A Dame to Kill For.

[Ash Williams]

Jacket got done with his last drink of the evening knowing right now it is better to stop before he gets ahead of himself. Harley was still drinking down her whiskey and from the amount of how much she was still consuming her beverage, she looked to be getting tipsy. From the look on her face, she looked to be having the time of her life with her drink. Jacket smirks at the sight of her and puts out a cigarette in an ash tray. He puts another smoke in his mouth from the pack in his letterman pocket and lights it up. While lighting up his cigarette with his lighter, Jacket was looking down at his smoke to make sure he lit it just right. When he looked back up, the club didn't look like itself when Jacket and Harley walked in. It was completely empty and deserted as if it wasn't used in decades. The club looked like it was destroyed by furniture looking pretty busted, holes in the walls, glass shattered on the floor, and the bar was a complete mess which was missing half of the drinks. Basically the club looked like it was torn up by destruction and everything left as a mess. Jacket turns around from the bar and sees the place as a disaster even he can tell that he was all alone in the bar. He gets up from the bar and walks slowly in the middle of the club kinda investigating things around him. When he's standing in the middle of the club which looked to be the dance floor he was standing on top of, Jacket sees the chicken masked stranger that looks just like him in a round booth facing towards the dance floor. Weirdly as a natural instinct, Jacket walks closer to the booth that the stranger is sitting in. He stands in front of the booth having his focus on the animal masked identical stranger sitting in it. The stranger looked relaxed in the booth leaning back a bit having one arm on the table and the other next to his side. "Nice place you decided to hang out at. I like your style." said the stranger having his focus on Jacket. "As I suspected, you couldn't help to leave her trap there and rotting in that uncomfortable cell. Instead you take her out to have the time of her life. You do know how to treat a girl do you? In fact, you just can't take your mind off of her can you. I can tell in that look of her she has on you at times is a curiosity and excitement. Both of you can make a good team in this new world you have been brought too. Just think back on the similar question, do you like hurting other people? I bet the two of you have ask yourselves that question for numerable times. Well for her part, she does enjoy and lusts for the pleasure of killing. That's all I have to say for now, you can go back on your little date of yours." said the mask stranger then Jacket snaps back to reality seeing he hasn't light his smoke yet. He finishes lighting the cigarette then turns his attention back on Harley seeing she is still drinking a bit.

A fat swoop biker in his early 50s with a scruffy beard and a red bandana wrapped around his brunette head is sitting on the other end of the pact bar that Jacket and Harley was at. He was a bit drunk on having a couple beers and was drooling over some fine looking women clubbers. One walks past by him and he slaps her ass with a look that he was wanting her. She becomes angry of his attitude for her and slaps him across his face then storms off somewhere in the club. He thinks it's time for him to get his fat ass up and search for a woman he will "Persuade" to come home with himself. The biker walks across the bar searching for the next woman then he sees Harley sitting there looking like the most attractive woman he saw yet tonight. Harley to him was the perfect fit for him sitting there with her revealing clothes and sees she has a nice ass for him to grab. Her chest size was just right for his taste and pleasure. He staggers a bit to her while being intoxicated while having thoughts going through his mind what he is going to do to her. Without any hesitation, the fat bastard leans on the bar next to Harley on her other side where Jacket wasn't sitting at. "Hay mama, looks like you need a ride home. I never seen you in this club before, how about I get to know you a bit better back at my place. You can get a free night to rest your sexy ass." said the drunken biker with a smile showing his disgusting teeth. Harley turns to the man in responds in a giggle "Sorry sugar, I have other things I want to do in my free time then spending it with your lonely ass!". This lead the biker a bit frustrated and with Harley's comment, Jacket looks to see who she was talking to. The biker does a seductive growl and replies "I love it when they are feisty, now come to daddy sweet toots." Then the Biker pulls Harley out of her seat by her pigtails and holds her close with a switchblade next to her neck while smelling her which she smelled sexy to him. Jacket jumped out of his seat ready for combat and made him a bit uncool how this fat bastard can put his dirty hands around a fine lady. What this guy was doing to Harley, this made her mad tonight that almost every guy she met has to put their hands on her and wants her in their pants. Harley did had enough space at her legs  to do something. She kicks him backwards with her high heels in the shins which made the drunken biker drop the knife. He still had a hold of her while reacting from the pain the biker took. While the biker was reacting to the pain, Jacket without any warning throws a punch to the biker's face while Harley moved her head out of the way to dodge Jacket's punch. The biker let's go of Harley and falls on his back on the floor knocked out cold by Jacket's fist. Harley brushes herself off and says in frustration "I swear can't ya goddamn men in this town respect me! Sheesh!" Jacket looks over the guy noticing that he still breathing and wasn't killed. Most of the people that were near the bar watched this whole scene unfold and some of them cheering for teaching that fat bastard to show some respect. Jacket and Harley both sat back in there seats and continued to relax a bit from what just happened. "You ok?" questioned Jacket concerned what just happened to Harley. "Yeah yeah, I'm fine. I get used to these bastards who can't keep their hands off the merchandise." said Harley taking another swig of her whiskey. From her answer, Jacket smirks at how calm she is. He hasn't met a woman before back in Miami that can be kick-ass and have this much beauty at the same time.

