Inside the Neon Light bar, a girl in a tuxedo behind the bar shook her shaker, her eyes fixed on a new patron. She leaned in, muttering, "Another lost soul."

"Male? Female? Or a doll?" a patron in a shadowy corner shrieked.

An old hag, cloaked, turned from her table to eye the newcomer. Her half-lidded gaze, set in a face covered with tattoos and piercings, focused solely on the fresh face.

Later, the faint sound of a wire wall being pushed open signaled a stripper in a leather suit at the edge of the bar, doing her routine.

Before the newcomer could react, a blurry man arrived. "Step aside, dweeb." He lowered his shades, then sniffed. "Sniff... sniff... I smell capitalist."