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Maxine Lewis had decided to leave her apartment building earlier than usual, as soon as the sun went down. She tied back her hair haphazardly and shrugged on a black leather jacket, concealing the gun she wore in a shoulder holster quite nicely. She locked the door behind her as she left, not that it would make much of a difference should someone truly want to break in. Perhaps it was just habit. She took the stairs down to the ground floor. The elevators would not be working that evening.

Glass crunched under her leather boots as Max made her way through the building’s lobby. Though normally somewhat dingy, the place had been torn to shreds. Luckily, it seemed only the first few floors had been affected by the riot. Even more luckily, it didn’t seem as if any fires had been started. The block had been on the very outskirts of the riot, as if on the edges of the blast radius. Most buildings on the street were more or less intact, which was good, considering Max’s bar was just one block away.

Max walked hurriedly along the sidewalk, flickering street lamps casting a long shadow behind her. The street was dark, damp, and disturbingly quiet. It seemed the rioting had shaken everyone up, many were staying indoors that night. It was in stark contrast to the shrieking noise of the riot, of beasts trying to crush any part of the damned city they good get their hands on. Max had heard it in progress, had seen the evidence outside of her window. She had stayed indoors, one of her bigger guns close by. There was no reason to get involved. Max didn’t like to associate too much with the warring gangs and their power struggles.

The rioting was however the reason for her rush. She had been in contact with her employees already. They had seen the bar first, and assured her there was no real damage. Lucky once more, she supposed, though truthfully, Max wasn’t sure she believed in luck. There was always something waiting to get you, especially in a city like this. If it didn’t happen one day, it only made the next day more daunting. There was a feeling, creeping up her back, one she couldn’t shake. She felt the next few days would not be easy ones, though they rarely were to begin with.

It took Max mere minutes to reach her destination. The Steel Thorn, in all its glory, was on the smaller side, a bit old fashioned. As promised, there was no visible damage, and though Max let out a sigh of relief, her expression didn’t soften, illuminated by the neon light of the sign. She pushed open the doors and strode inside. Max’s Place wasn’t one of those fancy new bars with trendy food menus, nor was it a bar filled to the brim with young males hollering at sports games on huge flat screens. It was simple, classic, no bells and whistles. The place was dimly lit. The furniture was mostly polished wood, stools with leather seats lining the bar, shelves filled with every kind of booze imaginable, tables, chairs, and booths spread throughout the room. The bar was an interesting mix of old and new, with touches giving hints to times and decades long past, though it would be difficult to point out exactly what gave it this long-lived feeling. After all, Max had only been running the place for five years, but perhaps a bit of her own past had bled into the atmosphere.

A few TVs scattered throughout the room showed different channels, though each was silent.  Most weren’t paying attention to them at the moment. One screen did catch her eye however. It appeared to be showing a local news channel, reporting on the recent activity in Santa Somabra. There was footage of the rioting, clips of a city on fire. One of the patrons glanced at the same bright screen before turning away, gulping his drink down rather quickly.

There were more people in the bar that evening than Max had been expecting. She had thought patrons would be scarce, but it seemed more than a few people felt the need to drown their worries with alcohol after the rioting. The Steel Thorn attracted all sorts of characters. Humans, orcs, goblins, a couple of undead, they all came to drink. Max moved through the room, nodding at the bartender. The petite young girl was Emily, 24 years old and completely human, unlike Max. Her short hair was the color of dark honey, and big brown eyes gave her a rather innocent look, but she’d grown up on the streets of Santa Somabra, and anything innocent in her had died a long time ago.

Max headed through a door in the back, leading into her office, only to find she was quickly pursued by her second employee. Isaac was 32, a handful of years older than Max appeared to be, hispanic, and human. He was tall, around 6’3”, and the shirt he wore emphasized the fact that he was heavily muscled, strong, for a human at least. Usually quite cheerful, Isaac’s grim expression immediately set Max on edge. [i]I knew there was something wrong,[/i] she thought. 

“Max…” Isaac started, brows furrowed.

“Something happened,” Max stated plainly. “What? The bar didn’t look damaged. This has to do with the rioting doesn’t it?”

