Chapter 7:

Tapes And Costumes

NekoPunk


Derek provided access to the server room, where the security equipment was located, and John was ready to have a field day. He wasn’t about to let some PI run rampant and joined him, along with Nile and a few of the private security guards he hired for occasions like this. Nile was giddy at the prospect of this “mystery”; he leaned over Derek’s shoulder as Skeeter’s owner brought up the footage from that night.

John had accessed server rooms before, but Skeeters was something…interesting. A mess of wires, cables, cords, and monitors all fed into an oversized black box that hummed with the subtlety of a car engine. Everything was packed into this singular room, feeding off Yorktown’s central power network. It was these types of systems, poorly optimized and overtaxed, that men like Nile loved. They were easy to hack and hold a business hostage. Extortion became a game of financial blackmail and was no longer exclusive to major corporations.

In the corner of the server room, a series of four monitors and a T300-Servo Security unit had been installed with little love. Servo units were common enough, providing an automated security system that no longer relied on the “human element”. John ran his hand over the pod-like unit, bearing a head similar to a man stuck in an egg sack. A singular red eye glowed and indicated the machine was active and watching. It was said that Servo units came from the factory in pristine condition and would develop ticks or “personalities” based upon the work they did. Without the Servo series, technology wouldn’t be where it was after the war. For a machine designed to mimic only the duties of a living, breathing person, they were eternally trapped in this room, set to monitor a series of screens until they broke down and were replaced.

“I don’t know how any of this works,” Derek admitted, “I got a guy, but he’s not here tonight.”

“The Servo bot can do whatever you need,” Nile said, “Your ‘guy’ is ripping you off.”

Nile was mostly correct. The Servo series was self-sufficient. If it went, it was time to get a new one. John said, “Can you supply the date and time of the show?”

“June 5th, starts at about 7:55,” Derek said.

“Do you know the exact time Amber started?”

Derek growled, “I don’t even know her fucking name. How would I know that?”

“Fair enough…” John grabbed the photo from his pocket and held it up to the red eye of the Servo unit. A thin beam shot out from the eye and scanned the photo, running over it multiple times. “Servo, can you find this girl for us? She’d be on stage. Not sure the time though.”

The Servo stayed silent as it processed the request. After a moment, a very digitized voice spoke, “Amber Vallis arrived on location at 6:45. Went to the changing room at 7. Waited approximately 2 and a half hours for performance. Went on stage at 9:30 and forty-two seconds. Performed for 32 minutes. Took a 15-minute break. Performed with two others for 22 minutes. Left stage at 10:39. Returned to changing room at-”

“Thank you, Servo, that’s more than enough,” John cut it off, “Can you show me the footage from before the show began at 7. I want to see both the club floor and the street outside.”

The Servo gave an affirmative chime; the four monitors illuminated and began cycling through grainy camera footage. Even with the poor light, the Servo would be able to point things out that John couldn't see with his eyes.

The camera footage of the club floor, before the concert, flashed on the main monitor. To the left, the footage from outside the club played. “Servo, we’re looking for any off or suspicious activity. Maybe someone dressed oddly like in all black. Wearing a mask too.”

“My workers wouldn’t have allowed anyone like that in,” Derek said, “We don’t let creeps in.”

“Even still, it’s good to check in case he knew someone on the inside,” John explained, “Double check any employee entrances too.” With another confirmation, Servo displayed a secondary entrance on the third monitor. With the earlier time, he could see several of the girls, all Nekos, arrive.

“For being a club that’s humans only, you seem to like hiring Nekos.”

Derek sneered, “Girls are girls. Throw some ears on them, and the big payers come out. Makes no difference to me.”

“Servo does not detect any suspicious activity.”

John clicked his tongue. “Well, at least he can dress normally. Fast forward to Amber’s performance.” On command, the camera footage rocketed to right before Amber was set to come on stage.

“Would you like to display the changing room on monitor four?” The Servo asked.

“Right now, I’m good,” John replied, tossing a glance back to Derek, “Cameras in the women’s changing room?”

“Security purpose.”

