Nightclub “Tasteless”, Washington DC
January 10th, 11:23 PM
Raider pulled her dress down slightly, huffing at the way it kept hitching up her legs. “You should feel lucky,” she said with a grin at her ‘partner’ for the night. “Only two other men have seen me wearing clothes like this. And one of them died immediately afterward.”
“Excellent,” Isaac muttered, checking his cuffs. “I feel so very lucky. Azazel, you comfortable?”
Moderately, the Ethereal replied from the safety of the back seat of the car. The windows were heavily tinted so that passers-by wouldn’t look in and panic. I do wish your species was taller. I need more leg space in here.
“ESP working fine?”
I see all you two see, he affirmed.
“Good, good. Huntress, Noxious, both of you ready to come in if something goes wrong?”
In the front seats of a different car, the two operatives glanced at each other. Samantha had opted not to wear her EOD suit this time, refusing to remain stuck in a car wearing a ‘ballistic oven’. “We’re ready,” she replied, though she frowned at how light her rifle was.
Isaac nodded. “Perfect. Hopefully, I won’t need you, but it’s always best to be prepared. Hannah, you ready to leave when I give the word?”
The woman sitting in front of Azazel shook her head. “I have no idea how you talked me into this.”
“Me neither. Are you good to go?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Wonderful.” He turned to Raider and put on a winning smile. “Shall we?”
With an amused expression on her face, the operative looped her arm through his, and they walked towards the entrance of the club, where a bouncer stood waiting for someone to test his patience. He stopped them at the door, his expression one of suspicion.
“Name?” he demanded.
“Nicholas Chains,” Isaac replied. He motioned to Raider. “This is my girlfriend Sandra. Don’t ask me how I got her,” he added with a wink.
The bouncer folded his arms. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are. I can’t let you in here.”
“Ah, come on. Do I look like I’ll cause trouble?” Isaac pulled Raider close by the hip, and she gave a mindless giggle. Over the commpiece in his ear, he thought he heard Samantha withhold a jealous gasp. “We’re just here to have a good night.”
The bouncer moved his eyes from one to the other, his gaze lingering on Raider’s form. He opened his mouth as if to refuse them again, but frowned and stopped. His eyes took on a purple hue briefly, before returning to normal. “Well… alright. You two look like class acts.” He stood aside, and motioned for them to go in. “Come right in.”
“Thank you Azazel,” Isaac whispered when they were inside.
You should be thankful he was weak-willed, the Ethereal muttered. I am only a Minor in Purple, after all. On most people, such suggestion would not have worked.
“Whatever, I’ll take it. Bouncer was supposed to be briefed we were coming. Clearly he wasn’t.”
Inside the club, people were everywhere. On the dancefloor, the patrons allowed the music beating from the speakers to flow through them, the mass of humanity moving in time. Around the sides, people sat at tables, some with alcohol, others with food, others still with both. Lights flickered everywhere, dancing off the walls and ceiling. One could tell another’s purpose for being there purely by their clothing – some were there to escape from reality. Others were there for a friendly catch-up. Some, even for business.
Isaac swallowed. Now he remembered why he didn’t frequent such places. “Round the back,” he murmured. “That’s where we’re meeting him.”
“Alright,” Raider said cheerfully, beginning a stride towards the dancefloor. He yanked her back by the arm. “What?” she asked.
“We’re just going to walk through all of that?” he hissed.
“It’d look far less suspicious if we joined the rabble,” she insisted. “Just dance your way through.”
“I’m not doing it.”
You will not convince him, Azazel said to Raider privately. Judging from his thought patterns, he is adamant.
This from the guy who insists on staying in character at all times. “Alright, fine. We’ll just walk over then.”
Relieved, Isaac began to make his way around the crowd bouncing in the center with Raider, weaving past the occasional person carrying drinks. Eventually, they reached the bar, where Isaac attracted the attention of one of the security members standing in the doorway of the ‘employees only’ area. “Excuse me,” he said, “my girlfriend -“ Again, the strange noise from Samantha. “- needs to use the bathroom, and the main ones are full of people. We’re in a bit of a rush, so could we use the one back here?”
The indoor bouncer looked down at him, being rather taller. “You ‘Nicholas’?” he asked, clearly aware that this was a fake name.
“That’d be me.”
He stepped aside. “Sure, go ahead. Don’t be too long, though.”
In the back, the two bee-lined for a nondescript room behind the kitchen, the door of which opened and a man in a suit was thrown out, much to the laughter of the room’s occupant. “Get this fuckwit outta here,” a voice yelled from within, and the guard responsible for the throwing grabbed the unfortunate man by the neck, carrying him out like he was holding a bag of garbage.
Isaac resisted the urge to knock. “Samson?” he asked, peering in.
The beefy black man seated at the table within grinned. “Ain’t using names dangerous?” he queried.
“Only if there’s someone to listen,” Isaac responded.
“There’s always someone to listen,” Samson retorted. He indicated the chairs across from him. “Your colleague here, or they still on their way?”
“I’m here,” Raider said, following Isaac in and sitting down with him.
Samson raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I, uh… I ain’t complainin’, but… ah… Where she gonna hide the stuff? That outfit doesn’t exactly have much room to hide anything.”
Isaac coughed. Now the risky part. “We… may have called you here on false pretenses. We aren’t here to do a drug deal.”
“Then what are you here for?”
The Judge frowned. “You’re not worried about that at all?”
Samson scoffed. “No. You wanted pop me, you woulda done so already. You undercover cops, you woulda gone along with it till I procured the merchandise. Clearly, you got my best interests at heart.” He cracked a knuckle, still smiling. “Or, at least, you don’t feel like fillin’ me fulla lead. Tonight, anyway. That just leaves the questions of who you are, and what my sorry ass can do for you.”
“Well, glad that’s out of the way,” Isaac muttered. “You might have heard of me. I go by the name of ‘Judge’, and my associate here is Raider. We were hoping to interest you in a job proposition.”
“Now, you hold on there,” Samson interrupted. “You ain’t the Judge. That’s bullshit, Judge always goes around with that Yokolov bastard, amiright? Maybe my eyes need testing, but that sure as hell ain’t Yokolov sitting right there. If it is, I might need to re-evaluate my sexuality.”
The Judge scowled. “Yokolov died several years ago. During the war. If he were still alive, I wouldn’t be here hiring you.”
The African-American considered that for a moment. “True enough,” he said finally, an odd trace of somberness to his voice. “I’m sorry to hear he’s dead. Truly. Crazy asshole was an inspiration to all us enforcer types. Only wish I coulda seen him in action. I hear he was something to watch.”
Isaac waved a hand dismissively. “Only if you were on his side,” he replied dryly. “Anyway, as I was saying. I have a job offer for you.”
“That so?” Samson asked. “Alright. You got my interest. But first, a little test.” With that, he pulled one hand above the table, ironically clutching a ‘Judge’ shotgun-pistol in it, pointed directly at the two operatives. Isaac breathed in sharply, resisting the urge to whip his handgun out. From Raider’s emotionless expression, clearly she was having similar urges.