A Motive with a Universal Adapter 01

"Before that, do you maybe wanna pull over, get in the back seat, and fool around a little?" I asked, reaching over to tuck a stray twist of hair behind her ear.

"Ew, no," she scowled, swatting my hand away. "I like men, Ritz."

"Well so do I, but any port in a storm," I shrugged. "Hey! Ask Owl if he wants to fuck me."

"Ritz! Focus! We have one chance to get to Nero... Rook... whatever his name is. If he finds out that Arasaka took down his gang, he'll bolt. He'll be in the wind and we will never find him again. We can't wait for the Jezie to wear off. If we miss him at Chatsubo, we lose this whole story."

"I know, I know," I groaned, "but dammit Abby, I was gonna get laid tonight!" My hand found its way back between my legs and I just didn't care. "I haven't had a decent output in so long and I was actually gonna hook up with Savage Joe Carmichael. Did I tell you why they called him 'Savage Joe'?"

"No, but I don't--"

"Because when he got you in the sack, oh god--"

"Really don't wanna know," she cut me off.

"Have you ever jacked a guy before?" I blurted, visions of the Black Queens' jack-slut suddenly filling my head.

"...Just once," Abby confessed. "An ex. It freaked him out and we broke up right after... You?"

"No, not me," I shook my head. "I never met a guy I trusted enough to let into my head."

"Yeah, you can't have any secrets. It's how I found out he was cheating on me. He claimed it was a fantasy, not a memory, but I'm not so sure."

"...What was it like?"

"It was like... It was kinda like watching yourself on a screen while you're having sex. Except it's more than just visual; it's all of your senses, you know? Like I could see myself, but I could also feel myself and smell and taste myself.

"And your thoughts get all jumbled up together. Like anything he thought was in my head too, but I was thinking it in my own way. Sort of like it was refracted to my own perspective. But every so often, you both start thinking the same thing at the same time and in the exact same way and you're both just so totally in sync physically and mentally that it feels like you're sharing the same soul.

"It only lasts a few seconds and it's gone, but for those few seconds, it's like... Wow! ...Does that make sense?"

"Yeah." It made perfect sense and I wished now that I had had that with Joe. If I closed my eyes, I could almost smell him. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and his fingers digging into my hips and ravishing my swollen clit.

"Hey! Stop that!" Abby smacked my hand away from my crotch.

"Listen, Chatsubo is a classy place, and you are a hot mess. There are bullet holes in your jacket and blood stains all over. You smell like gunpowder and I'm probably not much better. Have you got any other clothes in the bag you left in the Herkimer?"

"Just my security guard uniform and a change of socks and underwear," I confessed.

"Dammit. That complicates things."

"No, it doesn't," I countered, pulling my other hand out from under my tank top. "We'll just wait outside and when he comes out I'll paint the sidewalk with his brains. Easy-peasy."

"No, it's not," Abby explained. "Ritz, I'm sorry but... You can't kill Rook. Not right away anyway. This story... It's a lot bigger than just revenge for Joe's murder. Somebody paid a lot of money to have the Black Queens wiped out. We need to find out why."

"The hell we do! I don't care if those other guys in the bar had rich friends. Rook is m-m-mine!"

"Oh, come on Ritz!" Abby smacked my hand again. "Focus! I just don't think it's that simple. Look, if you gun down Rook in Charter Hill in front of a hundred witnesses, you go to jail. But if we can get a confession out of him first, you can probably get off on a citizen's justice claim."

"Oh god, I don't care what I get off on."

She had a point though. Killing Rook in the Combat Zone was one thing; getting away with murder in Night City proper required at least a little more finesse. And I was in no state to plan anything so complicated. When I tried to consider slitting Rook's throat in a back alley, I ended up wondering if I could use my knife handle as a dildo.

"Just let me try to get an interview with him first, ok? If he won't talk, fine, he's all yours. I think I've earned that much, haven't I?"

"Fine," I conceded. "One chance. What's your plan?"

It took us fifteen minutes to get back through the checkpoint. We looked like the kind of people who had outstanding warrants, so naturally the cops ran our IDs while they diligently searched both vehicles. Owl had to surrender the leftover explosives in the goodie bag. Nobody tried to strip-search me, even though I offered several times.

By the time we found parking down the block from Chatsubo it was well past midnight and a long line was queued up outside the club.

