Haakon 6

Joe was a man of simple tastes, when all was said and done.  He liked football, beer, and two gorgeous women making out on stage at his club.  He found himself cheering and clapping along with the patrons when the headline act swooped in to catch the new girl, and said new girl made it worth Alison and the rest of the crowd's while immediately.  A breach of sacred, time-honored Bouncer Protocols, to be sure, but he was only a man.

As the very public embrace intensified, a huge crash brought Joe back to his senses and back into Bouncer Mode.  Looking around for the source, expecting to find a couple of frat boys scrapping over imagined stripper affections again, he instead had his professionalism tested when he saw the huge man in black in a heap on the floor with a pulverized chair under him and an overturned table covering him.  Joe laughed, in spite of himself, but stifled his mirth when a deep voice proclaimed "Fuck!" as though he was calling out to an unfortunately named deity.  A leg half the size of a tree trunk kicked the overturned table back over onto it's legs and Joe froze when the fallen giant's Icy gaze fell on him.

For a long moment, Joe was worried that the man was about to do something rash.  Just as he was wondering to himself if the club still had that old cattle prod under the bar, a smile split the other man's face and he extended a huge mitt of a hand towards Joe.

"If you would?"  he asked, chuckling now.  It sounded like an 18 wheeler on the side of the highway, a deep vibration.  Relieved is not a big enough word to describe Joe's reaction to hearing this laugh.

"Yeah, sure."  Joe said, chuckling as well.  He grabbed the other man's hand and started to pull.  As he did so, the sleeve of the bigger man's leather jacket slid back slightly, enough for Joe to see the edges of an odd tattoo.  He couldn't put his finger on why, but the thing looked unlike a normal tattoo.  As though the lines were etched into his muscle, like a furrow.  The low light playing with his eyes?  "You all right, pal?"  he asked without thinking.  This was the man the new girl was looking to find, after all.

"My thanks." the man in black said as he came to his feet.  Joe was fairly sure he didn't need his help getting up.  The man patted his chest and brushed his hands over his pant legs "No major damage, it seems."  Before more could be said, three of the dancers who had been walking around the club swarmed in.  They feigned concern for the man who had fallen, and before you knew it, they had maneuvered him over to a large, couch-like booth off in a dark corner of the club, one seated on each leg and another draped over the back of the seat rubbing his huge shoulders.

"Some guys have all the luck it seems."  Joe shouted in his direction.  The big man grinned crookedly and shrugged his shoulders.

As Joe turned back towards the stage and the rest of the club, Alison grabbed his shirt from out of nowhere and pulled him in close.

"Do you know that guy, Joe?" Alison growled in his ear.  Joe had never heard her voice sound so angry, and her face was twisted.  She looked like a different person entirely.  Taken aback, he hesitated to answer.  Alison started slightly, then her hand let go of his shirt.  Her eyes closed and she took a long breath and her face softened.  When she exhaled, Joe felt as though a warm ocean wave had rolled over him, and his mind went numb.  He didn't care, he didn't notice, all he could see-feel-hear-taste-touch in that instant was the gorgeous, mostly nude goddess who's hands had somehow found their way under his shirt on the right and behind his ear on the left.  Her eyes opened and met his, their violet hue piercing.   Had they always been Violet? Who cares? Joe thought.

Her lips moved, but he didn't comprehend the words for a moment.  "Tell me what happened." his mind heard.  He was thrilled to oblige.  Joe detailed the events that took place and when Alison asked if he was sure that was all, he did his best to reassure her that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  Anything to make her happy.

"Thank you, lovely." Alison whispered in his ear, her breath caressing it.  "Why don't you go take a little break?"

"Yeah, n-need a minu-te I think." he managed to stammer.  Alison winked at him, and her touch left his skin.  Suddenly he felt numb.  Empty.  But he felt sure that a bit of a rest was the best thing for it.  As he walked past the mini-party that now surrounded the man in black, he dimly overheard him saying "So, this girl Hilde, the new girl.  You girls mind if she joins us?"  A chorus of overly cheery voices responded positively.  Perhaps they were imagining how much they could make off a guy who had enough to tip four girls at once.  The girl who had been giving him a shoulder rub stopped what she was doing and headed in Hilde's direction.  As she went, another of the girls, an Asian girl with bleached blonde hair said "She's new, she may not be interested."

