A man in a sharp suit jacket sat in The Heritage, pulling up his sleeve to check his watch every so often. The contact was running late as usual, or by his own standards arriving precisely when he intended to. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder once more, as if trying to will the contact into existence. No such luck. The bartender Aurora set a bottle of beer in front of him before making her way back. The man watched her, admiring the view of her walking away.

“Whatever thought you have in that skull, forget it right now. Else I make you forget your own name with it.”

The man jumped with a start, turning see the club owner sitting in front of him, cross-legged and judging him with her head resting on her palm. He looked down to see his hand instinctively on the gun in his shoulder holster, but eased it away, fully realizing who he was looking at. No sudden movements. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off the lioness in her own den.

“Dave,” she greeted tersely.

“…Star.”

“You behaving yourself tonight?”

“Like an angel.”

“So you’re a comedian now, too? Are you going to be on that stage tonight?”

“Hey, give a guy a chance, will ya?”

“I’ve already told off one person for conducting business in my club. I won’t use words if I have to do it a second time.”

“I’m just meeting up with a friend for a casual chat, no money involved. Honest.”

“Keep it that way. If you see me again tonight, then it means you’ve fucked up. Take care.”

Star disappeared into the dim crowd, leaving Dave leaning back in his seat in relief. Dave felt a tap on his shoulder and his body reared for a heart attack. His contact arrived with impeccable timing.

“Don’t fucking do that, Ern,” Dave scolded, sucking in his breath through his teeth. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you nearly shit out your own skeleton,” Ernest laughed, taking the spot Star left. “You looked like you were about to cry.”

“Yeah, real fuckin’ funny, cocksucker. I wouldn’t have had to deal with her if you chose a better spot to meet.”
 
“You sure it wasn’t because you were eyeing Aurora again?”

“Shut up.”

“Well, normally I would’ve brought us somewhere else but tonight we need to be here in particular. Remember the shit that went down at ‘Sleight-o’-Hand?’”

“Yeah. My insiders tell me it was done by RFS.”

“What you probably didn’t know was that it was a one-man job.”

“Get the fuck outta here.”

“It gets even more batshit crazy. Shots were fired, but no bullet wounds on any of the bodies. Some psycho actually stacked the body count with a fucking blade! It’s like something straight out of a fuckin’ comic book.”

“What’s the point of all this, anyway?”

“Gettin’ to that, Dave. You said you were looking for ‘special’ people, right? The ones you see talked about on Pasithee?”

“Yeah, and?”

Ernest gave a grin, and pointed out at the stage.

“Try to enjoy the show, Dave.”