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The once bustling streets of 8-Bitain had just begun to die down. Shops and markets closed their doors, the lights shutting off as if by clock work. If there was one thing Laura had gotten used to in this strange city, it was the synchronicity. Every day, at exactly the same time the giant, pixelated sun gave way to a giant, pixelated moon — neither of which she was sure was actually real. Street lights flickered on, illuminating the pathways in near-fluorescent orange as the sky faded from a perfect royal blue to inky black. It was unsettlingly serene. The transition took seconds, almost as if someone flipped a switch.
She missed the sunset this evening, though. Laura had recently found a bar to frequent; Tapper’s. It was just out of the way enough to not be overcrowded, but not so quiet that she’d have to make awkward small talk with the barkeep out of social expectation. She watched him for a little while, eventually dragging her gaze away as his jerky, glitchy movements forced a wave of nausea over her. She sighed into her glass of “root beer”, heavily, as she peered down the other bars Tapper had set up. The second someone placed down an empty glass, he seemed to disappear and reappear in front of them, ready to provide them with a new, fresh drink.
‘Pretty efficient setup.’ She mused inwardly and chugged the last dregs from her glass. Laura winced a little as the liquid burned the back of her throat and placed the glass down. Tapper was already there, ready to pour another for the mutant. She paused for a moment, in thought, but relented quickly and nodded. The bartender returned the nod and filled the glass. Laura gave a hesitant sigh as she reached for the glass and muttered her thanks. Tapper took a step back and returned to cleaning the dirtied glasses with a dish cloth.
X-23 swivelled the bar stool around to give the rest of Tapper’s establishment a cursory glance. She was sat at the second of four parallel bars. It was a relatively quiet night, there were no more than eight other patrons in, spread out evenly between the bars. Most drank in silence but a couple of pairs mumbled between themselves. No matter how good her hearing, though, Laura couldn’t make out what they were saying. It almost sounded like white noise, as if they weren’t really saying anything at all, just background noise to add some ambience to the bar.
The door to the bar swung open and in sauntered a human. Pixelated, but unmistakably human nonetheless. She sighed a little, almost wishing for Quill to show up again so she could have a conversation with a real human being. She snorted a quiet laugh, dismissing the thought as quickly as it arose, realising the ridiculousness of actually wanting to converse with Star-Lord of all people. Her smile quickly faded, however, when the pixel human turned in her direction and a yellow exclamation mark poofed into existence over his head as a look of vague recognition took over his squared features. She turned back to her glass with a groan.
“Laura? Laura Kinney?” He asked as he approached, straightening his shirt and tie in the process, “My name is Roger Strikewell, I’m a detective inspector with the 8-Bitain PD.”
“Yeah? Not interested.” Laura grumbled.
“Well, we’re interested in you, Miss Kinney.” The detective droned, “We think you might be useful in a case we have brewing..”
“Right?” She huffed before taking a long swig from her glass, “I’m still not interested.”
“Look. I’m here in an unofficial capacity. This isn’t something we’d normally ask of a civilian.. but after seeing your aptitude in dealing with Nalto and his crew, I think you may well be the best candidate to help us in this matter.” Roger sighed, clearly ill at ease complimenting the mutant over his own department, “Afterall, we did you a favour by letting you off with a warning.”
“What is it?” She growled, hissing her words between gritted teeth as she turned to regard the detective, a scowl fixed firmly in place, rather obviously taking issue with the veiled threat.
“The Goomba Gang are, supposedly, due to make moves on the Koopa Troop. The Goombafather’s daughter has been kidnapped by one of the Koopa Troop; the son of their leader. It’s a mess. If it all kicks off, they’ll drag this entire city down with them.” Roger sat himself on a barstool and featured toward Tapper with a raised finger. The barkeep was already in motion, whipping up a glass form below the bar and filling it with “root beer”. Strikewell nodded his thanks before continuing, “If you can put a stop to this before all hell breaks loose, you can consider our favour repaid.”
Kinney glared at the detective inspector. She clenched her fist and laid it down on the bar. She didn’t need to extend her claws, the detective was already shrinking back into his seat, paling slightly under her gaze.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great.” He sat forward again and pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket on the inside of his coat. He unfurled it and laid it down on the bar, revealing a map of the town, littered with red crosses and black o’s. He jabbed a finger at one of the larger crosses and then one of the larger o’s in turn, “That’s where the Goomba’s are based and this one is the Koopa Troop’s place. This whole area is their turf,” he motioned to a wide arc across the paper, showing nearly a third of the city, “Goomba Gang are said to be making a move on that area. I’m sure you can appreciate the amount of innocents in the area. Find the girl and you might be able to nip this thing in the bud.”
