Dickory

Find the Doll and Cut the Wire

Reed's dirty green eyes darted through the darkness of the disused club. It had changed a lot since he'd been there last. The old bubbly glass fronted bar had been changed out for cheap battered wood at some point, and the water feature was long gone. The round tables were still there. Worn and faded with age. The padded purple chairs had been replaced with cheaper wooden seats over the years, too. The room was a little cluttered; the chairs left upended on the tables. Reed licked his lips nervously as he scanned dusty the room, squinting through the darkness. It smelled stale. Lingering beer, musk, and damp.

This was a dumb fucking idea. Nines was right. He knew Nines was right. Nines was always right. He was playing into the fucker's hands by going in alone. At the same time, he couldn't just wait it out, knowing there was a kid trapped somewhere in the basement. Depending on how long it took to mobilise SWAT, it could also mean they missed the deadline and half the block got blown to hell. If we're right about the phcking message...

Reed steadily crept forward, staying on high alert. He swept both his gaze and his gun back and forth. Covering every angle he could see. Scanning each ambush point and potential hiding place. The building looked and sounded deserted, but so did the shop...That didn't mean much when there was an android that knew how to cover its tracks and leave little to no evidence behind. He continued to wind his way between tables, slowly making his way to the bar. He was ready to drop and roll for cover at any moment, but it was eerily silent in the darkened club. It was hard to believe the place had once been so trendy and popular. It looked like a fucking dump now. Cheap furniture. A worn out, rotting, stained carpet. A soulless atmosphere. He could see why the place shut down.

Once he reached the edge of the bar, he ducked around it, crouching low and sweeping his gun left and right. If he was expecting an ambush from anywhere, it was there. The low counter had plenty of space to hide beneath where old fridges had long since been removed and disused shelving was sitting there, empty or collapsed. Even the glasses had been packed up somewhere out of sight or sold off. The old cash register sat empty on the counter, the model long since replaced by sleek touch screens and handheld pads in other clubs. Clear...Reed took a breath as he stood a little straighter, but no less alert.

It had been a long time since he'd done something like this while watching his own back. Even before Nines, he'd often taken Miller or Tina with him when scouting places and looking for suspects. He'd done it alone a few times, but it was protocol to work in pairs. It wouldn't help anyone if an officer got killed because there was no one watching their back. Reed could feel Nines' loss weighing heavily on his mind. Especially as he reached the door that would lead to the basement staircase. Suck it up asshole, there's a phcking kid down there!

It was still a swinging door, though Reed wasn't sure whether he should be thankful for that. He laid a hand on the glossy but slightly sticky wood, wincing at the loud creak it made as he edged it forward. The sound had never been this bad before. Whether that was because of the pounding music and yelling voices or the age of the place, he couldn't say. The hinges certainly weren't rusted, but it had been some time since they'd been moved. That's how it looked, anyway. If someone's here, then they certainly know I've arrived now...

Reed cursed under his breath as he stepped onto the staircase and looked down. It was pitch black. If I go down there like this, I'll be a clear phcking target...He took a shaky breath as he hesitated, rolling his shoulders as he thought it over. Alright, come on asshole...There might be something...He stepped back a little and searched the wall, finding the panel of switches. He flipped one, unsurprised as nothing happened. It was too similar to the shop. A pitch black space. No electricity. Old. Dusty. Disused. Abandoned. Cool it...He said it was a gift, right? I'm supposed to have a fair chance this time...He couldn't rule out a cruel joke. The killer was a sick fuck, but that doesn't mean he's a liar...