"Whoa, it's packed in here tonight," Timoth said, grinning as he peered down from the mezzanine. The bass was thumping so hard that the floor beneath him shook, almost like someone cranked the volume up just to see how many eardrums they could rattle.
The ambience was electric, thanks to the glossy metallic walls and neon strips pulsing in sync with the music. Cozy booths were scattered throughout Hexoset, housing a mix of Normies and Peculiars hanging around in their own little cliques.
Their glances at one another, like an explosion of colours, were saturated with various emotions - some anxious, others uneasy. There was disgust. Even hate. Only a handful seemed to be truly enjoying the night, though deliberately ignoring the tension around them.
On the second floor, you had introverts lounging in hammocks hung between the beams, sipping on red drinks. Strobe lights shot out vibrant colours across the dance floor where people swayed, totally lost in the rhythm.
Meanwhile, the DJ, a cephalopod Peculiar, stood on a platform, spinning records with his tentacles while bobbing his head. Behind him, a long screen displayed a swirling nebula that morphed with every beat.
As Timoth took it all in, Ratelsi sidled up next to him, surprised by the calmness radiating from him. It was almost like the trouble that brought them to the club didn't faze him at all. Somehow, she envied him for that. Surprisingly, nothing strange or terrifying had happened so far. But as she was driven by a need to stay informed, Broco's secrecy about the delivery and who the clients were left her feeling uneasy.
The issue needed immediate resolution, meaning there was no time to dawdle.
Ratelsi bit back her anxiety as she pinched her lip between her fingers. Just then, on the dance floor, a couple of ladies began to make out, tongues and all.
Hands roamed lower, disappearing beneath skirts.
Not used to such open display of affection, Timoth quickly looked away. But not before he caught sight of a curvy woman in leather playfully biting her partner's neck. Ratelsi didn't miss his reaction to them, nor the faint blush dusting his freckled cheeks.
On the other hand, she was all about the atmosphere.
The steady untz-untz-untz burrowed its way into her skull, working its way through her feet up to her chest, demanding movement. She felt pumped to do just that, to dance, to let loose, but the reality of their mission begged her focus.
She turned to Timoth, shouting, "We need a plan!"
But her smoky voice barely made it through the heavy bass, and Timoth, obviously clueless about what she said, just nodded in response. With a snort, Ratelsi grabbed his arm and yanked him toward a corner.
Letting himself be pulled along, Timoth's feet dragged on the tiled floor as his lips curved into a smirk, "Feelin' a bit aggressive tonight, huh?" he joked, resting his fingers where her pulse beat wildly beneath her skin.
"Man, you're so tense."
Ratelsi released his arm and rolled her eyes.
"Shut up, listen," she said, closing the gap between them, and he instinctively leaned in toward her.
Standing on her toes, Ratelsi brushed her cheek against Timoth's so her lips would reach his ear, "We can't just loiter here like gawkers," she whispered. "We should be scoping out the venue before heading to Vesir and figure out who's in the play with Broco."
With some effort, Timoth struggled to keep the smirk on his face. But that proved useless under the determined gaze from beneath her eyelashes as confusion lit up his sky-blue eyes. Was that what was making her so antsy? Given how smoothly things had gone so far, was she really worried about something going sideways?
He thought about it. Of course, she was. That was the smart thing to think!
The bigger question was… why wasn't he?
Feeling a sudden change in perspective, Timoth replied, now serious. "Fair point. But how are we s'pposed to pull that off?"
Ratelsi stepped back, gesturing toward Snigel at the entrance. "That bear said something about Broco's guests," she folded her arms, "that they're important. What does that tell you?"
"Means they're high rollers with money to burn?" Timoth said as the gears in his mind started to turn.
"Bang!" she exclaimed, shooting him a finger gun.
Tapping his smooth chin, Timoth thought for a moment. "Mhm, when Broco called me for this gig, he was all hyped about some gifts comin' in. But when I asked for details, he clammed up. I figured, whatever - wasn't worth pesterin' him for answers."
"See what I mean? The bastard's deliberately keeping us in the dark, and it's seriously driving me nuts. That's why we need to dig a little! Someone must've noticed when those big shots showed up."
Running his fingers through his tousled curls, Timoth looked down at the lively crowd. Some strands fell over his forehead, adding to his boyish charm. "You really think these folks are just gonna tell us what we wanna know because we asked nicely?"
