He spent the majority of his evening watching the laser light shooting at The Dungeon, in slow motion, the Bloody Swamp Fire concoction really took it's course on him. Hiding under his hoodie in the corners of the joint, not interacting with anyone. All the Dungeon Dwellers knew who he was, "The Loner" was the nickname he goes by, the soft spoken boy who worked there. No one really knew exactly what he does because he was just standing by himself most of the time. He didn't speak much and always avoided eye contact when he did.
The Dungeon was not the only place where night crawlers go to spend their nights, but it was the only one with scenes and attractions that no other place provided. The legalities of the club was questionable. "The Loner" was the one who cleaned up the place really well that they never had a brush with the law, ever. The fact that the place was owned by a Cromwell was also a factor why the place had been given leniency than any other nightclubs.
Matthew Cromwell Jr. never approved of his son doing business of the sort. Providing entertainment for the night crawlers, kinky attractions, deformed employees, everything about it was just too sleazy for Matt Jr.
He always wanted Jordan to follow his older brother's footsteps and be a predecessor of his business empire. But Jordan was a hybrid even when he was just a young boy. He was already sneaking his way out at night to explore the city even before he met Adrian at the age of 14. Every child in Mofocity eventually will have to choose their side of the day right after they finish high school, Jordan wanted to experience the best of both worlds.
The club closes at 3 A.M. Mofocity rests at the witching our of three to five. It's a dead zone, even the street lights were turned off. That's when Adrian started his real work as the club cleaner. He carefully picked up anything that looked and smelled illegal. People who were too intoxicated to go home were locked in the club until they were ready to go home. Adrian gathered his findings and put them into a bag, took it to the purgatory chamber in the basement, took the remains to the back alley and dumped them in the dumpster.
He made a special infra red flash light and a special goggle to help him see in the impenetrable darkness. Like clockwork his work was done right before 5 A.M., that's when the first grey light showed. A thin mist of orange behind the clouds slowly spread across the sky making it glow a bright yellowish red, gradually but persistently. By 6 A.M. light started to fall on everything, kissing the tops of the buildings, making it's way through the fogs, and then come morning. That's when he retires to his flat on the third floor of The Dungeon, right above Jordan's.
All the blinds were drawn inside his flat to prevent the sunlight from creeping in. A queen size matrass laid on the floor by the bathroom door, a single chair in the middle of the room facing a TV tube on a small side table. A fridge in the far corner of the room, and a very simple two door wardrobe filled with black and grey outfit, the only color he wears. And then there's a wooden chest against the wall where he kept all his precious collections.
He knelt down on one knee and opened the chest, he took out a white rabbit mask and put it on and sat on the chair. He turned on the TV, the static was on, it calmed him. He wasn't alone, he felt her every time he was getting ready to sleep. She just stood there, not far behind him, to the left. She stood still, always in her black dress. He never had the nerve to look over to see what she looked like, or whether she had a face. The mask was to hide from her gaze, if she had any. She was not of this world, nobody else can see her. Why she was there was beyond him. He learned to live with her for years just like he learned to live with the strangeness of the city his whole life.