Chapter 1: A chance reunion

Cities by their very nature are studies of contrast. The older an urban environment, the more examples of the recent and the relic are presented nearly side by side.

It is in such a place that our story now opens.

The darken landscape which first greets our eyes would certainly be familiar territory to any metropolitan dweller.

Large more distant buildings dominate the visible evening skyline in a hazy vista of man erected mountains with smaller, less forbidding structures defining the foreground and our current frame of reference.

Most of these immediate structures are apparently far less than recent buildings.

All of which extrude some faint impression of past purposes long since forgotten.

Red brick and similar painted facades festoon most of these structures with an added, street level mixture of hastily added plywood and chain link fencing.

Muddy water puddles here and there where asphalt sags tiredly away from neglected streets that run past sidewalks sporting spider web cracks. It is these shallow basins which reflect a blurry collection of harsh electrified, luminous signs that paint the night in a competing plethora of glowing colors.

Amid this glowing gallery of presentation, a defunct turn of the previous century marquee towards the center of our current view garishly beckons with the words 'The Neon rouge'.

Our attention is drawn now to just the opposite of this once theater as its parking lot is receiving a sudden 'new addition' to its dreary collection of dilapidated late models and garish custom vehicles.

The newcomer itself, also a powerful example of the customizers craft, having been 'chopped', lowered and obviously stretched to monolithic proportions.

Despite its fore mentioned size, the mammoth machine oozes nimbly about its task, settling smoothly into one of only two spaces marked 'reserved'.

As the Cherri-black behemoth settles into place purring like a well-fed dinosaur, one final rev of its engine precedes the motor stopping without so much as a sigh.

Moments later, amid the expected pings and clicks of a cooling engine, the driver side door opens, 'suicide style' as a large individual literally unfolds himself into a standing position aside the sleek vehicle.

The first impression the casual observer might get from this man might well be wondering 'who shaved the gorilla'? Though, upon noting the rather obvious bright red color of the giants neatly kept hair an 'orangutan' might be a closer analog for consideration.

A second notion, after seeing him finally straitened to his absolute height could well be spent pondering if the gentleman's tailor worked with a net?

Upon shutting his door, the dapper dressed mountain however made a slow, methodical scan of his surroundings.

It is only then, after being completely satisfied that the lot is indeed empty of others that he at last opens the passenger door of his ride.

"All clear Ace." The giant announced, directing his remark to the opened car. This in turn signaled the abrupt appearance of a single steel-toed, rattlesnake skin boot alighting onto asphalt with a sibilant scrape.

While nowhere tall as his companion, at just over six feet, this new individual is not exactly a small man.

Straitening while adjusting his tie, Ace smoothed his own well-tailored suit to lay neatly on his triangular frame, pausing long enough to produce, then pull a metallic comb through his jet-black hair in a well-rehearsed gesture.

He then took a last moment to 'check his look' in the midnight blue mirror of the cars tinted window as he then adjusted his ubiquitous shades and pronounced himself 'flawless'.

Ace cast about his surroundings without stepping away from the car before breaking into a broad dazzling smile.

"Man, I just love these rainy nights!" He mused joyously before glancing casually over his shoulder where the red haired giant patiently waited.

"Let's do it."

Moments later, now at the front of the club, Ace's mammoth companion had to stoop slightly down just to grasp hold of the set of door handles.

What followed could best be described as a 'gingerly operation, one which involved the careful opening of the heavily black lacquered front doors in such a fashion as not to break either handle. After which the young behemoth had to mildly 'duck' to actually enter the building amid an eruption of noise.

Once inside he dutifully paused, holding the left most of the pair of doors apart as Ace entered directly, the smaller of the two men moving past his companion into the darkened interior within.

"Good evening gentlemen." The club doorman made his presence known from behind a podium just to one side.

"If you gentlemen will please find a table..." The man added with a solemn bow of his shaven head.

"I'll let Vic know that you're here."

"Thank you much Barney!" Ace replied without actually looking the man's direction or breaking his stride.

He all but sauntered past, pressing deeper into the room with the young man mountain trailing him like an oil tanker to its tug.

The main room of the club was large as only could be expected considering the pedigree of the building. Lighting here was soft and subdued provided mostly by strategic placement of rope lights and the occasional table candle.

Garish wall bound signs and neon displays distantly beckoned from the surrounding walls. These however only competed mildly with the illuminated floor of the raised central platform which logically dominated the majority of the room's volume.

Selecting a table in front of the central stage, 'more for brighter lighting than anything else', Ace took a moment inspecting his chair before seating himself.

It was only after he was seated that he glanced at his towering companion, A knowing grin then crossing his face a moment before he indicated a seat adjacent to his own.

"Hey Billy!" He called amiably.

"Ain't you gonna sit?"

He extruded an air of sweet innocence and the line was delivered cavalierly as a barely dressed girl appeared to set two drinks between them on the table.