The man in black was smirking again.  He patted the comparably tiny girl on the butt as his eyes met Alison's across the room.  "Oh, she's definitely interested."

Alison's face was a porcelain a mask covering white hot rage.

The man in black laughed along with the girls on his lap.  His gaze never left hers, and his eyes never smiled.

Haakon: part 5

She could hear music.  She could hear a few drunks hooting like their more primitive cousins. She could hear the pounding bass of the music pouring out of the speakers.  She felt the heat of the lights and beads of sweat trickling down her spine, leaving tracks of moisture and a tingling sensation on her naked flesh.  For most of her first song, Hilde couldn't bring herself to open her eyes again for more than a split second to make sure she wasn't going to fall off the stage.  She wasn't exactly ashamed of her body, but she still couldn't find the courage to see the situation she was in again, let alone continue in her new profession, however temporary it might be.  The fact that HE was here didn't help.

No, I'm here and so is he, I have to stay in character.  I have to get close to him, so I have to get his attention  she thought, suddenly filled with determination.  She remembered one of the moves Alison had shown her, and went for broke.  Grabbing the pole in front of her, partly because it made the move easier, and partly because she was genuinely concerned her knees might buckle, she leaned forward and pivoted her hips.  At last she hazarded a glance at the man in black and was more than a little surprised to see him clapping appreciatively.  Wow, she thought as she continued to gyrate, Are all men really this easy to manipulate?  A rousing chorus of Howler Monkey cries from the crowd was fairly damning evidence.  She moved fluidly around the pole a few times and then rested her back against it, took in a deep breath and an even deeper gulp to dislodge the lump in her throat, then she slid down into a crouch.  A hum of caught breath and rustling of men sitting forward in their seats raised her confidence slightly, and she grasped her knees. 

And then, she opened her eyes again.

Nearly everyone in the room was focused entirely on her.  All those men.  And a few Women.  Learing. 
Staring. 
Wanting.
Her.  And in that moment, no-one else. 

All but Two.

Alison and the Man in Black.  They stared at one another.   Both their faces twisted.  His in mirth.  Hers in Rage, of all things.  As though sensing her confusion and hesitation, Alison's face softened as it turned toward her.  He ruby lips parted and moved as tho she was blowing a kiss, but Hilde heard works.

In her head.

"You're doing fine, my lovely girl" the words said, and her mind reeled, melted, and all became clear.  Her inhibitions gone, her hands pushed her knees apart, then moved to the collar of her shirt.  Her eyes locked onto Alison's, and found herself licking her lips.  Her body boiled, Alison smiled.

"Do It" The voice in her head said.

She smiled, and pulled with all her strength.  The School uniform shirt and the bra beneath it tore in two and the crowd erupted.  She lept to her feet and pulled at the skirt around her waist, and it tore away as well.  With only her knee high socks and the tiny thong Alison had picked for "her butt", Hilde spun around the pole, leaving her feet and swinging wildly, and heard the crowd roaring wildly as well. 

Suddenly, she felt her grip on the pole loosen.  A pang of fear.  Hers or someone elses?  Her hand slipped and she felt gravity take her, heard a gasp from the crowd, a cough from the direction she was no longer certain the Man in black was in. 

The world tumbled.

A flash of movement, and then, she was in someone's arms. They felt warm, and safe.

When her eyes eventually opened, she saw Alison's, felt her warmth, her flesh against hers.  Before she knew what she was doing, she pulled herself up and slammed her lips against her rescuers.  She was surprised to feel another tongue in her mouth, and her hands on the other woman's curvacious posterior. 

The crowd erupted, a noise so loud she nearly didn't hear the crash of the man in black falling off his chair.

Haakon: Part 4

The man in black studied the stage with only passing interest.  He had seen many of these... kinds of places in the past, and had never really had a taste for them.  To be truthful, he scarcely saw the point.  The only thing about this den of debauchery that interested him was the creature that strutted about playfully, if a tad warily, on it's stage.  His concealed eyes followed her where ever she went, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself when her gaze fell on him and she missed a step as a result.

