---

---

---

Penelope ran a tired hand over her face as she hurried to wipe the grime that was seemingly glued on the round table. She'd been on the job for about half an hour and she was yet to make a dent on the brown stain. It just wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she wiped or how much cleaning liquid she sprayed on it. A glance at the clock hanging above the counter stated that it was precisely ten in the evening and it fueled Penelope's drive to get the job done. She heard of the party in the casino at eight, and she sure was hell wasn't going to miss it because of some stain that refused to be cleaned. It was already two hours in the party and she knew that people would be wasted and high or a combination of both, so it was prime time to make her entrance. Maybe even win herself easy money on the dice games and the roulette. She definitely needed the cash if she was taking the time to work on a hole in the wall like this.

She sighed, dropping the cloth on the table in defeat. Sure she earned a lot from her winnings, but gambling was gambling and she often found herself without a penny to her name. She definitely didn't want to end up going homeless because she couldn't pay the rent or whatnot, so the job at the cafe had been a necessary evil. And by evil, she meant evil. She tossed a glance towards the shop owner, a big Russian woman with fiery red hair and a glare that chilled the bloods in Penelope's veins, who was watching her with a curious tint in her eyes. Penelope threw her hands up in surrender and said, "Just throw the damn table away. I'll pay for it on my next shift."

Mrs. Duvlov said nothing, and Penelope took that as her cue to leave. She jumped over the counter, eliciting a reprimand from the Russian, and dropped her apron on one of the hooks, ignoring her boss completely. She slid her way towards the locker room where she stripped herself of the ugly uniform and put on her usual clothes - a dark leather jacket on top of a white sheer top and tight jeans. She took off her glasses and put on her contacts, struggling only a bit at applying them properly without a mirror. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses and smirked to no one in particular. She didn't need to see herself to know that she looked good. She felt good and that was almost always enough.

She tossed a lousy salute to her boss before bolting it out of there, half-running the couple of blocks from the cafe to the Web. As per usual, her half-run, half-strut gathered her some appreciative looks, to which she only grinned in response. It was part of being a demon, it seemed. Humans just got attracted to you even when you did absolutely nothing. It was both a blessing and a curse, as she still had worries that maybe her girlfriend was just with her because she was her guardian demon. Granted, Courtney didn't know of her true identity yet.

She shook her head minutely at herself. She didn't have the time to dwell on such matters. She had arrived at the Web already, only shooting the guard a smile before she was allowed in with a small bow. She stepped into the establishment, already feeling the adrenaline of gambling bring the grin to her lips. She held her arms out and shouted at the top of her voice, "Dr. Dicer has entered the building!" She received quite a few hoots in response as she reached into her pockets and pulled out her trademark pair of dice. "Well then. Shall we make some money?"

"Hi! Welcome to the Devil's Web! So what can I get ya' this evening?"

The usual question spilled from her smiling lips as Jettie approached her area of the bar, greeting some new arrivals; a pair of young men and women dressed to the nines in sharp suits and sparkling dresses. Her eyes glanced over each one as they took their turn calling out the names of their liquid desires. Each patron got a nod and a grin before she moved onto the next, all the while mentally taking notes.

A rum and coke for Dreamy Brown Eyes.
A white Russian for Purple Bow Tie.
A Blue Hawaiian for Blue Eye Shadow Overdose... Appropriate.
And a glass of pinot grigio for Doe Eyes.

"Excellent choices. I'll have those right up for you."

Jettie beamed another quick smile before turning away to work. Deftly her hands moved to fetch the glasses that matched the drinks, lining them up before her. Then came the assembly of liquors. She gripped each shiny bottle tightly as she removed them from their place on the massive glass shelf lining the wall behind the counter. Simultaneously she mixed, poured, shook and repeated until she had flawlessly prepared four drinks and even returned the spirits back to the proper homes. Four drinks made to perfection that she was now offering over to the eager patrons.

"Here ya go. Enjoy! And good luck!" Jettie wished them as the men exchanged their beverages for a few crisp dollar bills with instruction to keep the change. She grinned as she slid the tip money into her small black apron. Another drink, another dollar.

Between customers, Jet about had ten seconds to gaze about the large hall and upon people who were quickly filling it. Sparkle and light bounced every in every direction, dancing to the sounds of tinkling slot machines, giddy laughter, mantra chanting gamblers and the rich jazzy music that swept seductively throughout the space. The scene as a whole was hypnotizing, even for someone who witnessed similar sights nearly every night of their adult life.

