INTERIOR: RICKY THE MOUTH'S APARTMENT
His eyes rove the dank apartment, a single bed positioned against the far wall, a puke green comforter covers it, the edges frayed, numerous tears exposing the white cotton stuffing. A dresser propped up against the wall in the corner, one leg horribly bent causing it to list to the left; a tiny window directly above it, the tattered curtains slightly parted, allowing only a glimpse of the virtual city that lies beyond; the light shining through the dirty glass casting odd shaped shadows which dip and bend on the weathered hard wood floor. A thread bare couch is the only other furniture in the room, stains adorn its surface in various shapes and sizes, like a disgusting Rorschach test, but the only interpretation he gleans from the patterns is that he doesn't want his virtual ass anywhere near it.
Looking around he is reminded of how much he loathes starting over. He had the apartment in the last game just the way he wanted it. He had robbed banks, held up convenience stores and committed a plethora of crimes to amass the money for the virtual renovations, but that was not important now; this time was not about long term goals, this was about beating Beckett. His thoughts wander briefly to how she would look in the outfits when he won, but to win he needed to draw her out, and nothing brings out the cops like a good old fashioned bank robbery. Turning his character around and directing him to the closet, he opens the door and grabs a few weapons. Satisfied that he is properly equipped for the task at hand, he exits the apartment and takes the elevator to the buildings garage level, locates his vehicle, tosses the guns in the trunk, and slides into the driver's seat; next stop, Grand Savings and Loan.
INTERIOR 6th PRECINCT
A bank robbery, guess he's going for the go big or go home plan, well if he wanted to get her attention, he's got it. Seeing a pair of car keys on the corner of her desk, her alter ego's hands mirroring the movements of her thumbs sweeps on the controller, snatches them, heads for the elevator and depresses the button. Arriving at the garage level, the doors slide open with a soft ding, and she strides across the parking lot and jumps into the first unmarked cruiser. Bending slightly forward at the waist, she puts the key in the ignition, relaxes back and throws the shifter into drive. As the cruiser emerges from the underground garage, she flips the sirens on, and depresses heavily on the controller's gas pedal button, a wicked smile appears on her lips at the sound of the squealing tires in the headset; this is going to be fun. Weaving in and out of traffic, the virtual city a blur in the windshield as the on board GPS shouts out the directions, her hands tilt the controller side to side in synch with the voice in the headset, Grand Savings and Loan, he's a dead man.
INTERIOR /EXTERIOR GRAND BANK
Easing his finger on the accelerator button to slow the car, he slips into a spot right out front of the bank, and retrieves the weapons from the trunk. Stuffing the Glock into the waistband of his jeans, AK-47 slung over one shoulder, he enters Grand Savings and Loan, and without preamble begins firing into the ceiling. The sounds of the rapid fire gun shots reverberate in the headset as he makes his way further into the building. Lowering the gun to his side he takes a moment to watch the chaos unfold, virtual characters run and dive for cover, the sounds of their screaming echoing in his head.
Movement on the far left of his screen catches his attention; the bank manager he assumes, judging from his business like attire, running toward the alarm button on the far wall. Excellent, that will get Heats attention, not wanting to waste any more time, he jumps the counter and begins quickly stuffing his bag with cash; he has no doubt that Detective Heat is on her way. With a final warning to keep their heads down, he slings the cash bag over his shoulder and heads for the back door. Cracking the door open, he cranes his neck out and peers into the alley, all clear, kicking the door open the rest of the way, he proceeds down the alley
Pulling her cruiser up outside the bank, she goes to the trunk, dons her Kevlar police vest and grabs the shotgun; breaking into a run around the side of the building towards the back. Just as she rounds the corner she catches his retreating form, and raises the gun.
"Hands up Ricky! Drop the weapons and cash or I will drop you."
"Detective Heat, what took you so long? You know I have a lot of money here, maybe I can buy you dinner." Quickly spinning around to face her and dropping the bag from his shoulder, he flings it out in front of him directly at her. "Or you can buy some for yourself."
The force of the blow knocks her down and the shotgun skids across the alley, out of her reach; she looks up just in time to see him break into a run. Palms to the grounds she hoists herself up, grabs the shotgun, she begins a foot pursuit.
He needs a car, she's right on his tail, as he reaches the end of the alley, he's in luck, a car parked slightly down the road catches his eye, breaking back into a run he heads in that direction.
She so close, seeing him make a left at the end of the alley, she pumps the shotgun, she warned him, guess she's going to have to drop him after all.
Skidding to a stop in front of the car, the sound of the mail box exploding to his right rumbles loudly in his headset.
"Ha! Nice shot Beckett! That mail box is officially dead. At least the city won't have to worry about a wrongful death lawsuit. Although, destroying those letters is definitely a federal offense, so maybe not out of the woods just yet. What's the matter, that gun too big for you?"
His attention is diverted from the game by a sharp jolt of pain to his earlobe, reaching up to soothe the injured appendage, his head snaps in her direction and meets her gaze over the top of his glasses, eyebrows raised in question.
