//------------------------------// // Concerts: Part 2 // Story: Lost in Paradise // by leeroy_gIBZ //------------------------------// And because said bouncers were none too pleased with Lemon Zest’s attempt at getting into Melody Lure's concert, I ended getting thrown out of the building. Quite literally thrown. It hurt just enough to remind my neck that it was supposed to be in pain too. Luckily, before the pair of bouncers decided to exact any more violence upon my sorry hide, a man wearing the most ridiculous outfit I had ever seen appeared in their way. The suit was a pure, sparkling white and the shirt beneath was a hot pink. It hurt me just to look at it and the man inside wasn’t much better. Now, I haven’t found any of the humans I’ve met so far to be especially attractive but this fellow was a winner. Stringy blond hair, blood red highlights and a mess of nasty scars danced – or, rather, tripped over their own feet – bad news around this man. The copious amount of gold jewelry served only to further inhibit the man’s outfit. Still, he was standing between me and a beating so I might as well play along; Lemon and Sonata had already ran off and I doubted that I could handle both of these goons on my own. The one on the right on his own? Perhaps. He was big, dumb and probably blinded by the ridiculous bangs he cultivated. However, he was not alone and his partner, an extremely vicious looking carnivore of a woman in possession of a white and lavender abomination that I can only refer to a “reverse mullet” was probably going to beat the stuffing out of me if I tried to punch her coworker in the family jewels. That and I doubted that my aching everything would allow for much more than a slow limp. “Gilda, Dumbbell, let him off. He’s with me.” Commanded the man as he pointed a rhinestone-studded cane in my direction. The two bouncers groaned and slouched away; likely back to intimidating potential patrons. The man chuckled to himself and gestured for me to follow him into the imposing monument of Brutalism that was his club. He stayed conspicuously silent as we wandered past the crowds of well-dressed patrons clapping and cheering along to the popstar’s latest hits. It was repetitive – she used about three chords and her idea of the “truth” was about as far away from a good idea as you could get. That and the strobe lights nearly gave me a seizure. Honestly, from what parts of it I cared to listen to, it was a rather disappointing; Melody Lure did not sound nearly as good as what I was led to believe. Then again, I could have just used my phone to listen to the music myself instead of coming here so I suppose it does serve me right. Those phones really are a wonderful device in their own right though; a radio, a cinema, an art gallery and a whole library of books stuffed into something that fits in your hoof. Absolutely incredible and a great help to my attempts to fit in around here. If only I had known that before this morning’s disaster of a physics test. Eventually, we reached the private part of Klub Ice and to my great relief, the lighting here was actually bearable. Still bright green but at least now it stayed bright green. The area itself was rather dimly lit but, from what I could gather, the beer was plentiful and the couches looked soft enough. “Take a sit, Mirage. You and I have a lot to talk about.” Said the man, collapsing onto a leather armchair himself. “Alright, thanks for the intervention back there but how do you know my name?” I asked after sinking into one of the chairs myself. They were surprisingly comfortable. “We’ll get to that, Mirage. Now, do you see those people over there?” He asked, pointing with his garish cane at a pair of familiar faces – the bouncers from earlier. “You see, they like to hit things. Things that try and run away before I’ve finished my discussion. But feel free to try.” “Well, that settles it then. I guess I’ll hear you out.” I replied. This night was not turning out like I had planned. Of course, my planning include not having to interact with Lemon or her somehow even more obnoxious friend so not as planned was not that bad. “Fantastic. Call me Father Imaginos.” Imaginos? This guy claimed to be Imaginos? He was not Imaginos. First, he didn’t have a kingdom. Second, he was about the nastiest looking man I can imagine. Third, he spoke far too casually for a person of the status he claimed. Then again, he did look like a human version of the Prince. The had the same hair color right down to the red streaks – although I doubted the human’s was natural – and my mentor’s coat did actually look quite like the shade of the man’s skin. Black. Literally black as in an absence of light. This man had the darkest skin I had ever seen. Save for the fact that he was grinning a bit too widely, his body would have been invisible. That was especially strange considering quite a few Chevallians have dark coats but “Father Imaginos” was the only man I had seen so far with this tone of skin. He snapped his fingers in front of my face a few times, “Cat got your tongue, Mirage?” “No, you just look awfully familiar.” I answered, growing a bit uneasy at the jarring resemblance. “That’s to be expected. Indigo Zap told me great things about you.” He chuckled. He then leaned back in his chair with an arm out. A few seconds later, a scantily dressed woman deposited a glass of something that glowed a pale blue in his hand. He then happily sipped the beverage as I was left to put two and two together. Oh, that’s right. Sunny had said that Indigo had disappeared right before a sleepover that she and a few other friends had planned. The athlete had reappeared in a hospital bed a day later with more than one broken bone on her mind and more than one swear on her lips. She claimed, again relayed to me in Sunny’s textual gibberish and kindly translated by Lemon Zest, that a bunch of thugs had stolen her car and then “tooled me over in basement for a while before this masked nutjob turned up and interrogated me about some sports competition that I basically lost.” I had a horrible feeling that that nutjob was about to do the very same to me if I didn’t play my cards right. And to make matters worse, I didn’t even own a full deck, let alone know any of the rules.