Jettie didn't have long to linger on the glitz however. As a bartender in a popular casino there were always thirsts to be quenched and thus drinks to be made. Which suited her just fine. Busy hands kept her out of trouble. Not to mention the drunker the gamblers became, the more generous they grew with their tipping habits, especially if they were on a winning streak. Or if they were convinced she was a good luck charm. Awkward as it sounded, it has happened to just about all the tenders and waitresses.

Speaking of which...

"Good evening Mr. Mancini. The usual tonight?"

Mr. Mancini was a high roller in his late sixties who frequented the Devil's Web. Jettie reminded him of his late daughter and swore he always has a good night at the poker tables when she is the one who makes his Manhattans. Jettie will never complain. He's a sweet old man who's tips single-handedly pay her electric bill each month. He nods as they exchanged the usual nightly banter with an included approval of the casino's new wing before he takes his drink and makes his way through the room.

Jettie watched as the man disappeared into the crowd before glancing at the digital clock on the register. The night wasn't even half way over. She covertly adjusted her uniform, a crisp black oxford button down covered by a snug fitting bright red vest and paired with black pants and thankfully sensible black flats. Some of the waitresses had to wear heels. Thank God her feet were hidden behind the bar allowing for nice comfy ballet flats. One of the many perks of being a bartender. Unseen feet.

Grinning at her own silent and lame jest, she hurried back to work giving out charming smiles and beverages.

Felicity arrived to the casino. She was excited and ready to have fun. Even if she worked as part-time bartender, she had a day off. And she was more than happy with that. She would enjoy her time for sure.

She headed straight to the bar. She was still sower, but not to for too long for sure. She had a long, black dress that waved when she moved and her red hair landed beautifully on her shoulders. She saw how men's heads turned after her. And a bit later she heard a slap and usual ”What? Why are you looking at her with that horny look. Is she that beautiful?” complains from their jealous girl friends. Felicity was sure she didn't need to pay her drinks today.

She took a seat and waited. A younger man, in his twenties looked at her and was going to say something when his date came and dragged him away. Felicity smirked a little. They were always like that. Humans. The funniest part was that she usually didn't even talk with them. They came to her and talked all night long. It was amusing. Did they really think she would be interested?

She waited that the bartenders would have a free moment to take her order. She had been behind the counter, she knew how hectic it could be.

It wasn't long before Jettie fell into a steady groove. While being a bartender in a large casino wasn't her lifelong dream, she would have to admit she enjoyed it. She liked the fast pace of work and the seemingly constant flow of customers. It usually made the night go by quickly and of course the tips poured in almost as fast as she poured out shots. And as the evening flew by, the environment actually made her feel like she was being involved in the thriving Vegas night life.

Hustling and bustling made her nights off feel that much more relaxing and less guilty for wanting to spend the early years of her twenties behind a sewing machine instead of on a dance floor. Being a bartender gave her a passage to say she was social and maybe even a fun young adult. People tended to look at you funny when you follow up the question of 'what did you do last night?' with an 'I organized my sewing basket and stitched together a cape'.

Amadeus, a fellow bartender, literally nudged her out from being lost in her thoughts as she whipped up a frozen margarita. "I swear, sometimes, I regret working in a casino in the first place."

Jettie glanced over to him with a grin, it was almost as if he had read her mind. "But alas is me, at least I get to work with you."

"In the city of sin, I think we chose one of the lesser of evil jobs. I'd rather shake a drink for tips than to shake what my Momma gave me, wouldn't you?" She fired back in a teasing tone that she hoped would brighten his mood.

Amadeus was one of her favorite people to work with. He was efficient and intriguing to talk to. One meaningful conversation with him and you'd wonder why the heck he was standing behind a bar and not lecturing a theology class at an elite university. Sometimes his intelligence made Jettie feel like a bumpkin, not that it was ever intentional. He was as nice as he was smart and he tolerated her carefree attitude with grace.

"And yes, I'm so glad to be sharing a bar with you tonight. If that new girl spilled one more drink on me I was going to... Well, probably nothing... But I'd be annoyed."

A new patron approached the bar, a bombshell redhead in a gorgeous black dress. The kind of beautiful girl that made Jettie wish she had given a little more care and time to her own simple makeup and sloppy ponytail before work. Still she curved her sheer glossy lips into a friendly smile as she leaned toward the woman to better hear the response.

"Hi! Welcome to the Devil's Web. What can I get you tonight?"