She shrugged, palms up, as if to say, "Why not?"
His chuckle was velvety soft. "Yeah, I wouldn't bet on it…"
Ratelsi squinted, smiling slightly. She'd been expecting that reaction and already had a response. A languid thrill ran down her arms, raising goosebumps on her brown skin as she said, "We're not gonna ask them. We're gonna give them a reason to chat," while following his gaze with keen, calculating eyes until something caught her attention.
A long counter aglow with vivid hues.
There, a lanky Peculiar was pouring crimson liquid into long, skinny glasses.
Ratelsi pointed a taloned finger at him. "There. See the dude in Khakis? If anyone's clued in on what goes on here, it's him."
"Oh?" Timoth leaned against the wall, and though his lips pressed into a doubtful line, one foot started tapping unconsciously, revealing his curiosity. "And how do you know that?"
"Just a hunch," Ratelsi said with a wink.
He nodded his head slightly. "Okaaay, so you're just gonna go talk to him?"
"Uh-huh, while you keep an eye on the crowd. Think you can handle that, pretty boy?" Timoth's shoulders gave a little shake as he let out a bemused laugh. "I think I can manage just fine, just don't take too long. We're kinda short on time."
"No need to worry, I'm a quick study," Ratelsi waved, already striding down the mezzanine. Her long hair swayed around her shoulders, and her silver earrings imitated her gait. As he watched her go, Timoth let out a small sigh. This woman always came up with plans based on nothing but a gut feeling and the urge to take action.
It drove him crazy, but he couldn't help but admit she usually ended up being spot on.
Shifting his attention to the main floor, Timoth glanced around, looking for anyone who seemed to have been hanging out here for a while. In the atrium, a game of darts was happening. People got in line, firing darts one after another, trying to hit the bullseye. The winners smoothly grabbed their quads from the table.
Blue eyes then landed on two Peculiars sitting in a booth nearby. Their barcodes were visible on their forearms as they laughed loudly over some light red shots. Timoth thought they might be a good place to start.
The stocky one had thick eyebrows with scales around his cheekbones, while the other, a fair woman, sported glowing spikes for hair. It was clear in their bleariness that they'd been drinking a while, and the liquor had loosened their tongues, which Timoth hoped to use to his advantage.
So, adjusting the bags on his shoulders, he sauntered over, muttering, "Grana Aresona Surgunt."
Brighter and brighter, his eyes glowed as a faint swirl of sand rose from the floor and wrapped around his wrist. It was a small precaution ready to turn into a weapon if needed.
Flashing a disarming grin, he leaned against the curve of the booth and said with a playful lilt. "Mind if I crash the fun, or is this a private giggle fest?"
The Peculiar with scales squinted at him through bleary eyes, trying to focus on the hazy figure in front of him. He leaned too far forward, nearly tipping over as he slurred to his companion, "Illu… You…hiccup…see him too…hiccup…right?"
The spike-haired Peculiar in a white vest gave a lopsided grin, sniffed loudly, then narrowed her unfocused eyes at the intruder. "Fucckkk… Khil…. ashh me 'gain… in… twooo sheconds…"
Khil burst out laughing, swaying as he turned to Timoth. "Oi, mate, you got some balls…hiccup…walkin' up here just…hiccup…like that. Have a…a seat, why don't ya? I'm…hiccup….Khil!" He enthusiastically patted the seat next to him. Dropping his bags under the table, Timoth slid into the booth, took the glass offered, but only pretended to sip it.
The heady scent of gin laced with Blyss hit his nostrils.
"Timoth," he introduced with a grin, dimples digging in his cheeks as he raised his glass. "To another night in this circus, eh?"
Meanwhile, Ratelsi made her way to the now-empty bar. Navigating through the crowd, she listened as the sounds around her faded in and out. An animorph accidentally knocked over a few drinks with his tail, but a staff member quickly cast a spell to save the bottles from crashing. "Frigus!" another Peculiar chanted, trying to cool down her cocktail by freezing it.
Barcodes flashed on arms, faces and any exposed skin around the club, while among the many Normies, some thought it fun to stick to the corners. They glanced around before talking, pretended to scroll on their HoloSmarts, or perched uneasily at the edge of their seats with their knees pressed together.
It sure as hell was comical to watch how hard they tried to hide their discomfort. Their awkwardness gave away just how out of place they felt among the others.
VR machines lined the walls, casting a greenish glow over the scene.
