The Castle Club

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He returned the glare with his own blank look before slowly turning back to the man, giving a chuckle. The man made a show of jerking the weapon towards Flint, shouting for him and the girl to sit down or he'd blow their brains across the wall. Flint did so, slowly. Taking ease, the man sat down across them, keeping the flechette pistol raised to the two as he did so.

"Now we're going to forget this little episode ever happened and you'll stop asking about clients." He mused, clicking the hammer of the pistol back. Its chamber spun once, readying a round.

Flint's eyes scanned the weapon as he spoke. "Absolutely, I'll even get the department to stop the case entirely."

The man's pistol lowered a fraction as he nodded with near foolishness at Flint. Giving his best-fake grin, Flint stood up slowly before striking at the man's hand, sending the pistol off to the left. Out of reflex, the man pulled the trigger and the gun roared, fragmenting the glass that divided the room from the counter. The bioroid halted its routine and began to walk towards Flint, intending to remove him from the fight. Glancing back, he shouted back to Spencer.

"Take care of the damned thing!"
 
Spencer followed Flint to the wall like the man said. She sat at down next to Flint, giving a small glare to the man and keeping her hands up. She looked from the man to Flint as he talked, her eyes flicking to the gun as she heard the click. Spencer knew that fake smile on Flint but she didn't even try and she slowly stood up with Flint. When the gun went off Spencer quickly crouched down then unlatched the strap from the katana, another reflex. From her crouched postion Spencer managed to kick the bioroids knee with her mechanical leg causing its leg to break and fall foward. As it fell she drew her katana and slashed at it's chest. The blade went threw the bioroids chest, some sparks coming out and the bioroid fell to the ground. With her katana still drawn she turned to Flint to see how his fight was going.
 
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Flint had already disarmed the man and turned the pistol on the attacker. Timidly, he rose his hands in the air and flint clicked the pistol's hammer forward gently, snarling out something along the lines of 'under arrest'. Forcefully, Flint began to herd the man out to the hover car waiting outside, beckoning for Spencer to follow. Once he had thrown him into the back seat, he turned to Spencer.

"Make sure he doesn't try anything." He grumbled, sitting down at the driver's side and entering the auto-pilot for N.A.P.D. headquarters. Time for an interrogation..
 
Spencer smiled as the man timidly rose his hands in the air. She put her sword away and attached the strap again then looked at Flint. She followed Flint out the door and looked at the people in the in the gym. They had either confused, scared, or surprised looks on there faces or all. As they walked outside Spencer hummed softly. When Flint threw the man in the back seat she looked at Flint, with a small smile and nodded. Spencer sent a glare at the man before getting in the passenger seat, with the strap on her sword off.
 
He wasn't much use. There was a vague mention to some clone due for physical therapy, an underhand deal, and a conspiracy theory or two. Flint didn't give two shits about any of it, instead asking preferring to resort to why and then a threat whenever the man withheld information. So far he had gotten himself six years in prison, no probation. Flint was on the edge of the sending him straight to a corp and seeing what fun they could do with him.

"You're telling me you know nothing of this job you were handed?" He shouted, slamming a hand next to his headrest.

"I swear, they told me nothing! I just had to-"

"Shut up. You've spilled this and I still don't take it." Flint growled. "You with Haas? Vinnie? Or is this some showy attempt to get money from the underground?"

The man yelped and edged as far away as he could from Flint, who only gave a morbid chuckle and drew him back to his original place. "Bullshit you don't know. If you don't, you're the biggest idiot to step into the back of my car."

"It was this guy! Tatoo'd up and all that!" He shrieked back. "Asked me to toss up a clone, but something went wrong!"

Flint again growled and turned the seat around, shutting the sound barrier to save himself the pain of listening to the man ramble on and on about his innocence. Six years, no probation, and then a corporate sentence.
 
While Flint was interrogating the man, Spencer was in the room behind the glass that they had every interrogation room. She sat down as Flint interrogated the man, chuckling a few times, finding it funny how the man reacted. She has seen Flint interrogate people before and at first it did scare her, not as much as the guy is right now but still kinda freaked her out of how mad he could get. After a while though she got used to it and it doesn't phase her one bit. She leaned back into her swivel chair as Flint turned the seat around and rubbed her eyes. "Oh how long is this gonna drag on?" She said sighing.
 
"Come on." Flint said, leaving the man to the guards stationed in the room. "I've got a few hunches, but it'll be a bit before I can pinpoint them."

