[URL=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLiQowfvhiI][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3] Q U A N T U M:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][sup][color=silver]Lonely Hearts Club | [i]The Point[/i] | 10:15 P.M[/color][/sup][/INDENT][/URL]



The atmosphere was smokey, the music loud and the cheers of the patrons of the club likewise. The lights were flashing to the rhythm of whatever the DJ of the night was playing on the dance floor, the bass loud enough to make the entire building shake. Others spilled drinks made the floor sticky as his black boot made it's way back to his booth in the back of the bar floor of the club, from where he could sit – like he did every night, watching the people out on the floor dancing. The waitresses were making their way past him, their tight skirts or cocktail dresses were always a pleasure to see. Club Gomorrah was the most infamous club in all of Lonely Hearts district, and like the dark twin to club Nevermind. Inside of the club one could find more criminals than you'd find in any of the jails in all of Crescent City. The owners were shrouded in shadows, but all that was known for sure was that the cops didn't dare to touch the place after it opened during the early parts of the past decade.

He tried to get contact with a waitress, and she quickly made her way over to him, bending down excruciatingly. 
“What can I do for you, Marcus?” She asked him, knowing his name from the nights previous he had been at Gomorrah – which was just about all of them. 
[color=silver]“Oh so many things, Kandy. I'll have a glass of whiskey, bottom shelf, none of that fancy stuff.”[/color] He told her with a sheepish smile and she giggled. 
“You do strike me as a man who's a fan of the fancy stuff, Mister. One glass of non-fancy whiskey coming right up.” She cooed at him, acting coy. Marcus leaned back in his seat, checking his phone, a crack running up his screen and splitting into countless smaller cracks on the upper half of the phone. Four texts. All from Lisa. He ignored them, for now.

He peered for Kandy, whom he noticed was getting groped by two middle aged men, putting their hands all over her in ways that while not against the policies of the club, nothing was – they were against the gentleman's code. Marcus made his way over there, peeling the older man's finger off of Kandy's ass, earning him a look from the patron who's second-basing Marcus had interrupted. “Who the fuck are you?!” He asked, and Marcus smiled.
[color=silver]”A man waiting for a drink. You're holding up my waitress. I'm a high functioning alcoholic, I get antsy when I have to wait too long.”[/color] He retorted, looking as smug as possible, he turned to Kandy. [color=silver]”You OK?”[/color] She nodded, while avoiding eye contact with him – or the other men.
“Hey, asshole!” The gentlemen told him, as they had gotten out of their booth standing face to face with Marcus. “You want a drink so bad? Here you go.” He said, throwing his half-finished drink on Marcus. The drink stained his T-shirt he put finger into the wet spot on his chest, and then promptly tasting the liquid that had been misplaced on his clothes. 

[color=silver]”Pink Panther? You flirting with Kandy to try and make your boyfriend over there jealous?”[/color] As he finished talking, the man threw a punch into his face, hitting him in the cheek, he winched. 
[color=silver]”I was raised catholic – turn the other cheek.”[/color] Only to get punched again.
“Had enough?!” The guy shouted and Marcus shook his head
[color=silver]”Come on, you're a big boy, can't you hit harder than that?”[/color] This time the uppercut sent Marcus onto the table behind him, which he fell down from, resting his back against the side of the booth. 
[color=silver]”Now, that's a punch. That how your daddy beat you?”[/color]
 The guy spit on him, before walking away, grumbling something about “Crazy city folk.”

Kandy grasped in horror, as she sat down next to Marcus, touching his face, wiping blood away with a handkerchief from his lip. 
“High functioning alcoholic? I've seen your tattoos, you're a soldier, you could've beaten up those guys.” 

Marcus smiled and looked into her blue eyes. 
[color=silver]All right. High functioning might have been an overstatement.[/color] He chuckled.