Welcome to the Underground {Open}

[Juliette Delphine]

They call me a jezebel cause I freaks, I does it well
Got extensions in my hair, bad girls is ya'll up in here?
Tonight we just gonna let it do what it do
I can put this pretty young thing on you
I ain't lookin' for attention, I just want you
Let me be your addiction, I can be that too

I can be your addiction if you wanna get hooked on me

[/i]




The Underground: a fitting name for one of New Orlean’s most popular night scenes. On the outside, tonight’s arena- rectangular building that had once housed poor Africans during the early days of the Slave Trade, and assorted weaponry during World War II- was really nothing to shake a stick at. Moss covered the rooftops, age and grime coated the cracked, black-painted windows and graffiti stained the worn brick sides. Located at the mouth of the Hudson as it was, sewage had eaten away at the sidewalk around it, and an eternal smell of rot and decay clung to every corner. The area surrounding it was no better, housing the majority of society’s rejects; displaced teens, convicted criminals and the eternally happy ‘working women.’

But did that stop the clientele from forming winding, snake-like lines around the building every night at 8 o’clock sharp?
Of course not. Everybody wanted their danger fix…and The Underground was sure to give it to them.

Once allowed through the velvet rope and past the large, muscled bouncers, the lucky guest would find themselves immersed in what anyone could call the ‘feverish heat of hell’. Pounding music mixed well with other noises- low voices, stomping feet, the high pitched wailing of happy machines- and the smell of other bodies entwined with the tang liquor could make even the most ignorant mouth water. Straight through the high double doors leading into the club were two hallways; the one to the right leading to the dance floor- blue walls, a fully stocked bar, and two levels; one tame, and one…not so- and the one to the left ending in a small casino- orange walls, sparkling lights, and any gambling game the twisted mind could dream up. Winding around the backs of both rooms, creating a U-shaped area fenced off from the normal population was the ‘VIP Room’, housing the club’s more secretive of customers. Starlets, singers, politicians, business tycoons; all of them found their way to The Pit at some point in the night, content to lull their minds with beer and free fun. Finally, atop the entire club sat ‘the Birds Nest’; a long, bullet-proof-windowed alcove that housed the owner and his most trusted staff.

There were no fights in the club; no brawls, jealous struggles, innocent clashes. Security cameras lined the ceilings, and every scantily dressed waitress carried death in their stockings at all times. People were there to have fun, to let go, to find something in themselves or in the world that they had never known about before.

At least, that was the initial goal of the entire operation. Now, her wonderful little enclave was becoming a magnet for trouble.
Really now…life just wasn’t fair sometimes.

Juliette ‘The Dame’ Delphine, owner of The Underground and currently unhappy about it all, sighed against the steepled fingers pressed up against her chin. Chocolate eyes were trained on twin scenes below the Birds Nest; the pulsing waves of dancers in the Blue Room, and the sometimes cheering masses in the Gambling Hall. Already she’d spotted two noticeable faces in the crowds, each belonging to a rival. ‘Gentleman’ Johnny Mardella, a bitter foe from the West Coast, sat ram rod straight at the bar, seemingly in a deep conversation with one of the waitresses- a new girl that she would have to have a talk to later on tonight. Off in the other room, Richard ‘Switchblade’ Zhao was scoping out the poker tables, two lackeys following close behind.

At one point in her long, tedious life, the fact that every enemy had their own silly little nickname would have made her laugh; taken some of the seriousness out of this potentially dire situation.

But the life of a mobster was anything but funny. In fact, most of the time, it was just downright tragic.

Picking up the telephone with yet another martyred sigh, she shut her eyes against the blinking strobe lights beyond.

“Yes, Mara,” She said when her assistant answered, her liltingly accented voice a bit on the strained side. “I’m going to be heading down into the club for a little while; have Shel prepare my table for me. Thank you.” Running a hand through her annoyingly curly hair, she stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her pant suit.

The night had only just begun, and things were going to get interesting. She supposed that she lived for such things; the adrenaline rush, the anticipation of a good fight. Known for breaking the kneecaps of those that fell out of her favor, it was a well known fact that to anger the Dame was to get yourself shocked…usually, to death.

