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Culper
Topic Started: Jan 28 2013, 11:26 PM (90 Views)
RecAgenda
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The boss.
The strobe lights of the Rossplain district's famous Atlas Night Club flashed in an exotic array of colors, providing a hypnotic sensation, when coupled with the beat and rhythm of a hit Skrillex song, to Robert as he made his way up to the second floor balcony that overlooked the crowded and sweaty dance floor below. It took some shoving and several pardons, but he finally managed to force his way to the entrance of the the VIP section, carefully guarded by heavy-set bouncers in black uniforms with the strong-man logo of Atlas stitched over the right of their chest. Sunglasses hid their eyes, reflecting the neon lighting of the club's atmosphere. One bouncer stood on each side of the small archway; with one leaning back against the wall, and the other standing tall with arms crossed over his bulky pecs, flexing his muscles in order to intimidate anyone that dared to approach - such as Robert.

With a bit of hesitation, Robert dove his hand into his jean pocket and retrieved his VIP card, flashing it to the bouncer that had been staring him down through the sunglasses. The bald headed brute gave it a quick glance before nodding his head toward the door, allowing scrawny Robert to pass on through like a cat under the hungry gaze of a canine.

Once inside the VIP area, Robert felt more at ease. There were far fewer bodies where he now was, which means less body brushing and more room to escape if he became suddenly claustrophobic. Looking ahead, he saw the booth that he was expected at, along the man doing the expecting. Two women sat on either side of him, caressing is legs and hair as he leaned back against the leather recline of the booth, enjoying the ecstasy of the drugs strung out along the low coffee table that sat in the middle of the wrap-around booth. There was another figure, a shorter male, sitting in the corner and keeping to the shadows. This stranger had chosen to dress in a three thousand credit suit and hide his face below the brim of a black fedora. An odd choice of fashion for such a relaxed night club. But Robert paid him no mind, as he was more than likely another accompanying friend of the drugged imbecile that Robert had come to meet.

Bradley Shell brought his head up from resting against the back of the sofa and shook off the drugs as best as he could in order to stare straight into Robert's eyes. He was very young; hardly over twenty, by the look of the pretty face and soft jaw line. The man had dark lines under his eyes, but it was obvious he was enjoying himself with the large grin stamped on his face. He was wearing stark white slacks and an cyan silk shirt completely unbuttoned to reveal a sweaty chest, prickled with light hairs. His blond head was a mangled mess from the whores that had been stringing their fingers through it, and Robert wasn't exactly sure where the man's shoes had made off to. He began to doubt if this Bradley person was the man he needed for the job.

"Shell?!" Robert asked with a raised voice so the man could hear him over the drum and bass of the club music. "Bradley Shell?!"

The man raised a hand and squinted his eyes. "Whoa, dude," he replied, "careful with the names, okay?"

Robert rolled his eyes. "Fine. Phoenix-eight, then?" It was childish, but if the man insisted that Robert address him by an online pseudonym, then he would do so. If this... Phoenix-eight guy was as good as he claimed to be, Robert needed him.

Shell nodded his head. "Yeah, that's me, man. I understand you need a backdoor into the 'Big M', right? If so, I'm the only guy that can do that." The man adjusted himself in the seat so he could lean forward and retrieve one of the many vials of strange liquid on the coffee table. Robert recognized the thin, cylindrical tubes as thellum vials. Thellum was a popular street drug, fresh out of the kitchen. All one needed was a method of injecting the vial's contents into the bloodstream for an instant high. Robert wasn't sure how exactly the drug worked, but it was like liquid weed. Thellum ins't illegal in Safe Haven, so anyone can easily get their hands on it; though doctors have been warning against acquiring the drug from unlicensed distributors due to the high risks of contamination.

"So its true, then?" Robert asked as Shell punch a syringe into the cap of a vial, drawing in pink liquid. "You have the hacking skills to shut down Madison Tower's security protocols?"

Shell paused for a moment, letting the liquid in the syringe come to a halt. The women on either side of him sensed a change in his attitude and carefully separated themselves from his arms. In a solemn tone, barely audible over the club's music, he said, "You have no idea what subtlety means, do you, pal?" He set down the drug and needle and looked back up at Robert, no longer wearing that idiotic smile he had on earlier. "You can't just walk around here spouting off shit like that. You'll get us both arrested within a split-fucking-second! Yes, I can do what you need me to do; but I'll only do it if you can learn to keep your mouth shut. Get it?"

"I understand," Robert replied, clinching his fists out of slight irritation. What a child, he thought. I hope he's worth my time and money.

Shell reached into his pocket and took out a crumpled piece of paper, tossing it onto the coffee table with the drugs. "When I've set everything up, I'll let you know by sending a message to your Courier. There's the account number you can transfer my fee to. Try not to lose it."

Knowing fully well that that was his queue to leave, Robert swiped up the scrap of paper and turned to leave. He walked with a quickened pace, sensing that Shell was watching him every step of the way until he made it out past the VIP door and back out onto the main balcony. Every thought there after was of one concern: This kid better know what he's doing.
Edited by RecAgenda, Jan 29 2013, 12:30 AM.
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