[H2][Center]☽[color=99004d]Masha [/color]☾[/center][/h2]

[center][b]Arc 2 Day 1[/b]
[i]{One Night in Hell club | Around 10 am }[/i][/center]

The last few months had been something of a trip. Things had started off violent and heavy and she was a little afraid, honestly, that things were only going to get worse. But Cortes had backed off for some reason. Oh he still subtly tried to sabotage the whole thing and was about as counterproductive as he could be without it outright hurting [i]his[/i] bottom line. Which meant they still made money, and they still got new people coming in. But he made it hard for that to work efficiently.

But while word got out that there was new management, more people, and surprising to her, more high profile people showed up to their shitty little club. Even while there was  construction dust everywhere. Even while the walls didn’t have the same matching paint job. She’d even attracted the attention of some people who she honestly didn’t know what they were up to. But they’d offered her a load of money if they could use the place as their hub of sorts and a meeting place. And since she’d spoken with Darius to double check that he was alright with it, she had said yes. She was still waiting for the money of it all to come in, but it had definitely already been of help. She had no idea what they were up to, and only vaguely who they were against. She’d been focused on much smaller politics to worry about the whole larger scale of things. Trying to take down a gang being run by your own ‘co-owner’ took a lot more time than she had thought it was going to in the first place. 

But today, at last, was the day that she had been working towards for three months. Today was the day of the grand reopening of [i]One Night in Hell[/i]. The place was shining, and would be extra so by the time the doors officially opened. Everyone was on call to be there to get things set up. Make sure the dishes were washed, get prep work in the kitchen done, clean the bar tops, the tables, the floors. Make sure stock was done and that there would be no ‘sorry, we’re out of that’ this evening. That would not do at all. 

There was so much going on in her head just then though, that she had to stop, literally in the middle of the club, to look around and see what exactly it was that she needed to be doing just then. She stood, grumbling in her native tongue about how stupid she felt just then. Thankfully, it seemed that no one seemed to really speak Russian. Or at least had come forward admitting that they did. So she was sure she just looked crazy. And just then she didn't care.