But once, just once, she would have enjoyed a nice, quiet evening with her paperwork and a tall glass of scotch.

Oh well. Such was the life of a penitent murderer.

[/center]

[lance]

There’s forces working in our heads but we don’t understand them
I need a map to find my way out all the time
These curses lurking in our heads but we don’t want to find it
We need to come back down and face what we’ve become
We’ve become!!!


When Lance had left Boston, he had promised himself to lead a simpler life. You know, fix cars instead of avoiding maniacs with axes. No longer working with the cops to catch psycho killers who would get very angry at him for it, not to mention not going to those crime scenes that gave him nightmares and made him sick. Yeah, he wouldn’t miss any of these.

So what in hell he was doing there with a picture of a missing guy on his back pocket? The place the guy had told her girlfriend he was going to meet her but never show up? The place that gave him the shivers when he remembered his vision of blood and fangs…

That old detective he worked with had once told you that fear were a good thing, that it kept one alive. So why he was there, ignoring that uneasy feeling?

The answer was an easy one.

That succubus demon in his head had gone very unhappy when he decided to quit. And she had recently discovered she could enter his dreams, play with them and shape them at will. And being a succubus she was, those weren’t horror nightmares. No, she found that she could use her skills to seduce Lance and the side-effect was that he would wake up feeling like he had just run a marathon. And needless to say Ravenna was very happy with it. But come on, when you can’t get any rest, work during day and get…worked on by a succubus at night for six or so hours straight, eventually one gets exhausted. And so he wasn’t able to work and pay the bills.

Lance had agreed to check out the place he had seen in his visions. Just his luck he had no backup on this, telling anyone about his visions or the demon in his head to another was a no-no. Remember the look in that girl’s face back on the shop? Yeah, no talking about it to anyone.

This place was surrounded by the not so safe areas of New Orleans, perfect place for one to go missing, right? Why it had to be on a place like this?

Walking through the doors and past the bouncers – stop saying things about the big strong guys Ravenna, please! – the loud music assaulted his ears just as the smell of alcohol and sweat flooded the place and had Ravenna purring. Oh the joys of having a succubus on your brain! Lance rolled his eyes at her and shrugged it off as he moved towards the bar. Maybe a drink and a few questions? If the guy worked there, he might have some info on the missing guy, but he’d have to be subtle about it. In this place, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to be confused for a cop. Ravenna might make him stronger and agile, but she wouldn't make him bullet proof.

[Juliette Delphine]

Ah yes; the loud pounding of feet against the floor, the faint sounds of laughter passing on the man made breeze, the happy catcalls of ignorant drunks? It was enough to make any true businesswoman relax and put a smile onto their face.

…Well, almost any businesswoman. But at least she let out a satisfied sigh, right? That was always a step in the right direction.

Right.

Tucking one hand into the pocket of her coat, Juliette strolled down the stairs from the Bird's Nest, nodding at the bouncers manning the security door settled comfortably in between the hidden hallway.

“Heya, Jules!” The larger of the two men said, smiling widely. Dallas Valerian, one of her most trusted employees- and her prized fighter, when the big man reverted to his other persona; the Underground's most popular cage fighter- moved forward to unhook the velvet rope that kept the drunken crowds away from the private entrance. There weren’t many men who used that nickname and lived long enough to complete their sentence, but Dallas was...different.
It wasn’t everyday that a man left his wife’s sickbed to watch your back during a chance meeting with a prominent Las Vegas Family.

“What’re you doing here? I thought you said you’d be visiting next week.”

”I thought I'd grace the club with my presence.” She replied, the corner of her lips twitching a bit, in the faint semblance of a smile. “How are the children, Dally? Well, I hope.”

The polite chatter went on like that for a minute or two, both standing comfortably in front of the door. At the irritated catcalls and angry hisses from the line beside them that led to the restrooms, however, Juliette nodded again and moved to the door, waving at the bouncer over her shoulder.

