could be heard from across the line as the man worked. Occasionally a red light would flash as connection risked being lost or a blaring warning klaxon would trumpet from his end. Still, ever the one to never display discomfort, Flint waited, fingers still drumming the table.

"Want this on your PAD?" The voice finally spoke.

"And give you access? Hell no." Flint grumbled in reply, clicking off the end and switching the PAD off. "Come on, Spence. Time to head up to the camera room."

Without waiting for a reply, Flint stood up, stretched, and began to hobble to the staircase leading up to the second floor of the club. More of an observational post, for the high-vaulted ceilings and spacious floors made the place feel more three stories than one. At the foot of the stairs, he turned and waited patiently for his partner, fingers drumming against the wall just as they had when he was waiting for the camera feeds.
 
Spencer crossed her arms over the table then laid her head over them on the table. As some of her black hair fell in her face she watched Flint's hand as his fingers moved up and down. As she watched her eyes flickered up and down and she started to focus on that and the sound of his fingers hitting the table. But she also listened to the clicking sounds that came over the PAD. After a few seconds Spencer had zoned out and it took her a second to realize Flint had gotten up. She quickly raised her head from the table to look at him. She stuck her tongue out at him again as she got up from the seat and followed her partner up the stairs. She knew he must have been tired and so was she but something else could have happened to. When she got up the stairs she turned to him and crossed one leg over the other.
"Okay are you mad or just tired cause it seems like one of them." She said as she raised her eye brow at him.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back