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Pitch Black is the second arc of The Underground series

Chapter 3 of 22

Delirium

There were two things that made separating males, most males, from their money all too easy. It was almost a little unfair, and made her feel a little guilty sometimes. But she never heard them complain. Of course it could be a mixed blessing, but she never had a problem she wasn't able to handle. These two things had gotten her out of countless fixes, as she always carried them on her. But it wasn't like she had much of a choice.

"Hey!" Abby Thrace slammed down a shot glass hard on the bar so that even the loud house music that boomed over the speakers were drowned out around her. A groggy, drunk squirrel jumped at the unexpected clatter, breaking this trance he had developed directed at her cleavage. He looked up at her, eyes red and glassy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to stare?" She asked him in a snarky tone, placing a paw on her hip.

Her calico fur was on display for the most part as the serving attire all the waitresses were required to wear didn't leave much to the imagination. It consisted of a strapless crop top that was quite figure fitting, and didn't even come to where her ribs ended. The skirt was even worse. Her hips were fully on display and it came down almost to her mid thigh. The uniforms were small, tight and uncomfortable. Not to mention to get the desired reflective effect, they had been constructed out of some black synthetic polymer, which allowed no air to circulate. But Delirium was famous for these "costumes" and it only took a girl working there a week to find out the benefits of wearing such attire. Abby's toned, slender feline frame was accented by her costume, just like the other girls who worked here.

Abby lowered herself down to the squirrel whose gaze had begun to wander down again. "What. Do. You. Want?" She asked sounding annoyed as she had asked him this for the umpteenth time since he had called her over.

Abby realized her mistake in word choice as a giddy drunken grin grew over the squirrel's face.

"You wanna know what I want, baby?" He asked still grinning, and slurring his words.

Abby rolled her eyes, and let out a livid exhale. Not that this didn't happen like, all the time, but she never had a tolerance for these idiots. Sometimes, all she could think about was grabbing the glass bottle of Jack she kept behind the bar and smashing it across their arrogant little muzzles. Just the thought of doing it seemed to lessen her moodiness.

"Alright then," She replied, refusing to play along with this asshole's game, "what kind of alcoholic beverage do you want?" She asked, emphasizing the subject of her question.

"Aw," he let out in mock disappointment; "you're no fun tonight! Sounds like someone could use a little taste of catnip!"

Abby crossed her arms, and let out a laugh at the idea. "Believe me, I doubt you'd have anything I'd ever place my tongue on. Much less have anything desirable besides the money in your wallet." Her voice still held her feminine charm but was firm and uncompromising.

The squirrel's face went from looking cocky to looking disappointed. "Oh come on! I'm messing with you, I think we could have a really good time together if you gave it a chance."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Hmm, a drunk squirrel who probably thinks he's talking to a set of twins right now, yeah, I can see that being just an awesome time." She replied, voice tainted by sarcasm and paw propped against her hip. "Now," her tone going back to being the polite bar tender that she had to be, "what can I get you to drink?"

The squirrel's face dropped to the bar in silent defeat. "Blackjack..."

Spinning the bottle of whiskey in the palm of her paw, she refilled his shot glass. "Cheers." She told him, returning the bottle to its proper spot.

The feline walked down the bar, for the moment all her patrons had been served, but she was sure there would be orders coming in. The rave lights went along on their automated paths, moving to the beats produced by the techno music. The bar itself gave off a neon glow, and was about the only illuminated object close to the dance floor. The tables on the second level had lights built into them, but they produced a minimal amount of light as not to distract from the overall look of Delirium.

Tonight was a busy night. Thursdays through Saturday were generally their busiest days. Given that tonight was a Friday, the peak of their workweek, the club was packed. Abby looked out at the massive amount of furs that had chosen this club as their party location. An ironic small smile crept across her muzzle.

This place just attracts The Underground's finest... yeah right.

The cat came out of her trance as another waitress blew past her carrying her serving tray. Abby turned around a chuckled at her expense.

"Keeping busy tonight?" She said, her snarky attitude leaking back into her voice. However, Abby meant it in a very different way to her than she had to the dumbass she was talking to earlier.

Grabbing four rocks glasses from the cupboard the other waitress, who was dressed identical to Abby, flung them down on the tray with a clatter of haste.

