The bass thumped with every palpitation of his beating heart. Oliver had made it into the club, looking around and taking it all in.
Large crowd in the front, DJ in the back, glowsticks...Overall, an average Saturday night at Club Lush.
Although they were taking jackets, he did not leave his coat at the door. It would've been foolish for him to do so, seeing as he had some...questionable items concealed within. All legal of course, given his authority and loose jurisdiction regarding his work. The only downside to having his coat on was the fact that with all the body heat and smoke, he found himself overheating.
No matter. Holland had dealt with things more uncomfortable than heat, especially after taking two tours in Iraq.
For now, his objective was to find someone who knew who the DJ of Shine City Radio was, where lived, what places he frequented...
Everything as of now was going according to plan.
Neon lit hallways illuminated the corridors he walked down, bathing his person in a faint amethyst light.
Four rooms, all hosting a myriad of different characters, skimpy waitresses walking to and fro with trays of alcohol and booze.
At the end of the hallway, was the back door to the stage, a bouncer standing guard near the front.
Oliver was about to turn around until a voice reached his ears from the third room down on the left.
"So I tell this guy, 'Time to get a watch asshole!' Funny, right?"
Ah, it was the asshole from earlier. A man who got off on making others feel worse than he did, bringing them down to his own cynical world point of view.
Smiling, he had found the exact man he'd been looking for.
He made his way into the room, eyeing the three individuals that sat at the table, bottles of booze strewn across the table, shot glasses left half empty.
"Who the -fuck- are you?" Asshole snarled, standing up from their seat and grabbing a bottle.
"Resorting to violence before I've even started to speak?" Oliver questioned as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Get the hell out of here, fuckface!" The punk roared, their face crimson and flushed from the alcohol coursing through their veins.
"Answer a few questions, and I will." He replied, hands shoved into his pockets as he took another drag of his cigarette.
"Are you retarded or something, I guess we'll have to knock some sense into you!" Asshole swung the bottle, catching the Detective slightly off guard. Oliver barely avoided having a glass bottle colliding with his face before he stepped back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his old police baton.
He flicked his wrist, 16 inches of stainless steel extending forth against three ill-mannered thugs.
So that was how they wanted to play it.
Oliver noticed the music was so loud, he couldn't even hear himself think. Which meant the bouncer probably wouldn't be able to hear the scuffle either...
Fine by him, but Holland never expected to have to kick someone's ass to 'Truffle Butter.'
"Come and get it." He smirked, taking a step forward and ramming his fist into the first punk that sprang at him, digging his knuckles deep into their stomach.
They recoiled, coughing up a wad of stringy saliva as they staggered backwards, before being quickly silenced as the Detective brought up his knee, smashing it against their chin.
One down. Two to go.
"You bitch!" The Asshole growled. "Mace, get this fool!"
Mace didn't exactly get far. To put it -bluntly-, he had already been smacked down by Oliver's baton the moment he turned his head.
"Never take your eyes off the opponent." Oliver turned, giving Asshole an exaggerated simper.
"H-Hey man, listen...I don't want no trouble."
"Good...Now, answer me this..."
Member