The Rattataki named J'ako was scouting around the dance floor and the bar for people to recruit for the operation. Mixed in the crowd, he seen a fight that broke out at the bar and seen the fat biker having Harley as a hostage. J'ako didn't wanted to react right away to help them but wanted to see if the two could do something about it. He was quite impressed how the civil looking people took care of the situation and unarmed the man. When Jacket knocked the man out with a single punch, J'ako was concerned how a person like Jacket could take out someone just with a single punch. J'ako recalls his partner Red Eye being good taking some people out with a blow due to how buff and the amount of cybernetic augments he has in his body. The merc also saw how Harley disarmed the man with big backwards kick of her heel. "These fellas do know how to fight and disarm a dangerous man huh?" thought J'ako but the real question is can they kill? Judging from how strong Jacket's punch was to the big guy, he could as well know how to kill.  He calls in on the com that the channel him and Red Eye are connected on "Red Eye, I might found our people we are looking for. Before I do anything else, I'm going to keep a good eye on them to see what else they might do in our club." In response, Red Eye says "Ok but these people your observing better not be some trashy clubbers." J'ako sighs a bit to Red Eye's comment then replies "Copy that." He sits down in a booth not too far away from the couple and tries to watch them for a little longer also not trying to look suspicious.

[Harley Quinn]

The warmth from my amber liquid was increasingly making me feel more bubbly with every passing swig from the now half empty bottle. My body starting to shift to the natural beat of the music, which drew out that cool smirk of Jacket as he watched me. Raising my arms in the air to stretch, I could feel the heat fill every crevasse of my being. Bashing my eyelashes flirtatiously, I twisted my hips to the emotion of the dirty dive bar. This feeling of freedom was something I have not experienced for as long as I could remember, it was fun and you know me, I live for fun. Who knew decent music and bad tasting alcohol can make a girl feel like living? 

I live boldly and I like to live life as if I was indestructible, even when I knew I wasn’t. I think it's a sad waste of time if you are not having fun. Unfortunately, my attitude can come off as being a bimbo, or worse someone starved for attention. However, that is never the case, most men can't come to terms that a woman like me can be confident with my body and everything that I do. Everyone has their flaws, and its very hard for someone to love the flaws that they have. It's even harder to get someone else to love your imperfections. There was a time I let a man run my life, tell me what to do and what to say, and how to live. I left that in my past a long time ago, so when some fat fuck wants to try to pass me for some cheap whore it takes me a minute to remember that most men can’t take no for an answer. 

The whiskey in my blood was an unfortunate side effect that caused me to react late when this scum put his hands on me the first time. Even while being suspended by my hair, this ass hole was weak. The pain itself, if you can call it pain, was pitiful. There is no pleasure unless there is pain, which is something I took the time to love and understand. What a shame that it was time to give the drunk a brutal awakening. I have learned that if you look through all the bullshit and the testosterone men were far weaker than women. Too bad for him, he won't learn quick enough. 


