Who: Ares and Pan What: Uncle and Nephew, having a lovely reunion. Or something. When: Sunday, 7/3 Where: The Cage (the Gambino Family club) Warnings: Mentions of violence, cussing. Seeing as Pan is involved, the Gods know what else :P
Ares had relocated to LA at the behest of the family to oversee their expansion on the west coast. Or so they thought, at least. It was a troubled time for the family. Things had changed. Instead of the loyalty that had once bound them together, they now struggled, besieged by politicians, police, and other gangs with fewer (or at least different) scruples. Ares let the family believe he'd moved for their benefit, since it gave him more of a voice in their councils, but the truth was he'd moved for his own reasons, bringing some of his hand-picked associates with him. Murder, INC was as fanatically loyal to him as his Warband had been in times of old. He even wondered sometimes if some of them weren't reincarnations of his old friends. Some of them had that familiar feeling to them that he associated with running into a spirit he had known before, although he never mentioned it to them.
His reasons for the move were many, but the biggest of them was that here is where at least one of the enemies made his lair. That bastard Sinestra had been bad enough. Ares had hoped that finding a permanent solution to the old man would provide a permanent solution to the rest of the problem of the New Templars or whatever they were calling themselves. New Crusaders. That was it. With their babbling about the One True God. If there was a true god, singular, Ares had never heard of him. He wouldn't mind meeting him in an alley though. Maybe THAT would be a permanent solution.
Upon moving out here, Ares had set about the tasks he and the family had decided to lay before him. Mostly a secure place to meet, preferably one that could make money, and make it disappear. He'd decided on a club that would cater to the sorts of violence and decadence he'd always preferred. Licensing had been a problem, sort of, but a few greased palms, not to mention a few threats, had finally gotten the licenses through.
The club was large, and strictly 21 and over. The name, The Cage, was the featured theme of the club with a mix of naked girls in cages, some of which dangled from the ceiling and some of which were on platforms around the club (who were referred to as the Nymphs). At the far end of the club was a large cage where throughout the night pairs of fighters would beat each other senseless for the amusement of the spectators, who could watch from platforms themselves, while they were served drinks by more young women in ancient style togas that artfully bared at least one breast. At the other end of the club was the mandatory dance floor.
As always since he'd opened it a year ago, the club was hopping. The girls were shaking it, the men were ogling them while they copped a feel on the dates they'd brought with them, and in half an hour the first fighters of the night would take the cage. That was when he'd really feel alive. Even if they weren't sacrificing puppies and praying to him for victory.
Ares sat at the bar in his nondescript suit, taking it all in his eyes roaming over the masses for any hint of trouble. Sure, he had bouncers, but he didn't mind doing a bit of the bouncing himself. Not seeing any, he motioned one of the girls, a blond who vaguely reminded him of Aphrodite, and had her get him a fresh beer, smacking her delectable ass as she walked away, shaking it just for his amusement.