With that, it was back to the elevator and over the cityscape again to the upper floors where Flint's office was located. Again the silent, crowded room met them. Occasionally someone would mutter a response in Chinese or English into a communications tablet or cough awkwardly, sounding more a clap of thunder in the surreal silence. Flint led Spencer to his desk - so old it was still made of wood - and sat down, propping up a chair for her.

"How long has it been since you've run the match-up program?" He asked, starting up two of the three PADs stationed upon the desk. He was referring to the program used to take descriptions from witnesses or suspects and match them to tagged citizens.
 
Nana gets up from the chair and follows Flint to his desk, keeping her eyes to his back as she followed him. She didn't move her eyes as she felt the atmosphere in the room. She sat down in the chair as Flint and leaned back slightly. She set her head back and looked at Flint. "Its been a while actually and I kinda remember how to do it. Do you know how to do it? And if you don't do you know someone who might be able to?" Nana thought and if he didn't know how to then she might know someone who is able to.
 
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"I know how to." Flint muttered, amusement flickering in his eyes. "However, an extra set of hands helps quite a bit..."

The program had started up, flashing a dim blue light across the surface in an attempt to start the keyboard. Flint tapped the PAD with a knuckle and gave it a shake before it was fully operational. It was an old program, or at the very least an outdated version of an already old program. It never bothered him, because it typically worked to give him a start.

"But it's time you learned."
 
Spencer scoots her chair closer to Flint to watch what he's doing, smiling. She looked at him. "Well if I remember right it's not that hard if you know what you're doing. Flint, this program looks pretty old..probably as old as you.." she mumbled and chuckled lightly.
 
"Then you'd be right." He grumbled, smirking beneath the comment as he opened it on Spencer's PAD.

"There's the start up, now, we're looking for tagged Netters." Flint continued, naming the term used for neurally-linked hackers that were almost always out for illegal purposes. "If that fails, I can get a physical description up and running, but for now we search."

He sighed, cracking his fingers. It was going to be a boring desk day at best. Even if they found their mark, it would be a while before arrangements for transportation to location and resources would take a while. Not that he minded a slow day, but on a case this hard, every minute count. And he was wasting them typing.
 
Spencer chuckled and shook her head a little. Then she scooted up to Flint's desk and set her PAD on the desk next to him. Then Spencer started working on what Flint told her to do, looking for tagged Netters. After a minute Spencer hung her head over the head of the seat and sighed. She hated it when it was boring at a work day. She turned her chair around in a circle, with her head still hanging over the head of the chair, then turned back to her PAD.
 
The search took nearly forty five minutes, at the end of which they had come to Noise (who was always added, but never caught), Andromeda, Chaos Theory, and a hand full of others. Narrowing the group down led to Noise and a small core of other anarchists, any of which could have reason to hate Jinteki or just want to watch it burn.

"Not narrowed down enough, but narrowed down." Flint groaned, sliding from the PAD, eyes red from strain.

With that, he stood, stretched, and sat back down, typing a few more commands in. The PAD hummed before dispensing a chip about the size of Flint's fingertip, which contained the data needed. He pocketed it and turned to Spencer.

"Time for a hell of a day."
 
In that forty five minutes of working, Spencer would occasionally spin in her chair or crack her back or her knuckles and fingers. She would also glance at how Flint was doing. When they finished, Spencer moved her PAD to the side and set her head on the desk, closing her eyes to give them some rest, and rubbing the temple of her forehead, while Flint stood and stretched. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, a few popping sounds could heard as she did, from both her mechanical arm and other arm. Then she looked at him. "Alright then where are we going next?"
 
"Now it's time we go to the moon..." Flint grimaced. Travelling planetside was never easy or enjoyable.

The drive took only thirty minutes, record time for a six block jump to the most iconic structure of the new world. The Beanstalk, originally Heinlein, was a hulking pillar of metal, lights, and advertisement boards flashing brightly a midst the smog-choked air. No traffic ran around Heinlein, for flying by it was illegal by unwritten law and no one wanted to test the rumored defense batteries hidden beneath the surface. That is not to say it was devoid of foot traffic. Day and night, even when the Castle Club was not in business, lines of people came and went in a never ending grind of bodies.

Flint guided Spencer into the faster line for reserved card holders (an expense that the N.A.P.D. took to make travel remotely fast between the Moon and Earth). Inside was a stinking, warm crowd of bodies waiting to get on board the elevators that would take them into orbit. From orbit they took a shuttle for the last jump to the moon, neutralizing the need for expensive fuel dumps to get off-world. NBN advertisements were not to be missed either as ad-boards and PADs flashed on and off with the latest product or service. As this was NBN's headquarters, it wasn't a surprise that unwanted ads wormed their way into every crevice of the building: they were known for it.

