It was a dark and humid night. There were no stormclouds around.
Mika Stone stepped out of the cab and tipped the driver with insults as she adjusted her fedora. It was too hot for the trenchcoat, but she was a dick and had an image to maintain.
Yes, Mika Stone was a dick. A private dick. "You are the son of a motherfucker!" The muffled sounds of the Pixies floated on the night air as the striking private eye surveyed the scene.
The Velvet Snail had a rep and that made it Mika's kind of dive, but people were missing and the parents of one of those poor shlubs had hired Mika Stone and from where Mika Stone was standing that development meant trouble like a taxi cab driven by the bastard lovechild of the angry guy from Mad Max 2 and a vole on crack, and as Mika turned and gave the finger to the departing cabbie she knew that was a storm she'd already wethered.
This town was dangerous. Hell, this town was danger, but Mika Stone ate danger for a light mid-morning snack between extreme dangers. The sidewalk was packed with people. People her height swarming to the Snail like every Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Thursday.*
Relax. Mika used her senses. First smell, that most overlooked of senses.
Yuk. Sod it, sight. The bar towered like a mountain and as she stood there a giant couple approached the giant entrance, people running to get clear as huge boots and shoes shook the ground.
She hated to even think it, but the game was afoot.
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