The Midnight City Social Hour

--VtR pt3

Inside the kitchen—a wide room immaculately decorated in colors of red and gold; although there was too much chaos and too many people for Tommy to see the decorations—next to the betting and cards games being handled by lower ranked members, there were dice games, liquor served by women in bikini tops and panties. Chefs barked orders from their woks.

Tommy noticed that the kitchen was the size of a small house.

When he was younger, situations like this used to upset him. To such extremes he avoided them completely. Drugs didn't help. Alcohol either...

... Tommy didn't like to remember.

... It was better not to.

The party scene didn't upset him now anyways. Tommy walked through the crowd towards the fridge. He grabbed a beer. He drank the beer. Then he grabbed two more, walked back through the crowd, and gave one to Cat Girl.

Vince hollered, "The odds tonight are in my favor." Dressed in his technicolor dreamcoat, two women on his arms, he was rolling DnD (Dungeons and Dragons) dice: which was a 20 sided dice, a 10, and a few 4. The rolled in strange shapes. The 4's were triangles; the 10's were triangles that flowered on the end; and the 20 was spherical. "Tonight, I'm rolling for more than just money. It's all about love."

Then Vince threw the dice.

It was a low roll. "You got a nine," the bartender gang member said.

"Stupid fucking dice!"

The women on Vince's arm, who were of mocha and jet complexion, ran their hands in and out of his shirt. Whispering into Vince's ear.

Tommy assumed they were variations of:

"You alright baby?"

"Don't worry, we'll take care of you."

When Tommy's intuition melted from his eyes, Vince was staring at him. Tommy met the gaze; matching Vince's look of superiority with his serenity. Briefly. Before Vince left his eyes as well. Then Tommy drank his beer.

Karl hollered next, "Ladies and Gentlemen it's almost time." He wore his suspenders and straw hat. He beat a mallet against a chrome pan. "It's not everyday we get the prospect of human and feline boundary breaking. A little bit like the end to racism with the walking dead or whatever bullshit meaning they can derive from their fantasy. This is like that, but more special."

Karl put emphasis on the word special and the crowd began to 'Oooooooooo'.

"Our newest recruit. Not many of us have been able to manipulate this one" —although Karl was lying, just to add to the build up—"so for this seduction we've had to send one of our top manipulators. One of smoothest and most radical of players." Karl waved a hand.

A picture of a strung-out cat was held up. Red eyes; redder veins stemming from the iris. Boogers running in rivets down the side of its mouth. Probably given bong water. A complete mess.

Tommy looked at Cat Girl. She had tears running down her face.

The rest of the room screamed: "Mr. Kipples!"

Who was on track to seducing the new recruit.