The bar became suddenly dark like a menacing figure had cast a grim shadow over the rodeo of sin. With a quirky giggle, I stepped back from the disgusting heap of flesh and tightened my grip on Baby, who rested peacefully on my thigh. The feeling of the glossy wood against my fishnets felt like a soft kiss on my flower. Baby needed to unwind and to not quench her thirst seemed selfish. With Baby on my mind, I hardly noticed when the band came alive with drums that pounded a mesmerizing beat. The allure of bass, matched with hypnotic soulful undertones, beckoned every gorgeous goddess working this dump to surround the creep. We had our own spotlight and the stage was set.

“Oh la la la la” the dancers, bartenders and other women in the bar sang while swaying their hips in tune with the musical performance. “Oh la la la la. Oh la la la la” boasted the sexy crew while they all pointed perfectly polished fingers towards the sad excuse of a man. 

“Who the fuck do you think I is?” I burst out matching the melody, the words flowed naturally like I have sung them for years. Then I gave the punk a hard push down on his fat ass. There was no one else but my girls and I, nowhere for this fucker to hide. As I saw it, this was his funeral march I'd call it dinner and a show. The look on his ugly face was priceless and the shock and disbelief was a damn kodak moment. All around the girls stood over him and began to circle like hungry sharks. The clicking of high heel shoes made it sound like bullets in the background of a bad ass power ballad.

“You ain't fucking with no average bicth boy” I cooed while dragging the loser on his feet roughly. Getting within inches of his face I sang “You can kiss my fat ass boy” which was just loud enough to make him squirm like a worm on a hook. “I will bust your dick right off boy. And keep all that sugar, I got my own. Get off with a smile on my face, all alone.”

All around the girls filed behind me and as if we have been practicing in front of a crowd for ages, the steps matching the rhythmic tune of the band. With a flow all the same we marched at him with purpose and intimidation. “Bad motherfucker, god complex, back your ass up, call me Harley Quinn” I continued while I swung my bat like a cane used as a prop for a school dance.  “Yo you stupid Mr? Fuck you loser, you can’t have me no, you’ll never have me no.”

The girls backed me up with a soulful sound that got louder and louder, “We ain't going to let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be”. I was swinging my bat so furiously I could almost fly away like a helicopter clown. The music was building to the orgasmic final crescendo which made my heart pound in my ears. With hair flips matching the clang of percussion cymbals, the show was ready to climax when a voice broke through the entry of my mind. Lights back on, patrons in the bar I found myself still in the hands of the greasy pig. 

“Hey ass hole!” the voice of Jacket brought me down to earth and the bar became as it once was. Sweaty prick still had his nasty hold on me which made me mad as hell being just moments before I had him wetting his pants. Without a second to waste I brought him down with one sharp kick of a high heel stiletto. Then threateningly hissed “Do it again, you lose your life” in a tone that mirrored the former pitch. I turned to see the familiar face of the chicken head himself and it brought out a red-lipped smile. “What did you think of the show?” I asked excitedly, looking around for the sexy ass females here just a second ago.

“Yeah, nice kick.” He chuckled while spitting at the ground where the loser struggled to stand. I had to agree with him that my kick was flawless, a perfect ten, but I could not help but be confused.

“Yeah but,” I stopped when I saw the look on his face that seemed more lost than mine, “uh, nevermind”. What an, unfortunately, hilarious fantasy I lived a second ago, I miss it already. Laughing wild and uncontrollable, I waited to see if the fatso got the message. 

As always, the prick did not get the picture and was back at it again hounding my bones with a hungry snarl. Some guys only get it after death, maybe he needed 3 days to figure it out. Right before I was going to smash his skull with my bat Baby, Jacket laid one right between his eyes. Wowza, what a punch! He sure knew how to make a girl feel special. 



When Red Eye had made his way through the crowd of bustling clubbers he found the couple at their place at the bar. He knew instantly that this pair was not from around these parts and even worse they were not like everyone else. The real trouble these people can be is that they are not on the same level as anyone else but Big Daddy and he had to approach with caution. Red Eye used his mechanical iris to scan their features in his identification database so he could have a better understanding what he was up against. As expected, he got a hit on the both of them with help from Coruscant surveillance. They were Primes alright, fresh primes by the looks of it. The data displaying across his vision started to flash an alarming red around the guy in the jacket. All the sudden photos of a bloody massacre came across his eyes and a report that claimed this scrawny guy had killed some guards. The girl, however, had very little to nothing available from the data on his screen vision, it only showed question marks and 0%.

