Forrest: The Club.

Ok, this has been sitting in my head for a while, its was in spired by a dream i had and a film (equilibrium) and several friends are the base for characters. So here it is.

The Club.

The whole area that used to be the docks still smelled of fish, even after the restoration and the blood spilling of the 30’s revolution. It was still a place of trendy bars and gourmet restaurants for the younger generation. This wasn’t his sort of place but tonight he needed to make himself seen.
The warehouse was a plain concrete building of the mid 20th century. It was bathed in the blue glow of the neon lights, strung around it.

The car pulled up at the curb, in front of the club. He’d picked the car, he liked it, he’d always liked discreet cars and this was as discreet as it got, a black Jaguar. Forrest got out, his trench coat catching in the wind as he moved to the other side of the car. He opened the door a sly smile on his face as he took her hand and helped her out of the leather seat. He nodded and the driver moved off. He was joined by two figures from a black jeep, similarly dressed in black with long coats. All three carried black hilted katanas; the two who stood behind also cradled automatic rifles in their arms; his bodyguards and friends he rarely ventured from his estate with out them.
He leaned over to her and whispered something, she smiled and walked ahead. He watched her go, the red silk of the dress hugging her, the neon lights reflected on her pale skin. He twitched his hand in specific way; the pair nodded and followed him in. The bouncer looked at his face then the swords and rifles. The rifles were handed over and the guards frisked. Then they were waved in. He wondered if they’d have taken the .45 calibre he had in his shoulder holster.

In side, strobes and spot lights illuminated the drab interior. The smell, of fresh sweat and perfume were choking but he ignored it. He wound his way through the people dancing, to an area of sofas and lounges. She’d sat her self in a circle of sofas away from the rest, the other occupants vacated as they saw him approach. He lent forward and kissed her as he sat and she leaned into him, the guards stationing them selves inconspicuously at the edge of the ring of seats.

The first of the guests arrived. Vladimir, he was a shorter man, pale, his suit a loose fit, his long hair tied back. The woman on his arm was shorter still but resplendent in black velvet, laced at the cuffs and around her breasts. He nodded and sat on the sofa to the right his companion, draped flirtatiously round his neck.

The next to enter were a trio of women, all members of the Placida Assassins guild, their outfits a perfect match, a strapless dress, with floral detail around the edge of the chest, tied at the waste with ribbon and the Placida insignia round their necks.
They stationed themselves on the couch next to him, the glint of steel throwing daggers showing through their tights.

The seven exchanged in small talk, the guards were invited to sit and Vladimir’s were dismissed and moved away from the group.

He lent back and relaxed, pulling her closer to him, allowing the words of the others to wash over him interjecting when needed or an interesting point was raised.
Between the parties here, Vladimir, himself and the guild they owned the south side of the city, and all three worked well in running and policing their sectors. But the boundaries between the north and south were shifting. A new power was growing in the north; the gangs that had been warring since the end of the revolution were uniting under one banner and now pushing south.

That was why he’d chosen this club; it was neutral like the rest of the docks. There was more chance of the opposition causing a scene here. He wanted a brawl, and if he didn’t start it all the better.

The three Placida, were making their good byes, as he zoned into the convosation, he stood and hugged all three then sat down, Vladimir did the same moving to sit opposite him.
The talk moved to the situation between north and south, Vlad’s face lined with concern.

‘Why here?’ his voice was calm but his eyes betrayed his emotion. ‘You know they’ll cause trouble if we’re in neutral territory, and my guards were stripped to just they’re swords as I see were yours. You think Katanas will help us in a fire fight?’
‘Shush’ he was perfectly calm, ‘if they make trouble the law in the docks means we can kill in self defence and yes katanas will do. Relax,’ he clicked his fingers, ’champagne?’

Their drinks were brought, and the waitress left. Though it was late the club was still full, and would be till late morning, many of the people in the city lived relaxed carefree lives, in the south at least.

The doors at the rear of the ware house swung open, several figures blocked the haze of the spring dawn. He analyzed that at least three had guns and all carried a sword or a similar makeshift weapon, and had a gang tattoo from the north down their right cheek.

Vladimir’s guards faded through the crowd to his side swords drawn and his guards stood ready at either side of him. Vlad stiffen visibly in his seat, his companion showed no signs of concern. Vlad’s hand strayed to his hilt.

He stood, a sickly smile on his lips, she followed him, her hand in his. They stepped on to the now empty dance floor.

‘Morning Gentlemen, can we help?’ His voice was calm but his muscles tensed with the possibility of action, and he felt sweat on his palms.
‘I doubt it, but you can let us help our selves.’ The group snorted a laugh at the badly made joke. He examined the speaker, a round man, his hair groomed to perfection dressed in what currently passed for the height of the northern fashion. In his dirt stained hand he clutched a crudely adapted gun. He raised it up until it pointed at Forrest’s head. He released Stephanie’s hand she step side ways and he forward.

‘I’d be careful with that,’ another step, ’it’s dangerous.’

He saw the finger squeezing the trigger and dropped to a prone position, his hand gripping his swords hilt, the bullets blazed overhead to shatter the three spot lights leaving the strobes as the only source of light. He stood and swept his blade from the scabbard the light from the strobe making the movement seem slow to all who watched then the biting steel snaked out to severe the speakers head.
He felt the press of Stephanie’s hands on his shoulder and allowed the blade to hang by his side. Most of the group stepped back except the two with guns who moved forward taking aim.
A knife flashed from the seating area taking the first man through the eye, he recognised the hilt as one of Vlad’s. The second gun was at his head to fast for him to use the sword. The shot came.

The northerner fell back, the .45 bullet gone through his heart. He turned and kissed her as he took the gun from her hand and replaced it in his shoulder holster. The guards moved forward blades rising to attack; he and Vlad joined the fight, though many of the northerners had run.
The chilling cold light of the strobes made the fight harder, with the sight of both sides being distorted. Dawn flooded through the open door proper as the last man fell; Vlad’s blade still in his chest.

The two men looked at each other; Forrest drew Vlad’s blade from the corpse and wiped both blades on the man’s shirt. He handed it back hilt first.

Both men and there guards sheathed their swords and left the club their woman on their arms. This meant war, but it always had Forrest had just speeded its arrival.