Straight Tequila Night

The dimly lit dive bar in the heart of Japan exuded an air of gritty charm. Neon signs of long since retired brands flickered and cast an ethereal glow over the weathered wooden furnishings, creating an atmosphere that seemed to hold the secrets of countless late-night rendezvous. The faded wallpaper, peeling in places, told tales of years gone by, and the creaky floorboards beneath the worn stools hinted at a history that had weathered more than just the winter chill outside. What had started as a tourist trap harkening back to some deep south bar across the pond in America was now some strange and sleepy amalgamation of seedy Japanese culture and tarnished American country legacy.

Lorena Telles:

Lorena shouldered past a few standing patrons who had taken to linger in the throughway to the bar and garnered her a sharp glance and muttered annoyances. Settling into a seat on a neglected stool at the bar she took in the eclectic mix of patrons and their their conversations, their laughter blending with the distant hum of a jukebox playing foreign American tunes from another era. The bartender dressed in biker leathers was a weathered soul with a few stories of his own etched into the lines on his face, deftly poured drinks with a practiced hand.

The ambiance suggested that this dive bar was more than just a place to grab a drink. It held an unspoken promise of unpredictability, an undercurrent of tension that hinted at the potential for unexpected events. The patrons, with their furtive glances and guarded expressions, seemed aware that the unassuming surroundings might transform into a battleground at any given moment.

Mismatched colored woods on furnishings, patchwork layering of plaster on the walls, and deep markings in the old wood were all telltale signs of just what she wanted.  Hints of past scuffles lingered in the air, barely perceptible but adding an edge to the otherwise laid-back atmosphere. The walls were adorned with faded posters and memorabilia that seemed to fit no real theme outside vague bits of Americana.  Faces of aged cowboys and American icons likely long since dead left to silently witness the unspoken struggles that had unfolded within those dimly lit confines.

Lorena, with her confident demeanor, blended seamlessly into the scene as if she were a returning patron despite never having stepped foot in this place before. The thrill-seeker in her sensed the pulse of the place, the unspoken challenge that hung in the air like a dormant storm. Cold boring winter days had long since taken their toll on her and she was hungry for something to break the monotony. The dive bar, with its peeling paint and aged charm, was a canvas for stories waiting to unfold. It was the kind of establishment where the line between a casual night out and an impromptu clash blurred, leaving room for the unexpected.

Fidgeting unease would start becoming ascertained from the devout patrons inside the bar, a scattered minority beginning to check their watches and the time off their cell phones before starting to make the preamble motions of exiting the premises. Anxiety riddled haste to their movements alongside dejected reservation as they silently ushered themselves towards the back exit rather than continuing to indulge in the dive bar's rustic aesthetic, a felicitous warmth earned through both it's decades of accommodating the world-wearied customers seeking a peaceable haven from their daily lives and it's unyielding fortitude in the face of whatever countless volatile scuffles it's bore witness to over the years. And yet in spite of the welcomed cordiality within, bartenders with encyclopedic knowledge of drinks, engrossing ambiance of its weathered backdrop and the chilled frigidity awaiting anyone outside thanks to Winter's brittle embrace, a subtle migration was nevertheless taking place. Drinks paid for and hats taken off the racks as the grizzled bartender directed a sideways glance towards the main entrance...


"Yo, straight smoked those fools!!!"





Headstrong youths swarmed forth in an aggressive testing of the door's hinges, each one adorned in leather jackets and street clothing that varied in individuality, yet each delinquent was tied together by a symbolic caricature of a dragon brandished upon one aspect of their attire. The wooden floor boards creaking beneath the avalanche of sneakers and boots stamped into the floor with a path cleared wherever they roamed. Rambunctious defiance associated with a mob mentality seemingly allowing them ownership of the premises as they bumped shoulders from patrons too terrified to object. The brash hoodlums scattering all around with several ordering pitches of beer from the bartender. Others snatching seats from tables frequented by other customers and barstools to be brought towards the corner pool table and accompanying jukebox right beside it. Ushering other people away who were enjoying a game of pool under threats of violence they were clearly accustomed to but capitulated regardless from their numbered advantage. This street gang staking claim to their territory within the dive bar to the focused and irate attention of every other patron rattled by the raucous.

