Colin MacGregor

CJ pulled her motorcycle into the Chamber's parking lot and scowled at the single story, nondescript building.

"I always hated this club", she told Colin as the ghost slid off the back of the bike.

He grinned. "I like i'. Ye dinnae hear abou' this sor' o' thing in Catholic school. Las' time I was here the stage show was this lass who was after being tied down wi' some sor' o' plastic wrap." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Held her tae a St. Andrew's cross, and she dinnae ha'e a shirt on so tha' e'eryone could see her..."

"I got it, thanks", CJ said hurriedly. "Let's just hope we can get in and out of here in a hurry."

Colin shrugged. "Ye could take this as a chance to loosen up." He gave her an impish smile. "A' leas' ye sor' o' go' intae the spirit. The leather skirt is a nice touch."

She frowned at him, but a shred of amusement flickered through her eyes, and his smile broadened.

"Besides", the ghost continued, "despite wha' I said tae Kate, I dinnae think there's much o' a threat here. The reported PLEs were prob'ly jus' me and the o'er Orpheus ghosts ou' having fun. We go in, ge' the pigment sample, poke around for a bi', and go home. No worries."

"I hope it's that simple", CJ said as they walked from the rear parking lot to the front entrance. "But I have a bad feeling."

Colin stopped suddenly as they rounded the corner. "Could be there's summat tae tha' after all", he said in a shocked voice as he stared at the two spectral hounds standing guard over the main entrance. They looked down on the club's patrons from the rooftop, constantly scanning the crowd in the parking lot, which was still sparse.

CJ's phone chimed softly, and she glared at it before she could ask what the ghost had seen. She grabbed the device off her belt and scanned it. "Text message from Max", she grumbled. "Wants to know what I make of those."

Colin pointed at the hell hounds on the roof of the building. "Prob'ly means those those."

"Hell hound", Colin answered nervously. "Spectral dogs. Sometimes they act as fetchers for bigger spectres, sometimes as guards. Ne'er a good sign."

Scooter, Ryan, and Liz were all riding in Sean's Acura, which he had driven from his apartment after he and CJ had donned more appropriate club clothes.

"May be bes' tae enter separate, so noone connects ye two." Colin continued staring at the spectres. He shuddered, then tore his glance away. "They've ne'er been here before. Hopefully, they've naught tae do wi' us."

CJ reached her hand around and touched the butt of her gun, tucked into the back of her waistband. "Oh, I have faith. Faith in gauze shredding rounds." She brought her hands around once more to her sides and began walking towards the main entrance.

Colin chuckled dutifully and followed behind her, keeping a wary eye on the spectres. "I'll meet ye inside, lass", he told her as she got in the line for the front door.

She nodded almost imperceptibly and Colin phased through the wall next to a beefy doorman in a black t-shirt, who seemed unbothered by the autumn chill. He gruffly asked for each patron's ID, but the ghost quickly left him behind, hurrying into the club proper.

The stage was dark - it was far too early for the usual S&M shows to have begun - but the dance floor was lively. Perhaps forty people dressed in various arrangements of black leather gyrated wildly to an overwhelmingly loud bass beat, their movements sporadically illuminated by the flickering and swirling multicolored spotlights.

Colin quickly took up position near the bar, where the bartender, Chandler, was already serving a number of patrons. Mostly beers, the ghost noted. He suppressed the familiar twinge of regret that he could no longer partake of food or drink and tried to concentrate on his mission.

Chandler was supposedly good at spotting undercover cops, so Colin needed to stay close and make sure that the bartender didn't twig to CJ's presence, or warn everyone if he did. Chandler was preoccupied pulling beers from the tap when CJ walked in, fortunately, and didn't seem to notice her slink over to a table on the opposite side of the room.

The ghost breathed out a sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax a little. He took a look around at the patrons, amazed as ever at the outfits some of the people wore - or in a lot of cases, didn't wear. He grinned appreciatively at a woman who walked by with nothing on above the waist aside from a couple of strategically placed 'x's made from electrical tape.

Giving himself a shake, Colin returned to the mission at hand and re-focused on the bartender. Chandler was chatting easily with a young couple near the end of the bar, and the ghost picked up on the name 'Jonestown'. He drifted closer to overhear, but only caught the tail end.

