Era

13

Asshole. They both knew she didn't have a choice. Barely repressing a snarl, Era drew back only most of the money, leaving a few wrinkled bills on the counter.

"Pleasure doing business with you. Entrance is in the back."

"What, not gonna walk me there?" Era nearly growled as she stepped behind the counter.

They chuckled, snatching up the money and returning to their phone. "Gonna have to cough up a little more if you want the grand tour."

"Dick," she muttered under her breath, navigating the cluttered floors until she reached a nondescript door at the very end of the backroom. If she paused and strained her ears, she could just barely make out the faint strains of voices over the rush of her own blood.

This is it. A proper smile wormed its way onto her face, and she permitted it to stay as she opened the door and began to descend the stairs in no particular hurry. The closer she got, the more distinct the voices became, along with pulses of music and the occasional cheer of what she assumed where the winners of whatever bet had been placed. She let it wrap around her with a comfortable familiarity, let it fall across her shoulders like a long forgotten cloak that felt so right, even after all these years.

Era reached the bottom of the stairs at last, and stepped out onto the floor. Finally, finally, finally she was in her element.

Figures of various dress and build sat at tables scattered around the room, the low-ceiling above them dotted by dim lights. In one corner was a well-stocked bar, and in another the walls were lined with television screens all set to different channels. Some showed recent hero news, while others simply broadcasted whatever sport was being played at this hour.

The place was busy, but not crowded. They'd cleared out an impressive space beneath that dinky little laundromat. There was even a caged in ring far towards the back where Era assumed they hosted fights, though right now it was empty. She felt the familiar shiver of phantom pains, the ghosts of broken bones trembling beneath her skin before they quieted once more. At least they weren't hosting fights right now; if she was being honest with herself, the temptation to jump in the ring would be too much.

Her eyes roved across the room, picking out the high-rollers from the businessmen and catching where those two intersected. She wanted people who were here to gamble, not make deals or swap news. The villains who came here with an intent beyond pure entertainment were more trouble than they were worth. Thugs looking for an adrenaline rush or eager to double their stolen earnings? That she could work with.

It didn't take long to scope out an appropriate table. Five men sitting around a game of hold 'em while a sixth dealt cards and chips with a long-suffering smile. As Era approached, she realized why. One of the men had clearly had too much to drink—just enough that he became obnoxious, but too little to greatly impact his play if the huge stack of chips before him was any indication. Or maybe he was just naturally that loud. Didn't seem like a great poker strategy, but who was Era to judge.

She walked up to the table just as the loud man won yet another hand, to the audible groan of the player next to him.

"Fuck this shit, I'm out. Hey, you, take my advice and don't sit down with this asshole. Get a drink or something instead. Fuck." He stormed away as the winner cackled and collected his chips.

"Aw, come on, he's just a sore loser. You're welcome to try a hand, little lady." He grinned up at her, and Era didn't quite like the glint in his eyes. Oh, she was going to enjoy this.

Era hunched her shoulders slightly and brought a sheepish hand to run through her short hair. "Hah, I'm not sure if it'll be much fun for all of you, probably just frustrating. I've never really played before."