A Hell of a Town, Pt. 1

Just got back from New York, and I can't think of any better way to have celebrated going off to college. Sightseeing, dancing my ass off, racing a speedster, finally telling my friends about what happened... good times.

Right after I punched out at Electromat on Friday, I ported home and got all my stuff together. Mom drove me down to the station, because porting would've been a bit suspicious. Reed and Will got there soon after, and at 5 PM, we got on the train.

We ended up in New York at 7:30. We caught a cab to our place of residence for the weekend, the Chelsea International Hostel. We shared a dorm with two other people who we never really saw; they left early while we slept late, and tucked in early when we didn't get back until 3 AM. After we tossed our bags down, we caught a cab to Virgil's BBQ at Reed's urging. That was our big meal for the vacation; after that, we stuck to street vendors for sustenance. But damn, was it worth it.

After dinner, we walked from Times Square down to Soho. We hung about the district and checked out the sights until 10 PM rolled around and Obsidian opened. As the magic hour rolled around, I started getting nervous. I mean, would this work? Would Zulfikar remember my civilian identity, or would I make an ass out of myself in front of my friends?

Hoping for the best, I walked up to the bouncer and, coolly as possible, told him that my friends and I wanted to spend the night in the VIP lounge. He gave us a look like I'd just asked him for a solid gold turd. Plowing on, I told him to tell Ahmed Razawi that Greg Silverman would like to call in his favor. The bouncer repeated this into his headpiece, and a few seconds later, waved us through. Thank G-d.

If you haven't been in Obsidian, it's an interesting experience. It's a multi-level night club, with alcoves that go all the way round the open central area on the higher floors. As per the name, the floors and the bars are crafted out of shiny black stone (not real obsidian, though; no one wants the clubgoers to cut themselves on the bar while drunk). On the top floor is the VIP lounge, meant for visiting DJs, socialites, movie stars, and-- for the next few nights-- us.

In between dancing like fools and abusing our fake IDs, Will and Reed pressed me about what the hell I did that got me the favor of one of the club's controlling interests. "I mean, don't get me wrong, this is great," Will said, "but if you're doing something illegal, man..."

"I'm not," I said firmly. "Look, I met the DJ when I was in Philly one day. I was visiting a music store and he was there, asking the clerk for help with turntables and wiring. I helped him out a little when the clerk was falling short, and he offered me VIP passes."

They were quick to accept this-- too quick, really. I mean, I thought it was bullshit, and I'd been rehearsing it since last week. At the time, I guessed they just wanted to make sure they weren't going to be dragged along for whatever ride I was on. I was wrong.

So, around 2 AM, a cocktail waitress (dressed all in black and silver-- when they pick a theme, they stick with it) came by with drinks for us. "Make sure to take the napkins," she said. Will and Reed's have mottos that are like fortune cookie sayings by way of a Bacardi ad, one of Obsidian's more cheesy gimmicks. Mine, however, has another message on it, written in black magic marker:

"Doc- glad to see you followed up. Meet me in Central Park by the Zoo at 3:30. I'll show you my NY. -Z."

So, Ahmed was inviting me out on a patrol after Obsidian closed. I wanted to hang around until Obsidian closed so I wouldn't have to wait, but Reed was getting tired, so we left and hailed a cab back to the Hostel. We got in at 2:30 and fell into bed. Well, Will and Reed fell into bed; I was only faking until I was sure they were asleep. When 3:00 rolled around, I got out of bed and ported home to get into costume.

"Well, Z," I said while getting dressed, "I wonder what you have to show me..."

To be continued...