???:

Squirreled within the cacophony of machismo laden ego was a lone figure acting as the sole epicenter of the human hurricane, a brilliant radiance to her blonde ponytail who seemed more content to kick her feet up and scroll through her smartphone with a pop of her bubble gum than reigning in the chaotic vortex tempestuously swirling all around her. Thrash metal circumventing the melodic jazz soulfuls previously played on the jukebox which was now held hostage beside the street gang now racking up the pool balls for a fresh game. "Tch, every Friday these punks make a mess of the joint..." The bartender beside Lorena muttered in his graveled voice as he started pouring the brews requested upon by the gang member at the bar. Kanji tattoo's and earpiercings being an ill-advised adornment to his appearance, although his predilection towards bad decisions continued onward as he noticed Lorena standing right beside him. "Yooo, Mamacita~...Yer lookin' a little lonely standin' watch over here by the bar. Whaddya say you come come join me with the boys over there. Night's just gettin started and we're lookin' to set off some fireworks, if you know wha I'm sayin~..."

Despite Lorena's indifference toward what passed as American culture, she couldn't deny that the dive bar had character, if nothing else. To her right sat a Japanese salaryman, a few drinks in, his tie hanging crooked and loose around his collar. To her left was a bearded man with a large frame who could have easily been mistaken for a bouncer if the establishment were a bit more upscale. The other patrons seemed to keep to themselves, casting sidelong glances in her direction, their eyes lingering on her darker complexion amidst the sea of milky-skinned locals huddling within their groups.

“Brahma?” Lorena nodded to the bartender, seeking a small taste of home. While she wasn't one for heavy drinking, the occasional beer served as a welcomed deviation from her usual diet. Her request seemed to bounce off the bartender like a poorly aimed bullet, earning her a quizzical look as if she were speaking another language. “Deixa para lá…” she murmured softly. “Lager? Beer? Anything on tap.” She wasn't well-versed enough in beverages to inquire beyond what she had grown accustomed to in her younger years. Besides, what was the point of exploring new places if not to thoroughly sample them?

The bartender gave a curt nod before sliding a tall glass filled to the brim with lightly foamed amber liquid across the counter toward her. Lorena placed some paper and coin on the counter, just in time for the doors to slam open and chaos to erupt. She turned halfway as patrons began to disperse, leaving her isolated as a tsunami of young thugs washed over the tables, staking claim to various forms of entertainment throughout the room. It was a familiar scene reminiscent of back home, where anyone could pick up a machete and rally a few friends to shake down a local store. While she craved some action tonight, this wasn't exactly what she had hoped for…

Nevertheless, she watched it all unfold, sitting sideways on her stool as she quietly nursed her drink. Content to be a keen observer, Lorena remained on the sidelines until one of the newer individuals approached her, testing the waters. It was a bold move, one she might have been impressed by if his confidence had been earned through real merit rather than the throng of hooligans currently clogging up the dive bar likely having his back.

“I’d burn too bright for you, garotinho,” Lorena leaned in close as she spoke, her voice low and smoky, carrying a casual playfulness despite the outward rejection. She reached out to feel the stitched emblem of a dragon under her fingertips. If nothing else, these punks were stylishly well-organized with their jackets. The rest, not so much. “What's with dragons, tiro quente? You looking for a princess to lock away in your tower?”

The wolfpack mentality which accompanied the rambunctious delinquents upon their boisterous arrival had simultaneously usurped the watering hole's docile tranquility, and instilled braggadocios overconfidence within each gang member as they staked claim to the bar. The crew of hoodlums conducting themselves like any typical street gang banded together like a linked chain through a blood stained brotherhood, which was a solid foundation for coordination through teamwork...except in their case it ultimately enabled a reckless and foolhardy bravado to be fostered. One based not on their own individual strengths and accomplishments but solely on the basis of them winning the numbers game against any brave soul who dared to object to their miscreant mischievousness. The bar's regular patrons squirming in their seats and casting sideways glances towards the disturbers of their peace, one of whom continuing to mack on the smokin' hot latina showing him a frigid cold shoulder.

"Eh? You like that, huh?~..." The gang member sneering deviously and using his free hand to stretch his jacket out, showcasing the dragon insignia prominent on himself and his fellow delinquents. "What you've got in yer hands right there is the symbol of the Flaming Dragons, babe. You're in the presence of the gang that's gonna run this whole city one of these days. Shit, the boys and I just got back from stompin' a mudhole in our rivals over by the piers and makin' them scatter like lil' baby bitches. And we don't need no princess when we got our very own Dragon Queen sittin' right over there." An index finger was briefly pointed towards the pony-tailed blonde scrolling through the messages on her smartphone before she hocked a spit into an adjacent spittoon. Distantly aloof as she idled away her time while precariously leaning backward on the edges of her chair with both legs crossed and perched upon the table which other gang members were beginning to play Poker on.

