Workshop Test

I want to believe. Or something like that. What started as a casual investigation has led me to believe that something, something unknown, or something misunderstood, is rummaging through this city like a plague. At first, when I was assigned the case, it was nothing more than a simple mugging gone wrong. But now, I feel like there is something more beneath the surface. I've managed to snag two leads from our body. Good answers that guy gave me. One, as business card for one Luis Stroll. The other, a ticket stub to a club downtown. Now, I just need to decide which to go to. [[Jazz, I know her name.]] [[Lawyers, can't stand them.]]

The club reaks of cigarettes and cheap liquor. But the music is nice enough it calms the remaining senses. I make my way through a card, giving the bouncer a cover charger of crumpled ones and dirty fives. It takes me a second to understand what I need to look for. [[A bartender sits alone, I wonder what stories he has to tell.]] [[A singer leaves the stage, she looks tired from a night of entertainment.]]

She wears a red dress that reflects the lights above, the crowd gathers and applauds her off stage. I'm already waiting for her at the foot of the steps. She smiles at me, but i know it's a smile she uses on any sad sap in this place. I offer her my hand, to help her futher down off the stage. [["Lets go someplace quiet."]] [["Your bartender friend said you might have seen my buddy here."]]

"Rico." He tells me his name, I order one of those fruity drinks with an orange slice. Gotta give in to the simple things to keep your head on straight. Rico cleans some glasswear as the music fills the void between us, he doesn't seem suspicious of me, yet. I need to make sure the questions I move forward with will actually get us somewhere. 'Nice night." I say, "Eh, kinda slow." He responds, not paying me any attention. [["I had a friend who use to go here",]] I say, "Haven't seem him in a couple days." [["The singer,"]] I begin, "Who is she?"

"A lot of people go here." He seems upset, as if I am already prying away at him, even with a simple question. "Well my buddy was kind of important, political figure, sort of thing." "Oh yea?" He turns his head towards me now, a smug look on his face, "If your buddy was visiting here often, then he had something to hide." A spark. We're getting somehwere. "So what is this? Some kind of underground situation." I try not to make it anything serious, more so a curious mouse looking for some cheese. "Don't worry yourself with it. Enjoy the drinks." "Enjoy [["The singer,"]]

"That's Ally." He says, almost reluctantly. "She's been here awhile, knows a lot of faces." "A lot of faces?" I question further. "Sure, she;s the main singer, keeps her head low, works the crowd, good stuff." I look over my shoulder watching her finish her set, the music fades and exits out perfectly in tune with her words. [[A singer leaves the stage, she looks tired from a night of entertainment.]]

She denies the invitation, i find myself up against the bouncer now. Some sort of eye contact with him let him know she DIDN'T want to talk to me. I'm escorted out, and i can't believe I screwed the pooch that hard. I search in my back pocket, pulling out [[a card]] that reads, "HIGHERSTORM LAWFIRM, 13TH AVENUE.' I know where I've got to go next.

She nods. "I know a lot of people." I help her fully off the stage. "This one is important." i sa, she tilts her head. "You seem worried." She says in a small voice. "Well he was a good friend of mine, hasn't returned any of my calls, but i know he liked this place." She motions to a dark hallway. "Come to my dressing room, I'll help you sweetie." He walk for a second, it's not long before i am sitting across from her as she takes her makeup off. "His name was Luis.' She turns to me in her chair, removing eyeshadow from her eyes. "Luis? There's a lot of Luis's here honey." "Luis Stroll." I correct her. "Stroll. . ." She takes a moment. "Yea i knew him. Sweet guy, hated his job." "His job?" "He was an accountant for a law firm. somewhere on 13th or in between 8th and 15th avenue." [[Lawyers, can't stand them.]] "Why'd he hate it, seems like a good paying gig." "He thought it was. He said it was something about the people, something about how they acted." "Like they were too good for the world." "Like they were a husk, as he put it. Something about none of it was real, none of it mattered, and they could care less for him." I am concerned, or something of that sort. Terrified? No, not exactly. I thank her for her time, for her answers, and tell her i might come back some time when I'm not working. Leaving the club is a daze. The music begins again, i catch an eye of the bartender, and I'm off to find the truth.

[[Lawyers, can't stand them.]] Even their building is posh and annoying. Elegant lights and golden finishes, everything about this screams I cost too much money to help a poor kid like you. The lights shine, they're too bright to my sleep deprived eyes. There's. . no one here. They're not open on weekends? I search around, finding nothing but white walls and picture frames of richmen who would suck your bank account dry. I come up to the welcoming desk, stepping behind the structure, and beginning to search the pull out droors. There's no point in wating for someone to show up. Pull the [[TOP DROOR]] Pull the [[LOWER DROOR]]

I find nothing, random papers and loose staple clips. It feels like this firm is barely afloat. I close the droor. The, go for the [[LOWER DROOR]]

There a picture that looks back at me. A picture of Luis. He looks happy, fufilled. but the others around him in the photograph seem not to be. They look. . .dead almost. lifeless, sitting and taking a picture. but no one is home. "Hello." A woman's voice comes from behind, it startles me to drop the photo. As I turn a receptionist looks at me. She gives me the same smile as those in the picture, I take a couple steps back, she steps forth. "You shouldn't be here." Montone, she keeps moving toward me. "I was just looking for my friend." "Luis Stroll no longer works here." Monotone, I am stepping to the door I came in through. She's moving in on my every step. "I wasn't looking for him." "Luis Stroll no longer works here." "Yea, you said that." We're in a game of cat and mouse, I've almost made it to the door. When her face begins to bug out, her eyes sink back into her skull, her mouth seems to fade into the pale skin of her chin. Her nose straightens and collapses into a mound on her face. There is nothing there but blackened eyes, I am terrified. [[Run]] [[Throw Something]]