Rennin watches as the last of the signal dies out completely and he sighs deeply. Now or never.
The club is called Starsprite and is a well-known alternative event, meant to be one of the most sought after spots to be in the Raddocks Horizon nightlife. Rennin thinks back to Prototype’s appearance and Starsprite would be the perfect camouflage for an androgynous black clad skin job.
He walks up to the front doors where there is a small line. Rennin can’t afford to wait in the queue, so he decides to go straight for the door knowing it will raise his profile but better that than lose Prototype altogether.
Upon reaching the VIP-only entrance he’s confronted by two bouncers that put Rennin’s powerful form to shame. One of them holds up his hand and speaks in an obviously put on deep voice that makes Rennin want to sigh and roll his eyes. “Hold up, pilgrim, you on the list?”
Rennin feels a terrible heat rise inside him that is merely the result of the anxiety he feels. He wants to kill this man. “No.”
“Back of the line, pal,” says the other and Rennin decides to differentiate them with the call sign B1 and B2 since these meatheads look like twins. Rennin holds regard for them at the same level as a banana.
“I’d rather go straight in, it would make me happy.”
B1 leans towards him, “Are we going to have a problem?”
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that. Rennin isn’t intimidated but he doesn’t want to give his name or show his Godyssey ID in case the Prototype somehow gets wind of it. Either way, Rennin has to handle this mess quickly. The people in the line are starting to pay too much attention. He leans in to the bouncer making a show of hands that he’s not going to try anything and whispers, “I have a delivery on me, okay?”
B1 looks at him hard, “Can I see it?”
“Okay I’ll rephrase. I have a delivery in me, get me?”
B1 nods, “Alright,” and signals B2 to let him through.
Rennin steps up to the doorway and can see a haze that makes him shudder. A nano-field designed for sound dampening envelops him as he passes. He breaks out in a sea of goosebumps feeling the insides of his ears tingle. His eyes also itch but after a moment the sensation ends and the music blares to life all about him.
The nano-field was originally developed to aid against noise pollution during the night hours but in the last decade they developed another system underneath the floor. Below Rennin there is a mechanism that’s rigged with a sonar-like plate where the music is sent out silently by resonating through the floor and into the people’s bodies where the inner ear absorbs the vibrations that gives the impression of blaring music. The nano-dampening field is to stop the resonating sound from spilling into the streets.
Rennin keeps his hood up while he climbs the stairs, feeling the music get louder and louder. The staircase is flanked on the left by a blood red water feature protected by a pane of glass that covers the whole wall. The staircase and the entire stairwell itself is painted black with posters of various local artists all over the place.
He arrives in the main area that is more jam-packed than a sardine tin. The music is so loud he feels the need to squint his eyes as if it’ll help. Rennin is wearing a belt that Caufmann designed that emits a perfectly calibrated counter signal, which completely silences the music, so he engages it. The music drops out totally, reducing the only sounds to people shouting at the bartenders or each other, clanking drinks, and the shuffling of people dancing. For a moment Rennin is mesmerised by how idiotic these twits look dancing in apparent silence.
Men and women, boys and girls, are everywhere and all over each other with some requiring a close look to designate their gender. A lot of them could be Prototype at first glance but Rennin is sure he would know the android when he sees it. This is the perfect place for Prototype to hide.
Rennin notices a blonde woman standing at the bar and despite her makeup he recognises her from one of the Raddocks Horizon primary schools, a nurse if he remembers correctly. She came to the lab complaining there weren’t enough flu shots in their shipment only a few days earlier.
She is staring at someone in the far corner of the club, with very little subtlety. Following her gaze he sees the figure in the corner, illuminated briefly by the flickering strobe lights.
Rennin’s left hand twitches as he instantly recognises Prototype crouched on a seating area elevated from the dance floor in the back corner. The android isn’t looking at him, but rather glaring back at the blonde at the bar and in the flashes of strobe light Rennin can see the soulless silvery metallic eyes even from across the room.
The android breaks eye contact to begin scanning across the crowd. Rennin makes the bar his focus and sees the flaxen-haired woman make a slightly frustrated pout before taking a swig from her drink.
The bar top is solid wood stained red and varnished. Like the rest of the place, it looks like a cross between an industrial factory and the bleeding décor of the entry stairwell.
Once he’s gotten himself a drink he takes up position next to the vexed blonde. He stands to the left of her so as to keep her between him and the android. Feeling a little more confident with his hood and glasses camouflage, he leans on his elbow to face her and decides to speak. “I don’t think he’s interested.”
She doesn’t even acknowledge that he said anything, she remains with her back to the bar, hand curled around her glass, one leg straight and the other crooked. Rennin notices she’s wearing a skirt that’s little more than a belt. Thighs that could crack your ribs.
The watchman realises that the music, which he can’t hear due to his belt’s interference, must still be blaring and she would never have heard what he said. He disengages the dampener and music instantly thunders in his ears making him jump, spilling a little of his drink.
He nudges her gaining a look from her bright green eyes that are venting hostility. “I don’t think he’s interested,” he cries over the music.
She huffs slightly as if scoffing, “I suppose you are?”
Rennin is off-guard already. Exactly what is he doing talking to this woman? “If it makes you more comfortable, I lost my nuts in the war.” Completely untrue, he reminds himself as if his reproductive system will be offended. But whatever keeps her talking, so he doesn’t have to, will be said. No exceptions.
Both her eyebrows disappear behind her fringe. “Well that’s one I haven’t heard.”
“It’s not exactly the best pick up line, I admit.”
“If someone doesn’t want sex, it’s perfect.”
“What are you trying to get that thing’s attention for, anyway? Don’t you think he looks NQR?”
“Not Quite Right?” she laughs. “Who here does? Even you look like a freak,” she taps his jacket where one of the plates is bulging slightly. “Is that Kevlar?”
Rennin’s mind stalls again, “Yeah, I have a bike. Safety first.”
She smirks and leans closer to him, “Another thing not to do when picking up is being cautious.”
He nods, “Check.”
“You look very devil-may-care, though,” she says, slurring slightly.
“Have you seen that guy here much?”
“Almost every week. He never talks to anyone.”
Rennin takes a mock closer look, “How can you tell it’s a he?”
“Leave him alone, he’s absolutely unique and I find him beautiful.”
She’s going to eat those words if she finds out what it is. “You like different looking people?”
“Unique looking, yes. You have a name, dingus?”
“Rennin,” he says holding out his hand.