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    September 4, 2019

    11pm

    Bakkhos Club, to some shithole stripper dive

     

     

    Lights. They trailed against the blackness beyond even after spotted, the iridescent feathers caught in an intricate dance of irrevocable grace.  Lithe muscles simply moved beyond a normal physique, beauty of a master ballerina twirled with the weightlessness of elegance in aerial flight.  Bi-colored locks extended their curls with speed, relaxing at the gentle rallentando of motion to a cascade of spirals.  The pause, hang time of complete silent nothingness before a crowded audience began a slow clap to build a heavy thunderous applause was the measure of a performance. 

     

    Some silent moments were almost ten seconds, collective breath of a thousand souls caught in complete harmony in anticipation she would do something else… synchronized exhale as the lights changed and slippery silks were wound around a toned and tan thigh to release her to the stage floor.  Gasp was palpable as she let go twenty feet up and the iridescent purples and green caught the light of the night raven’s wings as they snapped out.  Delicate touch down was silent, as was her exit from the stage as the lights completely disappeared to the darkness of a black glow.

     

    No encore.  None.  Not even as the formidable sound of applause outside from the audience bled into the stage wings with pressing echo.  It was always give them more, now it was let them buy another ticket.

     

    Lucky, Matteo...  whoever the hell she reported to these days with chess pieces moving after the club disaster wouldn’t be pleased she left her tuxedo and evening gown fans wanting, but tonight.. truly.. she didn’t give a fuck.  She didn't know Matteo well, and wasn't in the mood at the moment to care.

     

    Costume mistress was pulling pieces of her scant attire to place back on the racks as she walked, bottle of water in her hand per usual, towel wiping the sheen from her limbs, hair wound into her fist and wrapped into a pile on the top of her head with one of the sashes that was part of the costume covering her breasts.  Behind the stage, nobody cared two shits.  Everyone had seen almost every inch of her, besides, her hind-side was usually the point of most people’s attention. They weren't just a prop, muscles in her back moving in sync as the shimmering things lowered to dust across the floor like a black cape to keep from hitting shit.  Elevator was waiting to take her up to the dressing halls near the top grid of the building.

     

    Tiger eyes were quiet, door to her dressing room closed just as silent. 

     

    Black open back tee shirt was peeled on over an already naked torso, tied at the back of her waist per usual.  The bottom of her scant costume was pulled off with a lift of her foot and a snap, laid over the back of her vanity chair as a knock preceded her dresser’s entrance.

     

    *npc* Car?

     

    “No,”  the gorgeously timbred voice whispered.

     

    Just before.  She’d learned just before stepping on stage.  Black lace thong slipped up over hips, followed by low slung jeans.  Window was pushed open, the barefoot superstar climbing onto the ledge from four stories up, it was raining- hard.  In the dark the droves made the lights of the city fade in and out in waves.  Stepping onto the grate of the fire escape, she was soaked within seconds, climbing onto the slick railing with impeccable balance to stand and survey the city in the midst of a thunderstorm… leaning forward to fall into the black.  Speed increasing, cloak of shadow snapped open in a razor slice to arc water in every direction and create lift to cut between several buildings.  Barefoot, the Meta sluiced through air within the storm, sliding after nearly a half hour on top of an impenetrable high rise.  Pushing through glass double doors of a dark studio never locked, the intent artist pulled on boots with a slam of each heel and snap of wet denim over them.  Breakaway holsters were snapped on her thighs as she dripped on the marble floor in heavy rivulets.

     

    Sheen of tiger’s eye flicked to the light leather jacket on a bar stool.  She pulled it on, reaching behind her to buckle it at the base of her spine.  Everything worked that way.  Hammerfists checked in her pockets.  Cell phone went off on the counter.  The club.

     

    Fuck the club.

     

    Again into the rain, the hospital wasn’t far.  It was a small one, in shit-storm central of the city.  Too much lately, too much.  The alley was almost flooded, the run-off rushing down the ramp to the bowels of the building circling a stinking drain.  One knock on the door with no window under a flickering light got someone's attention, it opened a crack.

     

    He was a waif of a young man, but one she’d rather wished she didn’t know.  He welcomed her in from the rain, a nonchalant shiver of feathers shaking the water off in a spray of droplets.  She hated the walk. One door, two door, three… the stainless steel had a smell. Not cold or antiseptic, but barren.  Devoid.  A place where only things that didn’t exist lived before becoming nothing.

     

    The small door was opened, long tray pulled out with a smooth tug, moving to demurely fold back the white cloth that had been seeped slightly with red.

     

    She didn’t even need to see.

     

    She knew.

     

    The kid… no longer a kid, nineteen these days had seen so much darkness they were seasoned vets of a shit world.  Lips pressed to a thin line, bubbling anger held in with a soft sigh.  Bruises had turned to cuts had turned to this.  A headliner in a hole-in-the-wall strip club, now on a slab.  Someone was dealing these girls like money.  Shifting them around to keep under the radar.  Using them up until curb appeal was gone, then shipping them off someplace else to count money, then test product, then… this.  A production line from stripper pole to death.  Not Bakkhos business officially.  It was her business.

     

    “You know what to do.”