The atmosphere was deafening to the point where it was almost hard to catch conversations just a few feet away. Luckily, Ratelsi's heightened hearing helped her pick out bits and pieces.
"…. can't believe he doesn't use ZapChat. Like, at all."
"..…she just showed up with his hoodie on, like we wouldn't notice…"
"...cash only, no receipts, piece of cake…"
"...I laughed at everything they said, even the bad jokes.…"
Sigh. None of these was what she wanted to hear!
Ratelsi couldn't stand being in the dark, and that pushed her to figure out more before their inevitable meeting.
Was she scared? Not really.
This was just another annoying mess Broco had dragged them into. With no idea of his true intentions, she figured the least she could do was stay alert - for herself and for Timoth.
So, if anyone was going to notice when the clients rolled in, it was the bartender who always had eyes on the tips and ears open for the tea. Forget the guest list; he knew who really belonged here.
Dressed in a sleeveless zip-up vest and khaki shorts, the bartender with a buzz cut and light brown eyes occasionally glanced her way as she approached.
Ratelsi didn't even try to hide her satisfaction with that attention.
Undisguised delight illuminated her features as she flopped onto the barstool like she owned the place. She lazily shook out her gorgeous hair, flipping the dark strands back while casually tucking the white ones behind her ears, which were multiple-pierced.
"Take this over to table 24 and ask Marlin for another round of Blyss from the back, will ya?" The bartender turned to Ratelsi after the waitress left. "Yo, welcome!" he said without a smile.
"Mm, am I? I don't see no drinks," she smiled, resting her chin in her hand as she eyed his tired face. The barcode tattoo on his neck stood out against his fair skin, making his dark circles even more noticeable. He looked around her age or perhaps a year older.
His vest had a holographic tag that read "Qimmeq [KEE-mek]"
He managed to return her smile as he set a coaster down. "The welcome is on the house," he said, locking eyes with her for a moment before turning to a row of glasses. "The drinks, though, aren't. We've got Elixir tonight, so you can pick either a light or dark red one - that's all. No more options." Qimmeq said this with no excitement.
Ratelsi raised an eyebrow at his flat tone, amused but a tad sympathetic.
Poor guy must've had a rough shift. It was a shame society made Peculiars work for such little pay. Life would be easy for them if they weren't used to this habit.
Her vertical pupils gleamed, catching the neon lights from the multi-tiered bar where holographic labels floated above the glass bottles. Several people were seated around the bar, but they were either too drunk to eavesdrop or too engrossed in their own conversations.
"I'll have a Vacci. Add a twist of lemon, light on the Blyss. Stirred, of course." Ratelsi ordered warmly, hoping to come off as friendly.
"Yeah, sure," Qimmeq replied, barely interested, as he reached for a bottle of Vacci Tartlet and popped it open. He poured a stream of thick crimson liquid into her glass and squeezed in some lemon, then added a couple drops of Blyss from a vial.
The yellow drops instantly disappeared into the dark red.
"Scintillare", he muttered, snapping his fingers over the glass. Sparks shot out, showering for a moment before fading into patterns of smoke that circulated the rim like a crown. Qimmeq set the drink on the coaster and nudged it toward Ratelsi, who could hardly hide her excitement.
It looked totally like an Elixir!
"That'll be fifty Creds," he said coldly, making her freeze and frown just as she was about to grab it.
"Huh? Is that for the drink or the show?"
"For the drink, the show, and a little assurance that you can actually pay for it." He pointed at the smoky swirl. "That's not just garnish, y'know. It's part of the entertainment."
Unwilling to accept this, Ratelsi rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Pssh. Please. Seriously?"
Fifty Creds felt a bit much for a drink that wasn't even that fancy. But she was running low on wealth, so Ratelsi shrugged off her annoyance and said, "Just put it on Aqqa's tab." Qimmeq raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her spunk. He really looked at her, as though seeing her for the first time. "Uh, I didn't know you rolled with Broco's crew."
His voice suddenly betrayed a nervousness that wasn't there before. Sensing an opportunity, Ratelsi traced her finger along the glass rim, encouraging him to say more.
She took a sip, maintaining eye contact with Qimmeq as he straightened up into a somewhat respectful stance. He now saw her as someone with influence, or at least someone tied to a figure he couldn't afford to cross. That's how it always was; if you had connections with the infamous, suspicions were far easier to avoid. So, of course, he had questions... like what kind of connection a Peculiar like her had with Broco that allowed her to access his resources so casually.