Isaac grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “You’d better come out back.”

Max narrowed her eyes at the lack of explanation before heading towards the alley behind the bar, her employee in tow. It didn’t take long to see what the problem was. Three bodies lay sprawled on the ground. The corpses were mangled beyond recognition, their blood mixing with the puddles left by the rain. At least one appeared to be something less than human, but beyond that there wasn’t much one could make of the scene. They had been reduced to so much meat.

“Well fuck,” Max declared, raising her eyebrows at the aftermath of something that had obviously been quite unpleasant, at least for the three in front of her. 

“Fuck indeed,” Isaac agreed, frowning at the mess. Like Emily, Isaac was from Santa Somabra, born and raised. He was no stranger to violent displays. “They were here when I opened up. Maybe it was part of the riot, or something to due with the gangs? Or a message for you?” he mused. “You probably have enemies.”

“You’re right about that,” she said with a faint smirk. “But I don’t think this was directed at me,” she continued with a sigh. “If it was a message, it would be a clear one, and this,” she said, gesturing at the corpses, “means nothing to me. If it was gangs or rioting and just some god awful coincidence, then I don’t want to know about it. I just want it gone.” She frowned in distaste. It may have been connected to the riots, but honestly that was a bit strange, considering that most of the street hadn’t been touched in the rioting. If it was gang-related, she didn’t want to get involved. Not with the shit that was going down in the city these days. It might have just been plain old murder. This kind of thing really was not so rare in Santa Somabra.

Isaac looked at her. “You gonna call the cops? I mean, we can’t just leave these here.” 

Max glanced at him sharply. She raised her eyebrows, her face incredulous. “Are you kidding? The last people I want sniffing around my bar are the authorities. You may remember that part of my business is somewhat less than legal. Even if the majority of the cops in this city weren’t dirty bastards, it’s still unnecessary trouble... Besides, I think the cops are a bit preoccupied with the rioting. They probably wouldn’t even be able to spare a man to come over here if we did call.”

Max rubbed a hand over her face, sighing. She seemed to be sighing a lot tonight. “Just through a tarp over this mess, will you? You and Emily need to make sure no one heads out here. I’ll make a call and have this cleaned up quietly.”

She turned, heading back to her office, where she fell back into the overstuffed leather chair behind the heavy wooden desk, pulling her phone out to scroll through the contacts. Finding the one she wanted, a number she hadn’t needed to call in a year at least, she punched it in with impatient fingers and waited for someone to pick up.

After a few rings, the deep voice of a man came on. “Maxie, is that you? It’s been a while.”

“Hey Bert,” she said in greeting. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” She supposed, to a human like Bert, a year would seem like a lengthy amount of time. “Look, I don’t have a lot of free time at the moment, so I’ll cut to the chase,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. If it were possible for vampires to get headaches, she knew she’d of had the biggest of them all. “I’m going to require your services. The alley behind my bar has gotten a bit… cluttered. I need it cleaned, quickly and quietly.”

She could hear him chuckling over the line. “That so? How cluttered are we talking?”

“Three. Messy. I’m pretty sure I remember your usual rates, I’ll pay them without complaint.”

“Maxie,” he said. She frowned, not overly fond of the nickname. “You’ve helped me in the past, right? We’re buddies. I’ll give you a discount.”

She was unsure whether he was playing some sort of angle, but at the moment she didn’t care. She’d received a text earlier that evening from someone wanting to move some goods, and they were going to be arriving any minute.

“Fine, Bert. Thank you. When can you clean this up by? I need this mess gone as soon as possible,” she stated. “...I really appreciate you doing this for me,” she added as an afterthought. There was no need to be rude, after all.

“Yeah yeah, no problem. By tomorrow night you won’t even know there was ever a mess to begin with.” With that he hung up, and Max dropped her phone to the desk.

Only a minute had passed when Emily knocked and peeked her head into the room. “Guy’s here,” she said shortly. “The one you were expecting?” 

Max sighed one last time before straightening in her chair. Time to do business. “Thanks, Em. Send him in.”