(Side Note: I cannot believe that on the same day I have to return my rented PS2 games, AND livejournal are both down, or running crapilly. It's just not fair. )

V

Amy's doubts were well placed. She, Simon, Jeff the drummer and Daff the bassist hauled themselves to the bar for after hours drinks and banter once they were done hauling their musical gear to Simon's van. Simon, as usual, found time to shoot the breeze with Stacey, the cuter of the bartenders, which left more work for the other three. Only Daff had ever been very vocal about Simon on this issue, but now would not be one of those nights, as she'd been fighting some sort of cold and had a headache, and basically just wanted to get some liquor in her. She hadn't been acting like herself for a while now.

"Oooh, oooh, when. When already." whined Jeff, signaling that Stacey had poured him too much.

"Aw, come on. I get more of a buzz from the fumes of this place than you'll get from that iddy biddy bit" said Stacey, puckering up her cheeks. Jeff smiled, but held his glass close. Stacey knew the sign of a good bartender was to be generous with the strong stuff, and she knew he'd hardly taste the alcohol with how well she mixed Red Devils.

"This is fine, Stace. Really, great. As always" he smiled.

"I'm half your size, but I drink you under the table. That's so funny." There was no doubt that Stacey was a party girl, and being a bartender suited her well.

"Jeff, tell her what you want her to do under the table other than drink!" goaded Simon crudely. Stacey feigned a shocked look, her mouth forming a "O" shape and her eyebrows furled.

"Asshole, one more crack like that, and you're going to be rinsing your drink out of your eyes" Clearly, she was not as shaken up about the comment as Jeff, who also had a tendency to withdraw at times.

"Ah, I'm just playin. Play-ing. You're the drummer, man. It's obvious that you have to be a vocalist to get her wet."

"We're close, but we're not that close babe" said Amy, joining in on the conversation

"... Hey I'll try anything once" Stacey said, leaning forward over the bar with her incredibly long statuesque legs providing more than enough leverage. Ed, a bouncer and cop, halted his conversation on the other side of the bar, put down his beer, and called attention to her vulnerable position.

Amy giggled, and turned her head catching the smooch on the cheek. "Bartender, I think I need a stiffer drink for what you're talking about!"

"So you're saying that guy wasn't your type?" Jim interrogated Stacey.

"I dunno. He was ok. Dressed nice."

"Nice ass too. I'd hit it." said Amy, nonchalantly

"What?!" exclaimed Jim, shocked yet amused.

"I'd hit it. 'I'd' being the key word - of course meaning 'I would'... if I didn't have you big boy".

"Oh. Yeah. Nice. Too late bitch, you're walking home"

The mood remained light, the banter remained playful, and laughter reigned over the horseplay. Only a handful remained and last call was close at hand. ESPN played on all of the TVs suspended against the wall, and Amy and Jeff helped clean up the areas of the bar closest to them. Daff smiled at all the right times, but the most vocal of the late night Pour House crew barely said a word.

"So what if he's cute... and can sing?" protested Amy, in defense of her earlier comment. Apparently she hit a nerve.

"Shit, could he sing." chimed in Daff in agreement, prepping a cigarette.

"Ch'yaa. And... so... what if he moved in next door to me."

"What?" asked Stacey

"I'm not a hundred percent or nothin', but I think that's the guy who moved in last week."

"Damn. Easy access, sweetie. You go girl!" Stacey slapped her a high five, and refilled her whiskey sour.

"He's a little creepy" added Simon.

"Yeah, I get that from him too. I've never spoken to him or anything, but now I guess I've got to. If it's him. I haven't ever really seen his face good." Amy sensed that she should back off of this subject, judging by how somber the mood had grown since the high five". Daff continued to smile, wickedly, though no one paid it much mind.

"Hey, that's me right? Always up for an adventure."

"Just hope he's not the stalker type. He looks it don't he?" Simon asked Jeff, who agreed via facial expression. Simon then began singing the first few lines of "Every Breath You Take". If there was one thing Simon could do well, it was brighten people's spirits, and the buzz kill was averted. Later, when she was drifiting off to sleep safe in her bed, Amy would begin to dissect this moment, and why this discussion seemed to kill the mood. Why was this topic taken seriously, when so many others were brushed off?

