Well, here I am.
This place is honestly not as dingy as I thought it would be. Entering it from the outside, sure, it was down a metal flight of stairs with fliers stuck to them, oil stains, old chewing gum, all the usual urban detritus. The building on the outside doesn't look like it's been cleaned in a while, either.
But through the door, I guess I've now discovered that even places like this can be surprisingly tasteful. The locale was described to me as "underground gambling and drug den", which is not typically an optimistic set of words. But perhaps the standards have increased while I wasn't looking.
The carpet is dark red, and looks like it's actually been vacuumed. The furniture around is wooden and polished, the cushions aren't even cut open. The clientele, too, don't look particularly out of place, all in business casual, as the white collars would call it. Even the noise is only at "friendly conversation and warm music" level, and someone even seems to have a taste for incense.
I'm actually half-impressed, but I suppose the one I'm after would rather not drink out of a sewer.
(text-color:"white")[[I walk past a man, whom I presume to be a bouncer, and give him a natural little wave.]]The important thing is to act natural. The bouncer returns the wave with a smile of his own, and sizes me up. From the movement of his eyes, I can tell he's looking for anything untoward about my silhouette. An ocular pat-down. Far less secure than a regular one, to be sure, but this is a less-than-public establishment to begin with, so half the security is by obscurity to begin with.
Besides, the mutual trust is always nice. He points his head toward the centre of the room and lets me go. Without much of a word, it's enough to understand that this place is operating on a "don't start nothing, won't be nothing" set of rules. Fine by me. It's not a guarantee that I'll make a scene, anyway.
I walk further into the main room, and gravitate a bit to one of the sides where the more luxurious-looking couches are. The plan is to look a little indecisive, as if I'm not sure what I want to do next. And to accomplish that, I sit down and splay out a little, leaning against one of the sides and taking out my phone.
(text-color:"white")[[A neat little trick about my phone in particular is that it has an infrared camera.]]
Quite an expensive bit of tech, especially if you want one this small. But it's perfect for blending in, and it's a justifiable business expense. If I were a legal employee, I could probably even write it off my taxes. I won't look into it just yet, though. After all, it's still a small aperture.
What I can see at the moment is that there are groups of gamblers right in the centre of the room, and from the looks and sounds of it, they're playing poker and blackjack with the aid of some substances. At one side of the room is a bar, which is where the incense is coming from. The bartender looks like he's stocking more than just drinks.
In the corner are scant individuals who seem blitzed out of their minds. They're not moving much, but the way their arms move to puff their smokes tells me that they're probably more than content. I certainly can't tell what they're smoking, especially from here. It's probably why incense is burning to begin with.
All together, about two dozen people. Movement seems regular. I can't notice anything out of the ordinary just yet.
(text-color:"white")[[But that's what the camera is for.]]
With a few casual swipes of my thumb, I open my top secret infrared app, only for secret agents, hackers, and other assorted cool kids. Continuing the guise of a bored, casual lounger, I tilt my head a bit as if I'm just taking a minute to doomscroll, and only occasionally moving my phone around to focus the camera on the groups of people.
They all seem to have natural human heat signatures. Well, I'm not surprised. It would certainly be nice if it were that easy, but it never is. Not to be discouraged, of course, because it's still very likely my target is here. But whoever they are, they're not jumping out on camera.
And so, with another disinterested affect, I press my phone's power button and put it in my pocket. Again, looking around the room as if I'm deciding, I wonder how I should pass the time and see if evidence presents itself.
(text-color:"white")[[I should have a drink.]]
Alright. Time to see what the local poison is.
I slowly get up and walk over to the bar counter. Again, it's all quite clean, and the bar stools even have cushions. It gives me the impression that someone is actually proud of this place. It might even be the bartender. He's clean-shaven and wearing a vest and everything.
(text-color:"green")["Hey, hey.".]
"Yeah, hey."
I hop up and get comfortable. The bartender takes an earbud out of his ear and turns to face me.
(text-color:"green")["Mm, I don't recognise you. New here?"]
His voice is quite inquisitive, respectful, even.
"Eh, yeah. You know. A little bird told me about this place. Thought I'd check it out."
(text-color:"green")["Oh yeah? Friend of the boss?"]
"Nah, they didn't say much. Just a 'oh, you're so strung out, I know just the place.'"
(text-color:"green")[["Hah. You do look a little strung out, if you don't mind me saying.]]"Buddy, I //am// strung out. I've had such a fucking day."
I haven't, of course. But this seems like a reasonable character to play.
(text-color:"green")["Oh, yeah? Wanna talk about it?"]
"Maybe. First, hit me with the strongest thing you got."
(text-color:"green")["How strong?"]
"Strong strong. The kind of shit that'll bring me back from the dead."
He cocks his eyebrow and grins. Cheeky bastard. He goes behind the counter and fixes me a single shot glass full of... something. He hid it from me. But he does bring it back around and garnishes it with one of those little leaves.