The inside of the club was lively, as usual. The pit bosses were managing the gambling portion of the large building, and the interior bouncers made sure that the pit was clean and fight-free. Good. She hadn’t been looking forward to chastising any of the managers she’d hired to keep the place running while she did business in the back, so this was a nice little surprise.

It was the underlying reason for such a surprise visit downstairs, after all; to judge how the “owners” handled the club on a nightly basis, when the boss wasn’t due to arrive. She’d have to remember to add a little something extra in his employees’ Christmas cards that year.

…Well, maybe not. Their ‘bonus’ would be to stay out of the notorious Red Room, as the little worker-bees liked to call it. Named after the blood that the janitorial staff had to clean off of every surface every week or so, it was a place that none on the payroll wanted to be introduced to. When a person went into the Red Room, they were never seen again, after all.
Except maybe on the 10 o’clock news.

Glancing around at the happy people moving around her, she was relieved to see that no one had recognized her. Perhaps she could wander over to the bar and mingle with the crowd; see what kind of people The Pit attracted. If she didn’t like what he saw, she would shut down the club, or, perhaps, move it to another location.

Settling herself down on one of the place’s many cracked bar stools- note to self; go order some new ones before these disintegrate from too much ass-time- she surveyed her domain, a shark-like smile sliding onto her lips as she noticed the line near the VIP room. Employees paid and threatened for their silence would be taking down orders and handing out merchandise in the back room, next to the VIP section. She’d pay them a visit in a little while; see what drugs were this month’s favorite so she could stock up for future weeks. It was probably why her competitors were here; to try to catch a glimpse of how the trade went down, as opposed to their own ways of doing business. As Gentleman Johnny turned around from where he sat down the bar, she quickly averted her face, hiding in the crowd.

She needed a feel of the clientele before she got pulled into a ‘who’s is bigger’ match yet again. What was it with these men, to feel like they needed to point out that she was just a woman? It had been infuriating back in the 40’s, and it was DEFINITELY infuriating now…

Like a bird’s, her attention was dragged from the gangster at her left, to the young man at her right. For a second, she allowed herself to look him over and feel all those warm fuzzies that greeted her. If anything, The Underground definitely seemed to attract the handsome ones, she thought, letting her eyes linger on a particular place on the man. But, with the allotted time expired, emotions shut down and her attention was right back where they should be; on what he was saying.

Oh great, someone was shaking down her bartender. Did anyone have any sense, nowadays? Yeah, let’s come waltzing into a known rave/casino owned by a gangster that never has the same location twice, and start questioning the bartender. No, he’s not going to reach under the counter and press the ‘got a situation here’ button…like he was doing right now. Ugh, children these days and their lack of finesse…better just go over there before Mike has a heart attack. Ever since she’d brought his buddy Tommy to the Red Room for tipping off the cops, he’d been a twitchy little mouse.

Sliding off of her stool, Juliette slid through the crowd until she stood next to the young man. She did like them nice and tall…no, don’t even go there, Jules.
“Mike, seems like a busy night,” She said to the bartender, who immediately snapped to attention. “I’ll have a rum and coke tonight, when you have a minute.”

As the bartender scuttled off, she turned back to the stranger. “May I help you, sir? You’re looking for someone, I presume?”

[lance]

“Come on man, just look at the picture and tell me if you saw this guy around. I can make it worth your while…”

The bartender looked at the bill the man was sliding his way.
“You’re seriously trying to bribe me with a ten dollar bill?”

“Yeah…well…” Lance scratched the back of his neck and gave the man behind the counter an awkward smile, “…business have been slow.”
-Thanks so much for it Ravenna!-

Come on Lancey, I still say you could get a lot luckier getting that waitress to talk. You know, the one with the long toned legs? Just wink at her and ask her on a date…preferably a place that has mirrors above the bed…don’t try to pretend you don’t know the one I’m talking about, I’m in your head buddy!

Glancing at the mirror behind the bar, Lance glared at the demon that only his eyes could see. Why she had to almost always have her mind in the gutter? Oh yeah, stupid question, she was a sex demon.