Had he really done such a number on her to make her so nervous?  Another chuckle forced his off kilter grin to broaden into a smirk, great billows of cigar smoke rolling out of his nostrils and slithering from the gaps between his teeth.  I wonder... he thought as he tipped back on two legs, throwing his head back, the chair groaning in protest beneath his bulk, How would she react if I pulled her aside for a private dance?  He took a massive draw from his cigar and ashed it's cherry red tip onto the carpet beside him.

The idiotic DJ was ranting and raving in that way DJ's at these places often do, and the man in black couldn't resist the urge to look at the stage one last time.  His eyes, hidden as they were, still locked onto her's, the one he had come to see, and she stopped dead in her tracks, as if his gaze somehow paralyzed her.  His chest shook in a silent chuckle and she came back to reality, collected her things and hurried off stage.  Letting his head droop back, the man in black contemplated his next move as cigar smoke continued to roil in his lungs.

And then he heard it.

Only one word of the DJ's inane babble reached his ears, and even then he wasn't sure he heard it right.

Hilde?

A torrent of smoke escaped in one massive jet as the man in black sat forward in his chair.  Could it be THAT Hilde?  his  mind raced.  Watching the stage again, it was now that he realized the bouncer was aware of his presence and keeping tabs on him.  No real danger, but it never paid to dismiss even small details.  The anticipation made him bit giddy as he waited along with the crowd for the sequined curtain to part.

And then it did.

And there she was.

And the man in black could only laugh quietly as he read her lips.  Now, this is quite a development, he thought.

At first, Hilde didn't move, even though her song had already started.  Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself gesturing broadly to the statue of a girl as if to say "Don't stop on my account".  With that, she jerked to life and began dancing shortly after.

She was hardly a poor dancer, but it was clear she was a novice as well.  And if he had said that she wasn't at all attractive, he would have to confess himself a liar.  But as pleasant as the view was, in the back of his thoughts he knew her presence had just made things a lot more complicated, and almost certainly more dangerous.

She continued to dance around one of the poles on stage, eyes closed.  She must really have been desperate to find me, he thought, almost wistfully. Just then her eyes drifted partway open and met his as she grasped the pole in front of her and moved her hips in a sort of oval motion.  He found himself clapping appreciatively in spite of himself, a stupid grin creasing the corner of his mouth, cigar clenched in his teeth.      

Suddenly, he felt an icy gaze fall on him.  He grudgingly looked away from the spectacle on stage and saw the source of the fell wind.  "Cynderella", as she was apparently calling herself now, was staring at him beyond menacingly from the far end of the club.  Hilde's pleasant display faded from memory and his face became hard.  The headline act stared through him and there was anger in her gaze, but as always, it was not alone.  Fear was there as well, so strong and rich he could taste it from here.

As she continued to seeth in his general direction, he motioned toward the stage with his head, then pointed first at Cynderella, then at Hilde on stage.  Then he raised his eyebrows briskly and made a kissy face at Cynderella.  Suddenly the fear was gone, and full blown rage replaced the other emotions as well.  Her reaction forced him to laugh aloud, a great booming, rumbling laugh that shook the table.  He leaned back, took a final drag from his cigar, ordered a rye whiskey from a passing waitress, and set his mind to the task of ignoring the enraged dancer across the room for the remainder of Hilde's most captivating dance.

His drink arrived and he downed it, ice and all.  Quite the development, indeed.  

Haakon: Intro Part 3

Mere minutes earlier, behind the glittering curtain and in a secluded corner of the dancer's dressing room where the grim realities of Exotic Dancing really came home to roost, the Sister was standing in front of a vanity checking the mask she had applied a few moments earlier.  She wistfully recalled the last time she had put on so much makeup at once.  As a young girl of barely 13, she had stolen away into her older sister's room and raided her makeup kit, intent on snagging the attention of a boy she had a crush on.  When her sister caught her, she was mad at first, but when she learned the inspiration for the trespass, she helped her rather than scold her.  The makeup tips didn't do much for the boy she was crushing on, but they had done wonders for her relationship with her sister.

But that was before...  It felt like a lifetime past.

Now she was here, in the dressing room of a strip club for which the word "dive" was an apt descriptor, hearing the hooting of patrons and the pounding of bass speakers as she strained to recall those same makeup tips.  While they had not been a staggering success in their initial foyer, she couldn't deny the fact that they had a better chance of helping her look the part now.

As that thought struck her, she looked once again at her outfit, and was reminded of the process that had put her in it.

