[Metro] The Hollow

[celtois]

The Hollow
A Metropolis area/thread

Out-of-character information:

Spoiler

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This thread is part of Metropolis, and therefore those posting here must abide by the Metropolis rules laid out in the Metropolis Rules and OOC chat thread. This particular thread has been designed, and hopefully succeeds, in filling the role of a tavern or inn, a meeting area where drinks can be dispensed. However, unlike the taverns or inns of Town or Acronym, this place has a somewhat more disreputable reputation. You're unlikely to find children here (although, you're rather unlikely to find children in the city), and you're somewhat more likely to find things that your mother really wouldn't want you getting into. Jobs can be got here, but you have to roleplay getting them with me, the thread creator. This is to stop the idea that any old psycho can just get a job.
Additional rules and guidelines for this thread in particular:
1. No controlling the NPCs to do anything that would be considered unlike them to do. You're permitted to make them serve your character(s) a drink, but no, let's say, make them get drunk and burn the place down. Of course, you could always make it clear your character is mind-controlling them into doing such as thing, for example, but you cannot make them do anything out of the ordinary, and make it seem as if they were doing it out of their own free will.
2. Players are allowed to make NPCs speak in whatever tone, colour, and font they so choose, though, in keeping with pre-established tradition, the female NPCs normally speak in orange, the males in gray. If I, the thread runner, am not online, NPCs can be played by anyone, and, often, even when I am online, you can still play NPCs.
3. Please try and keep posts longer than one or two lines of speech. Description is appreciated. One-or-two-liners that don't do much are OK once in a while - but not regularly.
4. The supposed lack of law here is not to be exploited. There is law here, for one thing, and anyone coming in here purely with the intention to kick ass may be sorely disappointed.
5. This thread's OP may occasionally update itself. Be warned!

Tucked away to one side of a busy, but cramped, alleyway, lies a tower block, typical of its area, tall, thin, foreboding. However, once one has dragged their eyes away from the scorchmarks on the walls above, or the huge skylights that line the clouds, signalling the perimeter of the lockdown, they'd see an establishment filling in the first few floors of the building.

A small neon sign hangs, teeteringly from the flaking plaster, swinging this way and that, as, with a dull, pink light, that flickers yellow when darkness falls, that one is shortly to enter THE HOLLOW. And, indeed, below the sign, under a bunch of old posters reminding citizens and prisoners of Metropolis that they must always have their ID cards with them, a big metal door, that was probably black or brown, prior to its covering in angry, pink and purple graffiti, scrawls of slogans, and the occasional picture, waits for you to open it.

Once the door is opened, it leads down a dank and slightly smelly corridor, where broken glass, and thrown leftover party equipment cover the floor like carpets of flowers, before pushing out into the large, open-plan room that dominates the ground floor. There is a large bar and drinking area, to one side, capable of seating at least one hundred people, with tables, big and heavy, made of metal, seemingly desgined to withstand fights, partially sunken into the ground to prevent any unfortunate accidents. Barstools, painted in edgy claret-reds, and electric blues, spill in and about, generally not quite enough for the number of people that frequent The Hollow, one of the few places in the entire city that has a license to trade alcohol.

From the bar, one can also buy typical bar foodstuffs, like pork scratchings, and rehydrated peanuts, all foods to soak up alcohol, most disgusting, having been packaged and flown in from factories many lands away. A large selection of alcoholic drinks, along with a variety of other beverages, primarily there as mixers (but can be served alone) also hang, tantalisingly, on the wall behind the large chrome bar counter, almost crying out to be drunk with their odd colours, and even worse smells. Dotted across the bar counter, and its backing walls, are posters and flyers, government issued, letting people know that to pay, ID cards must be presented up front along with their money, and that (ab)use of any powers or weaponry could result in the authorities being called. However, a notice also points out that jobs as servers, cleaners, and bounces are available. A noticeboard also hangs, currently empty, where people can hang adverstisements, job offers, announcements of upcoming gigs, pleas for help, and the like.

And, indeed, somewhere out of its line of vision, well away from the bar area, is a large dancefloor, big and open, where the ceiling suddenly ramps up higher, making one feel like they're in a separate room. Huge, imposing speakers hang on the walls, and crystalline chandeliers, incoungrous relics from a pre-Emergency time, dangle effetely as well, and there's a high-risen stage, set into the ground, like so many other appliances into this place, for bands and DJs to perform. Behind the stage, there're several stairways and doors allowing for a quick escape should a brawl break out. In the evenings, one can typically expect there to always be a large crowd, dancing to oft-loud, rageing music, of a variety of genres - however, during the day, the mysterious owners of The Hollow do occasionally pay for slightly more low-key musicians to play there.

