The beat pulsed through the air, the music churning the crowd like a ocean of living bodies. Lights, and lasers sent the darkness scattering, illuminating certain individuals, or groups as they seemed to reach the pinnacle of their ecstasy. Drinks rested on tables, sloshing their contents as the tables were bumped and smashed by the churning crowd; while still other drinks were clenched in hands, the knuckles whitening as the drinkers held them tight in a vain effort to keep them safe.
Derrick Strong sat watching the crowd, he disliked people, and night clubs. There was nothing particular about either that he despised it just seemed as if the combination of the two got on his nerves. The press of bodies, the odor, that mingling of sweat and the sickly sweetness of sex, just seemed to rankle the hairs on the back of his neck. He held his drink, nothing special tonic water with ice and lime, he didnt like to drink on the job, it never ended well, and now he clutched the half-empty glass, the ice rapidly melting in the intense furnace heat of the club, clinging to it as if it were some life raft, an escape from the animalistic scene that unfolded before him.
Two men, immensely muscles and oddly twitchy pushed their way through the crowd. They moved with an eerie grace, uncommon in men so huge,and Derrick suspected at once, NerveHAX. No self-respecting thug did anything on the street without some kind of enhancement, it just didnt make sense. If everyone was doing it, you had to as well.
Derrick scanned them quickly as the mounted the steps two at a time pushing revelers aside in their haste. They wore expensively tailored jackets, while darkened visors covered their eyes, and not surprisingly their wrists and fingers were bare of any form of decoration, working men.
There were plenty of tough-guys out there in the world who dressed the part, that much was true, but the real men, the real tough-guys were willing to get their hands dirty, and you didnt wear a diamond ring or expensive chronometer and then proceed to beat on some poor fool for owing you money, it just wasnt done. Derrick suspected it had something to do with the development of new forensic techniques that could easily map the image of almost anything used to perpetrate an assault, but it could also be just as easy to say that punching a man with a ring on wasnt something in the best interest of your finger, plus blood was really hard to clean up.
Revelers shocked from their frenzy turned to chastise the two thugs but quickly held their tongues, lowering their heads or pushing their own way through the crowd to get out of the way, when they saw who the men were. It didnt pay to trifle with men like these two.
Derrick set his drink down and pulled himself to his feet. He stooped briefly to retrieve his case and straightened to stare into the visored face of one of the thugs.
Mr Dwinlov would like to speak to you, the man said leaning in and yelling to be heard over the beat and pulse of the music.
Derrick spared his larynges the strain and simply nodded to the brute. The man turned and Derrick felt himself swept up in his wake as they passed down into the crowd. The other man fell into step behind them, Derrick felt stand unnervingly close.
The crowd parted as they passed through the club. Having experienced the methods the brutes used when they were slowed, the crowd swarmed around them, dividing like an errant amoeba before closing in behind the wandering molecule. It took them only a matter of minutes to cross the crowded floor and disappear through a doorway into the backroom.
It was blessedly silent as the door closed and Derrick moved quickly to remove the Bugs from his ears and tuck them into his pocket. He hadnt bothered with the implantation surgery, not yet. He could afford, no problem, but he wasnt entirely sure the products were reliable. He watched as the two men removed similar looking Bugs from their ears and he tried to smile as one caught his eye and gestured down the corridor.
The corridor seemed almost too simple when compared to the epic grandeur of the club. Where bright lights pulsed revealing finely lacquered tables and chairs, and an immense number of mirrors, the corridor was nothing by plain, run of the mill concrete. There were very little accouterments, with the fire-alarm catch being the only form of decoration, and certainly a functional one rather than something placed there in pursuit of the aesthetic.
The two men fell into step behind Derrick as he started down the corridor. He walked with a deliberate pace, not wanting to appear anxious, he actually wasnt anxious, at least no more than usual. His eyes, cybernetic replacements made to resemble his biologic bits scanned the hallway, switching between the numerous visible spectrums offered by the tech. He caught the faint flicker of movement from the near the end of the corridor. Two men, as largely thuggish as the two who kept pace behind him waited concealed in specially designed doorways cut into the walls.
The concealed guards stepped out as Derrick approached. One removed a scanning-wand from a place in the alcove where he had been standing and began to slowly sweep it over Derrick. Older models would have beeped, signaling the presence of something potentially sinister, this model was new it had cable feed that the user could slot into an open-Access port and see whatever the wand revealed.
Whatever the wand revealed it seemed to have been expected and before long Derrick was being waved forward. He stepped forward and raised his hands, being fully aware of the procedure, turned a three-hundred and sixty circle before continuing down the corridor to the recessed door at its end.
The door was a false one, it was a simple, yet beautiful, piece of trickery mounted like a fine piece of art on the wall, the real door slid aside to his right as he reached the terminus of the corridor and knocked on the false door with a rambunctious rat-tat-tat.
As the real door slid open he stepped forward, raising his hands again as two more thugs stepped forward and repeated the wand-scan. The results the same Derrick lowered his hands and turned to face the man seated behind the immense desk.
Arent you acting a little more paranoid than usual, Nikolai? Derrick said lowering his hands.
Nikolai Dwinlov reclined behind his desk, an empty ice-filled tumbler in his hand. Nout at ell, Meester Strong, hoo ere yuoo tudey?
Fine, Nikolai, Im fine.
Guud, woold yuoo like sumethenng tu dreenk?
No, thank you, Nikolai, but please help yourself.
