Rogue Element [Cyberpunk]

Standing in front of Tom's flat, number 148 out of the 600 on this 44th floor, I glanced at my comlink for the time – 02:43 PM. The corridor was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that amplifies every sound. I knocked on the door forcefully. "Tom, open up! We need to talk," I called out, but no response came, just the echo of my own voice bouncing off the cold, metal door.

A text from Castor popped up in corner of my eyes, an apology. I quickly replied, "It's okay. Let's just forget it," and sent it off. I knocked again, my impatience growing. Just as I was about to give the door a good kick, a voice interrupted me.

"Excuse me, are you Marlene de Burge?"

I turned to see a man in a long coat, silver hair neatly combed back, and black glasses masking his eyes. He looked to be in his 40s, his face marked with lines that hinted at a life of hard experiences with scars. There was a chillingly polite edge to his voice.

I replied cautiously, "Talking to the police around here isn't usually a good idea."

He simply smiled, a gesture that didn't quite reach his eyes, and began circling me. "I'm Detective Alden Pierce," he introduced himself. There was a subtle but distinct sound of his coat brushing against itself, a soft whisper in the corridor's silence. His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of authority that was hard to ignore. It had a gravelly texture to it, the kind you'd associate with someone used to giving orders. His movements were precise, almost cat-like, adding to the enigmatic aura that surrounded him.

"Am I being arrested? If so, for what?" I questioned, trying to mask my unease.

Detective Pierce stopped, his gaze fixed on me. "Where were you last night?" he asked.

"In the food hall, having a good time with friends. Plenty of people saw me," I responded, maintaining a neutral tone.

"And after that?"

His question irked me. If not for my cyberware keeping my emotions in check, I might have snapped. "That's my business," I retorted sharply.

He smiled again, observing the passersby. "I'm looking for Mr. Tom Highwater. I have a few questions for him," he said, turning his attention back to me.

I decided to feign ignorance. "Tom was out of line last night. I just came to talk to him about it," I lied, keeping my voice steady.

Detective Pierce's smile widened slightly, but he remained silent, seemingly inviting me to continue.

Seeing no point in lingering, I started walking away. "I don't want to be involved in whatever this is, I'm not some rouge element."

He watched me leave, and just as I was a few meters away, he called out, "Ms. Marlene, do you know why Mr. Tom isn't home?"

I paused briefly, but my cyberware helped me maintain composure. Turning slightly, I shrugged nonchalantly and continued walking. I felt like Detective Pierce's gaze followed me.

I walked away, with my mind racing. "God, Tom, what have you done?" I muttered under my breath. Was he just being his usual drunk self, or had he gotten himself into something serious? My concern for Tom was mixed with frustration. Why did he always have to be the center of trouble? 

I couldn't help but notice Detective Pierce's hands as he circled me earlier. They looked rough, with knuckles that bore recent bruises, as if he'd been in a fight not too long ago. What was more unsettling was the way he rested one hand inside his coat. It seemed unnatural, deliberate, like he was concealing something. There was something about him that suggested he was more than just a detective looking for Tom.

I dailed on my comlink and called Castor. He answered immediately, but his voice was tinged with concern. "Marlene, about earlier—"

"Not now, Castor," I interjected. "Where's Tom?"

Castor's tone shifted, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. "Why the sudden interest in Tom?"

I clenched my jaw, my patience thinning. "Just tell me when you last saw him, Castor."

He sighed. "Alright, alright. I dropped him off at his place last night after the party. He was pretty wasted."

"Did you notice anything unusual? Anything at all?" I pressed, hoping for a clue.

Castor was silent for a moment. "Well, now that you mention it, he did seem off. More down than I've seen him before. Kind of... melancholic, I guess."

I frowned. "Listen, Castor. A detective's been asking about him. Detective Alden Pierce. He might come to ask you too, Tom used to work at ur place."

There was a pause, longer this time. When Castor spoke, his voice was lower, more serious. "Pierce, huh? Thanks for the heads up. I've got some things I need to take care of."

"Wait, Castor," I said quickly, "Have you seen Uncle Chen today?"

He hesitated. "No, can't say I have."

The line went dead before I could respond. Frustration coursed through me, tempered only by my cyberware that kept my emotions in check. I quickly dialed Uncle Chen's number, but it went straight to voicemail. That was unlike him; he was always reachable.

I walked down the food hall of the 44th floor, the usually bustling area felt unusually subdued. Uncle Chen's stall was closed, the shutters down, adding to the eerie quietness of the place. I took a seat at the next stall over, a small noodle place run by Mrs. Liu, a middle-aged woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper culinary skills.