"Shit. It's gonna be sunrise before we get in there," I muttered as I climbed out of the car.

"Nah," Abby assured me. "We'll get in."

I was skeptical. Well, mostly I was still horny as hell, but when I concentrated hard enough, I was skeptical. Obviously, we couldn't shoot our way into the club. I was inclined to wait and watch for Rook to come out, but we'd agreed that would be 'Plan B' if we couldn't get in. Abby was sure the power of television would open doors.

"You ready, Owl?" Abby asked, handing her camera over to him.

"I guess so," he frowned. "This is different than the little one."

Owl jacked the camera into his processor and flinched as his brain acclimated to the new control set.

"It's easy," Abby explained as she removed the fake microphone boom and plugged in a corded hand-held mic. "When I'm talking, point the camera at me. When someone else is talking, point the camera at them. If you go back and forth more than twice, zoom out until we're both in the shot."

"Okay, cool."

"You comfortable with the bodyguard thing, Ritz?"

"C'mon, Rhoades," I mocked, hefting the assault rifle. "This is what I do."

We expected I'd have to leave the Ronin at the door, so I'd moved the mini-cam onto my pistol. Abby was excited to splice the gun's-eye-view into her own footage. She said it would give the final cut a 'unique perspective'.

Walking up to the head of the line, Abby started her act as soon as we got within earshot of the bouncers. That was closer than I would have liked due to the volume of the music pumping out the door.

"I'm here outside of Chatsubo, a popular Charter Hill night club..."

I didn't really pay much attention to what she was saying. I scanned the crowd and tried to keep an eye out for threats, but all I really managed to do was scope out the cutest guys in line.

"Hey Lady, buzz off! You're scaring the people," a bouncer called as he left the rope line to shoo Abby away. He was a big guy—too big for normal genetics. This guy was a solid two hundred kilos, and with the right haircut he could probably top two-and-a-half meters. He'd obviously had a lot of synthetic muscle and bone augmentation.

Lucky for me the behemoth's approach was hard to ignore. I stepped up next to Abby and aimed my rifle at his feet.

"Yeah just try it, sister," he taunted, drawing a massive pistol. Despite his bravado he stopped short.

"Abby Rhoades, Network 54 News," Abby pushed past me. "Can you confirm that survivors of the Black Queens booster gang are inside your club?" She raised the microphone at arm's length.

"I ain't confirming nothing. You gotta get outta here. I ain't gonna tell you again."

"Were you aware that the Black Queens have been targeted for extermination by Arasaka forces?" Abby persisted.

The behemoth looked nervous at that. People at the front of the queue looked nervous too. A few of them stepped out of line and hurried away.

"There ain't no booster gangs or Arasaka here," the bouncer said, more to be heard by the patrons than by Abby.

"We've just come from the Black Queens' home base where Arasaka began their assault less than an hour ago. Will your security be able to protect your patrons when the AVs arrive here?"

We looked like we had just walked out of a war zone, which probably helped to sell her story. More customers abandoned the line.

"Look lady, what do you want from me?" the bouncer asked in a hushed tone.

"Is there someone who can give me a statement? A spokesperson or a manager?"

"You wait inside and you keep quiet and I'll see what I can do, ok?"

Abby nodded her agreement and the behemoth led us into a small foyer by the coat check.

Abby was right about this place. It was classy. From the lobby we could see out into the main room and the multi-tiered dance floor that descended down under a vaulted ceiling. The band played on an elevated platform, the driving rhythm of their synth-chrome dance beat cascading down onto the crowd below and ebbing into dozens of smaller, velvet-roped lounges.

Vid screens lined the walls spewing adverts disguised as pop-culture and interactive games. Two bars did brisk business, one on the main level and another opposite the main stage that served the VIPs.

"Hey, Mr. Okami, we need you down front," the bouncer spoke into a headset microphone. After a pause, he replied "Nah, it's just media. Network 54. They ain't gonna go away without making a scene though. ... Okay, will do."

The cyber fashionware was on full display. The club's clientele wore fiber-optic tech hair that shifted color as they moved, glowing light tattoos that strobed with their heart-beat, and illuminated cyber-optics that gleamed in the darkness like predators on the hunt.

Exotic body sculpts paraded past; along with the perennial angelic beauties and artistic grotesques it seemed cat-girls, with their feline ears and swishing tails, were in vogue this season. Sleeves and trousers were eschewed to expose cyber limbs in polished chrome, or a trendsetter's delicate filigree that I expected would be all the rage soon enough.

