Post by Jessy Jackson on Mar 23, 2007 2:26:08 GMT -5
It was hot in the Spot. Stifling heat. The heat that makes time slow down, making every minute detail noticeable, important somehow though it has no significance. The heat that makes all colours brighter, more contrasted, Technicolor and yet blurry, like a furious painter’s broad sweep across an already full canvas. The heat was made by too many people crammed inside one space, moving, writhing, to music that was barely audible except for the beat which punded through the floor, shaking drinks in their glasses.
In other words, it was a normal night at the safest club in town. I say safest, because on this particular night, all the current members of the ‘Slayerettes’ were hanging around one table, surveying the crowded dance floor and bar. Tonight was a night for celebrating Rogue’s life. And death. And life again. And death again. And life, with a couple more deaths thrown in. Tonight was a night off from all the stress they’d been put through.
At least, that’s what they thought.
But that was before the light came up. By light, I mean pure white floor and ceiling lights, bathing the room in a startling clinical shadow less white. The music stopped immediately as a group of the dancers drew firearms, pointing them at the demon fighters. Harsh male British accents ordered the other clubbers to leave, and action that was completed in deadly silence.
Hush settled. There were too many armed men to attack without the possibilities of injury or fatality. This had been planned. The weapons were designed for the person they were aimed at, each one exploiting weaknesses. Weaknesses only an insider or spy could know.
The gunmen were waiting for something. None of them had spoken to the group, none of them so much as moved, but it was clear by the tension in the room that something big was expected, something important. The tension was palpable, it hung in the air, making everyone tense up even further.
Then came the clack, clack, clack of sensible high heels coming into contact with a smooth pavement. The door swung open and a small girl, barely into adult hood, in an exquisitely made tailored suit stepped into the club, barely blinking at the bright light and the armed squad. A slow grin stretched across her face as she surveyed the group.
“Miss me?” Jessica Jackson asked.
In other words, it was a normal night at the safest club in town. I say safest, because on this particular night, all the current members of the ‘Slayerettes’ were hanging around one table, surveying the crowded dance floor and bar. Tonight was a night for celebrating Rogue’s life. And death. And life again. And death again. And life, with a couple more deaths thrown in. Tonight was a night off from all the stress they’d been put through.
At least, that’s what they thought.
But that was before the light came up. By light, I mean pure white floor and ceiling lights, bathing the room in a startling clinical shadow less white. The music stopped immediately as a group of the dancers drew firearms, pointing them at the demon fighters. Harsh male British accents ordered the other clubbers to leave, and action that was completed in deadly silence.
Hush settled. There were too many armed men to attack without the possibilities of injury or fatality. This had been planned. The weapons were designed for the person they were aimed at, each one exploiting weaknesses. Weaknesses only an insider or spy could know.
The gunmen were waiting for something. None of them had spoken to the group, none of them so much as moved, but it was clear by the tension in the room that something big was expected, something important. The tension was palpable, it hung in the air, making everyone tense up even further.
Then came the clack, clack, clack of sensible high heels coming into contact with a smooth pavement. The door swung open and a small girl, barely into adult hood, in an exquisitely made tailored suit stepped into the club, barely blinking at the bright light and the armed squad. A slow grin stretched across her face as she surveyed the group.
“Miss me?” Jessica Jackson asked.