Mrs. Liu glanced at me as she wiped down the table in front of the stall. The TV screen above blared with cyberpunk adverts – neon colors flashing, promoting the latest in cybernetic enhancements and virtual reality escapades. An intro to a popular show, "Neon Samurai," started playing, its high-energy theme music clashing with the somber mood of the hall.

Lost in thought about Tom, I barely registered the noises around me – the sizzle of noodles in a wok, the muted conversations of the few patrons around, and the occasional clatter of dishes. My worry for Tom gnawed at me; his unusual melancholy and now his disappearance didn't add up.

Mrs. Liu's voice broke through my thoughts. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked, her tone softer than usual.

I looked up at her, forcing a smile. "Just the usual. Can I get a bowl of spicy beef noodles, please?" As I spoke, my eyes glowed green for a moment, signaling the payment transfer.

"Need to eat to think straight, huh?" Mrs. Liu commented as she started preparing my order.

I nodded, my mind still elsewhere. That's when I noticed Detective Pierce walking past the food hall. My body tensed as his gaze briefly met mine before moving on. Mrs. Liu let out a long sigh.

"Young lady, how do you manage it?" she asked, eyeing me curiously.

"Manage what?" I replied, slightly puzzled.

"Castor, Tom, and now this one," she gestured subtly towards the direction Pierce had gone. "Yesterday, I heard Tom begging you to stay in the megablock. I know Castor's looks when he's interested in someone. But the old one? You do have a taste."

I choked on my noodles at her comment, coughing as I tried to regain my composure. Mrs. Liu handed me a glass of water with an amused look.

"He was here yesterday, watching Uncle Chen's stall, almost through the entire party," she added, watching me closely.

I took a sip of water, my mind racing. Pierce was here yesterday? Watching Uncle Chen's stall? Why? What did all this mean?

I tried to avoid looking directly at Detective Pierce again, focusing instead on Mrs. Liu. "Did you recognize him when he was here yesterday?" I asked, my voice low.

Mrs. Liu shook her head. "No, but I noticed Uncle Chen. He seemed a bit nervous, kept glancing over at him." Her observation added another layer of mystery to the situation.

Just then, a message from TriColor Corp popped up in the corner of my vision. Ethan was awaiting my answer. I ignored it for now; there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Mrs. Liu, do you have any idea where I can find Uncle Chen? He's not answering his comlink," I inquired, feeling a growing sense of urgency.

She paused, thinking. "Well, today is a special day for him. He might be at the Crystal City Memorial Park. He usually spends the whole day there."

"Memorial Park?" I echoed, surprised. "Are you sure?"

Mrs. Liu nodded. "Almost certain. He goes there to visit his kids."

"Kids?" I was taken aback. "Not his wife?"

"All his family," Mrs. Liu said softly. "They're all laid to rest there. A sad story."

I remained silent for a moment, processing this new information. I remembered Chen once mentioning his deceased wife but never his children. "Do you know anything about it?" I ventured cautiously.

Mrs. Liu met my gaze and replied, "If Chen didn't tell you, then it's not my place to say. He's a private man about his past."

I nodded in understanding, respecting Chen's privacy. Finishing my noodles, I stood up, thanking Mrs. Liu for the meal, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and theories. The robbery at my flat, Tom's mysterious absence, and now Uncle Chen's apparent connection to Detective Pierce – could they all be pieces of the same puzzle? "Focus, Marlene," I chided myself silently.

The corridor came alive as I stepped out of the food hall. Neon lights flickered overhead like artificial stars, casting a mix of colors that danced across the metallic walls. The mingled scents of street food – fried noodles, grilled meats, and spicy sauces – filled the air.

If anyone had some insight into the detective's sudden interest, it would likely be Tom. But then, there was the security footage from the building's administration, supposedly proving no one had entered my apartment. To really understand what it showed, I'd need a netrunner, someone who could dive deep into the building's security system.

"No, not him," I muttered, my thoughts drifting to a particular person from my past, someone I had promised myself I would never return to. The very idea made me uneasy.

Around me, the corridor buzzed with life momentarily distracting me from my troubled thoughts.

The TV screen above the stall transitioned from a flashy cyberpunk advert to a news segment. "A.R.E.S Corp is set to revolutionize cybernetics," the anchor announced, but her words were just background noise to the storm in my head.

I was immediately engulfed in the hustle and bustle of the megablock. People hustled past, each absorbed in their world, unaware of the turmoil brewing in mine. I stopped for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds of the building around me.

Seeing the security footage was crucial, but accessing the building's security system without a netrunner was a risk. The person I was considering contacting, I had sworn off, suddenly seemed like my only viable option.