The wailing, booming, strangled cacophony of the clubs stereo's easily ranked as some of the most grating noises that Hercules had ever heard, ranking somewhere between the cries of the Stygian birds, and the toneless singing of Benjamin Grimm. The wine was little better, boasting a sourness he imagined could only be attained by the vintner purposefully setting out to make undrinkable swill. The company was a silver-lining, three women in their late thirties who, he was reliably informed, qualified as 'MILFS', one blonde and two brunettes. The women had flooded his corner booth a little while after he had entered the establishment, with the intention's of drinking away his woes.

The Demi-God realized that he was probably being overly harsh towards the club, that the music and the wine was probably no worse than any of the other small-town watering hole's that he had ever graced, and that the only foulness present, real or imagined, was the foulness he himself had tracked in. 

The hero had been on the road now for three days, he, his sister, Wise Athena, and his young ally Amadeus Cho, with pup in tow. Long days, with sifting cities blurring into the background while he was left with little else to do save muse on the grim turn of his fate. At being declared a renegade after throwing his lot in with powerful Hulk, after the green giant was sorely wronged by powerful men he had once called allies. At Hulks rage, and the devastation it had caused. At the temporary destruction, an act committed, and rectified, by Amadaeus', one that had seen Herc and his young ally going on the run, and leading to his current situation, trying to drink away his woes in a poor fitting disguise.

By Zeus, how he longed for the simple days of heroism, when the villains looked like scaled serpents, the heroes were the one's punching the serpents, and everyone wrote songs about his greatness. He downed his wine with a sullen swig, before calling for a new bottle. He knew better than that though. Things had [i]'never'[/i] been simpler, not in his three thousands years of life. 

“Sigh,” He sighed, the three lady's that had been talking animatedly amongst each other dropping their conversations and showering him with attention.
 
“What is the matter Hercules?” Asked the blonde, her face full of concern. His renegade status did not seem to bother the trio a wit. In fact it might have added to his allure.

“Nothing,” He responded, before sighing once more. 

“I think he's sad.” Said one brunette. 

“No!” cried the second, “We can't have that now, can we!”

“Hmm, let's see if we can't cheer him up.” Purred the blonde, melting into his side while sliding a hand up his t-shirt, running silky smooth fingers across his abs. Despite himself he felt a smile crawl across his face. 

Ok, so there was something to recommend this club after all, even if it couldn't offer the chance for some the honest hero work he so desired..