The Hangover, Part 2. (Phil Wenneck X OC.)

Chapter 9.

"What do you think, Alan?" Phil asked as the 4,looked up at a large neon sign.

The last thing Brooklyn thought Alan meant when he had a clue was a club, hoping he was thinking of something actually useful. But clearly not.

"Uh, this is the place," Alan answered, looking up at the sign.

"Come on, let's go," Phil said, and they headed in.

The second they walked in, they were met with what had to be a person's worst enemy if they have sensory issues.

Strobe lights and loud music as a bunch of girls danced on built-in stages and stripper poles filled the room.

Looking around, Brooklyn had no recollection of being there.

"I don't remember any of this!" Stu yelled through the loud music.

"Yeah, Alan, are you sure this is the right place?" Phil asked as he removed his aviators and tucked them between the buttons of his shirt, making sure Brooklyn wasn't falling behind them by grabbing and holding her hand.

"Yeah, pretty sure," Alan called back, a slight bounce in his step to the music as he walked.

Walking through the club, nothing was coming back to then. Sure, Brooklyn enjoyed a good drink every now and then when she wasn't on call, but dance clubs were not her thing.

It gets too overwhelming and disorienting, and being in a foreign country on top of being in a club was the absolute last thing on her mind.

"Bros, finally!" A man called out from behind a bar counter, making the 4 turn their attention to him. "Is he coming or what? I've been waiting all day for him!" He shouted, clearly annoyed that his visitor didn't show up.

"I-I'm sorry, waiting for who?" Phil asked.

"Chow. That dick-ass fuck," The guy answered, his face saying he wasn't fond of the mention. The four shared a look, knowing exactly where Chow was but they obviously couldn't tell the guy.

But he knew something was up when they didn't say anything. "Why, what's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothin'! Nothin's wrong," Phil answered, shaking his head.

The guy looked between the four before accepting their answer. "Okay, good. Look at this, look what I bring for him," He said, reaching under the counter then setting something wrapped in a towel on top of it, revealing a small gun. "Check it out, huh?"

"No, no, no—," Phil began, but the guy interrupted him.

"$6,000, American."

"Wow, it look so real," Alan commented as he picked the weapon up. Before anyone could do anything, Alan set his finger on the trigger and didn't let go, causing it to start shooting round after round into the ceiling.

Glass shards fell over them as the music stopped and the girl's dancing screamed and ducked, Stu, Phil and Brooklyn immediately doing the same as Alan finally let go of the trigger and set the gun back down. "Sorry! Sorry."

"Alan, what the fuck?!" Phil and Brooklyn shouted at the same time, slowly standing back up.

"It's okay! It's okay. The gun, very sensitive. Very sensitive," The guy behind the counter brushed off, but Brooklyn wasn't letting Alan off the hook very easily.

Even though he doesn't have much common sense, he should know not to put his finger on the trigger of a live gun.

"Everybody okay?" The guy asked to everyone in the club as they slowly stood back up, nodding. "Okay! Then get the fuck back to work! Come on! Music, please?!"