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xp_logsAdrienne pisses off some old acquaintances of Cammie's when she goes searching for the missing delinquent.
Going through a list of 'Chicago biker bars' she'd found on the internet wasn't proving to be very successful for Adrienne, or so it seemed when she dragged herself out of her rental car on her way to the eighth bar on the list. Cammie hadn't been to any of the others, and Adrienne's frustration was escalating. She was trying to fight her own paranoia, the same paranoia that had been eating away at Cammie since they'd arrived, and tell herself that Cammie was probably just off on a bender somewhere with some old buddies, but no matter how many times she told herself that, Adrienne couldn't get what they'd learned about what had happened to Amy out of her mind. She couldn't seem to snuff out the fear that Cammie could be sharing the same fate as Amy if she'd managed to find the evil house she'd been searching for. The hellhouse.
She lit a cigarette to try and calm her nerves and leaned against the wall of the bar building, resting a hand on the doorjamb so she could read it.
"Haha! Victory!" she crowed when her powers showed Cammie entering the bar with a pair of bikers, one looking like a reject from ZZ Top, the other looking like he could have a long career in modelling if Adrienne had anything to do with it. Another quick read showed Cammie exiting the bar alone, and viewing two sunsets and a sunrise told Adrienne that she hadn't returned. The reading also showed that the bikers she'd come in with were presently in the bar.
Hoping the bikers would be able to tell her where Cammie had gone, and that it would be the beginning of a trail that would lead to the green-haird idiot, Adrienne sauntered into the bar and took an empty seat next to the model biker. "Do you know a green-haired chick called Cammie Black?" she asked him without preamble, smiling sweetly at him.
The grin he busted out was known for breaking hearts in the circle he moved in, “Whatever she did, I already told her, I’m not paying the bail money,” he said smoothly, “Also don’t have any cash, so if you’re collecting some sort of debt, you’re outta luck.”
"No debt," Adrienne answered, trying to channel a Trenchcoat personality to get what she wanted as directly as possible. "No bail. She's not in trouble or anything. I just need to talk to her. About a job," she added, hoping that would push some buttons.
“Look, whatever you need lifted there’s better people out there. For a price I can point you to them,” he said smoothly. He didn’t worry about the cops this bar was practically his, after all. “It all depends on the job of course.”
"Look," Adrienne shot back, "I don't want your help on the fucking job. I just want Black. I know she came in here with you the other day; just tell me where she is."
The bearded biker stirred at her raised voice, feet moving as if ready to spring.
“Fuck if I know,” the model said with a shrug, “Haven’t seen her. Don’t really care.”
"You did see her," Adrienne spat out, growing more and more frustrated by the second. "She came in here with you. I know she did. I know she talked to you. Where the fuck is she?" She wanted to throttle him, digging her fingernails into her palms to resist the urge.
“Look bitch,” he didn’t turn away from his drink this time, “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her. And I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass, you got that?”
Adrienne stood up, invading the handsome biker's personal space, a haze of anger she hadn't felt since before Steven's death clouding her mind and swamping all other senses. "Look asshole, she could be tortured and dying right now! I need to know where the fuck she is!" She was worried about Cammie and this fuckwit was playing coy?
The 80's Rocker stood abruptly, thrusting his barstool back with a clatter. "Look, lady, he told you, twice now, he ain't seen her. Now button up like a good little bitch and get out."
"I know you've both fucking seen her," Adrienne seethed through gritted teeth as she whirled on the other biker, turning so fast she whipped sable hair across her own face, "so unless you're both severely retarded, you're playing coy with me... and I only let people do that when they've handed me a nice fat wad of cash before I blow them." She was digging her fingernails more tightly into her own palms now, trying to see through the haze of wrath that had always led her to get hurt in the past, trying to calm down and stay rational and not think about kneeing both the jerks in the sack. "Now why don't you just poke that little rodent- the one that lives in your brain, not your pants- and get it running on its little wheel and think hard about what Black said to you."
Eighties rocker didn't have anything more to say to Adrienne. Eighties rocker was done talking. Instead he just swung one meaty fist right at the demanding woman's face.
It was the sound of her nose snapping, the shock of hearing something break that had Adrienne reeling back, rather than the impact (though the impact had a lot to do with it too.) Her feet would suddenly no longer support her and she rapped her head on the dirty wood floor as she hit the ground. For a moment the stars before her eyes stunned her, the pain in her head amplified by the excruciating feeling that pulsed in her nose and then through her entire face.
Gone were the days where she would grovel and play dead after being struck, however, and when the stars cleared she got to her feet and lunged at the bikers with her own fists, pushing the pain and the shock of the blood on her blouse to the back of her mind.
But before she could reach them, a pair of hands enveloped her upper arms and dragged her bodily towards the door, and she found air rushing past her ears way too fast again as, for the second time in under a minute, she flew off her feet, tossed out onto the curb.
Scrabbling on the sidewalk, Adrienne tried to get back into the bar but found her way blocked by an enormous black-clad bouncer-looking person. A glare from him had her deciding that trying to get back in would be silly, and since she had already read the pavement outside the bar when she'd landed, she decided to try and follow Cammie's trail that way. A brief internal struggle had finding Cammie winning out over going to the hospital immediately, since the fear that was eating away at her when she thought of what might have happened to the younger woman was only growing. It would take longer to track Cammie using the sidewalk than getting the information from the bikers, but if they really didn't know where she'd gone Adrienne figured it was worth it to search on her own before she broke anything else.