Ok Lance, focus. The bartender seems jumpy, ask him again, maybe toughen up and he will talk. Remember how that detective used to question his sources?

“What…”

The female voice next to him had his head turning towards her and growling inwardly at Ravenna.

Oh darling, forget about the waitress! Grab this one and get her to the hall of mirrors!

Ok, take a deep breath and ignore that. Remember what happened last time when someone knew there was something off with you? And she didn’t even know you had a demon on your head.

Sliding the picture over the counter towards the woman, Lance nodded. “Yeah, I’m looking for this guy, his name is Daniel and he was supposed to meet his girl here, but he never showed up. There are a lot of people worried about his disappearance, maybe you’ve seen him around here? About four nights ago? If you could help out, it would be great.”

[Juliette Delphine]

With a small nod in the bartender’s direction, Juliette took a sip of her drink, watching the man over the rim of her glass. He looked so damn young, so damn innocent, that she just wanted to eat him right up. Was that actual earnestness in his eyes? The chivalrous need to do good?

My, my, it had been a while since she’d seen such things…and in a man, no less! How fascinating; she would have to keep an eye on this one. Husband number six? A thoughtful moue pursed her lips as she dismissed the idea. No, no one could measure up to her Vincenzo, her Mafia King. He had introduced her to this wonderful world of crime, exploitation and betrayal, and she owed it to his memory not to look for a replacement.

…For a little while longer, that is. She did so hate sleeping in an empty bed, after all, and she did so love those pretty white ceremonies.

Her eyes flickered down to the picture on the bar, as the man started speaking again. Oh, how sweet; he was looking for a man he so obviously didn’t know. Was he sugar coated? Oh, bah to those thoughts. She was so obviously low on blood-calorie intake, that it was making her loopy. Concentrate, woman, concentrate.

Using one red painted finger, she slid the picture closer to her, gazing down at the smiling face of the stranger. He didn’t look like one of her regulars- neither from the gambling, drugs or sex categories- and he hadn’t been one of her employees. He was a nobody in her eyes…yet people with enough brains to come looking for him were beginning to worry.

She didn’t like worry; it brought on suspicion. What to do, what to do…should she just kill the boy and save herself a police investigation in the future? The cute little human; he was really so innocent that he would think it would be alright to question the employees of an underground gambling/drug ring and not face consequences.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize him,” She said, giving it a good minute or two of ‘careful speculation.’ With a dramatically sad shake of her head, she slid the picture back toward him. “And I never forget a face. This man…he’s your friend? I’m very sorry to hear that he’s missing. I’ll have my people on alert and we’ll go over security footage for the past week. If you’d care to leave your contact information, I’d be happy to contact you with what we find.”

And having an address would make killing you so much easier, she thought with a little sigh. Such a pity; he was definitely nice on the eyes…not to mention that there was something about him that intrigued her, aside from that refreshing honesty. “Oh, and leave you precinct and badge number as well, if you don’t mind? We don’t send security information to just anyone, you understand.”

[lance]

Lance himself wasn’t an investigator by nature. He’d fix engines and have his head bursting into mind-blowing pain when he had a vision, but he had tagged along with detective Taggart a few times and had picked up a few things. One of them was that people lied. They didn’t usually go and say ‘Oh yes officer, I hacked him up to pieces and shoved him on my refrigerator the other day.’

The bartender seemed a bit shaky, though he wasn’t sure if this was for Lance asking him question in a shady bar or that he actually knew anything. Where was Sherlock Holmes when you need him?

This woman however, he wasn’t picking anything from her…aside from a few ideas in his head about the woman that probably were caused by Ravenna’s constant yapping in his mind, or maybe even the things she did to him in his dreams.