The man smiled and raised the tumbler gesturing toward one of the pretty waitresses who lurked in the shadows of the room, of which there were many, both shadows and waitresses. The man seemed to collect women, and Derrick didnt envy that about him. So far, women had proven to be more hassle than they were worth, at least in Derricks opinion, after all the last two at tried to shoot him.
Derrick Strong sat watching the crowd, he disliked people, and night clubs. There was nothing particular about either that he despised it just seemed as if the combination of the two got on his nerves. The press of bodies, the odor, that mingling of sweat and the sickly sweetness of sex, just seemed to rankle the hairs on the back of his neck. He held his drink, nothing special tonic water with ice and lime, he didnt like to drink on the job, it never ended well, and now he clutched the half-empty glass, the ice rapidly melting in the intense furnace heat of the club, clinging to it as if it were some life raft, an escape from the animalistic scene that unfolded before him.
Two men, immensely muscles and oddly twitchy pushed their way through the crowd. They moved with an eerie grace, uncommon in men so huge,and Derrick suspected at once, NerveHAX. No self-respecting thug did anything on the street without some kind of enhancement, it just didnt make sense. If everyone was doing it, you had to as well.
Derrick scanned them quickly as the mounted the steps two at a time pushing revelers aside in their haste. They wore expensively tailored jackets, while darkened visors covered their eyes, and not surprisingly their wrists and fingers were bare of any form of decoration, working men.
There were plenty of tough-guys out there in the world who dressed the part, that much was true, but the real men, the real tough-guys were willing to get their hands dirty, and you didnt wear a diamond ring or expensive chronometer and then proceed to beat on some poor fool for owing you money, it just wasnt done. Derrick suspected it had something to do with the development of new forensic techniques that could easily map the image of almost anything used to perpetrate an assault, but it could also be just as easy to say that punching a man with a ring on wasnt something in the best interest of your finger, plus blood was really hard to clean up.
Revelers shocked from their frenzy turned to chastise the two thugs but quickly held their tongues, lowering their heads or pushing their own way through the crowd to get out of the way, when they saw who the men were. It didnt pay to trifle with men like these two.
Derrick set his drink down and pulled himself to his feet. He stooped briefly to retrieve his case and straightened to stare into the visored face of one of the thugs.
Mr Dwinlov would like to speak to you, the man said leaning in and yelling to be heard over the beat and pulse of the music.
Derrick spared his larynges the strain and simply nodded to the brute. The man turned and Derrick felt himself swept up in his wake as they passed down into the crowd. The other man fell into step behind them, Derrick felt stand unnervingly close.
The crowd parted as they passed through the club. Having experienced the methods the brutes used when they were slowed, the crowd swarmed around them, dividing like an errant amoeba before closing in behind the wandering molecule. It took them only a matter of minutes to cross the crowded floor and disappear through a doorway into the backroom.
It was blessedly silent as the door closed and Derrick moved quickly to remove the Bugs from his ears and tuck them into his pocket. He hadnt bothered with the implantation surgery, not yet. He could afford, no problem, but he wasnt entirely sure the products were reliable. He watched as the two men removed similar looking Bugs from their ears and he tried to smile as one caught his eye and gestured down the corridor.
The corridor seemed almost too simple when compared to the epic grandeur of the club. Where bright lights pulsed revealing finely lacquered tables and chairs, and an immense number of mirrors, the corridor was nothing by plain, run of the mill concrete. There were very little accouterments, with the fire-alarm catch being the only form of decoration, and certainly a functional one rather than something placed there in pursuit of the aesthetic.
The two men fell into step behind Derrick as he started down the corridor. He walked with a deliberate pace, not wanting to appear anxious, he actually wasnt anxious, at least no more than usual. His eyes, cybernetic replacements made to resemble his biologic bits scanned the hallway, switching between the numerous visible spectrums offered by the tech. He caught the faint flicker of movement from the near the end of the corridor. Two men, as largely thuggish as the two who kept pace behind him waited concealed in specially designed doorways cut into the walls.
The concealed guards stepped out as Derrick approached. One removed a scanning-wand from a place in the alcove where he had been standing and began to slowly sweep it over Derrick. Older models would have beeped, signaling the presence of something potentially sinister, this model was new it had cable feed that the user could slot into an open-Access port and see whatever the wand revealed.
Whatever the wand revealed it seemed to have been expected and before long Derrick was being waved forward. He stepped forward and raised his hands, being fully aware of the procedure, turned a three-hundred and sixty circle before continuing down the corridor to the recessed door at its end.
The door was a false one, it was a simple, yet beautiful, piece of trickery mounted like a fine piece of art on the wall, the real door slid aside to his right as he reached the terminus of the corridor and knocked on the false door with a rambunctious rat-tat-tat.
As the real door slid open he stepped forward, raising his hands again as two more thugs stepped forward and repeated the wand-scan. The results the same Derrick lowered his hands and turned to face the man seated behind the immense desk.
Arent you acting a little more paranoid than usual, Nikolai? Derrick said lowering his hands.
Nikolai Dwinlov reclined behind his desk, an empty ice-filled tumbler in his hand. Nout at ell, Meester Strong, hoo ere yuoo tudey?
Fine, Nikolai, Im fine.
Guud, woold yuoo like sumethenng tu dreenk?
No, thank you, Nikolai, but please help yourself.
The man smiled and raised the tumbler gesturing toward one of the pretty waitresses who lurked in the shadows of the room, of which there were many, both shadows and waitresses. The man seemed to collect women, and Derrick didnt envy that about him. So far, women had proven to be more hassle than they were worth, at least in Derricks opinion, after all the last two at tried to shoot him.