For the sake of rapport, she decided to feed his curiosity.
"Well, you could say he's my…boss," Ratelsi said, shrugging lazily but spitting the last word with such venom that her eyes, resentful, glowed with fury. Qimmeq caught it but quickly brushed it aside, assuming she was just a frustrated Merc dealing with a boss who clearly got on her nerves.
He just typed in a few commands on the holographic screen to erase the price of her drink. Just like that, the vibe between them shifted from suspicious to oddly…trusting? Anyway, the more she spoke with him, the better. With fewer distractions, maybe she'd have time to carry out her discreet inquiries.
Ratelsi thought about how to get Qimmeq to open up without making him feel like he was being grilled for intel. If she came off too nosy, he might clam up, so she needed to be smooth about it.
"Have you-"
"Why are you-"
They both stopped short, taken aback by their overlapping interruptions. Then Qimmeq slapped his head, laughing. "You go ahead," he said.
"Ah, it's all good," Ratelsi waved it off.
Tilting his head, Qimmeq's lips curled in a half-grin, and he said, "Well, not tryna pry or shit, but you're hanging out here while your boss is up there with some clients. Why? Isn't that kind of against protocols or something?"
Ratelsi blinked. Huh, would you look at that?
And they say fortune doesn't favour the bold.
A slightly evil smile appeared at the corner of her lips. She was extremely pleased with this turn of events. Spinning a paper straw between her fingers, she then pointed it like a sword, speaking slowly to gauge his reaction. "Actually, I'm a runner, not his security. My partner and I are just here to drop something off."
Ratelsi plunged the straw into the drink, the ice clinking softly. "But go ahead, I'm all ears for whatever you've got to say."
She brought it to her lips, eyes narrowing in anticipation, and took a long, exaggerated slurp. A satisfied "ahh" followed as she smacked her lips and grinned.
"Right," Qimmeq said calmly. Though he spoke with an impish expression, she knew she'd aroused his interest. Clearly, he was no rookie at this. Being an informant was second nature for him, and he was aware she needed something only he had. Luckily for her, he genuinely enjoyed chatting about the latest gossip. Whether he was paid or not didn't really matter. Knowing he probably had info she could use was more than enough to keep him invested in the conversation.
Qimmeq began wiping the counter with a clean cloth.
"So, I was just clocking in, yeah?" he spoke, wiping slowly. "I noticed these two people with Broco heading to the elevator, with his crew tagging along. They seemed pretty chatty, like old friends. But they're definitely not the usual posse Broco hangs with."
At the mention of that little detail, Ratelsi's eyebrow spontaneously shot up. Her casual facade almost slipped away as she flashed a victorious smirk, showing off her canines. "What's up with that?" she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
Clearly enjoying the moment, Qimmeq took a dramatic pause and leaned in.
"I mean, y'know Broco's type - loud, big egos, all bling and shit. But these guys were younger, more posh, totally different vibe. But the one dude had these unusual tattoos on his neck with bright purple eyes. Not the kinda stuff you'd typically overlook."
Ratelsi furrowed her forehead. She unconsciously turned to glance towards Timoth, who was still chatting away with the Peculiars by the atrium. Khil had his arm around Timoth's shoulder like they were old pals. She was about to frown when her partner caught her eye, grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Then he returned to his conversation.
Ratelsi shifted her focus back to Qimmeq, who was now inspecting a glass like he was searching for fingerprints. Her patience was wearing thin, obvious by her talons drumming impatiently on the counter. Time was ticking. Broco was expecting them, Vesir could show up at any minute, and this guy….
"But his girl?" Qimmeq continued talking. "Man, she was turning heads all around…" He trailed off, probably struggling to find the right words to describe how stunning this lady was. "You could just tell she was someone special…"
Putting everything together, Ratelsi mumbled, "Tattooed guy and a knockout chick," concluding that these clients could be some affluent Peculiars. "Got any names? Maybe one goes by EXON?"
Finally, Qimmeq put the glass down, looking thoughtful. "Definitely a unique name. But nah, I've got zilch. I just spotted them from afar, that's all."
With feigned disappointment, Ratelsi said, "Aw, Qimmeq. You're gonna bail on me right when things are getting interesting?"
