The deep bass of the steady dance music thundered from the speakers; completely engulfing the open loft with its rhythmic tunes. The ceaseless beats of the techno harmonies may have been a disturbance if there were ears to hear it. The leaking roof, rotting walls, and boarded windows welcomed no one to this dilapidated structure.
The hypnotic thump was enjoyed by the buildings only human resident. It moved her into a beautiful but lethal dance. Her fists and feet flew through the air, striking various targets with solid blows. The complex moves were accomplished with a practiced ease as one move drifted seamlessly into the other with a clear focus. The combination of the music and harsh work out acted as a form of meditation for the young woman, clearing her mind of doubt and frustration.
The intensity of the exercise caused sweat to roll down her richly tanned skin and soak into her light shorts and small top. The growing strain on her body added no distraction to her intense march. As the music evolved into a powerful chorus the moves shifted into a more advanced set; each move more intricate and powerful than the last.
In a strong finale to her performance, she landed a strong kick to a punching bag that was suspended from the ceiling. The force behind the blow tore the screws holding the bag up and it fell onto the floor with a loud thud. The woman finally stood still; her chest heaving with laboured breaths as her amber eyes locked on the fallen bag. Once the air had returned to her, she reached down and took off the picture that was attached to the bag; the image of her real target. It was a picture of a middle aged woman with a long braid of deep brown hair, serious dark eyes and tanned skin.
The woman gave the picture a long, intense stare that set her calm demeanour into a rage. Her face twisted with a deep seeded bitterness and her amber eyes suddenly erupted into a brilliant, fiery glow. The picture immediately set ablaze in her hand; reducing it to ash in an instant.
She untied the wrappings from her hands and grabbed a clean towel; whipping the sweat from her skin as she drew in her temper. Her attention was drawn away by a chime heard over the music. She recognized the familiar sound and walked to her computer to check the received email. The message simply said “I have your order ready. Meet me at the usual place. Seth”
The woman smiled a wide toothy grin at the news and wasted no time slipping into a rough pair of jeans, a black tank top, an old pair of combat boots and a leather jacket. Once she was dressed she switched her computer off and fetched her faded backpack before heading to the only window not boarded up.
Scanning the street below with a careful eye, she pulled her hood over her hairless scalp and took a firm grip of a metal pipe bolted to the building. She stepped from the window frame and propelled herself to the ground with an acrobatic flare, then casually walked into the city.
She made her way to a murky alley several blocks away in a part of the city others are told to stay out of. With a confident stride, she walked through the alley with no fear of the criminal element until she came across a red door with a small sign saying “S.P”. Even from outside the building, she could hear the pulsing beats of the techno rave inside the club. She gave the door four hard knocks and waited for a moment before her call was answered by a towering man with a thick neck and even thicker arms almost busting out of a black t-shirt.
The man looked down at her with contention and spat out a gruff “Yeah?”
“I’m here for Seth,” the woman declared. Her voice was feminine yet assertive but the words were almost stumbled over as if they were foreign to her.
The towering door man gave her a critical look up and down before stepping aside to allow her in. She stepped into an environment that was both drab and vibrant at the same time. The hallway through the back door had poorly painted black walls covered in posters, flyers, stickers, and graffiti. Every step had a slight catch when her boot met the various sticky substances on the floor. She made a casual step over a young man who couldn’t quite make it back to the dance floor. This was a common sight in her current surroundings and she regarded it as such. It was the hard crash hidden behind the hopping party in the main room.
The main affair was a booming night club with dozens of brightly coloured ravers bouncing from beat to beat with the dizzying stage lights. The pumping dance floor sat as a center piece to the room lined by several tables and long, narrow bars against the wall, crowded by the club goers trying to get drinks.
She skirted to edge of the room and headed up the stairs to the VIP lounge balcony. Instead of wire chairs and small tables, the upper level had plush booths and leather couches. The patrons were served by pretty waitresses instead of waiting at the bar, and were never disturbed by security.
The woman walked with purpose to a solitary booth in the corner of the balcony and locked eyes with a familiar face. “Seth,” she called, regarding the man she came to S.P to meet. He ran his hand through his short, bleached blond hair and stared at her with blood shot blue eyes. He stood out amongst the other goers in an expensive suit that hung off him with a custom fit.
“You got here quickly. You must really want this stuff,” he said over the loud music.
“You have no idea,” she answered, sliding into the booth and retrieving a solid brick of cash from her backpack.
Seth took the stack and quickly flipped through it to assure its authenticity. “I love doing business with you, chicky. You never jerk me around,” Seth noted as he grabbed a brown envelope off the table and handed it to the woman.
She opened the envelope and took a careful look at the contents. Inside the package was an employee ID badge for a company called Greystone Live Entertainment and a passport. “Your order is kind of a weird one this time; what do you plan to do with it?” Seth asked.
The woman turned to Seth and gave him an almost frightening grin. “I’m going to a party.”