When she had first worked out a deal with the owner to work undercover here, which sounded hilarious even as she thought it, Hilde had been introduced to Alison, the star of the show, so to speak.  She had looked very different when they met than she did when she headed onto the stage just moments ago, but no less gorgeous.  The owner had asked her professional opinion on Hilde and if she could help teach her the ropes.  Alison had walked slowly around her and examined her form from every angle before hanging her arm over Hilde's shoulders and announcing "Oh yeah, boss.  She'll fit right in."  In the remembering now, Hilde couldn't help but blush as she recalled Alison's warm breath on her neck. 

She shook her head violently for a second, hardly the response she should be having to that memory.  Then she remembered her hair, highly styled and arranged with barrettes, now slightly off kilter.  Silently reprimanding herself, she worked to get her hairdo back in line with her outfit.

Alison had picked out the outfit she was wearing.  As they perused the clothing rack in the dressing room, she had ignored a number of conservative and complicated outfits that Hilde felt she would have been more comfortable with. 

"Those are Pro level, Lamb.  You have to know your stuff to make those really sexy. You are new to this, and given your... disposition"  Hilde remembered Alison laughing melodically at that point, a sound that had made her shiver slightly as they stood there in dressing gowns and little else.  "You had better make it easy on yourself, go with a classic.  Mind you, doll, you can't make it too easy.  Jump on stage in a g-string bikini and you wont get far with these gents."  Hilde could only gape, open-mouthed, as Alison examined progressively smaller articles of clothing.  "Aha!"  she held up what looked like a cross between a catholic or perhaps Japanese schoolgirl uniform and the kind of gothic dresses that filled Alison's personal clothes rack. 

"Perfect" Alison Chirped as Hilde struggled to form words in protest.

Yet here she sat in that very outfit, stacked heel school shoes and all, only moments from her debut performance.  She'd spent most of the day before the Lacquer Shack opened practicing under Alison's watchful eye.  After her training regimen had ended, Alison clapped excitedly and the tone of a proud parent seeped into her voice.  "Very good, lamb!  Not bad for a true beginner."  As Hilde had straightened up and started collecting her clothes, Alison's voice became sexually charged.  "You certainly got my motor running, beautiful.  And if it worked on me, it's sure to work on the customers."  Hilde recalled how, in spite of being flushed from dancing and being nude in front of a relative stranger, Alison's comments had managed to make he blush even harder, casting her glance away from her mentor and studying the ground.

Alison picked up on it.  "Oh, poppet, I'm sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.  I'm so used to just speaking my mind in this place."

Now it was Hilde's turn to feel slightly bad.  "It's... It's okay, really."  She looked back at Alison, who now had a sisterly look on her face.  "Are you a, Uh..."  Alison's lips curled into a badly concealed smirk as she had fumbled with a simple word.  "I mean, it doesn't bother me either way, just curious if you were a..." Again she failed to just say it, but Alison laughed sweetly as she said it for her.

"A Lesbian?"  All Hilde could manage was a nod as Alison beamed at her, almost adoringly.  Or had she imagined that?  "No I wouldn't say that."  Hilde couldn't help but breath a tiny sigh at this, but it didn't last.  "I believe the proper term for it is Pansexual or Omnisexual?"  Alison's frankness about her personal life was refreshing, if a bit unsettling at first.  She seemed to pick up on Hilde's discomfort and, in one quick motion, she jumped on stage and had her in a reassuring hug, a hand on the back of her head and her chin resting on top. 

"Don't you worry, Lamb.  You'll do just fine, in this and anything that follows"

As if the memory and subsequent blush on Hilde's cheeks back in the now had summoned her, Alison, or Cynderella as she was known when she was working, burst into the dressing room, still mostly nude.  "You ready?"  Alison stood her up, looked her up and down and, like a craftsman boasting about his wares, she said "You look good enough to keep all to myself!"  Hilde could not deny the sudden rush of nervousness she felt now that it was zero hour.  As always, Alison picked up on her jitters and pulled her close, whispering softly in her ear "You can do this" before planting a light, loving kiss on her cheek.  Hilde's worries melted away like snow in summer as Alison spun her around, pointed her towards the stage and unceremoniously slapped her on the ass.  "I'll be out there in the crowd to check on you shortly."  The inane babble of the DJ announcing her and the beginning of a metal cover of Losing My Religion were the last things she sensed before the curtain opened. 