Naturally, he was quick to pick up on it. She could tell because the poor guy began to rub his temples, trying to squeeze more details out of his skull. A mischievous glint danced on her face. Wasn't it wild how the need for validation could make a person drop their pride just so they can prove their worth? All they needed to do was trade their pride for performance, hoping others would value them.
Half-lidded amber eyes narrowed in amusement at his predictable behaviour. Ratelsi found his eagerness to impress kind of entertaining, which only boosted her sense of superiority in the conversation.
"Ugh, I got zilch fr!" he sighed with mild frustration, but it quickly disappeared as a knowing smirk returned. "Be real with me… They're not just here to party, are they?"
Heh..If only you knew what kind of shenanigans these douches were really here for..You'd probably shit your pants if you knew what I had with me right now. While she'd love to see that, Ratelsi skillfully avoided a direct answer, saying, "Can't help you there, dude. That kind of info's waay beyond my paycheck. You know how this shit goes - I'm not looped on the classified stuff."
Qimmeq let out a sarcastic chuckle, making it clear he wasn't buying her fib but wasn't interested in digging deeper. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. I get it."
Feeling pleased, Ratelsi pushed her empty glass aside as she stood up. "You're super easy to talk to; I didn't even notice how long we've been at it." She grabbed a cherry off a fruit bowl, tossing it into her mouth. "This was fun. But, uh, I've got to take off now…" She waved quickly without waiting for a reply and left, leaving a somewhat flattered Qimmeq blinking in surprise.
Perfect! Absolutely Perfect!
That whole double Creds thing was legit. She had every reason to believe she'd done the right thing, and the excitement almost drowned out her worries about the incriminating stuff she had tucked away in her. To reassure herself, Ratelsi ran her fingers over the bulging bottom of her pocket.
Everything was going smoothly, that is, until she felt a looming presence by the VR machines. She paused, alert, as her senses sharpened. It reeked of…bloodlust. A desire she knew all too well and could recognize even in her sleep. Ratelsi grinned like a predator, her pupils stretching into thinner ovals as if she'd caught the scent of prey.
She turned around. By the elevator where they should've been standing was Vesir. Wiry, bald and dark-skinned, her milky eyes were obscured by sunglasses, but Ratelsi recognized the dusty, worn leather coat over a black vest and combat pants. Vesir looked every bit the Merc, with her dual-bladed tonfas sitting comfortably beneath the folds of her coat.
A repulsive look crept onto Vesir's face as Ratelsi reached for her HoloSmart. Ignoring the obvious threat behind that look, she quickly texted Timoth: Got the info we need. Make for the VRMs. Vesir's watching, so play it cool.
Just then, Timoth's HoloSmart buzzed on his wrist, interrupting his chat with Khil and Illu. "Hang on a sec," he said with a laugh as he turned away from the group. Once he read Ratelsi's message, he instinctively glanced in her direction.
She nodded at their waiting escort, signalling him that it was time to move.
Suddenly feeling anxious, Timoth hesitated with his thumb over the reply button but gathered himself and typed: Stay put. I'm on my way. He then fist-bumped the intoxicated Peculiars, who were a bit reluctant to see him leave, before smoothly slipping away.
Holding the bags, Timoth strolled across the main floor toward the VR machines where Ratelsi was waiting. He stopped next to her, saying, "Seems like Broco's brought in a couple of newcomers today, and I think I made a few friends too."
His words about his new "friends" seemed a bit too eager for Ratelsi, so she shot him a fierce look that made him shiver. Her darkened expression said more than his words ever could. Still, a crooked grin broke out on his face as he teased, "What? Jealous?"
"Oh, please, you thinking I'm jealous is adorable."
"You were totally glarin' at me."
"Was not."
"Mm-hmm, sure…"
Ratelsi rolled her eyes but mirrored his smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Anyway, looks like Qim was right."
"Qim?"
"Yeah, buzz cut and khakis over there by the bar."
"Oh, got it."
"So, turns out we're really getting double the pay. And based on the gist, we're working with some high-profile Peculiars, possibly from Balun," she said, glancing at Qimmeq, who was too busy making drinks to notice her.
An intrigued "oh" escaped Timoth's lips as his eyes widened with interest. "So even the elite among rags make appearances, huh? Haven't seen one in ages," he remarked.
"Right?" Ratelsi chuckled, nudging his side. "Alright, c'mon, let's bounce."
They quickly did their special handshake before heading toward the elevator.