The music hammered, a primal rhythm that throbbed in time with the pulse in your temples. The air hung thick and heavy, a cloying mix of cheap perfume, stale beer, and something else... something vaguely metallic and unclean. Neon signs buzzed and flickered, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the grimy walls. The stage, sticky with spilled drinks and God knows what else, was bathed in a lurid red glow. Sweat glistened on the dancers' bodies as they moved with a practiced, almost desperate sensuality, their eyes vacant, searching for something in the crowd that wasn't there.

A sticky film coated the bar, where half-empty glasses sat abandoned, rings of condensation etching the surface. The bartender, a man with tired eyes and a five o'clock shadow that looked like it had been growing for a week, watched the scene with bored indifference. Dollar bills, crumpled and stained, littered the floor around the stage like fallen leaves.