By the time, he was through with his own analysis Rattataki had come up to him with that spiced look that Red Eye had known too well. “So what do you think metal man,” Rat asked with that stoned slur in his voice. That shit was poison and the cyborg was grateful with his body modifications were he did not crave it. Never have and I never will. 

“I think we have a good shot with the guy in the jacket, but that dame is probably as useful as a stripper.” Looking around the room he knew their options were scarce and the bimbo’s usefulness could, if anything, be used as bait for the front lines. Red Eye could see the thirst on his partner's face as he watched the painted face lady which was intensified by the high from the spice. “The only issue with these clown Rati is that they are primes."

“How is that a problem?” Rattataki said in confusion which was no surprise to Red Eye since Ratti was not known not to use the head on his shoulders. Frustrated, the cyborg placed a firm grip on his partner's shoulders and pulled him closer. “Listen closely friend so I don’t need to repeat myself, primes are dangerous and unpredictable.” Red Eye said while pulling the spice spliff from out of Ratatat's mouth and tossing to the floor.

Clearly annoyed the suit-clad gangster picked up his cigarette and blew off whatever stuck to it on the floor. “Listen tin can, you have any better ideas for this run or are we going to risk our own skins alone?”

Letting out a robotic sigh, Red Eye knew that his buddy in crime was right. However, he was not going to die by the likes of these freaks. The main problem with primes, no matter how low level on the power tier they are is that they don’t fear death. Another problem the robotic thug had with recruiting primes is that there is very little to gain for primes, they can do anything they wanted. Dangerous and unpredictable they are, so the half robot had his blaster in his palm charged and ready to go by the time he approached the man in the jacket.

[Ash Williams]

Jacket continues to smoke after him and Harley beaten the pervert's ass. From after that scene occurred, Harley looked to be pumped and full of energy even having the giggles due to her justifying kick. This made Jacket quite impress how she can do a kick like that with her heels. By her looks you can be fool that she may look like a bimbo clown but she had some serious moves to make someone understand not to judge by looks. He puts out his cigarette in the ash tray and didn't smoke anymore after that. It was Weird for Jacket to hear from Harley as if she put on some kind of show. This made him think she must've meant the moves she pulled on the guy instead of what gone on in her imagination.

The cyborg mercenary comes up to the two new primes at the bar with a blaster in hand. Jacket spotted him coming near the bar due to the cyber augmented pieces the tall person was wearing with a blaster in his hand. This made him think that they must've done something wrong since they beaten that guy up. Red Eye to Jacket did look threatening not to mess with him in fact gave him the same vibe he had with Judge Dredd. Jacket acts calm and tries to make it look like he didn't notice Red Eye. Harley took another swig and still her giggles are uncontrollable due to the alcohol and her insanity. The merc comes up to the two which catches Harley's attention but not Jacket's making Red Eye know he is trying to ignore him. "Primes, I'm here to not cause a fight but strongly recommend you follow me. If you try to do anything threatening, we have you surrounded in the club." said Red Eye having his attention mostly on Jacket then Harley since she is looking at with confuse look. Jacket turns around at Red Eye's comment and notices many people that didn't look like clubbers but also look mercenary looking armed with blasters and combat gear. The vigilante sighs and says "Alright, what did we do this time?"

"You guys are not in trouble but please follow me and ask questions later." said Red Eye looking down at Jacket since his height was shorter to his. "Fine then." said Jacket which made the cyborg mercenary turn around believing they were about to follow them. Jacket gets close to Harley and whispers closely in her ear so she can hear it over the clubbing that was going on "We better do as he says because seeing these guys outnumbering us are armed to the teeth and we might draw attention again as before." Jacket gets off the bar stool and stands up straight for a second from sitting there for a good hour. They both follow the cyborg merc out of the club and into what seems to be a throne room that had cubbies in the walls where tables were at so that guests could sit down. Rat comes in behind them as Red Eye is leading them in front of the group. They go past the entrance of throne room that had two gamoreean guards on each side of the entrance holding big battle axes. Jacket and Harley are moved in the throne room and are stopped by the two mercs due to a dance that is going on with several exotic female dancers wearing slave lingerie outfits. The Hutt sits there with a grin at the show the dancers were giving to the him and the fact that his employees got back with people that are for his job.