- Shut up Ravenna, you were the one that wanted me to come here and play detective in the first time! –

All work and no play turns you into a dull boy darling. Oh well, play time later I hope? Let’s see, boy disappears into a shady place in the non savvy side of the town…and miss femme fatale here, who is totally devouring you with her eyes by the way. I like her. Well, I’d say she knows more of what is going on in this place than she is letting out. Maybe if you’d give her a good squeeze in a room full of mirrors so she doesn’t goes Glen Close on you, maybe she’d…

Yeah, Investigation 101 by Ravenna. Her definition of pumping people for information was quite different from detective Taggart’s definition. But knowing her, this was probably indeed the way she handled things before she got into his head.

Ok, time to stop sneaking a peek at the lady in red’s cleavage and concentrate. Never mind that Ravenna was giggling like crazy.

Precinct and badge number.
Greaaaaaaaat!

Lance had been faced with two possibilities before going there. Call the cops and if they don’t believe him, they’d throw his ass at the loony bin. Or if they’d believe him…and it would be Boston all over again. Neither one sounded so good.

Lesson one from detective Taggart…everyone lies.

Taking a napkin from the bar, he borrowed a pen from the bartender and wrote down the old detective numbers from what he could remember and his true phone and address, The name Douglas was just to add some extra touch and a name no one would know if she’d actually called the cops. Rule number four was giving people way to contact you if they remembered something or decided to talk after all.

“There you go, call me if you get anything, alright? I’m hardly at the precinct those days but you can find me on this number and address. Any help you could give me would be very appreciated miss…?”

Extending a hand towards her he lied like a pro.

Ravenna was proud.

[Juliette Delphine]

Juliette watched the young man as she waited for him to respond. It was in the job description to be able to read body language, tells...and my, my, wasn't this one's all over the place? He was twitchy like a junkey, and had that thousand mile stare of a trauma victim. Was he some kind of soldier? A schizophrenic listening to voices only he could hear?

How very interesting. It was a shame that he'd come into The Underground asking questions and drawing negative attention. She so would have liked to answer those questions.

Not to mention that he probably didn't have an invitation to be in the club in the first place. Given their highly illegal status, Juliette made it a high priority never to stay in one location for too long. She picked and chose her clientelle, only allowing the obscenely wealthy and desperate into her den. And this child...did she ever get his name? Anyway, this human wasn't one of her regular invitees; she could see that right off the bat.

He didn't have the cool confidence of money in his pocket, or the sweet tang of addiction on his scent. He also hadn't come in with those on the list, because he so obviously didn't recognize her.

Everyone in The Underground knew The Dame. This little bout of innocence was...refreshing. Surprising.

She hated surprises.

With a cool smile, the vampire accepted the napkin. For a moment, she eyed his hand before accepting it with her own, giving him a professional shake. "Delphine," Came the reply as she withdrew her hand. "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Douglas. But please, before you go; have a drink. And tell me...how did you come to hear about our little establishment?"

So that she could kill the informant slowly, she thought. Without turning, she held up the little square of information over her shoulder. In a flash, one of her trusted security guards was there to take it from her. Giving the man a fond pat on the arm, she turned her attention back to the human.

"We do so like to hear that The Underground is getting good reviews on the street, you see. So, how did you hear of us?"

[lance]

Now to make a cool exit, get home and crawl into bed in hope of getting a real night of sleep. He had done what Rave had asked of him, so she would let him rest for a bit, right? RIGHT? Well, she’d better or the first thing he would do after he woke up would be watching the religious channel all morning long.

Not that he had missed the lady in red Delphine, handle the napkin to a big ass gorilla there. That guy was just her secretary right, nothing menacing about it, off course. Okay, resist the urge to roll his eyes right now, keep on your way and play it cool. She would never call him anyways.

And there she went with the questions again! Wasn’t he supposed to be the one investigating? Dammit!

Turning his head back towards her, he frowned slightly for a second and then gave a quick smile. “Well yeah, maybe I could use a drink,” or two…thousand, he thought taking a seat on the stool next to lady fatale. “But I’m afraid I can’t go around revealing my sources Miss Delphine, you know how it is, standard police procedure.”

Sure she knew how it was, a place in the not so reputable place of town, some gambling going on not too far from where he was seating, she no doubt had a few cops on her paying roll. Only thing is, Don Corleone never looked this sexy in the movies. Maybe if he did, Lance would have paid more attention to it.

