The address was 313 Dungeon Street, apartment 2597. To the unsuspecting eye, it seemed like a neighborhood gone hood, but the reality of the situation was much different. I walked with a slow stride, smiling as I made my way down the barren alley. There was only one way in, and the door was padlocked shut, steel and strong. No worry.
"Hiamedica," I whispered softly, eyes turning the brilliant flash of amber I had grown accustomed to. The door opened, creaking like my old broken down house. The music emanating from the basement slowly grew in volume, while I was making my way down the rather dangerous stairs. Everyone knows I have to be punctual, so I walked in exactly on the bass drop.
The club was blistering hot with huge LED lights flowing through the bar and main floor, but the stalls in the back room were dark. I made my way through the mass of sweaty perverts to take my rightful place int he Room of Ghosts. My mind went blank, only focusing on the main goal: finding my client.
Skism and Method tried to get my attention, but I didn't have time for negotiations. I was prying them off of my arm when I saw him. He was leaning against the ninja star smothered wall, downing a gin & tonic, somehow managing to look both bored and intriguing ant the same time. I saw the humiliation master Argona trying to flirt, but he looked over to me, pushed him aside and placed the empty drink in his hand. He strode over, grinning like a psychopath.
"Name's Cato. Should we start the scene?"