The dance took ten minutes for it to get done and most of the dancers left the room back to the main club but one stays there which was a busty bright orange Twi'lek sitting next to N'emro on his thrown having a shock collar on if she does something that N'emro despises. The group walk up to his thrown which made him have a curious look on what people that Red Eye and Rat brought him. Also had the slave's attention at the guests that arrive. This did give Jacket a bad vibe what him and Harley got into which made him think that this might made her excited.

[Harley Quinn]

Harley could not stand worthless, and drawn out, rambling conversations. Especially from men who sat too tall on their high horse. Men who loved the sound of their own voice and would listen to talk, not to respond. 

Poor excuses of them seemed to sprout like weeds all around her. Not like the weeds, darling Ivy could spring up though. No, those were delicate creations by mother nature herself.
That girl can grow some weeds. Raising her eyebrows, Harley amused herself. These cretins were the kind that would suffocate and destroy your beautiful foliage. The kind that would lower the value of your beautiful home. There are things you can do when you are faced with that kind of destructive infestation. One, rip them up from the ground by their roots. Two, burn them with fire till they are nothing more but a pile of dusty ash. Or you can drown them in deadly poison.

Puddin would like poison. 
The wind caught in her chest and uncontrollably she went back in time. Of course, it was the memory she still fiercely clung too. The one she couldn't let go; the chemical bath. It brought that sweet burning sensation that touched in deep, private places, last been felt by her dangerous love. The heat was pleasurable and painful which resulted in agony. 

Pain is love to me.
“Ah Fuck” rasping a whisper to herself, she shook her head side to side. The passionate desire was short lived, as always, and then quickly followed with the ache of guilt. Now she was in a mood and had some tension to let loose.Focusing on the bounce of her curled pig tails brought Harley closer back to earth. With Goodnight tightly grasped in her gloved hand, Harley swung it up and cradled it confidently on her shoulder. While peering around the space she couldn’t help but snicker. Eyes sparkling with mischief she landed on exit stage left. 

“Oh BOYS!” Harley bellowed with explosive giggles then finished with her tongue gliding across her pearly whites. 
“If ya would excuse me, I need to recharge my batteries” calling out in that thick Brooklyn accent dripped with sexual tension. 

Pretty positive some of those knuckle heads back there had some objections but pretended that she didn’t hear them. However, the goons nonsensical responses were not merited enough to chase after her. The way she skipped past them while matching Goodnights swing to the sway of her hips sealed the deal. 
Lucky for them, I'm one of those moods that only a fresh skull kissing from baby could change. Either way, they would have had a good time with or without blood Harley would have a good time. 

But patience is a virtue. 
“Geez this place is so stiff, where can a girl like me get, some real fun around here?” with her eyes rolling and a loud huff, The Princess of Mischief stormed far off away from Loser Central. 

Harley needed to release some steam and that meant getting in trouble. Being the biggest trouble maker of them all, creating chaos was an addiction. 
"You have been a bad girl Harley." Batman snapped in that deeply sexually confident voice. The thought of Batman spanking her for being a naughty girl resulted in a flash of that devilish grin. 

Bad things that Robo Cop would want to put her in handcuffs for is what Harley was feening. His cold gaze and dead emptiness of his sunglasses towering over her body made Harley feel like a real woman.  
Wouldn't mind at all seeing him again. The reel of him cock-blocking her kills played in her mind like a porno. 

“Now that is a man that could show me a good time” moving a piece of one her pink tipped locks away from her face, Harley muttered.
Can I get his attention somehow and see him again? Now there is a tantalizing thought, feels just like what I'm looking for.

Throwing her head back, Harley could barely control herself and burst out psychotic giggles. Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome could always replace her Batsey. Even distract her from thinking about Mr. J which she needed more than anything else. 
The only real question is how do I get to see him again? 
“Hmm,” Haley thought loudly, placing a perfectly manicured hand under her chin with that sexy, puzzled look. 

“I know!” she exclaimed joyfully while jumping up and down. Miss Mischief was going to do what she didn’t do last time she was blessed to cross the Judge’s Path. A super fantastic real fun time.