Near the dancefloor, and, indeed the entrance, there're stairs leading up (via a small, dingy, stinking stairwell), to another floor, where big, partially open toilet areas lurk (rows of stained and broken cubicles and sinks), and the occasional room lies, ready for hire, typically for no more than a day. Each room contains little more than a stained, broken bed and a window, looking out, over the sprawling lockdowned city. Occasionally, if one's lucky, someone will have left some money, clothes, or a phone under the bed. One person even found an ID card. Once.

Beneath the bar and dancefloor, there's a small parking area, for those residents of Metropolis who are lucky enough to possess some kind of vehicle, connected to a street a little way away by a single tunnel. The parking area's poorly lit, the bulbs constantly dying due to power shortages, and constant, shoddy repairs, and so the entire area makes for something dramatic, or just plain-scary - especially with the noxious smoke that often pours freely from the supposed ventilation shafts.
Now that you're here, have a drink and a dance! And do try and keep safe. Please?

[The Bushranger]

Behind the bar, working as a barmaid in the de rigeur low-cut top, cut-off jeans and apron that a seedy barmaid is supposed to wear, is a young redhead. Just old enough to work here (as if the owners would care if she wasn't), and looking distinctly on the sultry side, Dorothy has no need to worry about attracting tips, it seems.

Except from people who quip about her name with regards to the old entertainment 'The Wonderful Wizard'. They attack her knuckle sandwiches.

At the moment, though, she finishes dusting off the bar for the evening rush, sighs, and checks the clock.

[DoomITP]

Into the bar walks a young man of twenty three with blond hair and gray eyes. He has the look of one who has not had an easy time in the city.

[The Bushranger]

Who has?

"'Evenin', sugah." the sultry redhead drawls from behind the bar at spotting the first customer of the evening rush arrives. "Whats yer poison?"

[DoomITP]

Adam.

Poison? I haven't heard that one in quite some time. Anyways, whatever you can recommend as the one that does not end with me half asleep in my chair.

He says with an amused smile.

[The Bushranger]

"well, you've got your Penguin's Choice, Spud Lite, or Milliner's Special. Pick one," Dorothy (as her name tag, placed just so so that in order to read it you can do a little ogling as well, indicates) states, smirking a bit. "Or I can mix ya a mixtah of all three."

[DoomITP]

A mixture sounds good.

Adam says as he reads the name tag, though he does his best to maintain his decency.

[The Bushranger]

Clearly whoever decided where name tags are to be placed was a bit of a perv IRL too.

Anyway....

"Awright, one Triple Slammah, comin' right up."
And Dorothy turns to mix the drink, humming softly to herself as she does so, and swaying, just a bit.

[DoomITP]

In an attempt to avoid any odd conversation Adam looks down at his feet for a second.

What's your name?

[The Bushranger]

"Name's Dorothy, sugah," the redhead drawls, finshing the drink, which has a magnificent head of bubbles, and turns to slide it over. "An' yers, if you wanna tell me anyway?"

[DoomITP]

As Adam takes the drink he sets it to the side for a second.

My name is Adam.

[The Bushranger]

"Ah. That's a pretty interestin' name, darlin'. You got an Eve waitin' for ya at home?" Dorothy asks with a smirk.

[DoomITP]

Adam shakes his head but now has an amused look on his face.

No, not at the moment.

[The Bushranger]

"Tsk. Shame. Evey'body should have someone to have fun with."
Dorothy smirks, then goes back to rubbing down the bartop.

[DoomITP]

I suppose so.

Adam says as he drinks the drink with a tiny little bit of worry in the back of his head.

[The Bushranger]

And Dorothy falls quiet as she heads about tending to the NPCs who are coming in, who often prove to be a bit more open about admiring her assets than Adam.

[DoomITP]

Adam just shrugs and then goes back to his drink.

