3. Amber Hart, again again
As Amber is making her way away from the hospital, a drunk man on the sidewalk stumbles suddenly sideways right into the path of a bike messenger, who curses loudly, swerves, and smacks right into Amber, sending them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs, metal, and her courier bag, which spills open. Scattered around the both of them are various packages, one of which has torn open and spilled a white powder across the sidewalk. "Agh- fuck- dammit- fuck-" The courier curses, one each of her arms and long legs scraped up pretty badly. "Watch where you're going, you fucking-" She swears at the drunk.
Amber squeals as the bike runs into her, then lays there a touch dazed by the impact. Fuck, that hurt. She moves to push the bike off her, hindered by the fact that the courier is still laying on top of it. "Oww," she calls for the courier's attention. "Curse him out after you get off?" Her pride is hurt more than her body, as she untangles herself from the bike. She glowers at everybody involved.
The drunk doesn't seem to be fully parsing what's going on. "I was jus-" The courier throws up her hands, decides to ignore the man, and gets off of Amber. "Sorry- sorry." She helps Amber get free. "You alright?" The scent of blood is in the air, and Amber can taste it on the breeze. The courier smells like... speed, irritability, wild abandon, and sudden swings and shifts.
"Yes, fine." Amber takes the offered hand, brushing off her pants leg and examining the cut beneath. It'd be nasty, if she weren't what she is. As is, it's merely an inconvenience, and will be gone when she next has privacy. She turns her evil eye on the drunk, giving him a little 'scram' motion with one hand to help encourage him to be on his way. "Looks you got worse than I did," she offers unhelpfully.
She looks at the bloody arm and leg, unprotected from their run in with the concrete by her tiny shorts and tank top "That's gonna hurt like a bitch when I stop riding the Red Bull and adrenaline high," she sighs. Then her eyes catch the spilled packages, specifically the one that burst open, and she goes pale. "Ohhhhhhhh shit." She breathes.
"Hey, don't worry about me," Amber reassures, following the gaze to the spilled drugs. "I don't see anything."
The courier gets on her knees, seemingly uncaring about her scraped-up leg, and starts trying to get some of the drugs back into the package frantically. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Can you-" She looks at Amber, obviously wanting to ask for help, but not sure if that would be wise to do.
"They'll notice the torn package for sure," Amber crouches down across from her, not directly helping, but at least a bit supportive. "Calm down. Deep breaths."
The woman takes several deep breaths, but her pounding heart isn't slowing down at all. Amber can hear it hammering away inside the cage of bone. "Okay. Okay..." She tries to talk herself down a bit.
"Try brushing it onto a paper," Amber offers a suggestion. "You can pour it into a baggie from there. Amber, by the way." She doesn't offer a hand to shake, not when the woman's hand is dusted with sweat and drugs.
"Velo. It's uh-" She pats down her bag and produces an order sheet to try what Amber suggested, moving very carefully. "Sorry you caught me- at a bad moment-" She sticks out her tongue between her teeth as she tries to carefully pour the powder back into the package. "Usually- more charming-"
"Happens to the best of us." As Velo attempts to rescue the contents of her spilled package, Amber focuses on her pain, forcing the wound to closing over. Hurting is, definitionally, unpleasant. "How much trouble you going to be in, over that?" It's not her problem, but she can't help but stick her nose in.
"Well..." Velo bites her lip. "Either none or... a lot. A whole lot. Depends on if they believe me about what happened." She staggers as she attempts to stand, hit by the pain of her crash. "Look uh- Amber." She groans and produces a small roll of bills from the minuscule pocket of her shorts. "Can you- help me deliver this? I'll split the fee with you, but I'm not gonna make it in time limping around and trying to juggle all this." There's real desperation in her eyes, hidden behind a brave face.
"I've got to be home by about 4." Amber waves off the money. "Where to?"
"Thanks." Velo sighs heavily in relief. "We're going to the nightclub just off campus, Vortex. I've just got to meet a guy, hand over the package, and then I'm gone." She starts gathering up packages, wincing a bit as she does, but she gets them all back in the courier bag and hands it to Amber while she gets her bike stood up and walks with it.
"You going to be ok?" Amber asks skeptically, but shoulders the bag and begins walking. "Can't say I've been to Vortex before, but I know where it is."
"Just gotta... get through the delivery. Student loans ain't gonna pay themselves." She tries to walk normally, occasionally hissing in pain when the bike touches her thigh where it's scraped raw. "That's good. It's a rich spot, lotta people go there for a bit of a thrill." She turns her bloody, tattooed arm, grinning a bit. "Think I might add to the atmosphere?"
"I'm sure you'd add to the atmosphere quite nicely," Amber laughs. "I could rip your shirt a bit more if you want to get into some real trouble, but I hear it might be a bit fancy for that sort of thing."
"Promising to rip my clothes now, huh? You sure are a full-service Good Samaritan." Velo grins. "But seriously- I really fuckin' appreciate it."
"Don't worry about it. Girls gotta stick together."
Vortex
Vortex is a neon-lit gathering place of raw sound, heated dancing, and all the fun of an illicit experience with none of the danger. Well. Without most of the danger. College students and young adults come to Vortex to have a good time and feel like they've tasted a bit of the wilder side of the city.
Drugs are bought and sold in a brisk trade, but never in the open. The owner and operator, Teresa Mendoza, is often present in her office overlooking the main dance floor. Her right hand man, James, has been known to treat those who disrespect the owner... harshly.