[Harley Quinn]

Time is a theoretical construct created by beings for their own aspirations. It is created to measure the gap between events in the form of minutes, seconds, and hours. What happens when no events occur? When thoughts and actions consume you, where do you go? 

Imagine being alone in a dark room with nothing but your thoughts. This might not be bad for some, but for those who had thoughts like Harley, it was toxic. Someone with an advanced personality disorder can easily find themselves in a manic obsession, The Joker and Batman were case examples. 

For the mistress of mischief, her new found obsession was with Judge Dread. Her days and nights were absorbed with thoughts of Harley's stone-faced enforcer. Newspaper clipping scraps littered the floor in the cramped hideaway, where she tucked herself away for the past few years. The walls along Harley's retreat were covered with stories of the Judge's sentences, along with pictures, and drawings of herself and the Judge together. 

She elaborately thought of ways to get his attention, if only she could easily bring him all the way out here again, but chances of that were slim. The things that she would do to him kept Harley's thoughts ablaze, and the time rapidly running past her. The next encounter with the tall, dark, menace had to be absolutely perfect.

Harley laid on the cold concrete floor with only the unused newspapers and magazines to cradle her head. On the ceiling above her was a giant poster of the Judge that she stole from a shopkeeper, whose wares included embezzled merchandise from Coruscant. If it was already stolen, Harley thought that pinching it herself was just karma coming to the sleazeball, besides, Baby does whatever she wants.

The Judge's brilliant tapestry looked to be like some sort of cheesy advertisement you would find in a government institution, and it made Harley sick. Sick in Love? Who knows? What is love to the twisted Clown Princess?

"Love is pain." Harley whispered breathlessly as she plunged another knife into the Judge's paper heart alongside the countless others.  

A vision of her cutting down the Judge flooded her psyche, causing her to erupt in a wicked laughter. Harley's body convulsed, lightly like during a pleasant orgasm, as she landed two more knife shots on the poster.

"Soon you will be all mine, handsome."

[Harley Quinn]

The reflection of the street lamps and the glare of the night lights danced along my vision with the tempo the music the cab driver played. It had been too long since I had a night on the town and it was driving me mad. Like it was even possible to be madder. There was only one place I thought to go, and that was the only slime bucket in the nasty outer district of Coruscant. You guessed right, Big Daddy Casino and Nightclub. 

Judging by how the surroundings were getting much shitter now, we couldn't have to go much more.  I can't wait to get out of this death trap; the cabby had a horrible accent that sounded like he was talking underwater and his breath smells like onions, alcohol, and vomit. He very well may be intoxicated while he drove me to the club, so I made my decision I was not going to tip him. 

Swerving out of the way of some debris in the road the driver then made a revolting nose, the kind you make when you are sucking all the mucus to the back of your throat. 
'We almost their now sweet cheeks.'

Yuck gross, maybe I will kill him after all. Thankfully, I was not in the car much longer before he pulled up in front of Big Daddy's. Promptly exiting the cab, I walked over to the window before giving the bouncer a free show. Bent over I asked, "What do I owe you?" 

"You owe me $37.50." 

That repulsive stench of death made me dizzy, and I gripped the top of the car to hold steady. "Geez, keep your mouth shut when your talking will ya? Gonna give someone a stroke." Ignoring the man's banter, and with a few quick swipes of my database device I paid the troll and walked into the familiar disco. 

I had already had one or two drinks when a hulk of a man walked into the club. His entrance was something that I could not easily ignore as he gave another patron a kiss with his skull that started by some yelling. He was also way over 7 feet tall and could easily be the most prominent man in the room. 

A waitress had to help drag the unconscious fool out the club, but not before whining to the man in the trenchcoat, "He's new here Marty, he didn't know." Marty had now settled himself in front of the stage with an empty seat on either side of him. 

He wore a trench coat, and his hair was a dirty blonde with a crew cut, a real ugly motherfucker. Marty did not even have the time to light his cigarette before a beautiful blonde little bo peep in fishnets placed a shot in front of him. She then promptly walked away and towards my direction with her voluptuous bouncing tits in all their glory. 
"Would you like anything else to drink sugar?" 

