The Angry Flame

By Divamercury

Some people have said that they've had trouble reading my entire story because of the length and lack of chapters. So, I'm renovating. Bear with me, and please review!

Chapter 2

That night was probably one of the strangest ones I've ever experienced, including those with Witchblade dreams. I had never pictured myself in a place like this, and yet here I was. I parked my bike about a block from the club and walked the rest of the way.

"Remember, Pez, going UC is normal in this job," I said. As I turned the corner, I was surprised to see the line of men snaking out of the club. The bouncer, Earl, was checking them as they went in. While I was walking up to the door, passing the crowd, I intercepted suspicious glances from the patrons.

Jeez, not bloody likely,' I thought with disgust.

I made my way up to Earl.

"Uh, lady, you lost?" he asked.

"Uh, no? I'm Overdrive. I should already be in there," I said, pointing inside and ruing the words.

"Oh. Right, sorry," he said sheepishly. I sailed past him, rolling my eyes as I went.

"Bouncers," I muttered.

I found my way through the mob of people to the dressing rooms.

Well, what to wear, Overdrive? Or not wear, as the case might come to be,' I thought with a shudder. I found something relatively neutral: some jogging pants and a red sleeveless shirt. Although it was cut lower than the ones I normally wore were (I discovered when I put it on), it was comfortable and so I stuck with it. I then pulled my hair back and secured it with a hair claw. I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror.

Not too bad, I guess,' I thought. I still can't believe I'm doing this in the first place, but I am not taking my clothes off. And anyone who touches the Witchblade is a dead man.'

"Hey, nice outfit there," someone said. I whirled, spotting a tall girl with very fair skin, black hair, and eyes so dark that they made me thing of Ian Nottingham's; it was literally like looking into two empty holes. The irises were dark enough, but she had outlined her entire eye with dark black liner, so she looked somewhat vampiric but still gorgeous. She was made up more than I was (I was going for the natural look) and she wore a long black robe over a black tank top and tight black pants. I wondered how many of those clothing articles would still be on her by the end of her set.

"Are you new here? I'm Ciara Darkheart, by the way. Stage name Ebony."

"Hi. Sara Pezzini, stage name Overdrive. That's an awesome name, by the way. What nationality?"

"Thanks. It's Irish. It means black, so in a way my first name and last name are the same."

"Well, it's beautiful. I'm part Irish myself, I think. I'm not sure, though. I was adopted."

"Oh. Well, my mother was Chinese and my dad was Irish. Strange mix, I know. I look like my mom except for the eyes; I have my dad's eyes. Anyway, you'd better watch out for Candy over there. I can tell that she already hates you," Ciara said. I glanced to my right and saw an overly made-up girl with stringy blonde hair and poisonous green eyes glaring at me.

"Candy?" I asked incredulously, looking back at Ciara. "Looks more like Lemon to me." Ebony cracked up.

"You're good. I can tell you'll make it here. As long as you don't take any crap from her, you'll do fine. She's one of the first girls that came here but she never got another job so she's stuck here. Think of her as the rose that was once the most beautiful in the bouquet, but got faded and dried up after a while. She thinks she's everything to this place, but one of these days the management will realize she's got no talent like they should have a long time ago and they'll get rid of her."

"Nice analogy. Why aren't you a writer or something instead of a"

"Stripper?"

"Yeah," I said, blushing.

"It's okay. I am a writer, anyway. Or at least an aspiring one. But even writers have to eat. SoI don't have much of a choice. One of these days my books'll be out and I won't have to worry about where the next meal will be coming from," Ciara said.

"Yeah, well, this is just a sideline for me, too. I really hate the idea of doing it, but" I trailed off. I wasn't going to go around telling people I was a UC cop. I might end up dead if I told the wrong person, and the entire point of being UC was that no one knew that you were a cop.

"Well, you'll get used to it. I can help you if you want," Ciara said.

"Um" I wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't actually take my clothes off. I just act like it. The most I do is take off my robe, then start dancing and the guys are so taken in that in their mind's eye I'm barely clothed, if at all."

"That's kind of what I was planning to do, too. If you would help me, I'd really appreciate it."
"Okay, sure. Follow me," Ciara said, and we left the dressing room. We entered the club and dodged the patrons, arriving at the bar.

"First rule of stripping: loosen up first. I usually down about 2 shots before I get up there," Ciara said, signaling to one of the bartenders, whose name was Luke, I discovered later. He slid a shot of what appeared to be scotch down the bar and she snagged it.

"Thanks. I'll need three more, Luke. One for me and two for my friend here."

Luke complied and then came down to us.

"So, Eb, who's your new friend?" Luke said, trying to be suave and debonair and failing miserably.

"Overdrive. I'm new here," I said, extending a hand. He grasped it and shook it firmly. I then snagged one of my shots and raised it.

"Down the hatch," I muttered. I snapped my head back and swallowed it. I exhaled sharply after it.

"Whoa, take it easy, O-Drive. We don't want you passing out before your set," Luke said with a grin. I smiled back.

"Smooth," I said.

"What, Luke or the liquor?" Ciara asked.

I cocked an eyebrow and glanced from my glass to Luke and then back to Ciara.

"Definitely the liquor," I said. Ciara burst out laughing.

"Jeez, Eb, your friend is going to be as bad as you at giving me grief," Luke said dejectedly and continued down the bar, offering his bartending services to some of the patrons. After he was out of earshot Ciara and I shared a chuckle. We each polished off our second shot and then Ciara was up to perform.

"Just watch what I do, Sara. It's not hard, believe me, so you'll get it," she said with a wink. She climbed up on the runway and the guys all started whistling. The announcer said, "And now, for your entertainment pleasure, our own little enigma, Ebony!"

Ciara's song was one I didn't recognize, but she told me later that it was "Irresistible" by the Corrs, an Irish group that she was particularly fond of. It had good rhythm, and she seemed to float as she moved around. True to her word, she only removed her robe, and I watched as the men around the runway stared at her hungrily. I rolled my eyes. Ciara was graceful and knew what she was doing apparently. I felt really sorry for her because I had a respected career and she didn't. I just hoped that she would be a writer one day and that she would be able to escape from this underworld.

Before I realized it, Ciara's set was over and I was up. I gulped.

Maybe I should have had another shot,' I thought, my eyes darting back to the bar. Well, into the lion's den we go, Witchblade. Only question is: Will we make it out alive?'

I climbed up on the runway and heard the confused patrons mumbling. I smiled at their ignorance.

"Well, guys, we've got a special treat for you tonight. We've got a new girl starting tonight. Let's welcome Overdrive!" the cheesy announcerannounced.

Well, here goes everything.'