Rapture Noir: Rock and a Hard Place

Rock Flanagan, Private Investigator. The title sounds exciting, dangerous. The kind of thing that might impress a dame or two. But the reality of the situation is that these days most of what I do is lurk around like some pervert with a camera, tracking down the odd missing person.

Hell, I'm not even a very good private investigator. It's an embarrassment how long it took me to make the connection between Elizabeth and that girl in the park. How could I not realize how similar they looked? The hair, those eyes, they had to be related.

Those eyes, when I saw them walk through the door of my office I was transformed into that awkward kid I used to be in highschool. Heart aflutter over some girl I knew I didn't stand a chance with. Not an ideal situation in my line of work, but I'm a sucker for a pretty face.

I followed the girl over the course of a week. Or followed her as best I could, the girl had a knack for evading me. But even the most illusive person can still be traced if you have the patience. Turns out she sings at the Kashmier, not my kind of place, but I'm starting to think it should be. She also makes trips to a apartment in Hestia. Obviously not her own, maybe a lovers? It would make sense, a pretty young thing like that. Maybe that's what she was trying to hide? Some kind of relationship that might be an embarrassment to her family, the kind of thing they write books about.

Anyway, it wasn't really my business. Besides, I have more immediate things to think about. Like the pretty young thing sitting on my desk. How the hell did she even get in here?

I wander into the room and make my way towards the desk. "I didn't expect to find you here."

"Why not? You told me that you had something for me." She says, casually reading from a newspaper.

"That's not exactly what I meant." I reply, motioning to the door.

"I'm sure you'll get over it." She quips, putting down her paper. "What have you got for me?

I slide some pictures across the desk. "I've managed to track down your sister. She's been shacking up with some-"

Elizabeth's hands balled into fists."Have you found where she lives?" She snaps.

"No." I said, somewhat taken aback. "I haven't been able to get that close."

Calming herself, Elizabeth smiles and runs her fingers through my hair. "Do you think you can?"

I feel my face flushing as I try and maintain my composure. "Yeah, I'll just need more time."

Wordlessly she mouths 'good' and leans in to kiss me softly. My arms dangle by my sides uselessly as my mind struggles to comprehend what's happening. Pangs of my denied desire shoot through my body as her lips part from mine. With more then a hint of satisfaction I watch her saunter out of the room. Oh Rock, you are in the best kind of trouble right now.

After several minutes of recovery I turn my attention to the paper she left on my desk. My eyes immediately dart to the headline 'Bank Robbery Turns Bloody.' Christ, is that Booker? I scanned the picture on the front page closely. Damn, it is him. Even in black and white you can see the hints of bloodstains on his coat and the shaken look on his face. I should give him a call, we'll go out for drinks or something. We haven't done that in a while. Maybe I'll tell him about Elizabeth?


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I was nursing the last of my drink when Booker finally made his entrance. I could tell by his movements that whatever had gone on in the bank was affecting him more then he had let on when we talked on the phone. He seemed twitchy, like he expected something to happen at any second.

As he approached the bar I can't help but blurt out. "Jesus, Booker. You look like hell."

"That suits me just fine, I feel like hell." He responds, sinking into his stool.
I make a motion towards Eddie as he looked our way. "Hey Eddie, two Broncos. I'm paying for my friend here." i said, patting Booker on the back.

Booker raises an eyebrow. "Rock, I know you can't afford to paying for anyone's drinks, much less your own. What's going on?"

Smiling, I downed the last of my drink. "Oh, I've been lucking out lately."

"Finally getting some good cases?" Booker inquires.

"And more then that." I continued. "I think the lady I'm working for has fallen for the old Flanagan charm."

"Is that what you call it now?"

Holding a hand to my heart I feigned a wound. "Hey."

Eddie deftly slid our drinks across the bar. Two Bucking Broncos. Normally I'm not for fad drinks, but I aimed to get drunk for cheap and you couldn't do better then Bronco for that.

Booker gulps down some Bronco, it looks like he aims to catch up to me. "So what sort of case does she have you working on?"

"Missing sister, not too sure on the details. But it sounds like maybe she's got herself a lover the family doesn't approve of, and she doesn't want to be found." I respond, taking a sip of my drink.

"Sounds like maybe your client has something to hide."

"Well, it's her business." I shrug. "I'll tell you, though. That girl is something else. Eyes like you wouldn't believe."

Booker simply smiles and takes another drink.

What can I say? I tend to ramble when I get some drink in me. I was half-way through explaining my issues with my faucet when I stop myself.

"Christ, I'm sorry Booker. I've been talking about myself the whole night. I, uh, read about that incident at the bank. You want to talk about it or something?"

Booker stares into his drink for a good long while before answering. "I'm thinking I might want to pick up a new plasmid for self defense."

"Shooting fire out of your fingers not doing it for you?"

His reply was deadpan. "It wouldn't hurt to diversify."

"I guess not, but I mean, how are you doing? Between you and me it doesn't look like you're taking it very well."

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Well, no shit. Listen, I'm trying to be a friend here."

"I know, just...let's watch the game, alright?" I could hear his voice strain under the pressure of suppressed tears.

I obliged him readily enough. I never was  good at comforting people, and focusing on the game seemed to ease his mind. I don't think either of us were particularly big fans of football, but I figure you give anyone enough to drink when the game's on and you'll start to see that competitive edge come out. By the end of the game the two of us where cheering and slapping each other on the back like we actually knew what the hell we were talking about.

The Stingers ended up losing in the last half, badly. Booker was about as gracious a victor as you'd expect him to be after that many drinks, but I didn't mind. Like I said, not a big football guy. Our post game celebration lasted the better part of an hour before Booker's head started to nod.

"Hey, I think I'm going to get going." Booker stated, more to his mug then to anyone in particular.

"Had enough?" I asked, leaning in to make sure he was together enough to make the walk home by himself.

"Yeah." He said, his voice slightly slurred.

Booker stood up and started to shamble out the door before thinking better of it. "Hey Rock. You're a good friend." He said, leaning in and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"The hell I am, you're drunk." I respond, shaking my head and gripping his shoulder.

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	It was the better part of a week before I finally made progress in my search for Elizabeth's sister.  I tracked her down to an apartment complex in Olympic Heights where she seemed to live by herself. Pretty fancy for a girl who makes her money singing at the Kashmier. Maybe her lover gives her some cash on the side?

Getting in was easy enough. It was something of a truism in Rapture that the rich and elite felt so apart from the 'parasites' that they barely bothered with security measures. After all, why would they steal from each other? Only parasites would do that.

Always keeping myself just around the corner I followed the girl to her apartment. I passed by, noting the number and smiling to myself in satisfaction. Elizabeth would be happy with me.  And, I realized, that was more rewarding to me then the prospect of a paycheck.