The behemoth turned back to Abby. "Mr. Okami will be down in a minute." And to me, "You're gonna have to check the Ronin, Miss."

I handed him the rifle and he handed me a ticket and we stood around awkwardly waiting for Okami's arrival.

In my stained and tattered jacket and tank top, I felt out of place in the elegant neo-Asian decor. Most of the women were in skimpy dresses or haute couture that might have been considered lingerie in any other setting. It was all I could do to keep myself from stripping down to my skivvies too.

After securing my rifle, the behemoth returned to stand watch over us. He stood next to me.

"Hey," I looked up at him from somewhere around his elbow. "Is that a Seburo C-X?"

"Yep," he replied.

"Nice sidearm. What time do they let you off your leash?" I asked idly fingering the grip of his pistol, holstered on his hip.

"I get off at five," he glanced down at me.

"Yeah? Me too." I ran my finger around the edge of his belt. "And I would really love to get my hands on a big, powerful piece of large-bore hardware."

"Is that right?" he grinned. "You sure you can handle so much firepower? Anything this big has got a helluva kick."

"Oh, I like a lot of recoil. The faster and harder the better. I don't mind a few bruises."

My fingers were drifting from his belt buckle down to his zipper when Abby smacked my arm. "Keep it in your pants, Ritz. Focus!"

"Sorry," I muttered. "It's been a weird night."

The bouncer chuckled, but stopped suddenly and stood a little straighter looking past us.

The man who approached wore an expensive suit and an irritated frown. He stalked cooly through the club like he owned the place, and he very well might have. The crowd seemed to sense his approach and subconsciously parted around him, closing back in his wake.

He had a disheveled mop of dark hair—it probably took an hour to achieve such perfect nonchalance. His ears had been sculpted into subtle points and his eyebrows and sideburns were just a bit too long, giving him the feral look of a wild beast abiding civilization only as long as it suited him.

I wanted him.

I wanted him with the instinctual need of a female craving the attention of an alpha male. My pulse quickened, my chest swelled, and the behemoth was forgotten.

Abby nudged Owl and he brought the camera up to film Okami's approach.

"That will be all Carl, thank you," he dismissed his subordinate in a rich tenor and turned his attention to Abby. "And how may I help you Miss...?"

"Rhoades. Abby Rhoades, Network 54 News." Abby extended her hand and he shook it graciously, but the smile that curled his lip suggested he hadn't fallen for her inflated credentials any more than I had.

"I have a source who says members of the Black Queens booster gang came here to your club tonight," Abby shared over the tumultuous background noise. "I also know that Arasaka has been hired to wipe out the Black Queens. My crew and I barely escaped their assault."

If the revelation worried him, Okami showed no sign. He looked at Abby for a long moment and I wished he'd look at me like that. Then he said, "Perhaps we should speak some place more private."

Behind a contemporary tile mosaic off to one side of the foyer, a concealed elevator brought us to an office that could have doubled as a private lounge. The music was muffled to a tolerable level and a floor to ceiling window looked out on the band and dance floor.

"Are these your boosters?" he asked Abby, gesturing out the window toward a roped-off lounge.

A half-dozen guys, all in black with their hair dyed sable, congregated boisterously in a semi-circular lounge. A velvet rope separated it from the rest of the club and a bouncer stood stoic watch, more to keep the rowdies in than to keep the common folk out. Bottles and glasses littered the tables. A dozen or so joy-girls hung around competing for attention, trying to score drinks and drugs.

I zoomed the Kiroshi in on the gang. In the middle of it all sat Nero... Rook... Whatever. The man who killed Joe.

"It's them," I confirmed.

"I normally wouldn't have admitted them," Okami confided. "But the fellow in the middle—'Rook' I believe he calls himself—has been a regular patron."

I studied Rook through the window. His greasy hair was slicked back and his easy smile suggested he didn't have a care in the world. His suit was only rumpled enough that it might have been fresh pressed this morning. Both sleeves were rolled to the elbows exposing a chrome cyber-arm on his left and tattooed meat on his right.

A scantily clad woman with a cat-girl sculpt sat in his lap. He delicately placed a pill on her outstretched tongue and then poured vodka from a bottle directly into her waiting mouth to wash it down. Her tail twitched violently for a moment as she winced at the burn, but then she laughed and mashed her sculpted lips into his.