Going through a list of 'Chicago biker bars' she'd found on the internet wasn't proving to be very successful for Adrienne, or so it seemed when she dragged herself out of her rental car on her way to the eighth bar on the list. Cammie hadn't been to any of the others, and Adrienne's frustration was escalating. She was trying to fight her own paranoia, the same paranoia that had been eating away at Cammie since they'd arrived, and tell herself that Cammie was probably just off on a bender somewhere with some old buddies, but no matter how many times she told herself that, Adrienne couldn't get what they'd learned about what had happened to Amy out of her mind. She couldn't seem to snuff out the fear that Cammie could be sharing the same fate as Amy if she'd managed to find the evil house she'd been searching for. The hellhouse.
She lit a cigarette to try and calm her nerves and leaned against the wall of the bar building, resting a hand on the doorjamb so she could read it.
"Haha! Victory!" she crowed when her powers showed Cammie entering the bar with a pair of bikers, one looking like a reject from ZZ Top, the other looking like he could have a long career in modelling if Adrienne had anything to do with it. Another quick read showed Cammie exiting the bar alone, and viewing two sunsets and a sunrise told Adrienne that she hadn't returned. The reading also showed that the bikers she'd come in with were presently in the bar.
Hoping the bikers would be able to tell her where Cammie had gone, and that it would be the beginning of a trail that would lead to the green-haird idiot, Adrienne sauntered into the bar and took an empty seat next to the model biker. "Do you know a green-haired chick called Cammie Black?" she asked him without preamble, smiling sweetly at him.
The grin he busted out was known for breaking hearts in the circle he moved in, “Whatever she did, I already told her, I’m not paying the bail money,” he said smoothly, “Also don’t have any cash, so if you’re collecting some sort of debt, you’re outta luck.”
"No debt," Adrienne answered, trying to channel a Trenchcoat personality to get what she wanted as directly as possible. "No bail. She's not in trouble or anything. I just need to talk to her. About a job," she added, hoping that would push some buttons.
“Look, whatever you need lifted there’s better people out there. For a price I can point you to them,” he said smoothly. He didn’t worry about the cops this bar was practically his, after all. “It all depends on the job of course.”
"Look," Adrienne shot back, "I don't want your help on the fucking job. I just want Black. I know she came in here with you the other day; just tell me where she is."
The bearded biker stirred at her raised voice, feet moving as if ready to spring.
“Fuck if I know,” the model said with a shrug, “Haven’t seen her. Don’t really care.”
"You did see her," Adrienne spat out, growing more and more frustrated by the second. "She came in here with you. I know she did. I know she talked to you. Where the fuck is she?" She wanted to throttle him, digging her fingernails into her palms to resist the urge.
“Look bitch,” he didn’t turn away from his drink this time, “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her. And I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass, you got that?”
Adrienne stood up, invading the handsome biker's personal space, a haze of anger she hadn't felt since before Steven's death clouding her mind and swamping all other senses. "Look asshole, she could be tortured and dying right now! I need to know where the fuck she is!" She was worried about Cammie and this fuckwit was playing coy?
The 80's Rocker stood abruptly, thrusting his barstool back with a clatter. "Look, lady, he told you, twice now, he ain't seen her. Now button up like a good little bitch and get out."
"I know you've both fucking seen her," Adrienne seethed through gritted teeth as she whirled on the other biker, turning so fast she whipped sable hair across her own face, "so unless you're both severely retarded, you're playing coy with me... and I only let people do that when they've handed me a nice fat wad of cash before I blow them." She was digging her fingernails more tightly into her own palms now, trying to see through the haze of wrath that had always led her to get hurt in the past, trying to calm down and stay rational and not think about kneeing both the jerks in the sack. "Now why don't you just poke that little rodent- the one that lives in your brain, not your pants- and get it running on its little wheel and think hard about what Black said to you."
Eighties rocker didn't have anything more to say to Adrienne. Eighties rocker was done talking. Instead he just swung one meaty fist right at the demanding woman's face.
It was the sound of her nose snapping, the shock of hearing something break that had Adrienne reeling back, rather than the impact (though the impact had a lot to do with it too.) Her feet would suddenly no longer support her and she rapped her head on the dirty wood floor as she hit the ground. For a moment the stars before her eyes stunned her, the pain in her head amplified by the excruciating feeling that pulsed in her nose and then through her entire face.
Gone were the days where she would grovel and play dead after being struck, however, and when the stars cleared she got to her feet and lunged at the bikers with her own fists, pushing the pain and the shock of the blood on her blouse to the back of her mind.
But before she could reach them, a pair of hands enveloped her upper arms and dragged her bodily towards the door, and she found air rushing past her ears way too fast again as, for the second time in under a minute, she flew off her feet, tossed out onto the curb.
Scrabbling on the sidewalk, Adrienne tried to get back into the bar but found her way blocked by an enormous black-clad bouncer-looking person. A glare from him had her deciding that trying to get back in would be silly, and since she had already read the pavement outside the bar when she'd landed, she decided to try and follow Cammie's trail that way. A brief internal struggle had finding Cammie winning out over going to the hospital immediately, since the fear that was eating away at her when she thought of what might have happened to the younger woman was only growing. It would take longer to track Cammie using the sidewalk than getting the information from the bikers, but if they really didn't know where she'd gone Adrienne figured it was worth it to search on her own before she broke anything else.
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