Vortex looks like a scaled-down stately Victorian manor home, deliberately out of place on a New York street. The girls are directed around back where they're let in through an employee interest. Velo catches a lot of attention with the dried blood on her tattoo-covered arm and leg. She leaves her bike outside and goes in with Amber, significantly less nervous than before now that she's on familiar ground. The back area of the club is indistinguishable from any backroom area in a modern service place- staff rushing around, orders being barked, sterile white hallways. The two make their way into a hallway of stately dark wood and rich red wallpaper, where the noise of the kitchen and stock room is replaced with the bass thump of music that Amber can feel in her ribcage. Apparently Vortex is popular tonight. Velo leads her out towards the main dance floor, which is occupied by young adults in very upscale clothing grinding together in ways that most certainly wouldn't fly at a proper high-class function. But Velo turns and instead climbs up a set of stairs leading up to a second-story room overlooking the floor.
Inside is a middle-aged woman wearing a dress the color of spilled blood and a handsome man somewhere between his late twenties and mid-thirties, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. "Was thinking you were about to be late." The man comments idly.
"Yeah, well I'm not, am I, James?" Velo says proudly. The older woman interrupts what feels like the kind of repeat confrontation that marks good friends or bitter enemies. "Who is this?"
"Ah... this is Anna. She's helping me finish my delivery tonight, since I got in a bit of a crash." She gestures to her bloody left side. The woman stands from behind her glass-top desk and looks over Amber. Her black hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and her equally-dark eyes are piercing.
Amber nods at the introduction, unslinging the bag from her back and offering it to Velo to handle as appropriate. "I'm the crash she got into," she offers by way of introduction. She's not dressed appropriately for a visit to Vortex, having come by way of the hospital and before that Aventure. She meets the woman's gaze steadily, without backing down or giving any hint of apology over her own state of dress - or the dried blood on her calf. If Velo and the man are frienemies, then in a matching pair that must make 'Anna' this woman's counterpart.
Velo takes the bag and tosses it to James, who unzips it and starts unpacking it, obviously counting everything as he does so. The woman nods, once, her gaze not... softening, perhaps, but growing a little less cold. "Teresa Mendoza. Thank you for helping Velo. We were getting close to being out of supplies for our next major event." She walks out from behind the desk on stilettos that might have cost Amber's last semester's tuition. She extends a well-manicured hand.
If this woman were her equal, Amber would certainly kiss the offered fingers. But she's not. She smells of prey. "Anna Hart. Pleasure to meet you," she shakes the offered hand with a firm grip - not attempting to crush it, surely, but strong enough to be a signal of challenge. As if her whole bearing weren't already radiating that aura.
Her instincts rise to the surface, in Amber's eyes and mouth and fingers. And this woman, though not a vampire, responds in kind. Amber feels the grip tighten for a moment before those dark eyes run down her appraisingly. "James. Fetch Miss Hart one of the VIP passes for the party on Friday." She smiles a shark's grin. "As a thank you. I'd love to see you there." Amber can hear the currents of dominance in the offer - Teresa is placing herself as the gracious host who extends a kind hand to a guest who has rendered unto her a service. She knows it. She knows Amber knows it.
"I'd be delighted. I'll wear something more appropriate. Anything special about Friday I should be aware of?" Gracious acceptance, and the implication that perhaps a normal day at the club is just that - normal. Testing.
James looks like he's about to respond, but at some subtle signal from Teresa, just goes over to Velo and pays her, occasionally glancing back at the two of them. "Oh, not much. We've had a famous DJ agree to perform, and wanted to put on something special for our loyal customers. Velo was very helpful in making sure everything got here on time."
Satisfied, Amber withdraws the challenge, bowing her head and acknowledging Teresa as mistress of this domain. "It sounds like it will be quite an event, thank you for the invitation."
"I anticipate seeing you there, Anna Hart." Teresa smiles, gracious in victory, and allowing Amber to withdraw as she returns to her desk. Velo gives Amber a look of something like respect as she pockets a thick roll of bills and James nods to her. "Watch where you're going next time, hm? One of the bags broke open in there." Velo shrugs carelessly, proud and defiant under fire. "Yeah, I'll do my best. See ya around, Jimmy." She almost drags Amber out of the office.
"Holy shit."
Amber waits until they're far enough out of hearing range that the mistress of the place definitely can't her her before responding with a laugh. "Not what you were expecting from me?"
"No! Holy shiiiit. That woman terrifies me!" Velo looks at Amber. "That was very stupid, and very brave, and... kinda hot, if I'm being honest."
"No one was paying attention to your broken bag," explains one reason for her little game, pleased with the outcome. "You should stop by my place some evening. Aventure's not quite as upscale, you'd fit in a bit better. Oh, I don't own the club," she clarifies, before Velo's eyes can get any wider. "But everyone there knows me. I was on my way home when we ran into each other."
"Damn. Glad I ran into you, of all people to crash into." Velo puts an arm around Amber, pulling her in for brief a one-armed hug. "Thanks. You really saved my ass."
Amber is cold under the hug, but with everything else going on, hopefully Velo doesn't notice, and Amber turns the conversation away from herself and back towards more pressing topics. "And I got a VIP pass out of the deal. Now, you need to go get that leg cleaned up."
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Let me give you my number. If you ever need a favor, just let me know. And I'll stop by that club sometime."