Chapter The First: In Which The Principle Characters Are Introduced, And Many Eyes Are Opened

The nightclub pounded and throbbed, dancers moving seamlessly in and out and through the crowd. The dance floor was full, and the DJ spun perfectly from one track to the next, by far the best performance of her life. The balcony tables were full of dancers taking a break, but always seemed to clear out just enough seats as others realized they needed a break. At the beating heart of the dance floor, a tall and buff man danced with anyone and everyone who asked. His long face was host to a perpetual smile, his dreadlocks bouncing to the beat, and the only sign of the hours spent dancing was a faint gleam of sweat on his brow and the way his shirt molded to his torso. Every partner came away with renewed energy and enthusiasm to dance, to laugh, to live, and his smile was contagious. Though none knew it, or would realize it later, nobody went home that night with a partner they didn't want, and everyone woke up refreshed as if they'd slept a full night.

There was only one spot of quiet, of calm, in the club. In one corner of the club's balcony, sandwiched between the wall and the railing, was placed a small table with one chair. It afforded a view of the entire dance floor and a good portion of the balcony, was in the shadows of the lights and behind the speakers, and a very popular spot. Tonight it was occupied by a lean young man, relaxing back in his chair. His hair swept back along his head into a queue, and his eyes wandered over the crowd without stopping on any one person. While the dancer was built like a swimmer, fit and rippling with muscles, this man was whipcord-lean, carefully forgettable for those who didn't notice his silver irises.

Syaoran smiled faintly to himself. It was obvious to him how much essence Bast was throwing out to make sure everyone enjoyed themselves, but as long as he was careful Syaoran wouldn't mention anything. Nobody in this world would recognize what he was doing, and they'd made it out of enough scrapes to not have too much to worry about in this strange world full of mortals.

His roaming eyes noticed a disruption in the crowded balcony, a minor altercation that nonetheless shouldn't have been happening with Bast around. Intrigued, he got up and made his way through the packed tables to try to figure out who was causing trouble.

"Whaddya mean there's no room? Lemme grab a chair, I can squeeze in right between you pretty ladies!" While the reply was buried in the music, the drunk was loud enough for Syaoran to make his way over. Bast would (and could) go on and on about people's rights to their bodies and the complexities of societal pressures and expectations on bodily autonomy, but Syaoran was more of a doer than a talker, and so settled for appearing between the drunk and the table.

"Is he bothering you ladies?" The table had two 20ish women, both doing their best to not look at the drunk as he continued to attempt to join them.

"Nahh, I was just getting a chair to sit with my girls! Isn't that right?"

"I don't know who this man is, and neither does my sister. So yes, there is a problem." At this, the women turned to look at Syaoran, maneuvering to look at him without making any room in the group. Syaoran turned to face the man who was attempting to push his way past.

"As these women clearly don't wish to receive any more of your attentions, I'm going to have to ask you to find another place to sit. I hear there are some comfortable benches by the bus stop just down the road."

"Hey now, who asked you, buddy? Last I checked, you weren't a lady, or is there something wrong with your tits?" He swayed foreword, hands waving in the general area of Syaoran's chest. "I, however, am a certified member of the Tit Inspecting Tribunal Service, and we TITS must take our jobs seriously. Once I'm done examining those ladies I'll get to you and give you a final verdict."

Syaoran's eyebrow rose as the drunk again tried to push past him. "I'm afraid I've never heard of a…" "Tit Inspecting Tribunal Service? Whaddya mean? We're all official like, got these pins and we pay membership and everything!" The drunk pointed at his lapel, shockingly absent of any and all pins. "Or well, I had a pin, musta left it somewhere, I know I got something in one of these pockets here." Mumbling, he began running his hands over his oddly long jacket.

"None the less, as you seem to be lacking in any official identification, I am going to have to ask you to leave before you upset any more patrons of this establishment. Come along please sir, I wouldn't want to make a fuss." He stepped forward and grabbed the man's arm, using the leverage and the man's inebriation to propel the man towards the door.

"Now now now, hang on just one minute!" protested the drunk and he stumbled along. "I'll have you know I am an Auror! A police officer to you muggles! Unhand me, before I make you regret it!" His shouts were attracting attention in the balcony, and for once Syaoran wished he was willing to use charms when surrounded by mortals. "Let me go! I'll curse you for this, don't you doubt it! I have powerful friends in the Ministry; they can have your job and your house like that!" He tried, and failed, to snap his fingers, only making a slight fwap.

"You are an aurora? Sir, are you sure you only drank alcohol? You must be drunker than I thought if you think you're a collection of particles being energized by radiation from the sun!" He used the focus of the drunk to guide him safely down the stairs and through the side of the club towards the side entrance.

"Wha? Particles being what now? No, I'm an Auror" he stretched the word out, as if speaking to a four year old. "That means I get to chase down wizards what haven't paid prote- err taxes an' dues, an' an' guard the Ministry an' all that!"

"So you work for a crime lord? Why are you being so obvious about it? From my understanding of this country, that isn't something you parade around as public knowledge." They were almost at the door, and Bast was making his way through the crowd, having caught the struggle out of the corner of his eye. Syaoran looked over his shoulder as he made his way to the door. "You didn't have to stop dancing, I can handle this, you know."

"Yeah, well, I want to meet the guy who can ignore my charms." Bast's smile had faded slightly, but his face still held a light flush, and his clothing still clung perfectly to his body. He followed the two out of the club, waving at the bouncer as they escorted their drunken companion away from the omnipresent line.

The man shook out of their grasp just as they reached the mouth of an alley, and a small stick appeared in his hand. "Get back! You Muggles don't know who you're dealing with! Don't make me use this; I am authorized to use force if necessary!"

"That's a stick. A small one at that." Syaoran turned to look at Bast. "What's he gonna do, poke us to death? Even you'd be hard pressed to use that!" Turning back to the man, Syaoran stretched out one hand. "Give me that thing before you poke out your eye or something!"

"Back off! Don't you dare threaten me! Expulso!" Syaoran felt a push, centered right between Bast and himself, as if something was trying to separate them.

"Huh. Well, that's new." Syaoran turned to Bast. "What do you think these Heyyyyy they're new!" He turned, lightning filling his hands as he faced the four robed people appearing out of the shadows.

"Aren't you supposed to know when people are coming?" Bast gave Syaoran a sidelong glance. "Or are you slipping?"

"Oi! That's not-"

"Obliviate!"

Syaoran and Bast looked stunned, staring into each others' eyes.

"OW!"