If the money's right (Closed)

[w0ndergirl4]

https://i.imgur.com/RV18qYe.jpg?1
Hong Kong, 2099​

The rain is colder than usual, but I don't mind. The city looks better in the rain, the way the streets reflect the neon lights and the mist floats off the rain drenched surfaces, blurring the harsher edges. The city is still a piece of shit, but in the rain, if you squint just right, it's a beautiful piece of shit.

The throng of people that normally blankets the city streets thins ever so slightly during a good rain, nameless faces huddling at the edges of the shadows, some because they haven't taken the tiny orange pills that protect us from the Chems in the rain itself, others because the chill is too much for them. Regardless, I take advantage, weaving between the remaining pedestrians as I make my way down the center of the street.

The normal buzz and hum of the city is momentarily drowned out by the loud drone of hover engines. I glance up from beneath my hood to see a sleek, black craft moving just above my head. It's a newer model, small but fast. And very expensive. Definitely from Uptown, I think to myself as I lower my gaze back down. A moment later, once the hovercraft has moved out of sight, the sounds of the city rush back in.

Soon I can hear the music coming from the club, and after a final turn I see the bright pinkish light from the sign reflected off the rain slick street. The Kinky Boot. Home, or as close to home as I have these days. With the overly large 3D pink go-go boot and the big, bright letters on the sign it stands out. The double doors are heavy and black and guarded by two imposing SentryBots who act as doormen and, when needed, bouncers.

From the outside it might not look like much, but the inside is just the right mix of bright colors and dimmed lights. You want to slip into a shadowy booth and have a private conversation, you can absolutely do that here. Looking for loud music, strong drinks and half way decent go-go dancers, The Kinky Boot is happy to oblige. I originally chose it for the strong drinks. The rest of the place grew on me.

Speaking of half way decent go-go dancers, I notice the new girl, Chloe dancing on one of the small circular stages to my right. Truth is she's way better than half way decent. Chloe is gorgeous. Trust me, I noticed. No one seems to know much about her or where she came from. The most popular rumor is that she was once an Uptowner, but crossed the wrong person and ended up down here with the rest of us. She's definitely beautiful enough, I think, giving her one last look before heading over to the main bar.

I slip my hoodie off as I step up to the bar, edging between two of the stools and leaning against the glowing green surface with my left arm, the metal of my cybernetic arm clanking slightly against the glass top. I shake out my long purple hair and flip it back behind my shoulders as my specs adjust to the brightness of the bar area, turning a slightly darker shade of orange.

"The usual, Dex?" Davin asks from behind the bar where he has been polishing glasses with a small cloth. I nod and give him a smile.

Dex, that's me. Short for Dexter. Not exactly the name most people expect when they see me. What can I say, my mom named me after my dad, a man who I personally have never even laid eyes on. Name's just a name though. I make it work.

"Hey Dex," the greeting and the drink that is slid in front of me don't come from Davin. It's Farrah, the other bartender on duty, with her brilliant blue hair and her dark rimmed eyes. She's part native american, part french, part vietnamese and all hotness. She's definitely beautiful enough to be an Uptowner, but I know for a fact she's never even sniffed Uptown. She's spent the last six months working here at The Boot. She's a friend, though not as good a friend as I might like, I think as I give her my best smile.

"Thanks," I say, reaching for the drink as the Krink on her shoulder sputters at me. I'm not sure if the half bird, half lizard lab creation likes me or hates me, but it always seems to make that sputtering noise when I show up. "How's your night going?"

"Better now," she replies giving me a smile from beneath her black cap. I can't tell if she's flirting or if she's just being the friendly bartender out of habit. That's probably why I haven't tried harder with her. Can't quite get a read on her. Yet.

"There's a client in your office," she says, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "An Uptowner."

I set my drink down and give Farrah a look, trying to decide if I actually believe her. I doubt she's right, but then I remember the hovercraft that had flown over minutes ago. It was low, like it was looking for a place to land. I finish my drink and give the blue haired beauty another thanks before easing away from the bar and heading to the back of the club.

I've been using one of the back rooms for an office for the last eighteen months. The clients I get don't seem to mind. As I approach the door with its gold foil "Private Investigations: Dex Lee" lettering, I can see the desk lamp inside is on and someone is indeed sitting in the chair in front of the desk.

Stepping inside and closing the door to shut out at least some of the techno music, I circle around the desk and get my first look at the prospective new client. Isabeau, as she introduces herself is without a doubt an Uptowner. I would have known from the luxurious sweater and scarf, if her face hadn't made it so obvious. This girl was an Uptowner from head to toe. The way she looked, the way she spoke, every move and mannerism.

The question wasn't where she was from though. The real quetion, which I got straight to, was why someone like her, someone with her money and her connections was here, in my darkened little office in the back of a go-go bar.

"I need your help finding someone, Ms. Lee," the dark haired woman begins. "I have reason to believe that she was seen in this part of Hong Kong within the last week. I would have sent private security but I suspect that someone who lives here might be more suited to this...task."