"...you never know", Chandler said with a wink. "He does like Friday nights here, so he might show."

Colin nodded to himself with a smile. Excellent, he thought, putting a Mr. Burns twist on the mental word. Sean walked in the door then, dressed in what looked like a black kilt and mesh t-shirt. Colin grinned and gave him a wave, which the wisp returned with a subtle nod as he approached the bar.

"Couple of Jack and Cokes?", Sean made the order a question and the bartender nodded.

Chandler quickly mixed the drinks, and shoved them across the bar. "Thirteen bucks", he drawled.

Sean frowned, but dug a twenty out of one of the large cargo pockets on his kilt and slapped it down, holding out his hand so the bartender could count singles back in change. The skimmer dropped a couple ones as tip, then headed over to CJ's table.

Colin stayed by the bar, meanwhile. Chandler watched Sean and CJ with a frown for a moment, but turned back to his other patrons, taking orders and serving.

Ryan walked over, then, apparently having trailed Sean into the club. "Seen any likely suspects?", the banshee asked.

The skinrider nodded. "Aye, there's one o'er in the corner by the stage. Man, short black hair, broken nose."

"Ah, yeah, I see him", Ryan replied, looking where Colin pointed. "Leave it to me."

Colin nodded as Ryan walked off towards the men's room. A few moments later, the banshee re-emerged, dressed in suitable club clothes and fully manifested. A grey and black lycra shirt hugged his well-muscled chest and tight-fitting leather pants completed the ensemble.

"Well, he certainly knows how tae dress the part", Colin muttered to himself. A girl sitting near him at the bar turned a dreamy expression towards him, then, cocking her head to the side.

"What did you say?", the blond asked. She hugged her arms around her thin chest, but not fast enough to conceal the small needle bruise on them.

Colin narrowed his eyes at her. Definitely looks the par' o' a user. He waited a moment, but the girl's attention was riveted on him and her eyes never strayed. "I jus' said tha' ye know how tae dress up for this place", he said with a friendly smile. Letting his eyes wander down her figure, he took in the black - O' course - silk miniskirt and the three inch black heels that accentuated what might have once been a nice pair of legs. Now they simply looked skinny; emaciated, even.

He kept his smile steady, though, adding a touch of a leer as he brought his eyes back up. The girl blushed, and giggled slightly, as if she was drunk.

Chandler turned to the girl, then, an irritated expression on his face. "Did you want something?"

The blond turned to him, seemingly shocked by his approach, but she recovered quickly. "I think my new friend here was going to buy me a drink."

Chandler scowled at her. "What are you talking about? There's noone there. I think maybe you've had enough already."

The girl slowly turned back to Colin, a confused expression on her face. "But...oh, he must be an angel."

"Aye", he responded, "tha's i' exactly lass. An angel." I think we can check off one par' o the mission. She can definitely see me, and I jus' bet tha' she was after taking pigment. Colin turned back to see what Chandler's reaction would be, but the expression was not at all what the ghost expected.

The bartender was staring out across the dance floor with a look of utter shock and amazement on his face, speechless.

Colin spun around to see what had caught the man's attention, and his own jaw dropped of its own accord. His body might have been dead for over a year, along with the accompanying hormones and primal brain impulses, but there was still a core of sixteen-year-old-ness that was fixated by the stunning vision in red.

A woman, a gorgeous woman, dressed in strategically wrapped red leather straps was dancing in the middle of a crowd of admirers, male and female alike. Her boots were similarly devil red, with six inch heels and a cuff that came up to mid thigh.

The woman had her back to him, her long red hair swirling about her head as she moved sinuously to the heavy bass beat of the music. The DJ apparently recognized a good thing when he saw one, for the light patterns shifted to reds, yellows, and oranges to highlight the moment.

Colin found himself stepping towards the floor, wanting nothing more than to join the throng surrounding the beauty when she turned around. The grin on the woman's face was strange and familiar at the same time. He knew her, but never had he seen her - or even imagined her - as such a sensual draw before.

Colin stood, utterly transfixed and all thoughts of the mission forgotten, as he watched Agent Elizabeth Vance captivate the entire dance floor of the Chamber.

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Last Updated: January 2, 2004 by Blake Sorensen

#0770 - Solo Arrivals

November 14, 2003