"That right there's the boss lady. See how we're all progressive with woman's rights and chick's in leadership roles and all that bullshit?" A swill of his beer taken as the gang member continued pressing his luck as he finished his gulp with a bellowed burp, casting his head to the side away from Llorena first though as the gentleman he is. "Hey, why don't I introduce ya to the boss lady if you're so interested in our gang? Ya kinda look like you can hold yer own in a fight, and maybe if you impress us after showin' us what yer made of we can even let ya join. And hey even if not, I wouldn't mind you showing me everything you're made of, if ya know wha ahm sayin~..." A sly tilting down of his shades allowing the delinquent to shoot Llorena a wink and perhaps getting his sleazy point across. And if that didn't, the arm he'd start wrapping around the Latina's shoulders may. "Name's Shinji, by the way. And to whom do I owe the pleasure? Or would you rather I keep you calling you my mamacita~..."

Lorena couldn't suppress a chuckle as she traced her fingertips over the intricate stitchwork of Sanji's letterman jacket. The symbol emblazoned on was overly detailed for something meant to be replicated and worn by many, a testament either to a desire to flaunt without substance or to significant financial backing. While it lacked the sophistication of three-piece suits, Lorena imagined these jackets didn't come cheap, unless they were part of some underground bootleg operation and got them on the cheap. Her experiences back home had acquainted her all too well with the workings of gangs, and while she had no desire to be driven out of yet another country, she relished the opportunity to spread her wings once more even if it would lead to trouble that could have been avoided.

"It must have been quite the muito feroz if you're all out celebrating," she mused to herself, her gaze scanning the braggadocious crowd of Sanji's fellow jacketed thugs as she took a sip from her glass. Following a pointed finger, she observed a blond figure lounging amidst the chaotic revelry of the hostile takeover, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Eu vejo… yes, very progressive," she agreed with a snicker, her interest in Sanji waning as she set her sights on the newest person she wished to converse with.

"You'd do that, for me?" Lorena's eyes sparkled with a subtle glint as she was presented with an easy opportunity. Taking a larger swig from her glass, she licked the foam from her lips in a suggestive manner as she engaged in conversation with Sanji. When he draped an arm around her, she didn't flinch; instead, she reached up with her free hand to entwine her fingers with his, keeping the two of them snugly locked in as she slipped from her stool, seemingly eager to meet the boss. "You can call me whatever you like, tiro quente."

Lost amidst the controlled chaos unraveling within the watering hole were intermittent displays of celebratory revelry combined with obnoxious boasting. Gang members arms slung over eachother's shoulders with pints of beer clasped in their free hands, occasionally spilling from their frosty mugs as they swayed side to side. The barkeep huffing out in exasperation as he already started mapping out what the cleanup routine was going to be once the last of these plastered hooligans waddled out of the bar that night. One of whom was contemplating playing lotto tomorrow considering his recent good fortune as Lorena has yet to spurn his advances and crack him across the face, which was the usual reaction whenever he started flirting with the ladies. Shinji finding himself thoroughly enraptured with the muy fuego latina, watching her tongue glide along her luscious lips but gawking with blushed jubilation when he felt their hands clasped together alongside her acceptance of his proposal.  

"HOT DAMN!!!!...I mean...anything for my mamacita~...Stick with me and you'll be rollin' with the baddest gang this side of Kanagawa prefecture " Shinji pumping his fist victoriously before regaining his sneering composure, thrilled at the prospect of getting lucky tonight with the hottest babe he'd ever seen and willing to do most anything to seal the metaphorical deal. Including sauntering over to the Flaming Dragon's head table with the type of gorgeous arm candy he knew all the other guys were going to be crazy jealous of. Several gang members quirking their heads up in abject confusion from the bizarre sight of Shinji being accompanied a natural ten beauty. The Dragon Queen herself remaining nonplussed from his arrival as she continued fiddling away on her cell phone. "Boss lady, I wanna introduce you to my new ladylove. Says she thinkin' about joinin' up with our crew and is down for showin' us her fightin' skills in order to be accepted!!!"

"...Tch, freakin' dumbass. As if we'd let in anyone stupid enough to have you as a boyfriend. Whoever the hell they are, tell'em to kick rocks..."

"Y-Yeah, b-but boss..." Shinji blathering gibberish from the stark refusal, scrambling to ensure he at least has a small chance of scoring tonight.