(text-color:"green")["For you, madame."]
"Yeah, cheers."
Before I take it to my lips, I give it a quick sniff. Very alcoholic, but that's all I can tell.
(text-color:"white")[["What is this?"]]
(text-color:"green")["Well, I can't //tell// you. That'll ruin the fun."]
"What the fuck do you mean? You trying to poison me?"
(text-color:"green")["No, but it's like... you know. Telling you what your Christmas present is before you unwrap it."]
This little bastard hasn't stopped smiling since he handed me this glass. I don't genuinely think it's poison. I doubt that would be good business sense. It also doesn't smell like it's been spiked with anything. But whatever it //is//, he's very keen for me to drink it.
"Yeah, whatever. Cheers."
No need for the interrogation, I suppose. I take the glass to my lips and down the whole thing in one go and-
(text-color:"white")[[Jesus Fucking Christ.]]
I take a deep breath, and then several more. I guess he's not wrong.
"Guh, Jesus Christ..."
(text-color:"green")["Would you like something a little smoother, then?"]
"Yeah, sure. I need to calm down from that traumatising attempt on my life."
He rolls his eyes, still grinning like the smug little bastard he is. Well played. I'm not going to hold it against him, though. He actually seems quite sociable, and might know a bit more about who I'm looking for. I'll have to think about a way to prod him about that, though.
Whatever he's cooking up this time, it's a bit higher effort. A much taller glass, some ice, some brown liquid, some powder, some other stuff. It does smell nice. He looks to be focussing quite intently, even, so I thought to be polite and not interrupt.
And then, before long, it's infront of me. A tall glass of cold brown liquid, dusted with cocoa on top. Iced coffee, it smells like. Topped with liquer.
"Damn. I should have asked for something like this to begin with."
(text-color:"green")["But you wanted me to think you're tough?"]
I take a deep sip through the straw. Not bad.
"Yep."
(text-color:"green")[["Hah! Happens all the time, no worries."]]I take another sip. I'm not huge into coffee, but this stuff feels like it's putting out the literal fire that is inside my throat. I don't think I have ever been more grateful for iced coffee in my life, and hopefully never will be again.
"It's fine. I'm tough in other ways."
(text-color:"green")["Oh yeah? You never told me about what happened today."]
"Mmm, alright, well..."
I must have drunk half the cup already. This kid did a good job with it, though I don't want to tell him. He seems the kind of guy to get an ego.
"This bitch at my work."
I shake my head as I rattle off the words. There was, of course, no bitch, either, but I could definitely inspire myself with histories of such unpleasant coworkers back when I had a more honest job.
(text-color:"green")["Yeah? What do you work as?"]
"Mm, promise you won't laugh."
(text-color:"green")["I promise."]
"Accounting."
(text-color:"white")[[He purses his lips and shakes his head. That's a good thing, though.]]
It tastes as if I've swallowed a burning coal. I manage to get it down. Barely. This was the oral equivalent of a kidney stone. My entire esophagus feels as if it is covered in needles. It's almost poetic how painful this is.
I gasp for air like a dying fish and try my hardest to stymy my coughs and splutters. Burned to a crisp by whatever this liquid was I may be, there wasn't a scene, so I don't want to start one.
"What the hell was that, sulphuric acid?"
I'm surprised I managed a complete, unbroken sentence like that. Christ on a bike. I feel as if I've swallowed burning oil.
Little bastard bartender has not stopped smiling, and he answers calmly and casually.
(text-color:"green")["Mint and chilli infused whiskey."]
What?
"Mint and-- who the fuck makes that?"
He can barely hide his amusement. He laughs into his sleeve and turns slightly away. At least someone is enjoying my misery.
(text-color:"green")[["Well, it woke you up, didn't it?]]Just your usual white-collar nonsense here, kid. Nothing to see here.
"So, we have this big report due today, well, earlier today. //Was// due, and..."
(text-color:"green")["Uhuh..."]
"And, well, like, because I'm not high enough the chain to officially represent the company, I have to give it to my supervisor, right? Like, she's the one that actually signs off on these things, and it has to be her signature or... you know, at least one of the other leads specifically, and..."
He doesn't give a shit. I can tell he's listening out of perhaps charity or perhaps pity.
(text-color:"green")["So she wasn't there, I take it. Off playing Scrabble or whatever."]
"Yeah! Fucking exactly. Like, from like 1PM to closing, absolutely nowhere to be seen, and I'm like, bitch, we gotta hand this in, we gotta send it."
(text-color:"green")["And? So what did you do?"]
"Just printed it out and left it on her desk. Fuck it. I sent her an email."
(text-color:"green")["Are you gonna get in trouble for that?"]
(text-color:"white")[["We're about to find out."]]
(text-color:"green")["Here's hoping your next shift isn't at the unemployment office, then! Heh."]
"Yeah, light me a fucking candle."
I finish draining the rest of the cup and push it forward.