"I swear to God," the deep blue vixen replied shaking her head, her short neck length indigo hair moving in a delayed reaction with her head, "some of these people are so fucking stupid, it's a wonder they still remember to breathe!"

Abby shrugged. "Makes getting their money a little easier." Abby walked over to the waitress who, even though had learned the ropes fast, was still a newbie. "They running you ragged yet?"

The vixen's attention was still on her glasses are her paws worked quickly prepping drinks for her tables. "No, it's not that." She replied. "It's just these dumbasses have been trying to cop a feel up my skirt all night, and I swear I'm about to fucking slap the piss out of this college frat-boy weasel!" She ranted, finishing mixing a bourbon and coke.

Abby smiled with a look of satisfaction across her muzzle. "That's how you know you're going to get a huge tip, Jenna."

"No shit!" Jenna replied, still moving in a blue blur. "If someone told me earlier that I could make this kind of money by putting on a short skirt and shaking my ass all night, I'd started doing this a long time ago. But sometimes I... I..." She shot back looking for the right words. However eventually just let out a quieted growl of anger.

Abby let out a laugh. "It comes with the territory, but don't sweat it, girl." She replied, brushing Jenna's hair behind her ear where it was supposed to be. "They'll learn you're no Alora, and life will be a bit easier."

The mention of the other waitress made Jenna stop mid drink. "Speaking of which, where the hell is she?" Jenna asked sounding more than a little pissed. "I've been covering her tables for, like, forty-five minutes!"

Abby scowled. "Yeah..." She replied nodding her head "Pretty sure she's out back getting a tip of her own... hard against the wall."

Jenna leaned against the back of the bar, looking very perturbed. "Which is why no one covers for her anymore..."

Abby clasped her on the shoulder. "We'll teach you something yet, kiddo." Abby grabbed a highball glass and began mixing one of Jenna's drinks to give her a break. Even Abby noticed that the deep blue vixen with her complementary pale indigo hair had caused a stir in the club since she had started. And she wasn't a half bad waitress. Given this was only her second week, so naturally there was room for improvement.

Abby finished the 357 Magnum for Jenna and placed it on her tray. "You want a tip?" She asked as Jenna who nodded picked up her tray. "If he grabs your ass again, somehow wasabi sauce will mysteriously make it into his next round."

Jenna turned around, looking back to Abby. "Won't that make him, like, blow chunks?"

The feline nodded. "Which will get his tail a one way ticket to the door, and give him something to think about on his cab ride home."

Jenna raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing this has happened to some of your customers?"

Abby raised her paws innocently. "Oops!" She said with a catty smile on her face.

A similar smile broke over Jenna's muzzle. She then nodded and walked off into the madness; the delirium. "I've got a better idea."

Abby nodded. Jenna was probably a few years younger than Abby, who was twenty-five. When Abby had decided to give Jenna a chance, she didn't ask for age or background. Employment was a little different here in The Underground. And Abby knew that anything she could offer Jenna was better than some of the alternatives some females resorted to in The Underground. However, Jenna had proven herself a worthy Delirium girl.

She watched Jenna cross the floor, only pausing to give a nod out into the sea of furs, then continue on her way. Abby grinned in a rather mean way, as she moved around to get a better view as the night was about to get a little more interesting... or at least a little more entertaining. There wasn't much Abby would leave her bar for, but this she wanted to see.

Her eyes followed Jenna over to a table, sure enough, was occupied by what looked like they belonged to the popped collar brigade; one of which was a weasel with a plastered drunk face on, reclining back in his chair like he was some sheik being served by his harem girl. He had douche written all over his cocky muzzle. It's not that Abby hadn't seen the likes of him before, God only knew she had. But in The Underground, their name, or daddy's name didn't go an inch. She chuckled slightly to herself as the weasel was about to learn this the hard way.

Jenna stopped, not looking at her current annoyance, and started to pass out the drinks on her tray. She couldn't walk around the table to get to the last guy who sat against the wall that separated the dance floor from the table area, she had to lean across the table to hand out the last drink. For a moment, Abby thought the frat-boy had wised up and was going to leave the exotic blue vixen alone...

...not so much.

