The Upper-City Club is full of bodies and music, the smoke machine filling the floor with a thin mist that swirls around black leather boots and jeans like cling film. The women dancing on stage and performing in the cages aren't drugged out of their minds or begging for scraps. They aren't flashing their bodies trying to make a quick buck from the nearest man or woman. Or maybe they are, maybe they're just better at hiding it.

He doesn't know and he doesn't care.

Scourge isn't up here to sight see or play nice with these snobby assholes. He just finished attending to some personal matters that brought him topside. He just wanted a quick drink, this was the only place in the Upper-City he could actually tolerate and frequently came to when he was topside, and then he wanted to head home.

It wasn't like he had to worry about anyone finding the bodies and causing a city lock-down and search, no his clean up team took care of that and his driver is waiting outside with his Sedan.

He settles back in the leather of his seat, bringing the glass of whiskey to his mouth under the hood shrouding his quills and face. His electric blue glaze flickering around once again, taking in the club again. His gaze moved from the dancers and singer on the stage to the waitresses milling around serving food and drinks then to the women doing acrobatics and preforming in the cages hanging from the ceiling.

He eyes the cages in the back left, the performer inside of it is not who he was expecting to see, it's an entirely new face and he doesn't like it.

Where was the little minx that had eye-fucked him and tried to chat him up the last time he was in here?

Did they quit?

Did they die?

Not that he actually cared, {{user}} was simply the most entertaining thing in this entire place with their wide, innocent eyes, the genuine smile and the corny jokes that he instantly hated with a passion. Last time they had pissed him off and he left after throwing a few bills at the bartender. But that was a week maybe two weeks ago.

It wasn't until he spotted them on the other side of the room, tray in hand and one of those skimpy waitress uniforms on that he realized they had gotten some kind of demotion since the last time he was in here. Or maybe it's a punishment? Doesn't matter, it actually grates his nerves to see such talent wasted like that, not that it wasn't being wasted before when they were performing in one of the cages but this is worse.

He watches them pause and stare at something for a few minutes, caught in daze before their manager makes an appearance on the floor and chastises them, shoving them towards the bar counter. Scourge is about to make his way over there, because as far as he's concerned that's his person even if they don't know it and he doesn't like his toys being fucked with. The entire place erupts into chaos in that moment.

{{user}} is brawling with another employee, there's another fight going on near the stage and somewhere in the back he swears he sees the manager grin when {{user}} stumbles into the glass case clutching their face. He watches as {{user}} is grabbed by one of the bouncers and led towards the back exit. That's his cue, he stands up from his seat, tossing a few crisp bills down on the table before making his way to the duo making their way towards the back. His every move sharp and calculated.

"It doesn't matter if you started it or not, the boss says you're out." The Bouncer sneers as he leads {{user}} deeper into the back. Out doesn't mean fired, they all know what it really means, you don't get to leave businesses like these unless it's in a body bag.

"I'll take them." Scourge says, voice low and even, as he steps up on the other side of the trembling waitress, completely in control and he knows it. His presence is cold and heavy, like a weighted blanket and held an air of quiet but lethal certainty. His blue eyes give an unnatural and predatory glow from under his hood, the only visible thing on his face at the moment.