At the instant the curtain drew back, she saw him.

And he was looking right at her, a drink in his hand, a cigar in his teeth and a grin on his lips.

"Fuck Me!" she heard herself say.

This is not like me, but I've got to say it...

So... I'm going to level with you all.  I've been a little depressed of late (I'm sure some have picked up on it).  Everything in my life these days feels a little... aimless.  Like I could be living a completely different life if I had just made just a few decisions differently or been more assertive over the years.  I've always been pretty okay with the fact that I'm on my own most of the time, that I have trouble connecting with new people, but I've been feeling more acutely alone lately.  I think, as awesome as they are and as cool as the community at large is, the friends I've picked up in The Tadpool have made what I've been missing out on more... tangible.  Not to mention that between the perpetually-single-guy's least favorite holiday and the anniversary of one of the most painful experiences of my adult life, the month of February is always a challenge. 

I've been spending a lot of time with a certain Visual Novel lately, and that has done a lot to shake the cobwebs.  More than just the story itself, but the fact that this well crafted, well written piece of work that has been so diverting was made by a group of fans of the media.  Passionate people who were not seeking Money, fame or Recognition, but who were doing it because they loved the project and the medium.  It's made me realize how much I've held back out of fear of the consequences, and how doubt has stopped me from really pursuing any of the things I'm passionate about.  I used to Draw all day, I used to write simply for the joy of putting something into words.    I never really got into making music myself, but I've always been passionate about it.  My teachers always told me I had a good voice, but I never really bought it.  There was a lively music scene in my hometown when I was growing up that I could have easily been a part of if I had just tried.  Hell, there still is to some extent, from what I hear.  I have talents, but I lack drive to exploit them, in part because I'm worn down by day to day life and in part because I didn't leverage them when I was younger. 

I can't shake the feeling that this is sounding like any of a million "Oh Poor Me, my life sucks" blog posts that choke the internet these days.  The difference, I feel, is that most of those are teenagers who have just not found themselves yet, and don't realize that at their age, they shouldn't be expecting to.  With 30 years on the clock and still meandering aimlessly, and not having had such a crisis in my formative years, I feel slightly more justified in my feelings of urgency. 

But with all that said, and in spite of my current emotional state, I've been feeling pretty hopeful of late.  Thanks in no small part to the circle of friends I've gained through the Tadpool and the Frogpants network, I've felt inspired to do more with the precious time I've been given.  I've already been looking into getting back out into the community more locally as well, including an anime club and some singles meet and greet kind of events.  But most of all, the idea of actually making my idea for a podcast a reality has been like a breath of fresh air.  I may not be able to get "Anything With Subtitles" off the ground right away, as I have a lot to learn about the technical side of producing a show, but it's a goal to shoot for, and one that I can feel that old school passion for. 

It's funny, I feel so much better just having written this down and given form to the anxiety that has been rattling around in my head lately.  I really feel like I'm finally ready to move forward, a feeling I haven't really experienced much since around Junior High.  I'm tired of getting by, I'm ready to start getting over. 

I don't even know if I'm going to post this anywhere, but if anyone reads this, I'll be needing all the encouragement I can get to keep out of the rut I've been in, and thanks in advance (is it a sign of the headspace I'm in lately that that last part sounded likeYoroshiku Onegaishimasu in my head as I typed it? hehe) 

Haakon: Intro pt. 2

A few days later, Joe stood by the door of the "Lacquer Shack" and kept a closer eye on the patrons than usual.  It was an average night, about half the tables and chairs at the stage were full, no cause for major alarm based on the size of the crowd.  But he was sweating and shifting his gaze around the room and back to the door.   He was far too obviously nervous about the arrangement that his boss had made with the young Sister he met a few days ago.  He had not seen the man in the picture yet, and that was a big part of  why he was nervous.  Gulping air, he was clearly attempting to settle his nerves when the DJ came over the speakers.

"Alright Gentlemen, put your hands together for Candy, she's workin' hard to keep your hard workin'!" he exclaimed in that goofy way DJ's always seem to speak.  "She'll be coming down off the stage, and if you want a little private time with that little lady, just say the word, just let her know.  Coming up, two in a row from another gorgeous creature, your headliner, this is Cynderella!"

