ALIVE [Connor]

[09] The Fifth Bar

November 5th. 2038.

PM 11:24:18

The November evening poured with rain. A complete wash of the city as puddles cascaded along the streets and neon signs from nearby buildings reflected from their glassy surfaces. The roads and sidewalks were aglow in the hues of blues and greens, or reds and purples. Pretty intermingles of muted rainbows patterned along every street. Most places still bustled with city life as taxis cruised down the roads and pedestrians scuttled to get home for the night, sheltered from the unrelenting downpour.

The heavens were well and truly open.

But it was Isla who found herself lingering in the quietened backstreet of a seedier area of the city. The rain appeared to have no intention of letting up any time soon and thus hammered on and on as she cursed under her breath for not wrapping herself up as sensibly as she had done that morning.

However, Isla was in some rush, an investigation of her own as she had scoured countless bars and clubs in the surrounding vicinity in search of her old partner, Hank Anderson. Who, as according to habit, was not returning any of her calls - a clear indication that he had left his phone at home in the darkness of the kitchen, whilst he ventured out to drink himself into unpredictable oblivion.

"Four-fifty for this drive, right?" Isla shivered as she asked this, passing the fair over to the driver and eventually straightening up from the window of the taxi she had been leaning into. She was already drenched through from the few previous times she had clambered out of the vehicle to hastily head into a bar, in search of Hank. Charged for every time she ducked out of the car and unsuccessfully got back in again shortly after, the driver was dangerously running her out of change.

She stepped onto the sidewalk, turning on her heel to swiftly call over to the taxi driver before he rolled up his window. "Don't bother waiting this time. If he's not in this one, then I'll be staying and ordering cocktails until I start calling myself 'Iss-lah'."

The taxi departed but not without first splashing Isla with the rainwater trapped in the guttering beside the curb. The spray made her flinch, jumping backwardly but to no avail. The water had soaked her shoes further, leaving her toes swimming in it uncomfortably.

Fabulous.

Isla groaned to herself, drawing her shoulders inwardly to battle against the cold as she headed on her way towards the door of the fifth bar. She paused briefly, a frozen hand wrapped around the metal handle as she took note of a small sign pasted across the window which restricted any and all androids and dogs from entering the shifty abode.

For a moment, she glanced down at her legs and just how her dark jeans had stuck to them thanks to the weather. But then she shook her head, almost unbelievably at the thought crossing her mind.

I don't count.

And with that, she pressed on and headed into the bar.

"Hank!"

Isla's presence had been announced as she hollered through the bar. An angry British voice being sure to turn some of the regulars' heads. She appeared wild and slightly unruly, short pieces of her brown hair sticking to her face as raindrops slipped off the end of her ponytail.

Vision almost tunnelled and jaw-clenched, Isla marched--

--...No no, squelched her way over to an older man perched on a stool in the middle of the bar, looking a little worse-for-wear with his darkened eye bags and unscrupulously grey hair. Isla's attention was narrowed with complete annoyance at having traipsed around all night trying to find the damn lieutenant in the first place.