---

Melanie took one last drag of her cigarette before putting it out. She had on a tight, sequined mini-dress and had spent most of the night on her hair & make-up. If she was going out for the world to see, she needed to be as glammed up as possible. A couple of the other show girls she worked with agreed to come with her, as she didn't want to arrive alone. Melanie took one last gander at the beautiful Las Vegas night, and they made their way into the busy casino. She wondered if Harold, the human she watched, would be here tonight. He wasn't exactly the casino nightlife type.

As Melanie made her way to the busier part of the casino, she waved and greeted a few locals she knew. Performing at one of the most popular gentleman's clubs around, she grew to meet many important people, but Melanie was off duty and ready to have fun. She made a b-line for the bathroom and told her friends to wander off without her. She walked into a stall and opened up her clutch. Inside was a vial with pure white powder. She popped the lid and put it to her nose. One whiff was all she needed, it should be enough to keep her buzzed all night. That, and a little bit of alcohol, would solidify a wild night. She wiped her nose, and checked to make sure she still looked fine in the bathroom mirror. Sin city did this to people. You only live once, why not have as much fun as possible? Melanie washed her hands and made her way back to the casino. She studied the room for anyone she might know. Gorgeous people entered decked out in glitzy clothing. The games were packed with people trying to have fun, and some desperate for cash. Random drunks walked around already wasted as the party had just began. This was the crowd she lived for. She saw her friends at the bar, and made her way over to them and had a seat. The bartender walked up, and asked them what they had wanted. "Give me the strongest drink you have," Melanie giggled.

The alarm clock jumped to life buzzing and beeping just as the time came. Happy to do it's job it hopped on the bedside table almost gleefully. At least until a crushing blow to the head stopped it in it's tracks. Damien rubbed his eyes and groaned as the orange sunlight shone through the curtains. Slowly he threw his legs out one side of the ped and propelled his oy upwards. "8pm already, I'm going to be late." Finally mustering the strength to get out of the bed he let go of a quick stretch and wandered into the bathroom for a shower.

Damiens house lay on the outskirts of Vegas. A large two story house which he paid for with his money from book sales. He kept it clean and tidy, just the way he liked it. Although the job was made easier by the fact that he spent more time away from it than he did inside it. His books funded his life. He was a secret millionaire, writing about wars and battles, all of which he had been in. Of course, his stories had fictional characters.

After climbing out of the shower he put on some loose fitting clothes, simple pair of jeans and a nice shirt. Fashion wasn't really Damiens forté and he wasn't really bothered about how he looked. It was Vegas, and in Vegas money did the talking for him. Eventually he was ready. Off to the party at Devils web. Any chance he could get to have a drink and pot shots at the ladies he took these days. Every few months he took a 'break' from writing to spend all the money earned from the previous book. It worked well so far, why break the cycle?

He stepped into the waiting taxi and zoomed off towards the strip. The lights glowing in the Mojave sunset. At 9:20 the cab pulled up outside the casino. Bright lights dazzled and shone, Damien paid the driver and waltzed inside. It was bustling. People left right and centre swayed past. He had his eyes set on the bar. The heat had caused a great thirst which needed to be quenched. As he arrived he managed to grab a spare stool and attempted to signal one of the staff. "Bourbon, no ice"

Somewhere between the constant customers, Jettie's conversation with Amadeus had taken a back burner. At least for now. Bartenders were very accustomed to having simple chats take a hour or so to discuss. She knew they'd pick back up as soon as they passed each other again or during the next lag in orders.

A Red Devil.

One of the casino's signature drinks. A mixture of top shelf vodka, Southern Comfort, peach schnapps, a touch of gin, grenadine, triple sec and orange juice shaken with ice. It made for one sinfully delicious drink and somehow seemed perfect for the gorgeous redhead.

Finishing up the woman's drink, Jet served it with another smile and started the woman a tab before moving on to the next patron. As she shifted her attention on the man before her she felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu. She was quite certain that she'd never met this person before but still there was something familiar about him. Someone she had attended school with? No. An actor? No, that wasn't it either.

Hmm...

"Bourbon, no ice," he requested.

As she nodded and selected a slightly tulip shaped glass for his drink, she was brushing off the recollection as perhaps just have having seen him around the casino before. It was a hugely popular establishment and even though she saw hundreds, if not thousands, of faces each night, most of them one-time tourists, there were a few that stuck in her memory. That was it, she was convinced. Just another gambler in the sea of slots and game tables.

Distracted by her thoughts, she added a large sphere shaped piece of ice to the glass before slowly covering it with a top shelf bourbon that she hoped he would like. Jim Bean Black. He hadn't specified, so she was just guessing.

"Here ya go." Jettie carefully placed the glass tumbler before him as she gave him one of her cheery smiles.