John found that hard to believe, and as much as he wanted to call it out, it wouldn’t get him anywhere. No, it might get him tossed out. “Servo, I’m more interested in the club floor. As many angles as you can give me.”

“There are three cameras.”

“Then three is what we get.” The Servo unit shifted per John’s command, giving him a view of the club floor from multiple angles. It wasn’t fantastic; the lack of coverage assured men like Nile could keep some anonymity. It would be difficult if their suspect knew this and could sit in those spots. Still, John kept his eyes peeled on the footage. Amber mentioned he had sat in the back, as she started singing, which John admitted was quite good, he kept a close watch on the back tables.

“Ah, I remember that girl,” Nile said, “She was quite a little cutie. Good voice too.”

“You were there?” John asked, wondering what game Nile was playing in all this.

“VIP my friend.” Nile grinned. “Sorry, but I don’t know anything about this shadow man of yours unless he was sitting on the balcony.”

John ignored Nile’s almost taunting attitude and returned to the footage. It ran through once, and he asked the Servo to replay it. Nothing looked… out of the ordinary. Skeeters’ clients were dressed well enough with none of them standing out. After the second go around, John was scratching his head.

“Sir, there is a bit of an anomaly from camera three,” the Servo unit responded once it finished for the third time, “Difficult to notice, but I have accessed a separate set of footage.” On the final, blank monitor, another feed popped up, showing the entrance hall. A man in a very fine suit walked from Skeeter’s entrance to the club floor, five minutes before Amber’s performance. None of the cameras focused on the entrance, and John hadn’t considered he would arrive late.

“Can you give me an angle on this guy?”

The Servo responded, “Camera two will provide the best feed.” John leaned in as camera two’s feed played on the main monitor. The Servo unit stopped it and plastered a red circle over the grainy footage, right on one of the back tables. “The man placed himself here.”

“That’s the back…” John said, “I can’t see anything.”

“There is one other man with him,” Servo said.

“Who?”

“Processing…” The unit began clicking and beeping. “The other man is Brock Hammer.”

“Brock Hammer?” Derek shouted, “You have to be wrong, you stupid machine.”

“Negative. Servo is not wrong.”

John turned to Derek. “You know him?”

“He plans the events… all dealing with Nekos. Sets the times, hires the talent, gets the place decorated. Hell, the guy even rents the costumes.”

“Oooh, the plot thickens it seems,” Nile said with the giddiness of a child. Derek despised the mocking attitude, but it was Nile. He wouldn’t dare say anything.

John asked the Servo unit, “Can you make out what they are saying?”

“Negative. Too much noise interference.”

“That’s fine. I’ll ask him. Do they do anything else together?” The Servo fired through the footage, making way to the end of the concert. Never once did suspect or this Brock leave their table until the performances ended. They milled around for a moment before getting up together and entering a service entrance at the side of the club floor.

The Servo swapped between cameras, following the two down some steps, towards the women’s changing room. The girls had mostly left at this point, besides one, who was just finishing up. She left right as the two made their way in, almost as if they were waiting. In the changing room, they spoke for a second, checking the door once or twice before Brock pulled open the costume closet and rifled through what was there. Sure enough, he yanked out a schoolgirl outfit.

John shot up from his seat and confronted Derek, nearly pulling him out of his chair. “Where is this guy? I want to question him.”

Derek pushed John off him. “You’re not the police. Brock’s one of my best. I’m not giving him up to you on a hunch.”

“You're right. I’m no police,” John said before changing his tone to be far more threatening, “I guess I’d hate for the real police to hear about the cameras in the changing room. Think that may cause an issue or two?”

“They're a bunch of Nekos. The cops won’t care.”

John looked past Derek to Nile. “That true, Mr. VIP? They always Nekos?” Nile simply grinned with those shark teeth and began laughing, giving John what he needed. “Sounds like the police might care now…”

“Fine… He’s in the front office. Working on the next show.”

“Appreciate the time, Mr. Greyhound,” John said, “I think I’ll go pay him a visit.” John went to the door, only to sense Derek hot on his tail. “Alone, if you don’t mind…” Derek simply grumbled and stepped away as John went to find this Brock fellow.