Billy responded by looking downward at Ace with his usual deadpan expression.

Subtle clues from their long association however informed Ace of his friend's deep annoyance at a very old joke.

"Yah know good 'n well, none of them damned chairs will hold me." Billy replied dully.

"Hey, suit yourself." Ace said with a grin, adding his usual almost required casual shrug.

His smile only widened as Billy continued to scowl then added a one-fingered salute just for good measure.

The matter of getting seated taken care of, Ace settled back taking in the sights and sounds of the local.

He spared a casual glance, flashing a smile the direction of their waitress allowing her to depart. It wasn't as if they were here to sample the food after all.

He chose to concentrate instead upon what danced glistening beneath the overhead stage floods.

The current dancer's movements were fluid, hypnotic and guaranteed to draw the eye, the body presented was toned and tanned as one would expect.

Ace spared some moments watching before, like always that empty feeling he always got began to creep over him.

"Man, nothing ever changes around here." Ace mused.

It wasn't like he lacked prospects for female company, in fact quite the opposite. Him getting 'laid' had never been the problem.

Finding a decent relationship however? One that you might actually want to hold on to?

Now 'there' was a trick.

"Heh, All form and no substance." He murmured quietly.

"What was that Ace?" A look of concern brightened Billy's usually stone cast visage.

"Nut'n Billy." Ace replied, he hadn't actually meant to say that aloud.

"Just thinking a little too loud I guess."

Billy slowly nodded, letting his gaze slip back into its usual pattern of searching the area.

Still, Ace found himself musing; he was only twenty-four and reasoned that there was plenty of time.

There were times however that he could have sworn that he was the only one who thought so.

The last few years in particular he had seen a steady stream of girlfriends.

He started to get something of a reputation for being 'a player' around the community and that was something that Tony Glatora frowned upon.

"A mans got to be respectable." Ace had lost count of how many times he heard variations of that.

Trouble was no one understood, well except maybe Billy.

A sudden tap on his shoulder brought Ace back to reality to glance Billy's direction as the red haired giant gestured with his eyes prompting Ace turned in time to see Victor Mourner, the club owner/operator finally making his appearance.

"Through playing hide n' seek, huh Vic?" Ace called while smirking, looking over his shades as the older, slightly overweight man slid up to the table.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Vic wheezed, more than somewhat out of breath.

"Busy night yah know?"

"Yeah, ain't they all?" Ace replied flashing another winning smile.

"Which brings us right to the point, " He added his smile never slackening.

"Where's your monthly Vic?"

Ace watched as Victor mourner visibly swallowed then started to glance around before nervously glancing over his shoulder.

"Y-Yeah about that," He began slowly. "Yah know Ace."

At which point the clubs speaker system suddenly blared, effectively cutting him off.

"All right! All right!" The amplified voiced boomed.

"Everybody give it up for Selina! One sweeeeeet little lady, just finishing her first week here at the Neon Rouge!"

More than marginally 'derailed' by the noise, Ace quietly grimaced.

He hated those damn loud speakers! Every clown using one, always seeming to think good 'microphone etiquette' included drooling, slobbering and spitting.

"I didn't come down here for no 'sob-story' Vic." Ace continued flatly to the club owner, attempting to concentrate.

"I-It ain't like that Ace!" Vic stammered, now visibly sweating.

"I got most of the two grand! It's just that, yesterday..." He trailed off, noting Ace was longer smiling before completely deflating.

"Two of the Spumoni boys were down here trying to muscle in and..."

"You gave them the money." Ace finished grimly, nudging his shades up with his right index finger.

"Not good Vic." He then quietly snapped.

"So, why no phone call?"

"Thought I could make it up before..." Vic shrugged apologetically as the stage's main floods suddenly flicked off, diverting his attention as the unseen announcer once again began to roar before he could recover concentration.

"And now Gentlemen! Direct your attention to the main stage, as we welcome back a long time favorite!"

"Vic, Vic, Vic," Ace began tiredly as the shill continued his amplified spiel while a heavy slow back rhythm beginning to build.

"And here I thought we had ourselves an understanding..." He pressed on around and under the noise.

"Ah yes! You'll want to touch, hold 'n squeeze 'er!" The voiced announced excitedly.

"Always a real crowd please 'er! Give it up boys! For Madam X!"

Equally distracted by the noise Ace never the less glared, adamantly maintaining attention upon Vic's sweating face.

He continued watching as the older man started to mouth something ... Before stopping cold.

Vic Mourner chose the moment, to at last seat himself.

Plumping his ample frame down directly across from Ace, after which he then slumped forward in his chair, miserably.

"Ok Ace," Vic finally said dejectedly. The man's voice carried the tiniest of wines, a clear indication of his current mental state. Vic Mourner had the look of a man condemned.

"But what about the Spumoni brothers?" He asked helplessly.