She cringed as he saw his paw, move from behind his head and to the bottom of Jenna's short skirt. As his paw made contact with her, Jenna bolted upright and spun around on her heals, paw pointing in his face.

Abby, again, laughed to herself, as she witnessed the verbal tongue-lashing Jenna delivered to the weasel.

"Damn, you're just a little fireball tonight. I dig that in a chick, sweet thang." He replied after Jenna gave him fair warning of what would happen if he didn't quit. Then almost as if on cue, he and his buddies started cackling. He then stood up, being taller than Jenna by at least a good four inches.

Oh sweet Jesus, don't do it... Abby thought to herself, hoping the idiot would give up. But she knew how these things went down.

"You know," He spoke, trying to sound seductive, "I know a way you can make an excellent tip..."

Jenna tossed her tray down on an empty table. "How's about this? You call me ‘sweet thang' again I'll break this tray across your muzzle?"

The weasel laughed again, looking back at his buddies, who cackled along with him. "Fuckin' A." He replied, "A fighter; I like that in a girl too." He took a step closer to Jenna, moving into her personal space. However the vixen stayed her ground in defiance. "You'll learn that I always get what I like." His drunk eyes feasted over Jenna's slender feminine figure. "And I think what I'm liking tonight is you."

"Listen, asshole." Jenna cut him off. "That first one was free, anything else is going to cost you." She warned as her eye narrowed and she leaned forward threatening. "I really don't have any interest in some frat boy joke who has to pay for his friends. Especially one who probably has a dick the size of my pinky." She turned to leave, but his paw caught her arm, and spun her around.

"You know, you could use a lesson in respect!" He growled, becoming belligerent, and humiliated. "Don't you know who I am?"

Jenna laughed. "Never seen you before in my life. But you're about to have a problem you don't know how to handle."

"Is that so? What's a slut like you going to do?"

Abby didn't know which was funnier, the look of satisfaction on Jenna's face, or the look of terror in the weasel's as he found himself being hoisted off the ground. His feet kicked wildly at the ground, but to no avail.

A dark paw gripped his neck, holding him straight out with ease. Jenna slowly crossed her arms, and stood in place with a small smile on her muzzle. The weasel could do nothing as he struggled to free himself. Then he was whipped around, and brought face to face with a living shadow, fangs showing, and emerald eyes burning like stars in the night, only this pair burned with the fires of hell.

"I don't appreciate you speaking to my friend like that." A black fox in a trench coat snarled, his voice holding a dark acidic tone. "You have no idea how much that upsets me." He growled.

For the next few seconds, the weasel could only speak nonsense as he spluttered for an explanation. His eyes scanned over his assailant, who, although, was only an inch or two taller, had a much wider frame, the definition on his arm standing out even through his overcoat.

"You better put me down, asshole!" He cried out in panic. "My friends are gonna-"

"Gonna what?" The fox asked, generally amused. "Run for the door?"

Craning his neck, the weasel caught sight of his buddies knocking other people down as they abandoned their friend in distress.

"Got some good friends, wouldn't you say? I guess some things money truly can't buy." His grip around the weasel's neck tightening. "You are so out of your element." The black fox threatened. "You know, I could snap your neck like a toothpick."

The weasel whimpered.

"Now, is there something you'd like to ask the nice waitress?" He growled.

The weasel shook his head; he didn't.

He brought the weasel so close to his face their noses almost were touching. "Then are you going to cut the shit, or what?"

The fox then dropped the weasel to the floor, who quickly sprang up, letting a cry of distress escape his lungs as he followed in the same direction as his buddies, only leaving the smell of his smothering cologne behind.

Jenna then began laughing. "Jesus, I'm pretty sure you made him piss his pants!"

The black fox shrugged. "Highlight of my evening."

"Oh come on you can't tell me you didn't enjoy that a little bit."

The fox nodded. "Maybe just a little bit."

Abby, wiping a small tear from her eye due to laughter, walked back to her bar, grabbing a glass and a bottle of her finer Scotch.

Her eyes went back to the pair of foxes across the way as the two continued to converse. They were an odd couple, in more than one way. By the time she had finished with her drink she heard something behind her

"So what does a guy have to do around here to get a drink?" A dark voice asked from behind her.