Grasping the arm with her thumb and forefinger, she raises the glasses up to her hairline, and he can't miss the mischievous glint in her eyes
"First of all Castle, I have yet to come across a "gun" too big for me to handle." Her eyes make a slow dirty sweep down his body, lingering a tad longer than necessary on his "assets"; to emphasize her point, than quickly flick back up to meet his eyes again. "And I can shoot just fine; just not with this... stupid joystick!"
Swallowing audibly, he shakes his head to clear the less than PG thoughts that just took up residence in his mind at her heated perusal, not willing to be distracted by her witchy powers, he clears his throat.
"Joystick! Beckett this is not 1970!" This a state of the art RZX1000 Razor Game Controller, with a built-in accelerometer, faux recoil simulation, automatic precision aiming, converts from gun mode to steering with a simple flip to the side and impact vibration technology."
"Wow Castle, impact vibration technology...maybe I should take this on our honeymoon, instead of you."
"Really Beckett, I hardly think we have to resort to taking the game controller with us, I have seen that box of yours and I am positive that you definitely have something comparable, oh, how about that one that…"
"Shut up! " His words abruptly cut off by her hand pressed firmly over his lips. "If you ever want to see that box again you will stop right there."
With a self-satisfied smug he readjusts the glasses, and wiggles his ass, or what he believes to be his ass, because her earlier assumption was correct, he lost feeling hours ago, not that he will admit it to her, and settles back in.
Indulging in a moment of immaturity, she pokes her tongue out at him teasingly and returns the glasses back to their original position just in time to see him slip into the stolen vehicle and take off down the street. Returning to her abandon cruiser just outside the bank, deciding to just drive around for a while, knowing that in this world just like in real life, it will not take too long for Castle to find trouble.
At the street light up ahead, she takes a right, the direction he was traveling last time she saw him, and finds herself on a strip, one reminiscent of Vegas. Neon lights, large hotels and casinos line both sides of the street, her eyes glancing back and forth; she takes in the virtual characters that are wandering the sidewalks. Showgirls, large feather boas draped loosely over their shoulders, colorful outfits adorned with sequins, a drunk who is teetering along bumping into signs, a brown bag clutched in his hand, couples walking arm and arm, and once again she finds herself astounded by the realism of the game, she is starting to see how easily one could get hooked on playing.
Continuing down the strip, the scenery begins to change, gone are the large casinos and grand hotels, replaced by smaller strip malls and single store fronts with blacked out windows. The neon XXX's highlight the street below them with vibrant colors and tattered signs stapled to telephone poles promising patrons a variety of shows that you would not see on the strip. Intending on making a U-turn, she slows the cruiser to a snail's pace, checks to make sure there are no cars coming in the other direction, when she spots him. Unbelievable! Apparently this world has prostitutes too, and there he is chatting one of them up, he's a dead man. Her hands grip the controller with such force her knuckles blanch white; her finger presses unforgivingly on the accelerator button, causing the tires on the car to spin, a squealing noise resonates through the headset. Using her free hand to yank her Glock from the shoulder holster, she stretches her arm out the window, and opens fire.
He sees her too late, at the sound of the tires squealing, he looks up and sees her arm appear out the side window, gun pointed, as a bullet whizzes by his head. Shoving the blonde out of his path, he snaps his head back up just in time to see the headlights as she plows her cruiser right into him. His body crushed between her front bumper and the brick wall: this was not the way he planned it, he apparently misjudged her reaction. He watches helplessly pinned to the wall by her cruiser, his health meter slowly losing energy as she kicks the car door open, slides her Glock back into the shoulder holster, struts up to the blonde prostitute lying face down on the sidewalk and nudges her with the toe of her heel.
"Nice one Dirty Harry! And a civilian death to boot…that's a no-no, Beckett, you lose a life."
"Seriously Castle! A prostitute! You're lucky you died before I got the chance to beat the rest of your health out of you."
"I was just trying to distract you, throw you off your game, I never expected you to go all terminator, smooth driving by the way, very Lindsay Lohan."
"Talk about smooth, you pushed her into the line of fire, you totally did that on purpose, you cheated!"
"What! I did not cheat! You wound me detective, I was trying to save her, I was pushing her out of the way."
"If by "saving" her you mean using her for a human shield, then we agree."
"Don't take it out on me because you can't shoot straight, were your eyes actually open or were you counting on the force Obi-One?"
"You know what Castle, if I wanted all this talk I would have asked Lanie for a girl's day, so unless you want to braid each other's hair, put on your big girl panties and let's finish this. Score is one death each, let's play!"
TBC
AN: I know this chapter was a tad heavier on the game side, but now that the game is set up, next chapter will definitely have more banter. If you would like to follow me on twitter you can do so at Pak_321 I also have an additional twitter account where I use the quotes to recreate the scene from the show, twitter sized. You can follow that at Castleficlets. As always, thank you to TSHLW for the hours spent helping me put this story together, beta skills, story suggestions and encouragement, and KJF3333/Flashpoint for your super ninja beta skills and story suggestions, you both are the best. A shout out to JoanaCTeixeira for taking the time to read these in advance and share her opinions, I appreciate it. *Fist Bump