As Derek said, Brock Hammer was sitting in the offices just off the lobby. He looked to be in his mid-twenties with one of those college, rich boy vibes. His swooped back hair and chiseled face smelled of cosmetic surgery, something that had become quite common in the Uppercity amongst recently graduated crowds. He leaned over a desk, mulling over what looked like pictures. He didn’t even look up as John approached.

They were photos from the concert. “Next show’s gonna be lit, man. Thinking about bringing some of these gals back. What do you think?”

“I think that I’m not your boss.” Brock nearly jumped from his chair when he saw it was John, not Derek, standing over him. With one hand in his pocket, John reached out for a handshake. “Names John Darcy. I’m PI on an investigation for one of these girls. Hoping you could answer some questions for me.”

Brock’s palms were sweat drenched. “Brock Hammer. Hey man, not sure what you need, but we’re legit here. All these girls signed contracts. I can get em’ for you if you want.”

“Not really about the show itself, but about someone at the show,” John explained, “See, my client’s been getting harassed, starting right after your little Neko show. I was hoping maybe you saw something or could, you know, answer a couple questions.”

“The Servo be better for that,” Brock fired right back, “Things got eyes everywhere, man. I wasn’t at the show.”

“I see,” John said, “Well, that is disappointing. Now, have you noticed any costumes gone missing? Anything like that?”

“We rent those. All of em’ were returned.”

John took a seat at the end of the desk, crossing his legs and staring down at the photos. Amber was not amongst them, but it looked as if Brock had chosen r three other girls. “These girls were the best?”

“Oh yeah. Really fire, these ones,” he said. He passed John one of the photos. The Neko looked just over 18 and was wearing an incredibly short dress. In this specific shot, it lifted as she swayed her hips, leaving little to the imagination of what she wore underneath. “That one right there, man. She’s the one.”

“Yeah? You got a thing for her?”

“Straight fire, man,” Brock grinned, “You like Nekos?”

John softly smiled. “Oh yeah. Nekos are… great. Real sexy. I like, uh, their kind of submissive, you know. Do what you say. Won’t complain.”

Brock slapped his arm. “This guy knows what's up!” John hated kids… but he loved that they were stupid enough to sing like canaries. “I gotta a guy who gave me the names of these girls. Assures me I can meet her, man. A little one on one time, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I need a guy like that,” John replied, “It’s hard for us men. Women are tough. Nekos tougher. Really need someone to push the issue, give us guys the edge we deserve.”

“Someone gets it.” Brock was all sorts of giddy, talking like this was one of his fraternity brothers back in school. Back when he could get away with this shit. “If you come back for the next show in two weeks, I can introduce you.”

“What’s he charge?”

“Guys a bit of an oddball,” Brock said, “He was real into one of the Nekos himself. I offered him a bit of extra cash, but all he wanted was something from the girl… besides, you know, the standard fee.”

“What’s that?”

“Eh, just what she was wearing,” Brock said.

“So a costume. I thought you said you returned them all.”

Brock’s lie did little to weigh on his mind. “I paid the ‘lost or damage’ fee. Worth it for girls like these!”

“Got another question for you then.” John slipped out the strange photo with the symbol. He flashed it to Brock and asked if he had seen it before. The young man studied it but ultimately shrugged his shoulders.

“Never seen it before…” he muttered, “Why?”

Ok… time to drop the niceties… John darted from his spot, grabbing onto the collar of Brock’s shirt. He spun him around and slammed him against the desk. The young man fought to not piss himself in fear as John held him down, shaking him a couple times to add to the effect. John could feel Brock quivering in his arms as he reduced this sniveling idiot to nothing but a scared child.

John didn’t care. “You like being a fucking dolt? I already looked through the Servo footage. Saw you talking to this guy of yours, giving out the outfit. You always lie and immediately screw yourself.”

“What are you talking about, man?”

John shook him again, “Stop playing cute. What’s his name? What’s his MO? Fuckers been stalking one of these girls, and I mean to put a stop to it.”

“He’s just a guy I met when trying to find girls,” Brock pleaded, “Honest… Dude connected with me when I put an ad out.”

