Both “Renzo” and “Maud” were wearing faux fur coats that Blair had gotten as presents for the holidays from some relatives who didn’t know her very well. They both found them extremely tacky but ultimately perfect for their personas as luxurious tourists travelling in from the Martian Capital. Their naivete allowed them to justify being curious about the gang’s operation and also made them seem non-threatening enough to get an answer.

The Snapping Jaws was a large black building in the deeper section of Neonight. Its exterior was covered in retro neon signs marketing its name and using graphics of drinks and cigarettes to convey its generally disgusting atmosphere. But that’s what a lot of people came there for. Thomas and Blair stepped up to the double doors—the sounds of pulsing dance music were vibrating through the walls—and Thomas could see red booths full of patrons and a large dance floor full of people far younger than him partying the night away. “Names, please,” a bouncer said, holding out his arm in front of the door, stopping Thomas and Blair from walking inside.

“Ah, of course, my good man!” Thomas said, in a voice imitating the voices he heard on the boring documentaries about the Civ that were always playing. He thought it sounded exotic. “My name is Renzo North, and this is my compatriot, Maud Dixon!” he said, gesturing to himself, then to Blair.

“Uh, pip-pip. My name is Maud!” Blair said, in a female version of what Thomas was attempting in order to seem consistent. Although the truth was that she thought she sounded stupid.

The bouncer didn’t seem phased by their accents. He was an extremely large man, almost the size of Piotr, wearing a sleek black tuxedo that clashed heavily with Thomas and Blair’s overly garish outfits.

“We’re tourists from the capital, here to experience the finest pleasures that your lovely city has to offer!” Thomas exclaimed.

“Can I see some ID?” the bouncer responded.

“Um, what is an ‘ID’? I’m not great with this techno business, I’m afraid.”

“You know, you seem over eighteen.” The bouncer stepped back, gesturing the duo to head inside. “Enjoy your evening,” he said, and Thomas and Blair walked inside. As the two vanished amidst the pulsating fog of dance music and alcohol sweat, the bouncer sent a message from his unit. Two individuals have entered the premises. They match your description almost perfectly, Rosemary.

“Why did you decide to go with a British accent?” Blair whispered as the two exited the earshot of the bouncer.

“British? I just heard it from Civ history documentaries. I don’t enjoy them, but I find the narrator’s voice soothing.” Thomas took a look around the club. The booths were full of older men in dark suits drinking alcohol and discussing what Thomas guessed was “Just Business.” Suitcases were frequently exchanged between them, and they seemed not to be paying much attention to anything else. Same with the mass of early-twenties partygoers, whose gyrating had congealed them into a blob at the center of the club, threatening to crush anybody who got caught between them and a wall. They also seemed oblivious to Thomas and Blair. “Man I can’t believe we got in without ID. it’s like they wanted us here.”

“I counted on that. We look rich—fancy—like we’d probably splurge on a bunch of the more expensive alcohol they can’t sell to these teenagers,” Blair said. She had looked up as she stood in the entrance at an alcove that overlooked the dance floor. There was a window, and behind it, Blair could see a woman with long and frazzled blood-red hair and a pale face. She looked like she was looking back at Blair and Thomas. And smiling. It left Blair disoriented for a brief moment. “Okay, Thomas, where are the doors with guards? Because if they’re guarding something, we could probably benefit from having it.”

Thomas saw another bouncer standing in front of a door behind the mass of partygoers. He could hardly hear himself think over the generic thumping music. It was almost draining to think while listening to it. “There’s a guard on the other side of the dance floor. I don’t see any others. He must be guarding everything then. We can’t just head over right away. Let’s split off for a moment to just act natural. Sound good?”

“Fine. Just don’t get wasted or anything.”

* * *

“Holy shit. They actually came here?” Rosemary Krokodil laughed as she looked down at Thomas and Blair from her alcove. She was standing in a private lounge surrounded by sanguine sofas and lava lamps, slowly dancing hypnotically in their containers. “I can’t believe they actually did it—and in such shitty disguises too. Who did they think they’d be fooling?” she cackled. She was taller than Blair and standing on scarlet heels in a long matching dress. She couldn’t seem to stop her hair from sticking out in every direction. She looked crazy, which she was, but she didn’t want to just reveal it to everyone.

“Is that a rhetorical question, ma’am?” one of the bouncers asked.

“Yes it’s a rhetorical question, I know the people they thought they’d be fooling would be us. Don’t be stupid.”

“Uh, yes ma’am!” the guard stuttered. “I will not be stupid, ma’am!”

“Somehow I struggle to believe that,” Rosemary said, turning away from her view of the partygoers. And turning to see a woman on her knees tied up and gagged with cloth, whose wrists were bound and whose pleas were silenced by the gag. “Officer Tellman!” she shouted, raising her arms in the air. “I’m so glad you could join us! How do you like the club? It’s my job to run it, so if you do enjoy it, then thank you. If you don’t, then voice your complaints now!”

Rosemary pressed a hand up to her ear, listening for a response. A cluster of guards had gathered behind the prisoner, watching their every move with heat guns at the ready. “No reply? I’m glad you enjoy it then! Now, you understand Officer Tellman—Maria Tellman right? Daughter of Alexander and Maria Sr.? Just nod your head if I’m correct about the names of your parents.”

The bound and gagged officer started to cry and then nodded her head. “Perfect. Now, Maria, you understand that I own this building, and it’s my job to keep it running smoothly, correct?”

Maria nodded her head, tears leaking into the cloth that covered her mouth. “Now Maria, you understand that a filthy individual such as yourself investigating me and my business is harmful to the wellbeing of the guests? I mean, not only will me and my family be shut down if any of our important secrets are unearthed, but the patrons will think this is a place of crime, which would drive down sales. You understand, right?”

Maria nodded. “And since you’re a police officer, you understand how important it is to do anything to make sure your job is done correctly. We all have people depending on us, and I need to keep those people happy.” Rosemary leaned over Officer Tellman and lit a cigarette, proceeding to blow the smoke in her face. “And you were the only one who couldn’t be bought,” Rosemary spat, anger rising in her voice. Maria saw a thin red wire extend from Rosemary’s wrist, winding through the air like a snake hunting for food before burying itself in Maria’s face. No blood leaked out. “Which is why I need to do this. Wirebaby.”

Suddenly, Maria felt her face start to swell. A thick black fluid was leaking out of the area around Maria’s wound, dripping down her face and swelling up the area around it like a water balloon being filled and slowly melting its way through. “It’s only slightly personal,” Rosemary said with a laugh before leaning back and touching the cigarette to the gooey substance, at which point Maria’s face exploded, sending chunks of brain matter all over the room and the officer’s lifeless body tumbling to the ground.

Rosemary stepped back to the window. “Make those two think that they’re sneaking in. I can’t kill them in the open, and so when they ask to come up here, let them. Then, I’ll spring my trap.” Rosemary sneered, a myriad of those red veiny wires extending from all over her. “Phantom Limb, prepare for my revenge.”