Joe's mood instantly improved and his tension subsided.  Cynderella always had that effect on him, though he couldn't explain why.  She was certainly gorgeous, but plenty of girls who danced here qualified for that descriptor.   She seemed to be passionate about everything she did, including dancing.  There was just something about her.  The crowd apparently agreed; a cheer went up from the assembly even as her name was mentioned.  While most of the other girls danced to the likes of Lady Gaga or some nameless techno band, she preferred Cradle of Filth or Children of Bodom.  Even now, the intro to "Her Ghost in the Fog" was pouring out of the speakers.  Then the curtain burst open and Cynderella strode onto the stage in a dark red gothic dress, complete with long stockings, platform heels, and her raven black hair in two pony tails on either side of her head.  The chorus of mad hooting and whistling announced the crowd's approval.  As Joe stared, Cynderella's eyes caught his from across the club, and she shot him a crooked grin and a wink.  The edges of his vision blurred, and he felt his knees turn to rubber.  Forced to prop himself against the bar, he could look at nothing but the stage.

It was in that moment that the door to the outside world quietly swung open.  A mountain came through it.

The figure in a long black coat was well over six feet tall and was built like a siege engine.  He walked directly to a table towards the back of the club, and took a seat, despite the fact that a swinger couple were sitting there when he did so.  They attempted to engage him in conversation, but he simply ignored them.  When they got up and left, he reached into the pocket of his coat and produced a large cigar and a pack of matches.  He chomped the tip off the end of the cigar and struck a match against the sole of his boot.  The flickering flame reflecting off the mirrored aviator sunglasses he had yet to take off attracted the attention of Cynderella on the stage, and for the first time in her set, she stopped moving.  The man in black put the match out on his toungue and tossed it over his shoulder before she began dancing again.  He chuckled to himself, a rumbling sound deep in his chest, as billows of cigar smoke rolled out of his nostrils.

It was only then that Joe came back to himself and realized that there was a new patron in the club.  He looked over in the direction of the new arrival and noted the long brown hair, full beard, and monstrous build of the man he had seen in the Sister's photo.  Suddenly his bundle of nerves was back in full force.  He walked over to the DJ's booth and asked what dancer was up next.

"Uhhh," the DJ said in a completely different tone from the one he used over the speakers, "Looks like it's the new girl."

Joe got that sinking feeling as he realized that the very end of "Angels Don't Kill", Cynderella's second song, was thundering through the crowd as they spoke.  He turned back to the stage to see Cynderella, wearing only the platforms, stockings, the hair ties that kept her long silken hair in place, and her porcelain birthday suit. Clutching the rest of her costume and a small fortune, she blew a kiss to the crowd, looked back and the man in black for a moment, then hurried off the stage.

No Time.

"Alright guys, how about that Cynderella, devastating as always, am I right?"  the DJ trumpeted over the speakers as the crowd continued to cheer for the recently departed dancer.  "Now coming up for you guys, a special treat, a fresh face here at the Lacquer Shack!  She's been workin' hard the last few days just to learn how to entertain you Gentlemen!  Giver' a warm Lacquer Shack welcome, and treat 'er right, this is Hilde!"

The man in black had been leaning back in his chair looking up at the ceiling.  But when he heard the name Hilde, his gaze fell back to the stage, he leaned forward in his chair, and he actually ordered a drink from one of the waitresses

"Ho-oh!  Oh Shit!"  Joe said.

Haakon: Intro

** Haakon is a character I came up with a while ago for a Role Playing website.  And while my interest in that particular pastime waned when I realized just how much one careless person could ruin everyone else's fun, the Character himself was so interesting to me, I've been thinking about writing a story around him ever since.  I have no clue where I'm going with this, but I just thought I would flesh out this little bit of an intro I've been kicking around in my head for a while.  Let's see what we get.**  