     

    The young man nodded at her.  He was her “in” to most deaths before they were sent to proper morgues, most likely be fired if anyone ever knew he was her contact.  But, he also did the right thing.  Handled the “lost” off to morgues with instructions from their “families” for burial.  Otherwise, a pauper’s grave in a pine box with a number for a memorial, for nobody.  She'd lost this round with the dark underbelly.  They all hurt, but this one... hurt more.

     

    The Meta knew their names, and their stories, and she knew this one’s last address.

     

    She nodded at him once, a wet lock that had escaped the large wrapped bun tucked behind her ear as she left for the same door she’d come through.

     

    This was going to be a long, bloody night.

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    • 1 month later...

    Under the awning was as good as a place as any to lean.  She wasn’t above getting soaked to the bone, but it tended to be a bit easier to dry off in the long run if she didn’t lavish in the downpour.  A black bulb had been placed in the light next to the door.  She’d noticed it before on a few others.  It meant something, not quite sure yet what, but enough that it seemed to be a common thread between the strip club shitholes that had been spitting out girls to the morgue.  The odd color made her eyes an even stranger hue when they caught the light, embers of her cig glowing every so often before the white, now pale lavender tendrils blew out only to be squashed by the massive droplets beyond the lonely awning.

     

    The water was literally running through the alley, center worn by foot traffic over the years in the older section of the city.  It was no longer crowned in the center, a small impression that ran at the moment like a stream.  It gurgled over cracked bricks, catching the keen attention of her eyes.

     

    The Resonance had changed her body, her demeanor with it, sharing the once human space with that of something not quite. Vision a bit keener, attention more focused, eyesight uncanny, enough to distinguish the ripples of water in the dark.  They flicked toward a door that was bobbing open ever so slightly about fifteen feet from her.  Every time it would move, a thin strip of pulsating light would pierce the rain and bounce of off the raindrops in glittering shards.

     

    She knew that behavior, the place was too hot, and someone was standing in the doorway to open it every so often and let out the pressure.  Someone would eventually sneak out for a smoke.

     

    Apparently sooner rather than later, she stepped backward out of the awning into the dark.  A thin figure slid out, they wouldn’t see her for at least a minute.  Pulsating and piercing lights took a bit to clear out of one’s eyes.  They would be seeing spots for a bit until their eyes adjusted.  Glaring up at the sky, she was lost in shadow as the door closed and he took her place under the awning, a slow sniff catching the cigarette smoke that was lingering in her dry spot.  It seemed to completely slide by him that there had been someone there just seconds ago.

     

    Not someone she had seen before.

     

    “So how does someone get a job around here.”

     

    His eyes lifted toward her, black hair matted “fashionably” over his forehead.  Cigarette hung between his fingertips as he lifted his hand to cover his eyes from the black light in efforts to see her.  He was obviously not going to introduce himself.  Beady eyes peered up at her as he took a long drag and blew it out.  He was pretending he could see her.

     

    *npc* Not hiring.

     

    “Shitholes are always hiring,” she said quietly, taking a step back in to finish her cig, wings lowering to lie along the shadows.  “I heard you had a vacancy.”

     

    His blinking was telltale.  He was either scared shitless or he was desperately trying to see if she was worth pulling a weapon on. Maybe a little of both.

     

    She leaned a shoulder on the wall, taking another drag from hers before smashing it against the wall and field stripping it to leave to the gurgling alley stream.

     

    “Jessica’s spot still open?”

     

    Hand touched his waistband under a jersey.

     

    “Why’d you go and have to touch your gun?” her sigh was palpable.  “I just asked a question.”

     

    Kick off the wall was brutal, the snap of death stopping the momentum upward to hammer down her fist into his jaw with all the weight of her body and more.  Eyes flicked at a few white sprinkles of something that plinked into the rushing water. Teeth maybe.  Asp snapped from its holster and he was battered again with an equally cruel hit on the back of his knees as he tried to get up.

     

    Fist grabbed his wrist and dragged him from the sight of the awning further down the alley into the driving rain.  He most likely hadn’t gotten a good look at her yet. His eyes hadn’t had enough time to adjust.  Now, even if they did they were in relative darkness, he was in pain and only wanted to curl up on the cracked pavement.

     

    “Why is Jessica’s spot open?”  she knelt next to him.

     

    *npc*  F..  f.. fuck you

     

    Jaw set, standing in a twirl to bring the asp snapping against his collar bone this time.  It broke.  He screeched, then babbled.  Something about overdose.  Bad product.

     

    “Who.”

     

    *npc*  Don’t know…. we just get it shipped, give as partial payment.

     

    “How is it you can afford to go through girls like that?”

     

    *npc*  There are always girls.. Homeless…

     

    Eyes narrowed.  That didn’t help.  It was impossible to monitor every shelter in the city.

     

    “Tell your ‘we just get it shipped’ to stop experimenting.”

     

    It was two-fold.  He probably didn’t know, in which case he mentioned what had happened here to the wrong person and they would kill him for knowing. He would end up in the morgue, and she could narrow her search.  If he didn’t get offed, she might be able to milk him for information in exchange for his life.

     

    “Or, I will kill you.”

     

    It wasn’t a threat, it was a certainty.

     

    She was suddenly gone in the darkness, only a story up, but far enough away that he was stumbling to get up and figure out where his attacker had gone. Fear.  Fear was a great motivator it seemed as he bee-lined for his safety, and hopefully to lead to some information.

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