"Yes, can you get me whatever Marty is drinking please?" With a look of surprise followed by a syrupy honey smile, she pranced back to the bar. Finding a seat to his right, I shot him some of my Harley swagger.  "Do you come here often?" 

Men who can come into a place like this and wear religious jewelry on of trailer park tank tops are just the kind of people need in my life. His golden cross was the only really out of place thing about this juggernaut. Marty is trying his best to look unamused, but the scars on his face make him look like a grinning asshole.

Based on my expertise analysis our Marty was either an ex-con or an ex-government operative of some kind.  The .45 Springfield Armory M191A pistol on his hip told me he was most likely a  former con. His weathered and battered face told a story of hardship, and the marks said a lengthy tale of death and violence.  With an ugly tightness in his face, he smiled and said, "you can say I am regular, nobody special."  

I liked Marty right away, and I can tell that he was the kind of man I didn't have to worry about spiking my drink while I was busy admiring the atmosphere. Goldie locks came back without another second to spare with our beer and our shots. I raised my glass at him just as the music picked up inside the club with some hypnotic beats. 

I'll be honest; it's hard keeping up with a beast of a drinker like Marty old pal. In one stripper set, he would have drunk 3 beers and taken six shots like a champ. By the fourth stripper, I had let go of all reservations and was talking stupid to Marty. Saying belligerent nonsense like "Marty, have you ever been in love?" and "Where is the best place to get rid of a body around here?"

A scrawny scarecrow of a man with a hat much too large for his head interrupted our good happy time with a boisterous and overbearing voice. "Marty, my man! Have you placed your bets yet?" 

"No, not yet, I am not impressed with the line up this year," Marty said while waving to the waitress for another drink. This place was a crooked palace of criminal activity, and that includes illegal betting.  

The scarecrow lets out a dry cackling that sent a mist of saliva on the counter in front of us. Acknowledging me for the first time the cockroach says, "What he means to say is that his lucky  boy has not yet joined the game." 

"The game, what game, I love to play games," I said spinning around to face the heckler. 

He laughed some more before answering, "It's for Dante's Abyss the most bloody battle royal of the year. Not something for gals like you." 

In the blink of an eye, I had gotten a few inches from him before the fucker could say another word. "You don't know what kind of gal I am mister," blowing a pink bubble in his face.  

Marty let out a chuckle before speaking, "You know, I only place my bet on Uchiha so come find me if he joins otherwise don't bother me again Jeff."  The slimeball walked away but not before muttering some obscenities that were not audible over the racket of the music. Marty snickered again and shook his head before telling me that he won big on a random bet he placed on this kid three years back. He refused to bet on anyone else since then and won't gamble at all if Uchiha was not competing. 

This game was exciting to me, according to Marty, it's a bunch of meatheads battling to the death for fabulous cash and prizes; like jeopardy but with more blood. The fame that came with it, in particular, was most appealing. With my name up in lights, there was no way the Judge wouldn't notice me. I can see it now, bright lights, big city, me standing on a pile of bodies while the crowd is throwing roses and chanting my name. 

By now, even the scent of the malt from the beer was making me spin. The sound of the music was causing my brain to vibrate inside my skull. I don't think I can handle much more of this, not without blacking out. "Hey Marty, how does a girl like me sign up for Desmonds Defense?" 

"You don't want to join Dante's Abyss, why would you want to do that?" Marty asked before sliding over a glass of water in my direction. Bless his soul. 

"I have nothing better to do right now Marty my friend; I can get off whacking some perps with my bat." I let out a loud burp that followed with an insane laughing fit. 

"You got some spunk clown, ill give you that." Marty shrugged his shoulders and reached into the pocket of his trench coat. "If you are going to go play badass then you better have some help, I don't want to see you on your ass first round." He handed me a crumpled brown paper bag with some gizmos inside. "They came with the jacket, the guy who used to own this jacket won't be needing it." 

You know two people became best friends when one of them gets presents!  I didn't think Marty thought that much of me, it's nice to be on this goons good side.  "Why doesn't  he need it?" 

He laughed and took the last swig of his beer before telling, "He's dead, I shot him in the face." Silence and then the sound crooked laughter from the both of us caused those around us to stop and stare.