“Great! A name please.”

“It’s Addler; I don’t know his first name…”

“Got a number?”

“Yeah, but no guarantee it still works. Pretty sure it's a burner.”

John released him, grabbed a slip of paper and a pen, and jammed them into Brock’s hands. “I’ll take it anyways. No bull shitting either cause if I get some pizza place or other BS, I’ll be back.”

“No way, man.” Brock quickly wrote down the number and handed it to John. It seemed standard enough despite the District code being 000, signaling the phone was not linked to a specific area. It was either an incredibly high-end portable unit or a burner like Brock suggested

John asked, “Did you set up a time to meet this guy again?” Brock turned his head and bit down on his lip. John slammed his hand on the desk. “Well?”

“Two days… Some local bar in District 1…”

“Which bar?”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, are you? I can have you arres-”

Another slam. “Keep talking like that, and I just might.”

“It’s unmarked, dude. Over on Fourth Avenue though. We meet there.”

John pulled back and straightened himself out. He tucked the phone number into his pockets and shook out the hand he smacked against the desk. Slamming it twice left some swelling, and the pain radiated into his wrist. That was… a very bad idea. Least he was in better shape than Brock. A wet spot formed in the crotch of his pants.

John growled at him. “Word of advice, man. Skip the bar in two days.” He slammed the photo of the other girl in Brock’s face. “Leave that Neko alone and don’t ever think about her again. Not even when you go to jerk yourself off. I run into you again, even if it's taking a piss in a public restroom, I will kick the shit out of you. Understood!” Brock whimpered to himself, so John yelled louder. “Understood!”

“Yes, sir!” The poor bastard sounded like a soldier just scolded by his drill sergeant. John shook his head in disgust, muttering for the kid to “clean himself up”.

Outside the office, in the entrance hall, Nile waited for John without Derek in sight. John hadn’t expected to see him without the owner, but Nile waited, patiently, grinning all the while. He rubbed his hands together like a hungry beast waiting for its meal. John pressed his hand into the pocket with the number. He couldn’t trust Nile.

“Go what you need?” He asked.

“Where’s Derek? His boy’s a real predator,” John said, “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”

Nile shrugged. “Doing what he does best. Clearing evidence. You know, John, a PI is one step away from the police. Derek doesn’t want his ‘goods’ getting swiped if you decide to go all knight on him. It’s simply business.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I slipped out ‘to the restroom’,” Nile explained, “Wanted to see how my good friend was fairing. Seems like you got what you wanted. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so… intense.”

“You were listening…”

Nile slipped up next to John, placing a hand on his shoulder leaning into his ear. “A word of warning to you, Mr. Darcy. These are dangerous things you are sticking your nose in. I’d know. Mine’s already there. Wouldn’t want you to find yourself in a spot.”

“What do you know about all this, Nile?” John asked, “You’ve been over this like a hawk, cackling to yourself like a hyena, and now you want to play messenger.” John fetched the photo of the symbol and passed it to Nile. “Bet you know something about that.”

“A bit. Strange whispers around Yorktown’s underground,” Nile replied, “Things through the grapevine. I’d be careful with this one. It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

Nile continued to smile. “Something you should run very far away from.”

“Don’t be so concerned. It’s creeping me out…”

“Ten years in prison is a long time. Without your services, I’d still be rotting. Sure, I paid you, but call this a friendly gesture.” Nile pulled his arm from John. “Friends are bought and paid for, sometimes in cash, other times in blood.”

“We are not friends…” John hissed, “It was a job. You said she was lying, and I proved it… I proved it…”

“The girl was only trying to extort a bit of cash,” Nile assured with all the confidence in the world, “I reward good work.” Nile slipped a business card into John’s pocket. It was the same type he had given John when they first met and again when Nile’s trial ended. “This city’s on fire, John. A fuse has been running for a long time, and it’s real close to the powder barrel. When it blows, it won’t just wipe out the Undercity. It’ll bring the whole Uppercity crashing down around our ears, and there won’t be a soul to stop it.” He leaned in and whispered in John’s ear. “If you ever need a net-hacker, for anything at all, you have my card.”

