I grimace to myself as the SUV makes a sharp turn and travels deeper into the scabby part of Six Tress District. After I had scoured Hobo Beard's lab for any further information, I was jumped by Matsui's enforcers who had been camping by the lab's burned out reception. The fight went as expected, even with the loss of an eye, I had no problem with beating the shit out of a handful of mooks. A few broken bones later and that sorry bunch were squealing about how my old buddy, Abs Angel had sent them over to teach me a lesson.

Abs Angel is probably still sore about getting his balls kicked into oblivion. So I decided to pay him and Matsui senior a visit once I managed to get their current location out of the enforcers. Abs Angel's minions told me that the gang was based out of a rave club which acted as both a legit business and a distribution point for Matsui's drug running operation. I had punched in the club's address into the SUV's on board map and the route had taken me through a warren of confusing side streets. My sense of direction was never much good in the first place and by now I was mindbogglingly lost. The early darkness and heavy snow drifts were not helping matters either.

The map eventually guides me to a large compound comprised of a double story building and a spacious parking lot. From the number of parking bays available and the valet rates being advertised on a wooden placard by the gate, Matsui had been expecting to do a good amount of business at this joint. Tonight though, the club has been closed, no lights are on and the velvet lined doors have been chained up. The large neon sign crafted in the silhouette of a naked woman morosely presides over the dusky surroundings, dimly illuminated by the street lights.

Other than a few cars parked in front of the club, the parking lot is completely deserted. Everyone knows that there's no party tonight it seems. I brake the SUV and check the on board map one more time, confirming that I am at the correct location. Shutting the vehicle's engine off, I make my way towards the club's entrance, passing under a pair of gaudy faux Greek pillars hoisting a sign bearing the club's name overhead.

CLUB CLEAN.

Weird concept. Matsui might also want to invest in better janitorial staff if he wants to run with that name for his club. There's trash and cigarette butts strewn all over the parking area. But then again, what do I know? I always felt that disco was dead. I'm no nightlife mogul, that's for sure. Silence greets me when I reach the entrance. A placard with the word 'closed' is slung over the door and a quick scan with matter sense tells me that there's nothing moving around inside the building.

Shit, am I already too late? Or did the Matsui enforcers send me off on a wild goose chase? No point thinking about that now, time's wasting. A solid kick sends the door flying off its hinges and I storm into the club, ready for action.

And of course nothing happens. I just wasted a cool pose and everything. Sighing to myself, I scan the area for any clues. And my attention is immediately drawn towards the swimming pool cut into the dance floor. The pool is filled to the brim with stagnant, brackish red water. A coppery stench rises from the pool and fills up the building, almost making me gag. But the pool is also seething with spiritual energy, a cloud of the stuff has formed just over the surface of the water like a dense fog.

I walk up to the stage and pick up a microphone stand, bringing it to the edge of the pool. As my feet crunch against shards of broken glass left on the floor, I cast my eyes upwards, noticing the broken window of a second floor office. A fight took place here recently. So recently that Matsui did not have the opportunity to clean the place up. Was this the reason for Matsui decamping from his own base?

Shrugging to myself, I begin prodding the pool of water with the microphone stand and begin moving the stand in a stirring motion. The water is thick and sludgy, but other than that, there's nothing particularly unusual or dangerous about it. The stand does knock into some objects left floating about just beneath the water's surface. No unseen beast makes a grab at the microphone stand and stirring the water does not seem to provoke any form of response. Bracing myself for the grossness to come, I reach into the pool with one of my hands, trying to scoop out one of those mystery objects.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Whoa, the water is almost jelly like as my hand swims towards its target, finally closing in. As I fish out my prize, my stomach churns as I realize what it is. A badly pitted, partially dissolved skull. Setting the skull by the side of the pool, I make another grab at the lucky dip and this time I pull out an angel's wing from the pool. Gross. Super gross. The last party here must have gotten way out of hand. How many people have been dissolved in that pool?