"Who are you looking for...?" I pause, hoping she will offer me her last name. She doesn't.

"Her name is Sophie-713," Isabeau answers, one hand lifting up from her lap to slide a photo image across my desk.

The image shows a young woman with auburn hair. The name gives me more information than the picture. "She's an android? Yours, I assume?"

"No," the woman answers, clearly hesitant to reveal more. "Does that matter?"

"No, not if the money's right," I answer, taking another look at the picture.

 

[w0ndergirl4]

Staring at the image of the lost android, all I can think is something about this job stinks, regardless of how much money Isabeau might be offering. The synthetic looks about as top dollar as I've ever seen. Delicate, doll like face framed by soft, brown hair, her eyes big. Doe like. She looks young, like she was built to be a girl's plaything or companion. But Isabeau said Sophie wasn't hers. Of course she could be lying, but why? She wouldn't be the first wealthy person to misplace one of her toys. Forget to do a software patch, wait too long to have repairs done after an accident, there are lots of reasons why the synthetic's programming might have gone tits up. But if this was just a regular job, miss richie rich wouldn't be sitting in my office, offering to hire me.

True some people don't like dealing with androids, especially the newer models that can so seamlessly blend in with humans. Personally, I don't mind the lifelike ones. The F class that had the holo image of a face that floated a few inches in front of their heads, now those were creepy. At least the Corps has banned NeuroTaps in the newer models, so you no longer have to worry about one of them reading your mind. But even so, an Uptowner would have had plenty of options, so why me?

The facial recognition search I've been running since I sat down in front of Isabeau finally pings and I transfer the results to the inside of my right lens. NO RESULTS FOUND. Fuck. That means either she went out of her way to scrub herself before coming down to meet with me or, worse, it means she is not just an Uptowner, she's SAC. If its the former, then she has something specific she wants to hide, something she thinks would either make me turn down the job, or ask for more money.. I really hope its the former, cause if its the latter, that's a shitstorm I don't want any part of. Problem is I have no way of knowing which I'm dealing with.

Laying the image of Sophie back down, I turn my attention back to Isabeau. I can see a slight hint of perspiration on the nape of her neck, the only sign that her outward calm might not be the whole story. I shouldn't accept the job, even if I do need the money. I should trust my instincts. But there is something about the dark haired beauty in front of me, something that makes me want to know more. All the more reason I should say no, I think just before I smile at Isabeau.

"I think I can help you," I say, leaning forward over the desk, resting on my elbows. "But first you're going to have to fill me in. Who is she to you? Why did she disappear?" The other questions can wait, questions like who else might be looking for her or why Isabeau was insisting on being involved in the search. First I need to know the basics. The facts.

I'm not sure if Isabeau was actually going to give me any of those facts, because at that moment a series of short bursts of gunfire can be heard from the bar, followed by screaming and shouting. I'm out of my seat and at the door in a flash, opening it just enough to get a good look at the chaos that is erupting in The Boot, people crouching under tables, huddling against walls, and a handful bolting for the doors only to pull up short as a small squadron of black clad soldiers floods in behind the leader who is standing in the center of the bar, her gun still pointing to the ceiling, a thin tendril of smoke curling upward from the barrel.

"Veren, Ty, Magnus, round everyone up. Check their id's," she says, motioning toward the patrons spread throughout the bar. "Fee, Michaels, clear the back."

"We've gotta go," I say over my shoulder to Isabeau as I ease the door shut and click the three heavy locks. "No offense intended, but something tells me that squadron of corporate security that just busted in might be looking for you, or your android and I don't really want to stick around to find out if I'm right." I don't wait for the mysterious brunette to offer a denial, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the back wall of the office. Tapping an indistinct spot near the top of the wall, a panel opens large enough to allow us to pass through. On the opposite side of the wall is a small hatch with a ladder descending into the dark below.

"This will take us under the neighboring building. I've got transport waiting there," I explain even as I glance back at the office, wondering if maybe I should play this differently. No reason I have to be burned. I could just walk out of the office and offer richie rich up to the soldiers. No reason I need to tie myself to her. And honestly, if I hadn't seen who was leading the squadron of door busters, maybe I wouldn't be saving Isabeau's sweet little ass, but I did. I haven't seen her in years, but I know Rose. And I know that she isn't the same girl she was when I knew her. Now she's one of the most notorious Mercs around, and by all accounts, the most bloodthirsty. Which means if I do give the Uptowner to her, the blood would be on my hands.

Decision made, I lead Isabeau down into the tunnel and through the dark to the narrow set of steps that lead us up to an alley on the eastern side. As we clear the door at the end of the tunnel I jam a bar down and twist the thick piece of metal into a knot just in case Rose and her companions find my little escape hatch. With a glance at Isabeau to make sure she is holding up, I pull a forest green tarp off the cycle I keep here for emergencies. It's not much to look at, but it will get us out of here.

I hop on and fire the engine up, keeping the headlights off. No reason to attract more attention than necessary. "You coming with me?" I ask as I reach out a hand to the brunette.