"I'm curious about your interest in them," Okami continued. "Won't you have a seat?"

He gestured to a circular table that looked like it was made from genuine wood. After pulling out a chair for Abby, he offered me one as well and then took his seat facing the window where he could keep an eye on the club. Okami ignored Owl as if he wasn't even there.

As I took my chair and scooted forward, the shotgun built into my thigh deployed on quiet servos. It was just reflex. Nobody ever considers the pretty girl sitting there with her empty hands in plain sight to be a threat. I'd spent a lot of years playing that role while aiming a weapon under the table.

A targeting reticle blinked into my vision hovering over the sofa behind Okami.

The mechanism rolled the barrel up parallel to my thigh and pushed the muzzles forward just past my bent knee. The leg of my dungarees stretched taut and I moaned audibly as the fabric pulled tight against my neglected vag.

"Are you alight?" Okami asked, looking at me for the first time.

"Fine, I'm... I'm fine," I stuttered, struggling to regain my composure. With a thought, I retracted the weapon.

"You look very familiar. Have we met?" He was scrutinizing me now in a way that would have made me blush if I wasn't already flush with drug-induced arousal.

"No, I... I don't think so." I looked away, hoping all those damned late-night talk-show jokes were far enough in my past to be forgotten. "I'm just Ms. Rhoades bodyguard."

He studied me for a moment longer before turning back to Abby.

"To cut right to the chase, it's actually Rook himself I'm interested in," Abby began. "I'm following a story that's led me to him. I'd like to get him on camera for an interview."

"You mentioned 'Arasaka', I believe?"

"We tracked Rook's gang to a hideout in the Combat Zone. While we were inside, an Arasaka strike team attacked. We were lucky to escape. I don't think anyone else did." She was playing her cards close to the chest—not exactly lying to Okami, but certainly not sharing the whole story. He was clearly aware.

"And why did Arasaka attack a booster gang?" he asked.

"That's going to be my first question when I talk to Rook... Mm, maybe my second."

"That's what you want from me, isn't it?" Okami leaned forward, tenting his fingers. "You want to go down there to one of my private lounges, disturb my guests, and get your interview before an assassin sneaks up and slides a knife between his ribs."

"In a word, yes," Abby conceded. "You said he's a regular. Can you tell me anything about him?"

"He usually arrives alone, drinks at the bar, and makes an ass of himself. Nothing that would get him thrown out, but he doesn't make friends. Tonight he brought along his own, and they quickly figured out how to raise just enough of a ruckus that comping them a VIP lounge was better business than trying to remove them all."

"That sounds familiar," Abby glanced at me. "They walked right up to the line but didn't quite put a toe across it."

"Exactly," he confirmed. "So, you can understand that if Arasaka were to make them go away, I wouldn't mourn the loss of business."

"When did you first notice that Rook had become a regular?"

"Are you interviewing me now?"

"Just trying to do my homework," Abby smiled. "And buy my security a little more recovery time."

I don't know if Abby realized her mistake or not, but I couldn't stop myself from tossing a dirty look at her—one that Okami caught.

My skin was screaming out for stimulus. I kept my hands pressed flat against the table top to stop myself from shoving them down my pants or up my top. My knees were spread wide, because when I crossed my legs everything rubbed together in a way that made it worse. I had the distinct feeling that Okami could smell my heat.

He regarded me again for a moment before asking Abby "What's she on? Some kind of combat drug?"

"No, no. It's not like that." Abby looked embarrassed. "We've just had a kind of rough night is all." And as I'd learned, when she tries to recover from a verbal misstep, she just keeps talking. "The Black Queens dosed her with Jezie."

"Thanks!" I snapped at her. "Tell the whole damn world."

Abby looked cowed, but Okami took it in stride.

"Well, no amount of time is going to help that, I'm afraid." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "An endocro-surpessive like Jezie stays in your system until it's neutralized by the hormone it's designed to stifle. In this case, the drug is inhibiting dopamine release—the hormone most commonly associated with orgasm."

"So you're saying it won't wear off until I get off?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Essentially, yes. Until then, the chemicals will continue to stimulate your parietal lobe, making you crave the very thing it's suppressing. Quite ingenious really."

"Thanks for the lecture." I turned to Abby, "Listen Rhoades, let's talk to Rook and... finish your story. There's no point in stalling, like the professor said."