Laura groaned and downed the last of her drink. She snatched up the map and stuffed it into a pocket on her hoodie before standing and turning to leave.
“I’ll be in touch!” Roger called after her.
She missed the sunset this evening, though. Laura had recently found a bar to frequent; Tapper’s. It was just out of the way enough to not be overcrowded, but not so quiet that she’d have to make awkward small talk with the barkeep out of social expectation. She watched him for a little while, eventually dragging her gaze away as his jerky, glitchy movements forced a wave of nausea over her. She sighed into her glass of “root beer”, heavily, as she peered down the other bars Tapper had set up. The second someone placed down an empty glass, he seemed to disappear and reappear in front of them, ready to provide them with a new, fresh drink.
‘Pretty efficient setup.’ She mused inwardly and chugged the last dregs from her glass. Laura winced a little as the liquid burned the back of her throat and placed the glass down. Tapper was already there, ready to pour another for the mutant. She paused for a moment, in thought, but relented quickly and nodded. The bartender returned the nod and filled the glass. Laura gave a hesitant sigh as she reached for the glass and muttered her thanks. Tapper took a step back and returned to cleaning the dirtied glasses with a dish cloth.
X-23 swivelled the bar stool around to give the rest of Tapper’s establishment a cursory glance. She was sat at the second of four parallel bars. It was a relatively quiet night, there were no more than eight other patrons in, spread out evenly between the bars. Most drank in silence but a couple of pairs mumbled between themselves. No matter how good her hearing, though, Laura couldn’t make out what they were saying. It almost sounded like white noise, as if they weren’t really saying anything at all, just background noise to add some ambience to the bar.
The door to the bar swung open and in sauntered a human. Pixelated, but unmistakably human nonetheless. She sighed a little, almost wishing for Quill to show up again so she could have a conversation with a real human being. She snorted a quiet laugh, dismissing the thought as quickly as it arose, realising the ridiculousness of actually wanting to converse with Star-Lord of all people. Her smile quickly faded, however, when the pixel human turned in her direction and a yellow exclamation mark poofed into existence over his head as a look of vague recognition took over his squared features. She turned back to her glass with a groan.
“Laura? Laura Kinney?” He asked as he approached, straightening his shirt and tie in the process, “My name is Roger Strikewell, I’m a detective inspector with the 8-Bitain PD.”
“Yeah? Not interested.” Laura grumbled.
“Well, we’re interested in you, Miss Kinney.” The detective droned, “We think you might be useful in a case we have brewing..”
“Right?” She huffed before taking a long swig from her glass, “I’m still not interested.”
“Look. I’m here in an unofficial capacity. This isn’t something we’d normally ask of a civilian.. but after seeing your aptitude in dealing with Nalto and his crew, I think you may well be the best candidate to help us in this matter.” Roger sighed, clearly ill at ease complimenting the mutant over his own department, “Afterall, we did you a favour by letting you off with a warning.”
“What is it?” She growled, hissing her words between gritted teeth as she turned to regard the detective, a scowl fixed firmly in place, rather obviously taking issue with the veiled threat.
“The Goomba Gang are, supposedly, due to make moves on the Koopa Troop. The Goombafather’s daughter has been kidnapped by one of the Koopa Troop; the son of their leader. It’s a mess. If it all kicks off, they’ll drag this entire city down with them.” Roger sat himself on a barstool and featured toward Tapper with a raised finger. The barkeep was already in motion, whipping up a glass form below the bar and filling it with “root beer”. Strikewell nodded his thanks before continuing, “If you can put a stop to this before all hell breaks loose, you can consider our favour repaid.”
Kinney glared at the detective inspector. She clenched her fist and laid it down on the bar. She didn’t need to extend her claws, the detective was already shrinking back into his seat, paling slightly under her gaze.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great.” He sat forward again and pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket on the inside of his coat. He unfurled it and laid it down on the bar, revealing a map of the town, littered with red crosses and black o’s. He jabbed a finger at one of the larger crosses and then one of the larger o’s in turn, “That’s where the Goomba’s are based and this one is the Koopa Troop’s place. This whole area is their turf,” he motioned to a wide arc across the paper, showing nearly a third of the city, “Goomba Gang are said to be making a move on that area. I’m sure you can appreciate the amount of innocents in the area. Find the girl and you might be able to nip this thing in the bud.”
Laura groaned and downed the last of her drink. She snatched up the map and stuffed it into a pocket on her hoodie before standing and turning to leave.
“I’ll be in touch!” Roger called after her.