AlphaZero
Dracula's not an Avenger? That lying fuck!
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2013
The night was lit up in bright flashing neon, it coursed through the city like some kind of multi colored blood stream. The strip was it's central nervous system, where it all started and ended. The club was just off the strip, an old church, or atleast that's what it looked like.
Jason Grave had never been sure if there had ever been a church in that location or if the club had just been built to look that way. In truth he didn't really care, long as the money kept coming she could run her business out of the god damn Vatican.
The heavy out side the door gave a nod to the Fixer as he approached, pulling back the velvet rope to allow him in. The club inside was a flurry of activity, loud pulsing music and the smell of hundreds of sweaty bodies filled the air, twisting and shifting in time with the music.
Jason stood out among the crowd of leather and latex clad dancers, dressed in jeans and a tshirt, a weather beaten trench coat pulled over it all to conceal the sidearm nesteled in shoulder holster he wore. He headed towards the back of club, up a flight of narrow stairs and into a short hallway, not bothering to knock before pushing open to door at the end of the hallway. He knew she'd be waiting. She always was, that was part of the deal, he'd show up and she'd have something for him to do. Debt collection, assassination. Sometimes things could be messy but other times she had more basic needs for him to tend to. And those times where very, very enjoyable.
Jason Grave had never been sure if there had ever been a church in that location or if the club had just been built to look that way. In truth he didn't really care, long as the money kept coming she could run her business out of the god damn Vatican.
The heavy out side the door gave a nod to the Fixer as he approached, pulling back the velvet rope to allow him in. The club inside was a flurry of activity, loud pulsing music and the smell of hundreds of sweaty bodies filled the air, twisting and shifting in time with the music.
Jason stood out among the crowd of leather and latex clad dancers, dressed in jeans and a tshirt, a weather beaten trench coat pulled over it all to conceal the sidearm nesteled in shoulder holster he wore. He headed towards the back of club, up a flight of narrow stairs and into a short hallway, not bothering to knock before pushing open to door at the end of the hallway. He knew she'd be waiting. She always was, that was part of the deal, he'd show up and she'd have something for him to do. Debt collection, assassination. Sometimes things could be messy but other times she had more basic needs for him to tend to. And those times where very, very enjoyable.