"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy;
for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves;
we must die to one life before we can enter another.
- Anatole France
Seether - RemedyLast call is usually the end of the night for the drunks in a bar- or in a strip club. One last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or soybeer. After all the drunks have left to go get picked up for drunk driving by Lonestar, there's a quiet time when they turn on all the lights and pick the place up before closing down.
It's weird seeing a strip club in full light. The carpets are patterned to hide stain, especially in the dark, but without the dim lighting for the mood, it just seems garish. The place stinks like sweat, jizz, and spilled beer, and seeing the girls tramp out of the place with no makeup and regular clothes really kills your desire to get a dance from them.
Olympus Mounds is one of the fancy places, too, a good old UCAS-style strip club with full nudity and a full bar, including alcohol made from actual grains instead of soybeans. Plenty of sararimen chose those seedy bunraku clubs instead, where you could get laid, but there was something classy and old fashioned about an honest strip club.
Kinsey was just a bouncer- hired magical muscle to keep an eye on things after that incident with the physad pick-pocket coming in here. He carried a gun- all of the bouncer did, in case things got dangerous- which they often did in the Mile High City.
Tiny Tina, the only troll stripper on staff, walks past with a goodnight and opens the door, letting in the cold air. That's the plug that lets the rest of the girls out, and they stream past as Kinsey helps stack chairs so the drones can clean the flooring- as well as anything would get those stains out.
It's not until he's almost done stacking chairs that he notices Tatiana waiting for him. Billed as an 'exotic' Russian, she was actually a Chechnyan immigrant trying to make it in Denver as an honest citizen. Tatiana wasn't her real name, but Sam, the guy who owned the club, wanted her to sound more Russian- because it sold more dances.
"Jon?" Tatiana asks using your fake name like everyone else at the club. She sounds timid and more than a little scared,
"I... uh, I was talking to some of the other girls, and I have a problem."A big swallow, a deep breath- maybe to enhance her bust as she leans forward, maybe to quiet her fears, and the punchline-
"The other girls said you were a guy who solved problems."Solved problems- that was a delicate way to put it. Wanted for questioning in connection to a massacre in the Pueblo side of town. Kinsey didn't want to think about that night- but it came to him. The smell of dust in the air, the bite of the smoke as the Red Samurai came through the wall. The feeling of panic, burning, and tearing as mana coursed through his veins-- forcing those feelings of panic down, Kinsey steels himself- she didn't need someone who was scared of that memory, she needed someone tough.
Kinsey muttered something noncommital; it was enough for her.
"I have a frie-- my, uh, brother," Tatiana pauses, looking around. But there was Mike the bartender cleaning up, and Johan the DJ uploading the sim feeds for the night. She lowers her voice
"He has a problem, and LoneStar can't help him. Can you please help me? Him? Us?"