You just don't know man, you just don't know. If you haven't been to one of the sundown clubs, you really haven't lived. Of course you have to be un-dead, or a werewolf, or a demon on vacation from Hell to get in. I wouldn't suggest just walking in unless you know you fit in, if you know what I mean. I've seen people try to do it though. Oh man, it's never pretty. They get lured in by the loud music and hot girls out front, the idiots. Usually those same girls take them to a back room and drain all their blood out. Or they get torn apart in the pit in front of the stage. Me though, they know me. I'm not one of them, but they respect me. Well, maybe respect isn't the greatest word for it. Fear is a much better word. I've got a reputation, and thats pretty much what keeps my ass from getting killed when I go to these dives. That and I'm very good at what I do. What do I do exactly? I'm a tracker. But not like in the olden days when all of the damn scum were tracked down and killed like they deserved to be. Nah, now that the laws are in place that say any creature has a right to a fair trial, like they're actually human, you have to be selective. Plus, now that they can multiply as much as they want, there's too damn many of them. Nah, I'm a bounty hunter. Vampires killed your dog? Your sister get turned into a werewolf? Got the money to pay? Then I'm your man. I've got centuries of tracker blood in my veins and I'm not going to waste it like my father did. No no, I make a good living off of what I do. Plus, It's a Hell of a lot of fun....
My favorite dive is a little place off of Fifth Avenue. There's a back alley way entrance by Rob's Pawn Shop, that's really hard to spot but if you squeeze in and walk till you see a pair of steps leading to a basement door, you've found it. They've got the best band around playing there every night from dusk till the sun comes up. They're called Horrorshow and they tear the roof off the place every time.
It's a good place to get information, usually just from listening to bar talk, but I have my contacts too. I'm working on a pretty high profile case right now. High profile for me anyways. See, the town's got a new mayor and he decided to start cracking down on all the crime the scum have been committing since the dive bars became legal. That wasn't a very smart idea. A lot of the clubs he closed down were operated by vampire and Hell demon Mafia's. They make a very good living off these places and weren't very happy when they got shut down. A few weeks after a high profile bust, his teenage daughter vanished from her bedroom. The way her bedroom window was torn apart, they suspect a werewolf. But werewolves are terrible climbers. It's obvious some creature did it, and thats why they hired me. Cause I'm the best.
So I was sitting at the bar, listening to the band warm up last night right? It was early yet and there were a few demons drinking god knows what at the bar, and a few people that smelled like werewolves milling around in the corner booths. I ordered a beer with no blood, you have to ask for it specifically, and was nursing it when she walked in. Goddamn. If I didn't know she was a vampire and basically dead from the neck down, I'd have been all over her. She was the lead singer of Horrorshow and her name was Riham: Six foot two inches of pale un-dead gorgeousness. She saw me and walked over.
"Hello Tracker," She purred in the thick Russian accent that made my heart pound. "You come just to get information for case? Or maybe just to hear us play? Or did you come just to see me?"
She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed and I could feel her sharp nails dig into my skin. I had to keep reminding myself not to look her in the eyes.
"Oh Riham, you should know you're not going to get me in one of those back rooms."
"Oh come on baby," She cooed and put her arms around me. "Just one leetle kiss?"
"Get your fangs away from my neck and I'll buy you a drink." I said, pushing her away.
She sat down. "Silly boy, you can't resist me, no man can. It's just a matter of time..."
"Well, if I ever want to commit suicide, I'll come find you..."
We talked for a bit as she sipped her drink of rum and cow's blood. It's supposed to be cow's anyways. You never can tell in those places.
She excused herself and walked across the pit to where her band was noodling around. A skinny, well-horned demon walked through the door with two vamps on his arms, followed by a group of drunk young werewolves and a nasty looking river creature. This was going to be an interesting night, yes indeed...