And more importantly, for what purpose? Whatever caused these guys to turn into sludge is no longer there though. I did not sense any stress building up when I dipped my hand into the pool. Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I continue my investigation of the club with renewed attention. Matsui was clearly up to some abomination of nature here, and no prizes for guessing at whose behest. Sequestered in a dark corner of the room I spot a long open crate. Looking completely out of place from its surroundings, the crate no doubt was brought here recently and in a hurry.

Checking the surface of the crate, I notice an old bill of lading pasted to the side. My heart jumps at the original delivery address for the crate. Hobo Beard's wrecked lab. So this was what had been moved out of the sub-level. Unfortunately the only thing left inside the crate is a layer of dust. The contents had long been emptied out. Damn it, its just like I feared. I am one step too late. But then, why did Matsui take the crate and not bother with the antique posters?

There can only be one conclusion. The crate's contents are necessary for whatever Fate has got planned. Whereas Fate doesn't actually need the posters. After all, the only thing of value there are the world map coordinates. The crate most likely contained something that's valuable and important, but also something that Naiberg wanted locked away and out of his bushy beard. Naiberg was planning to oppose Fate, meaning that he would want anything that would strengthen the goddess's hand securely under lock and key. The huge increase in Celeste's power comes to mind. Did Hobo Beard secure a power boosting mechanism?

If the crate's contents had something to do with the residue in the pool, then yes, it being a power boosting mechanism seems likely. Those dregs left behind are rich in spiritual energy. If Celeste's anti access field is running off the good stuff that Matsui bothered to take with him when he fled this joint, yeah, I can see how she could become so powerful so quickly.

Leaving the crate behind, I begin making my way up to the second floor and am confronted with a mahogany door with the name 'MATSUI' embossed in it in gold trim. Matsui senior's office, a good place to search. Breaking the lock and making my way inside, I survey the scene before me. Other than the shattered window, there's no signs of violence or struggle. There's a computer on the desk and a few files left in a cabinet. In a discreet corner of the office is a bottle of whiskey and a few shot glasses stored in a small cabinet. A familiar coppery scent wafts up from the glasses and it sure as hell isn't the smell of whiskey. Has Matsui been chugging down the sludge from the pool? Forget Club Clean, call the place for what it is. Club Cannibal.

I make a mental note to retrieve a sample from the pool for The Voice to examine while pulling out the computer's hard disk. The paper files are then set on the floor in a neat pile as I go off in search of a bag to carry my haul away. No idea how much actionable intel this trove will yield, but at least I have something to show The Voice when I report in at the end of the day. Taking a celebratory swig of whiskey from Matsui's private stash, I begin setting myself to the task ahead of me.

.....

The bad man drives off in his car. He thinks he is smart, but Princess is smarter.

Princess told me that the police Commander would betray us and let the bad man go. So I've been hiding in this car as my friend follows the bad man in secret. Following him wherever he goes. First to that big elevator close to the school with the police Commander, then near that burned out building. Finally to the club run by Ken's family. Princess said that the bad man would be too distracted by her power to notice us following him, and she's right. I didn't even need to pray at all, and the bad man still did not spot me.

We will keep following him, and tell Princess where he goes. And then one day, when the bad man least expects it -

"Urrrghhh." Ken groans from the driver's seat, drool leaking out from his open mouth.

I quickly shut Ken's mouth with my hands and clean up the mess with a tissue. Ken needs prayer in order to get better. I have to take him home soon. We will only be able to tail the bad man to one more location for today. As the bad man's car leaves the side streets and joins the main road, I shake Ken gently.

"Hey, hang in there, OK?" I urge.

"Urrrgghh."

"Princess will make everything fine. All this is worth it, you know?" I smile.

"Urrrgghhh."

"So like Princess says, let's do our best together!" I cheer.

"Urrrgghhhh."

That's right. Two friends, fighting the good fight, protecting all that's beautiful in this world. I never wanted to live an adventurous life, but sometimes you just have to heed the call.

Doing good really is its own reward.