—-------

John had his leads now: a possible name, a phone number that may or may not work, but most importantly, a location where he may be able to find the suspect. It was a good start given it was the first day, but John hated thinking he would need to wait two more until he could confront this mystery man. Who knows what Addler could do in two days, and he worried for Amber. Worse, Nile’s words ate at him, and John tasted blood in his mouth from a chewed cheek.

Stepping out into the parking garage, which had emptied out quite a bit, it didn’t take someone overly observant to hear and see the ongoing issue between a lone parked card and three of the workers. John glanced down at his watch: he had been in there for two hours… Elle stood outside the car, arguing with the three parking attendants.

“He will be back any minute! I keep telling you that,” she yelled.

“I don’t care if he’s standing right here; you need to leave!” one of the attendants fired back, “You said he’d be back forty minutes ago. That’s forty minutes too long. Piss off or I’ll be calling the police.”

Elle’s face burned red hot. Her small hands were clenched into tight fists, and her foot was nearly stomping. “If I could go into Skeeters, I could get him!”

“That’s now allowed either! You have five seconds to start making your way to the street! Got that, Neko!”

John stepped in. “Hey… What seems to be the issue here?”

Seeing him finally, after nearly an hour and a half of being harassed by these guys, Elle felt a huge weight lifted from her. She was still furious, but she bottled it up for the moment. The parking attendants didn’t bother to mask their shock. They assumed the “John” this Neko kept mentioning didn’t even exist, and she was causing trouble.

One of the attendants stepped forward. “Sir, is this your car and Neko?”

“Car, yes. Neko, no,” John said, “I own the car. I don’t own the Neko. Funny, I don’t think it’s legal for me to.”

“You know what I mean,” the attendant hissed, “She’s not allowed in this parking garage. We are running an upstanding, luxury business here, from parking to destination. Our clients have expectations, and she does not fit into that.”

“Also funny, she was in my passenger seat when your buddy there took my card,” John replied, nodding towards one of the three, the same guy that had charged him to even enter the garage. “There are no signs or anything either. Skeeters got a big sign right out front.”

“You need to leave, sir…”

John shrugged. “What do you think I’m out here for? Come on, Elle. We’re done here.” Without acknowledging the workers further, John hopped into the driver seat, and the moment Elle joined him, he locked the door. Backing out, he could feel the razor hot stares from the three workers. One of them was jotting down a license plate. Whelp… so much for using this garage again unless he bought a new vehicle.

Within minutes, John pulled his CX-7 out of the garage and merged onto the highway. The clock read just after 10pm; he had been in there a lot longer than he wanted to be. Elle was dead silent, gazing out the window as if John wasn’t even there.

“Hey, uh, sorry about that back there,” John said, turning the radio off. It was probably the first time it had been off since he owned the car. “I got caught up in there. Good news though. Got a big lead.”

“I was fighting those three guys for almost two hours… the entire time you were in there…” Elle said, still refusing to look at him, “I had to give one of them 100 bucks to leave me alone… for what was like 15 minutes…” She now looked at John. “15 minutes… They kept coming over. Kept threatening to call the police. They were going to… I know they were going to.”

“I’m sorry… It took longer than I thought.”

“I was scared…”

John bit the back of his hand. “I’ll reimburse you for the 100.”

“Keep it…” Elle droned on, “It’s not even about that… I don’t think… I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone and helpless. I’ve never had someone berate me like that.”

They were now on the expressway, speeding back towards the offices. John sighed, peeking through his windshield at a slowly growing collection of flashing lights. Shit… an incident or something. Construction? Hard to say. “I knew Skeeters was what it was. District 9 in general. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you…”

Elle breathed in and held it. She looked ready to burst before exhaling. “I wanted to go! I wanted to help! That’s all I wanted to do… That’s… all I’ve ever… wanted…”

She returned to gazing out the windows, but this time, there was no silence. John heard her trying to push it all down, struggling with each sniffle and breath. The tears started, and as John reached out to reassure her, he froze, unable to follow through. Instead, he flipped the radio back on, and let Elle’s cries fade into the sounds of another Coolage Group advertisement.