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Chester’s Club


Chester’s was finally called well Chester’s since the 1920’s the club had stood on the same spot more or less unchanged. It had survived wars and invasion and the worse that Freedom City could throw at it and through all that there had Bobby Johnson, but now he was finally retiring from running the club and leaving it in the capable hands of his Granddaughter Jada Johnson.


The last couple of years Jada had subtly been updating the club whilst keeping the classic Blue Club feel. Whilst some of the old timer’s complained about not being able to smoke, most had been more surprised that Bobby had had time to have a daughter let alone a Granddaughter.

 

The final act was to finally give the club the name that most people had always called it, and to celebrate the retirement of the second oldest of it’s patrons.

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Chesters oldest patron was stood in one corner trying to look as innocuous as she could, after all this was Bobby’s night not her own. Lucy Harker was dead but that hadn’t stopped her visiting the Club as often as she could, talking to Bobby about old times and enjoying an odd drink and a sneaky cigar as they did. He and this place was probably the last link to her original life and little place where she could kick back and just enjoy herself.


And as Jada admitted, once the two had gotten to know each other, Lucy was important to draw customer to Chester. Almost every time she came her there were one or two people who followed Lucy career as a Superhero and wanted to meet her in the flesh. Lucy was always took time to talk to them and allow them to take her picture.

 

Right now she wasn’t sure exactly how to react to all this, she was happy that Bobby was finally retiring and he looked good for his age, but it was another reminder that she wouldn’t ever change whilst everything altered around her.  

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Freddy "Bloody Mess" Furlong and Harry "the Hound" Hound stepped through the door to the Jazz Club. Neither were dressed well. 

 

"I love the style. Seedy, dark, and smoky" smiled Harry. He cursed he could not light up (publically) but he liked the ambience anyway. He was wearing a jacket and tie, although as always he was crumpled as could be, and his hair was like a floor mop. Clothes just seemed to hand off him and crease as soon as he wore them. 

 

Freddy was even worse, dressed in the only shirt and trousers he had, and they were far from high quality. The cheapest you could find, actually, and extensively tailored to fit his peculiar body. The fit was not good. Some parts were too big, some were too tights. His biceps threatened to rip the shirt whenever he moved his arms. 

 

"Ah, there she is, the lady of the night...er....so to speak...um...as in...well..." mumbled Harry, spying Lucy and unwittingly stumbling over her differently alive status. 

 

He gave her a wave and pulled Freddy, Guinness in hand already, by the collar towards her. 

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Henry walked into Chester's like he'd been there before. He hadn't, of course, but he was certainly dressed for the part. Long coat, suit, hat. All a nice, medium gray and crisp. He took his hat off the moment he entered the building, because that was how he'd always been taught. He thought, perhaps, that some of the folks might see his garb as a tribute to the club itself. That wasn't entirely incorrect, but frankly, he wasn't here for the club.

 

He spotted Lucy in the back room and smiled politely before walking towards her.

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Lucy greeted the Fred and Harry with one of her broad smiles, though she chastised Harry choice of words with a simple raised eyebrow.


“I’m glad you could make it, I’ve got something I wanted to show you... Hold that thought.â€


Spotting Henry she excused herself from the pair and weaved her way through the crowd towards him, proper decorum of her age would suggest she hold his hand or a chaste kiss but she wasn’t one to follow decorum, throwing her arms around him. Then she gently lead him back towards the other two.


“Fred, Harry this is Henry we’ve been dating for a while. I wanted to show you all something special.â€


One the wall she had been standing at was filled with picture from it earliest day’s to the present. Most were various artist who played over the years, some famous and some not, but a few were of other people. Lucy pointed to a photograph of a group of people apparently from the ‘20’s in the middle of the picture was a very recognizable figure.

 

“That was take the night I’d one my big case that’s the last picture of me alive.â€

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"Dating?" gasped Harry as Freddy chortled into his pint. Harry had always had an uncomfortable attraction to the beautiful but dead Lucy. Not an attraction he enjoyed, just one that made him squirm.

He turned to Henry. "But...but...you do know she is dea...errr....differently alive?" He gurgled, to the accompament of Freddys increasing laughter.

"Errr... that is..." he winced, giving a performance worthy of an Olympic gold in the 100 metre backpeddling competition.

"...Anyway, what a fascinating picture..." he said peering very close in an effort to avoid eye contact.

"Tell me, how did you die...?"

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Henry let himself enjoy her embrace. Yes, the behavior was a bit odd from someone born in the 1800s, but he didn't really mind. Nobody around them would look at them twice for it, and it wasn't the kind of attention he got every day.

 

Henry gave a little bit of a chuckle. Of course he was aware she was technically dead. He should also be dead. They were both products of the strange and supernatural. That was just the way his life was now.

 

"Yes." He said with a polite smile. "I know Lucy isn't, well, technically alive anymore. But we live in Freedom City. A city filled with the strange and wonderful." He wasn't, however, interested in how she 'died'. She was here now, and it wasn't something he felt was need to know information.

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  • 2 weeks later...

It had never really bother Lucy about her undead status and by now she was use to Harry faux pas by now. But it didn’t stop her taking the micky out of him.


“I believe the term is Undead American, though I just prefer to be called Lucy.†she leaned over and gave Harry a kiss on the forehead “But it’s sweet nethertheless.â€


She stood back and lifted her hair showing a small scar on the forehead, the only blemish on her perfect skin.

 

“That what killed me a single gunshot wound to the head, I believe that the bullet still rattling around in there. I keep meaning to see someone about that.â€

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Freddy whistled an exhale through his teeth. A good whistle too - his teeth had been pretty battered around and were wonky, although still resolutely in place. 

 

"Man, being shot sure is a bummer" he said, recalling his own adventures with the Mafia. He had been lead half dead with a good few bullet holes, bleeding in the gutter by a hitman. That's when he found out he could control his own blood. And saved his own life. 

 

"Dunno about taking it out though, a few knocks to the head is good for the soul" he grinned, whacking his head with a hammer fist. 

 

"But maybe not the brains, huh?" sighed Harry, rolling on his feet. "Head full of rocks, ya got, buddy. Still, damn handy when someones aiming a gun at yet head!" he joked. 

 

"Err..no offence, Lucy" he mumbled. "Guess your death scene kinda lingers. Kinda PTSD like" he said, findling with his tie, loosening it and tightening it nervously in rapid succession. "Still, what I was getting at was which dumb sucker pulled the trigger on you?"

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