"Scaring some dickhead shitless, I should give it to you for free." Abby replied to the voice, turning around. "But I'm not."

Alias, the black fox, sat at her bar, as she slid his glass to him. "You look like hell."

His black paw flopped to the bar exasperated. He scoffed dignified. "I'd like to see what you look like when you pull three jobs in different cities."

"Chill, Alias." Abby replied in one of her tones as she capped up a bottle of Scotch. "You just look tired." His green eyes followed the glass across the bar where it slid to a stop in front of him. He was decked out in his usual attire of all black, complete with that huge trenchcoat that he seemed to wear no matter the weather, and underlying body armor. But anything less would just seem weird, for that's who Alias was and how Abby remembered him from years back. Besides, the air was colder in Arcadia. The northern costal setting helped that.

"It's been a long day." Alias grunted in his dark tone, accepting the glass. "How's our girl doing?" He asked, taking a sip of Scotch, shrugging. "Besides what just happened."

"Good, actually better than expected." Abby replied. "I don't know who that poor son of a bitch should be more worried about; you, or her. I know I bitch a lot about the fucktards that come through the doors, but I really think she would have left him without the ability to have kids"

"I warned you she has a temper."

"And you weren't kidding. I might have to fight for my title as queen bitch around here."

"Which is why I thought you two would get along." Alias replied. "Thank you, by the way, for giving her a chance." He told her, looking down at the bar taking continuing sips out of his glass. "I know you didn't have to."

Abby snorted. "Oh no!" She replied. "Thank you, sir. You know it's nice to have another waitress who keeps her skirt down for most of the night."

"Yeah, I'll bet it is nice to-" Alias's ear's perked up. "Wait, what?" His eyebrow rose in alarm. "Aw, Christ!" Alias shook his head. "Please don't tell me your having her work with Alora?"

"No, I'm having her work for Alora." Abby corrected, as she fixed a beer for another customer.

The black fox's eyes narrowed.

"Hey! I don't want to hear it! I need someone to cover her tables, and Alora _keep_s the customers coming... in her own way."

Alias scowled.

Abby let out a sigh. "She's not that kind of girl, Alias."

"She sure as hell wasn't when I found her..." He continued to grumble.

"You know you never told me how you stumbled upon her." Abby replied, leaning against the bar, her chocolate and cinnamon hair accented by the lights. "She's got Milk Carton written all over her."

"Now what makes you think that?" the black fox retorted.

Abby shook her head at the notion that Alias would think her so blind. "Do you remember who you're talking to here?"

"Well, what makes you think she's not born and raised Underground?" Alias asked, as a simple inquiry.

Leaning on her elbows, Abby looked out over at Jenna. The feline studied her with care as Jenna went about her business. The blue vixen laughed as she conversed with some of the not so bad patrons of Delirium while she took their orders. "I dunno..." Abby replied, shrugging, "She looks like she's having fun out there, like all this is new to her."

"Eh..." Alias cringed slightly. "I wouldn't say "fun", but more or less satisfied with her decisions."

"So, you gonna tell me?" Abby asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Tell you what?" Alias asked, confused.

"Where you found her."

"Long story short, she was in trouble." Alias replied, taking in more of the tan liquid from his glass. Abby watched as Alias's eyes slid shut basking in the liquid euphoria supplied by the alcohol.

"Aw..." Abby let out a mock adoring coo, Alias returning a menacing look. "Is she your damsel in distress?"

"...which would be the second time I've heard that..."

Abby, still sporting an evil grin, laughed. "And she stuck around afterward?"

Alias shrugged. "Maybe she was bored. Maybe she was pissed at someone. Or maybe she was just out of places to go."

Abby nodded silently, smirk gone from her muzzle. "Then she really is just like the rest of us, isn't she?"

Alias sighed and looked at the bottom of his nearly empty glass. "She went through hell in Palamont, Abby."

Abby paused for a moment, leaning against the bar. Physically, Alias looked fine. He didn't appear sickly, or unhealthy in the least. Quite the contrary actually. Ever since she had met Alias, he always had a healthy build to him. He wasn't a hulking beast, but she could tell he had his strength about him. However, he seemed to be a million miles from his seat at the bar right now. Even his longer black hair that draped almost into his eyes couldn't hide it. Ever since he had shown up in Arcadia like the Ghost of Christmas Past, he would drink himself almost under the table. Even though Alias wasn't going anywhere, she just felt like he was running away from something. But this was a trend he had adopted long before she had met him years ago. He had immediately proposed a deal: don't ask him why he does what he does, and he would pay her the same respect.

