Chapter 6: The Appointment

After she served coffee with milk for Ace and tea for Ace's fiancé: Penelope. Cleo found herself retreating on her room to give them 'a space' as what Penelope said, she sat on the corner of the bed and reached for her phone, trying to call Noir again after many failed attempts, however, this time, relief washed over her when the other end rang.

Yet it was not Noir who answered.

"Hello my friend, it's nice to hear from you." It was a sweet robotic voice that Cleo knows too well.

"Hent? Why did you answer my call?" She asked, it was Hent, the AI robot of the organization who spoke back. 

"Everyone is busy." She was an advanced robot made only for the organization by some great scientists the organization hired. She was made the same time Cleo entered the organization, scrutinizing that their both new on the organization, Cleo made her first friend at the same time her first enemy. 

But eversince that day, she already knew that the friendship won't last forever yet she took a few steps nevertheless to accommodate Hent here and there. Hent knew quite a thing about Cleo, Hent has a file in her RAM dedicated only to Cleo but Cleo don't have one.

It was a sad ending but it was good. Cleo trained hard on the other branch where they treated her like Hent. She became Hent's little replica. Hent's duplicate. If that's what being good meant.

"Can you locate Noir? I need to clarify some things from him," she said, holding onto the phone a little tighter.

A human becoming a robot solely for the mission was quite ludicrous to hear because Cleo wasn't one, but she acted as one, and maybe it was her fate to be treated as one all her life. Looking back, maybe her family, Hent, and the people surrounding her made her to be like a robot in the future. 

The sound of an information transmition buzzing on Hent and the processed of technology surrounded her as she waited for her to finish. "No. I can't find him," the robot replied, finally letting her sighed in dismay.

"That's okay, thanks," she managed to say before dropping the phone on her lap, she averted her gaze on the door where she heard muffled sounds of the guy and girl.

"You are welcome. Anymore?"

She lifted her phone back from her ears before closing the distance on it again and said quietly, "do you have the file of the Crowne's?"

"Yes. What do you need?"

"Can you send me a report via e-mail?"

"How long will you want to wait?"

"As soon as you get them," she said and immediately ended the call and hid her phone on the secret stash of her bag.

"Hey, Cleo, Penelope's gone," the guy said behind the door before learning hiw to knock. Cleo collected herself and opened the door.

"Were you hiding?" He asked, curiosity on his face.

"I wasn't, I just thought I'll go to my room." Cleo

"That's just nothing, that's the way Pen introduced herself to anyone." He shrugged.

Cleo raised a brow, "so? I don't need to know that input." 

Cleo crossed her arms and Ace just stared at her in perplexity, as if she's a mannequin on a Paris Fashion Week. 

"By the way, when the sun sets we'll leave," he pointed then turned his back without saying anything about his reaction awhile ago.

-

It was a warm, still night. As the sky darkened from violet to indigo. The stars multiplied. The Drollery didn't look terrific from the outside, just a big neon sign of it's name and it was situated near a cheap buy-1-take-1 burger joint. With a grey stucco interior, Cleo lose the idea that Alas Crowne was a shining-shimmering splendid god, she heaved a sigh, clearly, he's not.

She step outside his car in front of the bar, she was expecting quite a tad more from him, setting aside the fact that he lived on a shoebox apartment with nothing fancy in and out of the building. She couldn't helped but to think about how could he muster living such ordinary life.

The Alas Crowne they picture was a living bastard in a luxurious mansion partying with glamour and taking girls with the same status as he like he was tasting a chocolate fountain on a buffet. 

Well, maybe, the inside of the place wouldn't looked bad. Ace motioned for her to follow him as he swung a velvety robe open and blinding lights welcomed them, she can hear herself deflating like a balloon, from the tobacco-stained ceiling right down to the tacky - in every sense of the word - carpet. Not to mention it looks like they hasn't dust since forever.

Twenty-seven round tables were the customer could sit, laugh, and drink was so cramped and feel so sticky. The stage looks like it's about to fall down, the sound system could be temperamental and the barmaids looked like a zombie to say the least.

"So, where do you want to sit?" He said, back with his shining facade again.

She eyed the stage and the people swarming in, each holding a drink that came from the bar beside them before she looked back on him.

"I'll be near you," she said, being nervous from all the people entering and joining the crowd felt like they're there just to watched her.

"Hey! Manager wants you." Someone, a lanky guy wearing loose white shirt topped with a leopard print tee and cargo pants with white sneakers approached them.

"Ah, shoot." She heard him murmured.

"I've got to go, I'll leave you with him," he pointed at the lanky guy, "he's a buddy, name's Slidell. See you."

Cleo watched him as he flew in a rapid pace to the back of the stage.

"So......" The guy trailed. 

Cleo turned her eyes on him and felt that she should introduced herself, "I'm Cleo...." she said but closed her mouth after that, what was she's going to say next? What was her relationship to his friend? His acquaintance? His life-saver? His maid? Or his killer?

"New chick?"

Before she could compose a reply, a giggling girl bumped into her, making her lose her balance and the guy who's name's Slidell held her.

What an unfortunate thing to happened, but what caught her attention more was the flashed of a phone camera beside her.

"Is that okay?" Slidell said, giving his flashy smile to the group of girls.

Cleo composed herself, what she wanted to do now was to disappear from the sight of these people, but she has to fight back the urge if she wanted to be closed to the Crowne and this Slidell guy was not helping at all.

"Yeah. You want my number?" He said to a blonde girl who squealed in return and gave him an obvious answer.

Slidell gave off the vibe of someone you met on the side of a tunnel, spraying some gibberish on the wall and approaching you with a sinister smile.

He gave a first impression of a robber who only robs women at night and knows how to rap. Cleo chuckled silently, and Slidell took noticed of that.

"Why? What's wrong?" Slidell asked.

But instead of replying she asked another question, "who's the manager?"

It's not like she wouldn't know it in time, but just to looked less more suspicious, she asked a half-true question.

"You mean Ace? Ace's manager?"

And as if on cue, a short, red hair woman holding a clipboard, approached them: "I am Horace's Manager."

Cleo and Slidell shifted their eyes on her, she has a wavy hair that added more flare to her red hair, she's also wearing too much make-up and was wearing tight pants and ruffle shirt topped with a jacket and a gold necklace. She's also on her black heels but still below Cleo's and Slidell's shoulder in height.

"I'm Ainé." She shook her hand, "are you the one with Horace?"

"Horace?" She repeated, the name rolled in her tongue like rust on a sword.

"Yeah. That's his name in comedy world." Ainé replied.

Cleo opened her mouth for a reply but closed it when the lights around them turned dim and a spotlight was pointed on the stage were Ace or Horace stood.

As all the people diverted their attention towards him, his hair got swept back and he was wearing a violet sparkly jumpsuit that was zippered all the way to his neck. One thing was for sure, Ace already built a second identity of him or a third, and it was well-built that no one would absolutely know who he really was and no one can easily break it.

He took good care of his identity. He became a different person on the stage, Cleo must have mistaken it but he doesn't look like Alas Crowne at all, he looks like Ace, Horace or whatever he's called. 

As Horace went on the stage, he talked like everybody from the bar, the people, co-workers, and waitresses were his friends, and his audience were his acquaintances. 

He smiled like someone who smiled when they saw their friends from a long time of parting.