No Rest 4 Wicked Botniks Chapter 2

Bobby Malone# 2: Chrome Domes

NO REST 4 WICKED BOTNIKS

CHAPTER 2

Bobby Malone #2:

Chrome Domes

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At this point, a bald, haggard-looking man in a grimy undershirt finally emerged from a door at the back of the room. He took his station behind the deserted bar. He lit a slender cigarillo, took a long drag and a short look at Bobby, and announced in a clearly bored tone, “We’re closed.”

Bobby noticed several things at once.

Beneath the bartender's wife-beater, his neck, chest, shoulders, and arms were all covered with dark tattoos. Each one was more bad news. Devils and skulls were inked upon his flesh, not to mention a full Dark Madonna. And there were six (count them: six!) red X’s and knives displayed on his neck. Confirmed Kills.

And the bartender’s accent was even more obvious than the ink. It came straight out of the Motherland. 

Dammit. Damn it all to hellfire and heckfuck! He knew it; he had known it all along. And still Bobby had pushed the door open and closed it behind him. 

This dive's status had just been upgraded from probably, almost certainly a front for the Russian mob, to definitely, for dead sure a front for the Russian mob. NV City Reds. He hated them almost as much as the damn fridge blocking his path. 

Bobby eyed the two chrome domes in turn—botnik bouncer and Bratva bartender. Then Bobby announced, “Well, I think the sign outside says I got more than ten minutes.” He put his fedora back on its customary perch and thrust his hands into his deep trench coat pockets. 

“We’re closing early tonight.” The Russian sniffed, then spat, clear across the bar in the general direction of Bobby.

Message received, loud and clear.

The bartender chewed a bit upon his silly cigarillo. He was waiting for Bobby’s response.

“Closing early? Is that right?” Bobby grinned. He took out his own navy pack of smokes and stuck one cancer-stick between his lips, but he didn’t light it just yet. 

Bobby stepped forward a few paces. The Golem-III turned and raised its arms fractionally higher. “Firearms detected,” its voice box blasted out again.

That raised the bartender’s interest, along with his wispy little eyebrows. “You brought protection, huh?” 

“You think I’d walk through the front fuckin’ door of a dive like this without a gunny rubber?” Bobby held in his laughter, but just barely.

The bartender’s smirk was more of a sneer than a smile.

“Listen, zadrota,” the Russian whispered. “I don’t care what you’re packing, so long as you start packing. Get me, hmm, tovarisch?”

Bobby took another step forward and shrugged amiably. “Hey, I’m not looking for any trouble,” he said. “Let me start over. The name’s Bobby Malone. I’m a private eye. I’m just here for a drink or two and a little info on the side.”

Apparently, Baldie didn’t recognize a business opportunity when he heard it. “I don’t care who you are or what you’re after,” the bartender replied. The Russian’s back stiffened, and the edge in his voice sharpened. “Only thing you’re getting tonight is a bunch of holes for the trouble. So just vam already.”

The man punctuated that command with a swift flick of his wrist. His still-lit cigarillo spun towards Bobby. It was going to hit him squarely in the eye.

***

CASSIE decided it was time. Fight or flight had kicked into her systems. Her neural network was on fire with imagination and the Maker’s own special training.

She had to wake the Maker up from whatever sleep and dreams he was getting. This had become an emergency. She required his full oversight and command. 

Threat Analysis: estimated time until termination of human target equals two minutes and forty six seconds.

There was no one more intelligent and capable than He: Maker. Except of course for She, his faithful companion, the work of his own creation, an Aria-class network copilot: Cassiopeia. 

The little cigar spun in the air.
CASSIE acted:

→ / Initiate emergency protocol
Echo Whiskey Uniform November 1 /
[!|!]
→ Make house CASTLE MODE.
→ Instruct all audio-visual devices:
[Wake the Maker]||
{PIN code reference:
”Isaac A. Shinseki”.}
→ Full Stop. ← ///

Awaiting Maker instructions...

END OF CHAPTER 2

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