Consigning himself to a miserable day, Flint turned to Spencer. "Anything to talk about?"
 
Spencer stood up and followed him out to the traveling planetside, walking to the side of Flint but still behind him like she usually does. She grimaced slightly as she smelled the smog air and she didn't want to breath through her mouth or noes. As Flint lead her into the faster lane Spencer tense at how many more people they're were and she stayed a little closer to Flint then usual, scrunching up her noes as she smelled the oder. Spencer had never really liked being around to many people at one time, but she felt better knowing Flint was there. She felt even more better as they got into the shuttle with less people. She turned to Flint as he turned to her and she shrugged. "Not really. I mean unless it's about the case or what a tiring day it was. It wasn't really that boring though, I mean besides sitting at your desk."
(i'm so sorry about the late reply>-< My kindle is died and mom and dad need to get it fixed so I don't know how much I'll be able to talk.)
 
The wait took four hours before they were finally admitted to the ticket desk; the reserved card only got you there faster. Flint handed over the money for the ticket and they were up for the next shuttle - once again another line, which took all of two hours to reach the end of. Finally, forehead slick with sweat and face lined and shadowed from fatigue, Flint boarded the shuttle making the jump after Spencer. Inside was just as crowded as the line up had been, with seats crammed together for maximum efficiency. There were first-class shuttles, but if you could afford that regularly you were better off owning your own ship.

Aesthetically, the outside did not match the hell that waited inside the airlock doors. The shuttle was clean, well-kept, slick, and a bright shade of white that bespoke of cleanliness, care, and attention to the customer. Of course once anyone boarded such a vessel, those thoughts were tossed out the window. There were no viewports, no folding tables, and no food carts of any kind on board these flights. At the very best there was one holoboard up front that played NBN's usual highly subjective news broadcastings or advertisements, nothing else.

And all this for one jump to the moon.
 
As they waited for those four hours, Spencer couldn't stop bouncing her leg when they were sitting or slightly swing back and forth or making small talk with Flint. When they were around to many people she always stayed beside, or right behind Flint. As they got onto the crowed shuttle, Spencer stayed right next Flint, looking down. Spencer didn't like all the people around her but she was glad that the inside was mostly clean. Spencer started to slightly swing back and forth, with the room that she had, as they waited to go to the moon.
 
Act II
The moon had been the object of the war for independence nearly twenty years past. Since then, Weyland Enterprises had taken it as their base for operations; namely the production of Hk3, a widely used building material. While Weyland owned near enough to seventy-five percent of the moon's total service, another twenty belonged to Haas Bioroid's HQ located towards the northern pole. If all went well, they wouldn't need to touch either of them. There was one place in particular of any interest to the pair: Wyldside. By technicality, it didn't exist on public records - all of them had been either deleted or hidden by Netters and the like. However, everyone knew what it was; all the shroud did was prevent it from being closed without legal issue.



Inside the club itself was a crowd of bodies. Sitting, standing, dancing on the floor with the blue-purple glow of LED lights shining above them. A pair - a man and woman - shoved past the two on their way out, each both giggling eagerly. Flint readjusted his cloak and began to walk into the crowd, glancing behind to Spencer momentarily. Part of him felt this was the worst place for either of them, yet he could not help but feel that this would be a quick end to what he was already consigning to be a dead end and an empty case.

Their lead was a longshot at best. To maintain a public image, the NAPD didn't deal with the sort of underground criminal that one would fine in Wyldside. Of course, that was all just public record to keep the department up and running; funding was becoming difficult to come by, the efficiency rating was dropping, and there remained a 2% total of the population that was not deemed corrupt. But as the case warranted, it was time for a twist in policy. They needed Noise, or someone who could get him to talk; dirt would be better, but no one got any dirt on the man. From some mad luck or unstoppable skill, he had avoided any sort of bad image that could be linked. Luckily, the NAPD had dropped that case nearly five years ago. It wasn't worth the effort.

Damned lot of effort for obstruction of property... He smiled at the same ill comment he had made nearly three nights past.

"Stay close." He shouted to Spencer, voice barely trailing over the noise. "Keep a low profile."
 
As they walked inside the club Spencer quickly moved out of the way, looking at them as the woman and man ran past. Spencer looked around at the club, not noticing Flint glance at her. After she looked around the climb, like scanning her surroundings she looked at Flint's coat, not liking all the noise that much either.
'Been awhile sense I've been in a club.' She thought and moved her hands to the pocket of her sweat shirt. Then she looked back up at Flint as he shouted to her and she nodded up at him, straining to her him but understanding what he was saying. "Alright, partner." She shouted back at him.
 
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