Closed? When are they ever closed? As far as I can remember, when they have "work" to do. What kind of "work" is that, you ask? Well, I'll tell you: all kinds. The legitimate sign says it's a bar with a meager cuisine, on the level of sandwiches and fried sausages/bacon/eggs/toast. But what are they doing here?
Oooooh!!! You'll never guess when you look at the friendly and accommodating face of the understanding owner. You could say that this is the most chaotic of all chaotic places — a drug den, and not just any old drug den, but just the way the fancy robot likes it — with blackjack and whores!
Here you can buy and sell drugs, here you can make fake documents of average quality, here you can hire a prostitute, here you can hand over stolen change: jewelry, expensive clothes, costume jewelry, and so on. Well, there seem to be a lot of such places, and what caught my attention?
And the fact that there is such a fun service here, such as buying/selling slaves, and raising and breaking them. Is that fun? It means that in this bar there are professionals who can make a girl fall in love with them, and quickly enough break her morals, get her addicted to drugs, and turn her into a dirty whore who can be sold here for a profit.
Otherwise, a girl or a guy is chosen, depending on who the client points to, kidnapped, and methodically broken with the same drugs and various forms of violence until the desired result is achieved.
My source has heard that prostitutes who are completely "down", "finished" drug addicts who have severed all ties with their friends and relatives, disappear without a trace. Once, and that's it, she's gone, and nobody talks about her, because who needs a whore, right? It turns out that my "source" has twice delivered gang-raped girls to a bar called Joe's, which pays well. Isn't it a great place? That's what I think!
Shikigami rolls up the tube, which easily turns into the right key, and opens the door.
I go down the massive stone stairs and see the "work process": Behind the counter, the owner is calmly talking to a handsome guy, dressed in terribly fashionable clothes, with a terribly fashionable hairstyle of lightened hair and a bunch of piercings in his ears, who is also calmly drinking something from a massive glass. Next to him, on a massive table, a very young girl, about seventeen years old, no more.
Satisfied cackle of the massive man and stupid giggle of the heroine, who wears only a torn t-shirt, some pearls and a bunch of piercings in her ears, judging by the redness of her ears — recently pierced. But the most interesting thing in this picture are the traces of white powder on the girl's face. Here the owner notices me, frowning and growling threateningly at the smarmy guy:
— Saito, asshole, who did I tell to lock the door, huh?
The kid turns around to look at me and turns to the guy in charge.
— Joe, I locked it! I locked it!
— Don't throw words around, you little punk! He answers! You know what they'd do to you in the zone for talking shit? They'd sell your ass to the highest bidder! So you better keep your mouth shut, or I'll help you right away. I'll be right behind you. Who the hell are you? Did you see the "closed" sign? — That's for me, but I don't answer.
Silently, I walk over to the second man, who is pulling on his pants and stares at me angrily, ignoring him, I approach the girl and check her pulse. Obviously a mild overdose — she's in the land of unicorns and rainbows. He grabs my shoulder and turns me sharply toward him, hovering over me and looking me in the eye.
— Answer me, asshole, when the elder asks you! — Stinking breath makes me hold my breath
A quick glance over his shoulder, a pulse of magic to check his senses. Not wrong... unfortunately... he smells of near death and blood, of suffering, though not for long. I turn back to him, whose expression has changed dramatically: eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, lips twitching like those of a grinning beast. A nest, by the way....
A quick movement that he almost had time to react to, his hand raised, but not in time — he got a seal on his face. There are no external effects from the seal, from the outside it looks very archaic, even funny — a simple strip of paper restrains such a bulky man, he can't even twitch.
I calmly walk around him and approach the frozen couple. The handsome one jumped up and tried to stab me with a knife. His arm was caught, twisted and broken — it was enough to make him fall to the ground and stay there, whimpering. I, on the other hand, kept my expensive knife and looked at Joe.
— You shouldn't have come alone, magician. — He grinned with long fangs and unbuttoned his riveted leather vest. — But I am grateful for such a gift! — A wave of distortion rippled through his body, crunching his bones and revealing bone growths and black and brown tufts of fur. — I'd like to play with you! — something growled.
What kind of creature it was, I don't know, I've never seen a description of it in a bestiary. It was the size of a bear, but leaner, its fur tattered, with bone spikes and thorns sticking out here and there, powerful claws on its paws, bearish, and a bearish face, but more elongated and shabby, brown. And the eyes were rolled back, no lips, and saliva flowing all the time.
And the smell of wet dog. What the hell is this thing? Well, and then began what it was supposed to begin: the pathos of a weak man overpowering a creepy, wild beast... but not today. By the time the beast was ready to jump, the second talisman was already clamped to its face, and it froze — crouched, knees bent, and claws out. Actually, being an Omyouji is cool — half of all evil creatures can be bound with a single "Evil Binding" amulet.