"That was pretty good though, how much is that gonna run me?"
(text-color:"green")["The drinks? Nothing."]
I doubt they're running a charity here, so what could explain this little bit of generosity? A loss leader, perhaps. Getting a prospective gambler drunk would make the money flow a little more loosely. That, or perhaps someone's paid for me. Who, though? Does this kid fancy me?
I somehow doubt that, however.
"Nothing?"
(text-color:"green")["Yeah. The boss paid for you."]
I tilt my head at him, beckoning him to explain himself. In response, he jerks his head to my left.
(text-color:"white")[["Fuck!"]]
That yelp of surprise was louder and less dignified than I would have liked, but at least it didn't turn any heads. There was someone sitting right next to me, leaning over the counter, and I did not notice. How long has she been there? And from the looks of it, she, too, is amused by my suffering.
She has such a disarming smile, though. If she is mocking me, then it certainly feels less excoriating then when the bartender kid was doing it.
(text-color:"red")["So? Did you like the drink?"]
A young woman, early to mid twenties, by the looks of it. Skinny, long black hair, in make-up or has very fortunate skin genetics. Black clothing in a modern, casual style. At a glance, she looks normal. I can't tell if anything's suspicious about her just yet. Reflexively, I stare at her lips. She's wearing black lipstick, it goes with the rest of her dark entourage. But when she speaks, she won't open her mouth wide enough for me to see for sure.
"Uhh.. yeah, it was... It was nice, um. Did you pay for it? That... that was very nice of you, thanks."
The words out of my mouth are so awkward and anxious that they are truly painful to say. But, at least this was my most authentic performance tonight.
(text-color:"red")[["Aww, don't mention it."]]
Now would be a good time to take advantage of my nervousness. My eyes dart between the empty glass and this new girl. At this point, I'm suspicious. Very suspicious. Why has she taken an interest in me, and how did she get so close without me noticing at all?
She might even be the one I'm looking for.
But that hypothesis is going to need a little bit more time. It's difficult to tell if she's breathing by looking at her face, but even I don't want to be caught staring any lower.
"Oh, come on. No one ever buys a girl a drink for free."
And with that, I switch up my posture to match hers, leaning on the counter with the side of my head on my palm. I'm almost certainly coming on a bit strong here, but this new girl needs my undivided attention. I've already confirmed the bartender kid is not the target, and I also don't need him distracting me.
"So go on and tell me your devious ulterior motives."
That line was risky and perhaps a little corny, but it thankfully gets a gentle laugh and a wink in response. I feel I'm a bit too rusty for this seductive secret agent shit, but if it works, it works.
(text-color:"red")[["I just think you're cute."]]
It's not like I haven't been told things like this before, but this kind of talk is typically step one of someone with intentions of the physical kind, malicious or otherwise. And I know young people are more libertine these days, but that was still quite forward.
The broad strokes are going to have to wait, however, because I need to actually reply to her, and I'm wholly unprepared. Perhaps humility is the play.
"Oh... Am I?"
I speak the words with an innocent voice and wide eyes, and it gets a playful shake of the head in return.
(text-color:"red")["Really? And here I was thinking you get that all the time."]
"I mean, I do. But usually from guys who just want somewhere to stick their dick in."
Her eyes narrow, but she keeps smiling. Even calling her smile 'disarming' feels like it's understating things. Despite being all but convinced that she's up to something, I feel a strange sense of guilt for thinking so. Such a sweet, pretty thing couldn't possibly be up to anything untoward. It's like my instincts are being hijacked.
And I know she's exploiting it. She's staring directly into my eyes. Hers are such a pretty, pale blue. It enraptures me. In such a small moment of time, I feel like a prisoner, sentenced simply to stare in return. Her face is so soft, her skin so clear, her hair so clean and gently layered around her figure. Even her perfume feels just like she does, sweet, and subtly intoxicating.
(text-color:"red")[["And? If I had a dick, would you let me stick it inside you?"]]
This made me choke nearly as bad as that metaphorical sulphuric acid did.
"Uh... I mean..."
As verbally disarming as this was, it at least removed any doubts that I was the one coming on too strong. It has, however, left floundering. How does one even reply to something like that?
"I mean, it depends. Maybe."
(text-color:"red")["Oh yeah? Depends on what?"]
There isn't a pause in her cadence at all. She's merciless.
"Depends on.. you know. Politeness things."
She tilts her head from side to side, expecting to wrench another answer out of me. And at this point, I'm on high alert. I can feel my confidence slipping more than a bit. If I weren't deliberately trying to be careful, I'd probably be blabbing my SSN at this point.
"Like... if you're good at it. If you call back in the morning. That kind of thing."
(text-color:"red")[["Yeah? Wanna find out?"]]"I mean..."
She's really not bad. It makes me wonder how many other people she's lured into her den, and how many of those people are still alive.
"Maybe. You don't waste any time, do you?"