  The gust of cool, fresh air and the replacement of thumping bass and primal whooping with night sounds was rejuvenating to Joe as he dragged a drunken frat boy by his neck.  If not for his bellowed protests and his friends insisting that he 'never touched her', it would have been almost peaceful in the parking lot outside "The Lacquer Shack."  Joe had bounced at this particular strip club for several years, but he always thought that was the stupidest name.  Still, the steady pay and better than average office scenery made the name unimportant.  On top of that, there was something to be said about getting to toss drunks out into the street.  A definite perk, in Joe's mind.
  Even as a smile crossed his lips at the thought and he let his grip on this particular drunk loosen, the fool lashed out at him.  Joe's mirth faded as he grabbed the back of the doomed man's neck in one hand and his belt in the other and hurled him like a sack of grain.  The unfortunate man floated along for a moment, still screaming curses at Joe, right up to the point when he crashed face first into the pavement.  His momentum carried him along after he hit and when he turned over to look blearily back at the bouncer, a severe case of road rash graced his face and blood gushed from a split lip.  His four friends protested, cursing at Joe for treating their friend that way.  Joe straitened and clenched his fists, cracking his knuckles.
  "Fuck Off."  No anger, just a command to be followed.  The frat boy's compatriots hoisted their fallen brother and retreated into the darkness.  In the midst of all this excitement, Joe nearly failed to notice another figure approaching.   He took a deep breath and stretched his shoulders a bit to release some built up tension.  Then he realized that the figure was actually slender woman in a dark outfit, a hooded jacket hiding her face.  She moved with purpose.
  "Hey Doll, what can we do for you this evening?"  He scratched his chin and considered what might have brought her to this second rate strip joint.  "Looking for a little Entertainment?  Or maybe a job?  At the bar of course."  He winked at her, just as she walked into full view under the lights outside the club.  She lowered the hood on her jacket to reveal short red hair, big green eyes, and an expression of amusement.
  "Perhaps." She said as she reached for something in one of the jacket's pockets and produced a photo. "Have you seen this man recently?"  Joe reached out to take it from her, and that was when he noticed a string of Rosary Beads around her wrist, mostly concealed by her jacket.  He was immediately acutely aware that he had put his foot in it spectacularly.
  "Oh, hey, Sister is it?  Hey I'm really sorry about that, I didn't realize-"  Joe was prepared to continue apologizing for at least ten more minutes, but a soft chuckle from the woman stopped him.
  She Smiled "And how would you have known?  Don't worry about me.  Worry about the photo." she said, tilting her head toward the proffered picture, and clearly highly amused by the situation.  Joe could feel his face redden, and he couldn't help but chuff a laugh and shake his head as he took the picture from her.  It was a bit blurry besides the face, and it looked like it had been taken even as the man was turning away from the camera that took it.
  But he recognized the man in the photo immediately.
  "Oh yeah, he's a regular here.  Don't know his name, but he comes in every so often, bout twice a month or so."  He licked his lips, which had just gone mysteriously dry.  "Seems to be a loaner, sits in the same spot towards the back every time he's here.  One of the girls told me he's a really good tipper, must be loaded."  He rubbed his stubble with his fingers and wondered why a feeling of dread had crept over him all of a sudden.  "Oh, Never seen him without a cigar in his mouth."
  Joe looked up from the photo and saw that all the mirth had drained away from her face along with the color.  "He's been here?"  Her voice was wispy, almost sing-song and her expression grim.  Her nostrils flared and her jaw clenched slightly.  Joe's unease only deepened.
  "Hey, is this guy in trouble, or dangerous or something?  He's never caused problems in here."  The woman shook her head and her grim look faded back to something approaching mirth.
  "No I don't think he's dangerous.  Not to your employees or customers anyway.  When was the last time you saw him?"  she asked.
  Joe considered the question for a moment before he replied.  "Uh, probably about a week ago.  He should be coming by again any day now, supposing he keeps to his schedule."  He noticed that her eyes widened and a smile curled the edges of her lips.
  "I really need to find this guy.  Are you willing to help me get in contact with him?"  the woman asked.
  "Well, sure, I suppose.  I can call you when he comes in?"
  "No!  I.. I can't run the risk of missing him, I need to meet with him as soon as possible."
  "Okay, well.. I suppose I could see about getting you a job at the bar after all."
  "I don't think that will work, I need to get him alone, one on one."
  The pit in Joe's stomach deepened even more.  "Well, what did you have in mind?"
  She smiled, a kind of whimsical smile, mischievous to say the least. 
 
** I'll keep posting chunks as I write them.  I know, no Title Character yet (or was there?) but he'll arrive soon enough.  Let me know what you think. **