"Son, you're under arrest" declared a large silver haired man from the corner of the room.

"Officer, I'm a musician! A little leeway is in order, is it not?" joked Simon.

"Fucker, if I had my way, you'd be getting the fucking needle for singing that bad." retorted Officer Jim Fullington, everyone's favorite local beat cop, coming in after hours for a few drinks. He greeted Simon warmly... with a headlock. He used his spare hand to take a swig of the beer Simon had been nursing, and subsequently put him down for his poor choice in ales. This was warmly received by everyone, even Simon.

Once things had settled down, Jim was asked what was new with work. Jim tried to avoid the question, but it was clear the normally light-hearted officer had something on his mind.

"Guys, I saw something last night I wouldn't wish my worst enemy to see. It was horrible. Beyond words. Someone give me a fuckin' light, I'm beggin ya."

Someone gave him a fuckin' light.

"You've all heard bout those murders recently?" the gang responded with mixed head nods and shakes.

"You people. Read a paper, or somethin'. You didn't hear it from me... but we have one sick serial killing mother fucker here in Jacksonville."

"Jesus, really?" voiced Stacey with a whisper, the only one who could form more than a sympathetic grunt.

"Who did you see?" asked Daffney, cutting to the chase.

"Some girl. I think her name was Ivory Ooh-lay... Ouh-let. French. Haitian rather. We're ruling out race, naturally, because of the similarities to the last three murders."

"Oh. I knew Eunice, the third one. She was a bit of a twat, but it's still fucked up what happened." Daffney volunteered with a toke on her cigarette.

"Jeez, I'm so sorry" Amy put an arm around Daffney. Daffney nodded and thanked her.

"They said they couldn't even stack her remains on the stretcher to take her out. They took her out in garbage bags."

"That's about right." concurred Jim. "That's all I saw of Ivory. I... I... I still can't believe someone can turn a human being, walking, talking and all that... into what I saw. It was like something out of a slaughterhouse."

"Like roadkill?" asked Simon. All of those present, which at this time included all of the bouncers, and some of their friends and girlfriends, shot him the evil eye.

"Well, sort of. But this was a girl. This was someone's fuckin' daughter. And she wasn't hit by a truck... or attacked by a bear... or... I don't know. That's just it. No one knows. We've called in FBI experts. People who spend their whole lives researching fucked up ways to die. No one can put together anything close to a believable theory as to how someone could get torn into pieces like this with no explosion, no collision, no burns, no machinery. These four people, as far as anyone knows, got chewed up by Satan himself, and spat back out for us to find. No rhyme, no reason, no way to explain it."

Officer Fullington's visage was pallor and cold. He was so immersed in his experience and its retelling, that when his eyes lifted from his drink, he realized for the first time that all eyes were on him, and the only noise in the house was the tuned down jukebox. He finished off his beer, ordered something harder, and announced...

"Listen. Everybody. I want you all to do me a favor. Until we make some sense of this shit... be very very fuckin' careful. Be alert. Be aware. Report suspicious people to the po... to me. Ok? Watch your asses, don't be out at night alone unless it's necessary. Just... just be careful, and look out for one another.

Amy and Simon would make love that night. It would be the first time that they did so without Simon coercing her that she could remember. Amy just didn't want to be alone that night. She'd never imagined someone as macho and burly as Officer Jim could be so rattled. Shortly after Jim's request, people disbanded. Daffney cried, and Jim held and comforted her - a sure sign of the apocalypse if there ever was one (for those who knew them). Everyone seemed a little more interested in how everyone else was getting home. And Amy asked Simon to stay. She heard nothing from her neighbor next door. Not as though that was unusual. Maybe he got lucky with someone from the bar, maybe he'd been sound asleep for hours. Regardless, Amy couldn't help but wonder about the dark haired stranger next door. Even while Simon was doing his best to please her.