Not bad Lancey darling. You’re already talking like a detective, I’ve got you lying like a pro to the lady and checking out things…not only that cleavage of hers…come on darling, wouldn’t you reconsider taking her to the hall of mirrors? For me? Pretty please?

Alright, better refrain the annoyed growling before people started to think he was insane.

“I will take a beer.”

[Juliette Delphine]

Oh yes, this was going to be so much fun. Just look at that beguiling face, those innocent eyes! If the urge to lick him all over wasn’t strong enough, he just HAD to look so adorable while playing the gentleman. She couldn’t help but lick her lips as she watched him, her stomach letting loose a thankfully subtle rumble. It had been a good long time since she’d eaten, she mused. Perhaps she’d go and break that diet pledge, just this once?

“Well, that’s too bad,” She said, mentally putting the ‘kill the informant’ plan to the back of her mind. She’d find out where he’d gotten his information from easily enough…but really, was it such a high priority? If he truly was a policeman searching for a missing person, she’d just move the Underground to the other side of the city and wait. She did have all the time in the world, after all.

As the bartender hurried off to fill the young man’s order, Juliette folded her hands on her lap, scanning the crowd around him with an amused expression on her face. “So, what can you tell me about this mysterious man whom you’re looking for? Perhaps with some more information, I could help you with your search. If he has indeed been frequenting The Underground, it would be in our best interests to help you in any way possible,”

Oh, how smooth the lie fell from her lips. If the missing human truly had been moving around her circles, it would be in her best interests to find him before the police. What if he were related to those annoying drug-minded competitors of hers? What if he was one of Neverov’s little minions, trying to stir up trouble? Whatever the reason, she would not have her business suffer because of some goody-two-shoes cops wanting to be Superman.

She really hoped that she didn’t have to kill the poor child, she thought with a little sigh, eyes flickering back to his face. He was so pretty to look at…but business did come first.
Her business.

[lance]

Grasping the beer bottle that was placed before him, Lance thought how the hell he gotten into impersonating a cop while a drop dead sexy version of Don Corleoni stared at him with something akin to predatory lust in her eyes.

Because you’re a wuss and can’t keep up with me darling?

He eyed the mirror behind the bar raising a brow as he brought the bottle to his lips and take a sizable gulp. Sure enough he saw Rave there, her arms wrapped around him as she gazed back at him with a mischievous smirk and her dark hair cascading over his shoulder as she leaned over him.

Yeah right, call him a wuss when she worn him down all night long for a week and while she was free to rest when she wanted, he had to work all day while feeling even more tired than before he went to bed. It was as if he hadn’t had any sleep in a week. It was a damned enjoyable tiredness, but he needed to function if he was going to pay the bills.

And leave it to Ravenna to skip from him into Juliette in the mirror, lean to peek at her cleavage and give him a thumbs up. Did her libido have no end? Ah stupid question there, she was a succubus.

“I’m afraid I can disclose that either miss Delphine,” because he didn’t have a clue besides the guy’s girlfriend slapping him and tossing the guys picture at him. But if the guy frequented a place like this there was always the chance of him being involved into some heavy stuff, things that Lance didn’t want to get into. “All I can say is that he has been around here a few times, so you might call him a regular costumer of yours.”

Taking another gulp from the bottle he sighed as it had a soothing effect on him, helping him to relax just a bit. Ravenna was still busy peeking at the lady in red…assets.

“Besides I’m the detective here, right? I will be the one asking questions. You might want to talk with all your employees and make sure if they know anything about this guy I’m looking for. I’d be upset if I discovered anyone was holding out information about him, you know?”

Oh, great idea, toughen up to miss Corleoni over there. But it made him a little nervous when he wasn’t sure if her stare was like Rave’s or if it looked like she wanted to have him for a burguer.

Taking a long pull of the beer, he turned his face away from the mirror and back to her.
“Let’s just solve this out the quickest way possible and I won’t be bothering you again, right?”

And cue hoping he wouldn’t end up with cement boots in the bottom of some river.