Abby subconsciously cringed at the thought. She had been... much different then, and had gladly agreed. After that she took an immediate liking to Alias, as she could see he wasn't one to judge. His eyes had seen too much to know better. Part of the deal was not asking Alias about why he did this to himself so often. However, he never caused any trouble, despite how obliterated he would get. Eventually, he would simply become quiet, lost in his own thoughts, or whatever dwelled in his mind.

On the upside, he wasn't as bad as she remembered. Perhaps she was too wrapped up in her own world to notice before, or maybe he had grown out of it, or maybe it was Jenna. As she fixed a mixed drink for a lioness she thought back to her thoughts earlier of the two. Most nights he'd simply wait for last call and make sure Jenna made it back to where they lived. Of course, Abby's immediate thoughts went to the most obvious option. Two young foxes living together in The Underground; one a modestly wealthy... whatever Alias was, and the other a lowly, but attractive cocktail waitress. Even if there were no romantic implications it didn't mean there wasn't something going on between them or their sheets. Such things were common in this reality. However, upon seeing them interact, the conversations they'd have, the freedoms and space they'd give each other, it became doubtful that Alias was a sugar daddy for Jenna. Maybe they were just friends, and maybe they were partners in bed as well; regardless it didn't matter.

Smiling to herself, mostly because she knew in her own case it was true, Abby remembered that you accept things as they are around here without too many questions. Abby didn't feel like she knew Jenna well enough to ask about it. Some of the other Delirium girls had come to Abby wondering, just out of general curiosity, maybe except for Alora, who started eyeing up Alias upon arrival. However, she had been easily distracted when a couple of handsome stallion brothers who had a successful drug smuggling business found their way to Delirium.

Whatever.

The rest of the evening went without incident. Alias drank quietly, making conversation only when Abby would instigate it. He slowly sipped his Scotch, letting whatever stress drain from his body. Alora finally came back out on the scene. Abby was sure the white rabbit would have turned red from head to toe when Jenna publicly pointed out her top was on inside out, and proceeded to question her about the mysterious circumstances in which it had gotten that way. Alora quickly changed the subject.

Tossing a hand towel over her shoulder, Abby was relieved when four in the morning finally rolled around and last call was made. Of course she made an exception for Alias, who was waiting for Jenna. Most of the other girls tried to make it out of there quickly, as it was better to walk the streets where there was a crowd rather than alone, Alora disappeared with her flavor of the evening, and the bouncers eventually filtered out after locking the place up. Abby had her own room above the club where she resided, so when Alias and Jenna left she would set the security system for the night and crash for a morning of much needed sleep.

"Hey," she called to Jenna who bundled herself up in a warm peacoat to shield herself from the cold Arcadian air. "you working tomorrow?"

Jenna nodded. "Yeah, unless something totally random comes up between now and then."

"Awesome." Abby replied. "You kids have a good night."

The feline walked into the back to the changing room, where she pulled out her hair band, keeping her hair in a ponytail. She immediately felt the relief on her skull, where her hair had been pulled back. However, it kept the same general shape due to all the hairspray she had put in it to keep it out of her way. She wondered which had a greater alcohol content, her hair or some of the drinks they served.

Shit!

She cursed to herself. She had forgotten to place the liquor order for the club. Abby walked over to her locker and open the door where a few additional uniforms were on hangers. She was pretty sure she had enough in stock, but lately things had been so busy that-

An arm latched around her neck, cutting her train of thought off. Abby felt a cold fear wash over her as she let out a scream. A thousand images shot through her head. A thousand possible endings to her current situation, and most of them were not good for her. Her paws snapped to her attacker's arm, attempting to pull him off her. To her even greater surprise, the arm gave way and fell away from her. Spinning around, she looked down to see what looked like a pathetic looking homeless mink, sprawled out on the floor. Abby's paws covered her muzzle in shock as she looked down at her intruder, who didn't seem to be breathing.