Jacques blinked.

And blinked again.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" He asked, staring up at a cracked wooden sign.

"Lie, Drink, Steal." Morjian looked up from the map extending from her arm cuff. "Right place to find one of the best hackers out there. All the good informers are here." Smirking, she glanced up at Jacques and opened the door. "Bar's on the bottom floor. Ladies first."

Jacques scowled while passing her. The wooden stairs leading downwards were cracked, chipped and stained, creaking with every step. The pungent scent of cheap tobacco smoke filled the air as they descended, mingling with spilled ale, wine and beer, vomit, and other hung to unpleasant to mention.

Morjian wrinkled up her nose when they stepped into the bar room. Robotic cyborgs, scanty women, and muscular brutes all drank, fought and gambled together. Loud conversations clashed with the beat of bad electric dance music, arguments, and screaming. Flashing multicolored lights flared on the dance floor, shining at disco balls and dotting everyone with rainbow spots.

Morjian weaved her way through the tavern, avoiding brawls and drunks, with Jacques following her. Many men were slumped over on the circular tables, counters, and floor.

"So what is this place?" Jacques asked, stepping over an unconscious muscular cyborg. A woman wearing too much make-up clicked at him, her white teeth glowing in her bright green lips.

Morjian snickered as he glared at the woman. "Its a bar, dope. A gambling den, drinking palace, thieves hideout...." She smiled. "Perfect place to find our hacker."

"You have the chip still?" He asked, the fluorescent lights spotting his body with swirling colors.

"Yep." Morjian patted a bag on her belt. "Right here."

"Great." Jacques' eyes wandered around the room. "What's up there?" He questioned, pointing to a second level.

"Gambling den," she replied without looking at him. "You will lose." She glanced over at him. "Now shut up while I talk him."

"Him?"

"The hacker informant. And you're not listening to me." She turned and headed for the bartender.

Jacques blinked. He pursed his lips, pulling his hood over his dark hair, and followed her.

Herri Welsh scrubbed down the counter with a greasy white cloth. His eyes were gritty, and he longed to rub them while soaking all his aches away. His back was strained from him standing up for so long, as well as his feet, and his shoulder throbbed from when an angry drunk punched him.

He was ready for home.

Herri blinked as a black-haired woman approached him. She was tall, with a pale complexion, and held herself up like she owned the place. He dropped his gaze to her unusual clothes. Usually, people in a bar dressed skimpily, with heavy makeup and flashing smiles. She was dressed in a black, hooded sweater with electric blue streaks dashing through, black skinny jeans held up by a leather silver and black belt, and white-toed, black high-topped sneakers. The man behind her was dressed similarly but in a brown and golden sweatshirt that high lighted his brown-goals hair and headphones.

They were clearly together. Herri smiled. Two teenagers were easy to swindle.

"Can I help you? He asked as their turn came to the counter. "Perhaps some Flopip?" Flopip was a very high-alcoholic drink.

The girl wrinkled her nose. "No, thank you, we're not interested in drinking."

Herri racked his brain. Usually, teenagers went all out on Flopip, but these ones didn't even want to drink? What was the point in coming to a bar then? "Can I offer you a meal then? Half-priced for a couple."

The young man stared blankly at him. "We're not a couple."

"We do need a hacker, though," the woman stated.

Herri curled his lip up. Hackers were outcasts, scandals, and were recently outlawed for hacking a government security facility. "I can't help you there, I'm afraid."

He was suddenly yanked over the counter as the boy stepped forward, and grabbed his vest. Herri stared into his different colored eyes. They glowed almost florescent, but the reflection was murderous. "We need a hacker, now."

Herri swallowed hard. He was sure that if he didn't provide information, the man would kill him.

The woman was no help, either. He could see that.

"Texzi."

The word came behind them. The two kids turned, and much to Herri's relief turned their attention away from him.

An old, grizzled, grimy man stared at them over the rim of his cup. He wore a dirty green jacket over a yellow-white shirt, a stained, black hat, torn pants, and holey boots. "Ya want a hacker?"

The girl stepped forwards. "Yes. We do."

The man grinned, took another swig of his drink, plopped it down with a loud thud! and leaned forwards, elbows extended, chin in hands. "Then you need to go to Texzi. That's where one of best one is."