Ace responded by crossing his arms and settling back, surveying the club owner sternly a moment before raising a hand, snapping his fingers.

Thus prompted, Billy broke from his immobility, leaning over from behind Ace taking the glass still sitting untouched closest to his side. He lifted it with some surprising daintiness for such a massive paw before 'toasting' the stage then lifting the glass to his lips where he drained it in a single gulp.

Billy then lowered his hand to the club owner's eye level before closing his fist, causing the glass to vanish completely from sight.

There followed a squeeze producing the slightest of 'pops' from within the huge fist which was now the absolute 'center' of Vic Mourner's current existence.

He was obliged to continue watching, as the fist was again lowered to then move across the small table to then 'hover' inches above the glass in front of the club owner.

From there Billy began working his fingers, contorting his closed fist until a sparkling white powder began to sift downward into the liquid before Vic's morbidly astonished gaze.

After a moment, Billy simply opened his hand, allowing the rest of the compressed powder which was formerly a glass to fall into the one below with a plop.

"You don't worry about them Vic." Ace intoned softly.

He leaned forward even as Billy straightened back to his full, height coming nose to nose with the club owner.

"You worry about Me!" Ace added flatly.

His smile returned as he settled back in his chair, it wasn't however a kindly expression.

Vic's response was to nod breathlessly and then to gesture as he glanced over his shoulder.

In the distance Ace noted the doorman, 'Barney' instantly nods from his usual place from just inside the main entrance then began heading their way, 'brown paper bag' firmly in hand.

When whomever had converted the old theater, the place once reserved for the ticket booth had been made over into an ideal location to keep tabs on the front, It made good sense.

Mollified by the show of compliance, Ace leaned back.

"Besides." Ace added cavalierly, apparently dismissing the whole incident.

"Don't me and Billy always take care of things?" He concluded solidly as Vic was receiving the bag from the doorman.

In this case appearances where certainly deceiving, Ace was concerned but not overly so.

The little 'issue' with a certain group of turds trying to muscle into the hood would have to be dealt with and soon.

There were always minor gangs which sprang up from time to time trying to cease control of some turf or try their hand at dipping into some other interest of the Glatora family. It was just one of those things.

The Spumoni brothers? Now that was going to be problematic as the term goes.

Sure, Ace knew who they were, a group of Brothers and a few hangers on originally from the Detroit area there about.

If they were here and already making a play like this? There was no telling what else was about to go down.

Vic had proceeded rolling the bag over in his hands thoughtfully as the large bald doorman departed without comment. Under normal circumstances, Ace supposed most people would call 'Baldy' a giant, but then Billy was standing right there wasn't he?

"Yah know Ace." Vic began gravely as he proceeded to slide the brown bag finally Ace's direction.

"I always play straight wit'cha man."

"And that's the reason I'm giving you this chance to clear, this little screw up." Ace simply nodded.

"A-Ace, I'll get the rest of it!" Vic Leaned forward, adopted a pleading tone.

"Hell! I'll have all of it, plus interest after tonight's run!"

"Aw, come on Vic!" Ace said with an elaborate shake of his head.

"Now yah went and insulted me!"

He then directed his attention halfway toward Billy's hulking frame.

"Can you tell this man when I've ever asked for any interest?" Ace prompted.

When he didn't receive an immediate answer, not even so much as a grunt, Ace finally glanced around to where the young giant was standing.

"Man, Billy's off his game tonight!" The thought automatically flashed across Ace's mind.

Contrary to any appearances, Billy always listened and missed very little.

It was that silly tendency of others to think of the red haired giant as slow or dim witted.

One which had cost a few notable opposing bruisers some relaxing down time in one of the local hospitals over the years.

"Billy"? Ace called again, looking to see Billy staring mutely the direction of the stage. That item alone served to completely derail Ace's current trains of thought.

Billy never stared at the dancers, mostly due to what Ace called an overly develop 'Galahad' complex.

The giant had, on more than one occasion stated how 'he disliked these sorts of places' and that they exploited women, Which made Billy's current lapse in behavior all the more bizarre.

"Well what the hell do you suppose..." Ace's thoughts continued, trailing off however as he followed the line of Billy's gaze.

She was beautiful of course, slim, compact and muscular but not grossly so.

The 'page style' cut of her jet-black hair lent the girl a certain boyishness which was belayed in turn by an ample bust almost masked by an acid green translucent wrap.

The girl on stage had a broad oval face, made up elaborately in a style like a mime, clown white with a single black tear elegantly descending along her left cheek.

Ace took in her sculpted form as she stood at stage midpoint doing a rhythmic slow grind to the music.

"Ok, she's hot," He thought, staring curiously.

While the Neon Rouge could hardly qualify as the most posh of establishments, there weren't any girls that performed there that Ace would have ever have listed as less than attractive. Skanky? Maybe, but not unattractive.