[celtois]

Tah da! A young lady dressed in a super suit, jumps through the door. It's generally bright and flashy with lots of blue and yellow and a lightning bolt on the front of it, it even has a nice matching mask. This was her moment, she'd finally found herself a city in which she could bust up some crime. Well the city had more of found her, it wasn't like she'd really wanted to move to the Metropolis. But the whole government round up of superheroes made it kind of hard to stop that. Still this was her big first day... Well maybe tomorrow was, tonight she just wanted to get drunk and celebrate finding a place or perhaps just forget where she had ended up. Tomorrow the evildoers would know the wrath of Lightning Lass, and the streets of Metropolis would be her domain she'd make them safe. Just like home! Without the- no.. she wasn't going to think about that. God she needed a drink

For now however she contents herself with finding a seat at the bar so she can order herself something to drink, she'll raise her hand to signal that she'd like a waiter were she is.

Complimentary description: She is young and fit, definitely the athletic sort and being all in costume and everything is quite mysterious and attractive. She stands about 5' 6 and has short blond hair.

Picture to go along with, ignore the red hair it's actually blonde

[Rae Artemi]

Along with the wave of PCs comes a skinny black cat who begins going around to the various tables trying to get any scraps of food that he can.

[The Bushranger]

Dorothy looks up as Supergirl jumps through the door!
And sighs.
Although she does give that figure a rather appricative looking over, as she returns to the bar.

"Evenin, darlin'. What can I get for ya tonight?"

[DoomITP]

Adam looks to see who just walked in. He just shakes his head before he goes back to his drink.

[celtois]

Sighs... aww. That was hardly the best of things. Thought she did suppose that Superheroes and seedy bars weren't usually a good mix. "Don't worry I'm not here to make trouble. Just to get a drink like everyone else. If it's not too much to hope for could I get something strong. It's been a hard day." That all taken care of, she had time to wonder why the barmaid had been looking at her funny, it was almost as if she was looking at her the way boys usually did. Kinda weird but she certainly didn't mind the attention. She looks the barmaid over a little bit before her eyes focus on the pin, reading that name Dorothy, huh. She might admire the other womens figure a bit herself, while she looks at the pin. In no small part due to where it is placed, but hey it was a nice view the barmaid certainly was a the looker.. "Thank you,... Dorothy." She flashes her a cute little smile.

[ThirdEmperor]

John walks in, probably unnoticed. Scores of people here, and not even one will ever remember me. Makes ya want to either jump for joy or cry.

[The Bushranger]

"Don't worry darlin', I can getcha something strong. Ya want the strong tap or the House Special? It's stronger but will cost ya extra." Dorothy winks, a small smile on her face, and notes 'Supergirl's' appreciation with, well, appreciation. "And yer welcome, but I don't know yer name, sugah, even tho' ya already know mine."

[celtois]

"After today. I guess I'll have to go with the house special. By the end it should just be a blurry mess and I'll be ready to start again tomorrow." She smiles coyly, as she notices the winks. Sincerely hoping that she can afford whatever, extra was. "Well name tags will do that to a person, you can call me Caitlin, or Lightning Lass, whatever really floats your boat." She can't help but smirk as she remarks "Though if you ever end up playing the damsel in distress I'd suggest the second. From the look of you that's not something you ever play though." The last part is spoken rather softly. More of a footnote to the jesting comment that came before then a serious statement.

[ThirdEmperor]

John walks up to the bar and pulls out a couple dollars. Highest proof drink ya got.

[The Bushranger]

"Two House Specials, then." Dorothy nods in acknowledgement of John's order, nods, and pulls a 'Mountain Lightning' looking jug from under the counter, before turning back to 'Supergirl'. "Well, Ah'll call ya Cat, if ya don't mind," she says with a chuckle, as her player suddenly remembers the most important part of her accent. "An yeah, Ah can take care a' myself pretty good, Ah reckon. Thanks. Looks like you're pretty much t' same way though."

And she starts pouring two shot glasses.

[Rae Artemi]

At the word "Cat" Dorothy may find Trilby looking up at her with an expression that just screams "Food, please?"

[celtois]

"Sounds good to me." She watches rather eagerly as the alcohol is poured. She really just wanted to knock back the shot. Wipe her mind clean.. well cleaner. Or at least just not think for a little while. That would be a good start. "No Cat, works just fine for me." Once again she smiles, this time it's just generally sweetly. "Yeah I figure I can do just about the same, it's the protecting other people that's the hard part." She grimaces, and looks at the shot glass with longing.

[ThirdEmperor]

John takes his glass, downs it, and remembers why he doesn't drink. Ig. He says, and pulls two long plastic cords from his pockets. He proceeds to take a bottle of gasoline and a rag from another pocket, and applies the gasoline to the cords, taking a step back from the bar and lighting the ends with his worn and battered lighter, then begins to dance. He's pretty darn good at it too.