The Bloodhound Saloon had the distinction of being Lake Point's one and only biker bar. It sat on the outskirts of town, catering more to those that were passing through on the highway than to residents of the sleepy suburb. Most of its patrons were the sort you would not expect to meet in polite society. Which was why the regulars were so surprised when a woman who looked like she could easily be some big shot CEO's secretary came into the room.
She had tanned skin, possibly of Latin heritage, dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a pair of thin rimless glasses, with a bluetooth in one ear. She had a body which attracted the eye of more than one of the regulars, but didn't showcase it overmuch. She had a button up red shirt, with the first button undone but no more, and a black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees. She completed the outfit with a pair of low black heels, and was carrying a portfolio under one arm.
The woman showed little interest in the boisterous happenings around her, instead homing in on one patron in particular. That patron was a tiny young woman with razorred hair dyed black and red. This woman was wearing a sleeveless black dress, a crimson corset, fishnet leggings, fingerless opera gloves and platform boots to compensate for her remarkably short stature. She was clearly drunk, shouting at the nearby patrons and flirting with several bikers large enough to make her size seem even smaller.
"Adelinde Malady?" the woman in business wear asked.
The smaller woman sized her questioner up. "Who the fuck are you?" she replied after a moment.
"My name is Ms. Scratch,and I was wondering if I could offer you a lucrative financial contract."
"Contract? The hell you talking about lady? Lemme tell you, I already got a contract-"
"Yes, with the Spiked Pit, a local goth club. You're the singer for the resident band, Death Pew. What I wish to offer you doesn't supersede that, but rather augments that."
Adelinde frowned. "And what exactly are you offering?"
"Wild popularity, high commercial success, acclaim from your peers, a notable impact on music history..."
"Bullshit. You're completely full of shit, lady."
The woman smiled. "Perhaps. But I represent some very influential people, and you should at least see what we have to offer."
"Even if you're telling the truth, what's the catch? There's always a catch."
Ms. Scratch handed Adelinde the portfolio and opened it to the contract. "Take a look for yourself."
Adelinde took some time to groggily examine the page. "Wait, you got the rest of them here," she commented.
"Your band mates already signed the contract, yes. You are the last one in need of agreeing to the terms."
"Well, if they agreed to it, I'd never hear the end of it if I refused," Adelinde muttered, scrawling her name in the remaining line with the provided pen.
Ms. Scratch snatched up the portfolio, giving Adelinde a courteous bow. "Thank you very much, Ms. Malady, me and those I represent will be in contact with your band shortly."
And with that the strange woman disappeared into the crowd as quickly as she appeared. Adelinde sat for a moment, unusually quite as she sipped at her beer. For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that something very bad was going to come from this.
