First Light of a New Age

Chapter 158: Fight, Run, Or Die

A/n: Sup my fellow readers, just recently played Elden Ring and all. And also, I'm now maidenless by the way… sadly.

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Earth, Hawaii, O’ahu, Smokehouse Lounge.

Year 1995, Late Evening, A Decade Before the Great Transposition

The sultry rhythm of a jazz ballad flowed from the open-air stage, wrapping the crowd in a warm familiar haze. 

Outside, the Pacific surf broke gently on the shore, filling the gaps between saxophone notes with a steady hush. Ceiling fans churned slowly, pushing the humid air scented with hibiscus, grilled pork belly, and rum.

The Smokehouse Lounge wasn’t on the usual tourist maps. Tucked off Kalākaua Avenue, it drew a quieter crowd with visiting diplomats, retired military men, ambitious local politicians, expats who’d overstayed their visas, and the rare tourist who wandered in by accident. It prided itself on being a place where questions weren’t asked and any kind of business could be quietly conducted.

Tonight, though, there was an extra layer of tension in the shadows.

At the long polished koa-wood bar, Riley, 30 years old, sat casually but with the alertness of a jungle cat. He wore a plain aloha shirt and casual slacks that marked him as another forgettable mainland visitor, but everything about his presence was calculated.

The angle of his seat, the way he sipped his dark rum, the slow sweep of his eyes behind black sunglasses he wore even indoors.

He wasn’t there to relax. He was an Imperial Secret Police, on a deep-cover assignment to monitor reports of foreign intelligence activity rumored to be operating out of Hawaii, which is nominally a friendly satellite state of the Austronesian Empire, but was suspected being used as a meeting ground for suspected North American agents, using musical venues and beach resorts as covert contact points.

He was to watch, listen, and wait.

That’s when she walked on stage.

The crowd noise softened to a hush almost immediately.

She was strikingly beautiful, but not in the plastic airbrushed way of Waikiki billboard models. Her beauty had edges with long black hair that fell in a glossy cascade down her back, contrasting with the blood-red satin of her dress that caught the stage lights with every sway. The first words of the song poured out low and warm, like honey over hot coals.

“I'm not looking for someone to talk to...”

Her voice seemed to crawl across Riley’s skin. He watched carefully over the rim of his glass, not moving. She had presence, too much presence to be just another lounge act.

As she sang, the room seemed to tighten around her voice. Conversations stopped and even the bar staff slowed their movements.

“Still I believe... I'm missing something real… I need someone who really sees me…”