Strip Club

After a quick recharge, Arslan was ready to face the day. He showered, grabbed some light breakfast, and hit the streets of New York. Even though he was still wearing his fast-food uniform that was a constant reminder of his need for a steady paycheck, he veered off his usual route. 

Instead of heading towards the burger joint he worked at, he found himself in front of a strip club. It was a place that felt oddly familiar to him.

Without hesitation, Arslan tossed his cigarette and stepped inside. The usual smuttiness of the place didn't faze him. He spotted Mia almost immediately, a smile spreading across his face as soon as he saw her. "Morning, Mia," he greeted the young woman, who, despite the suggestive atmosphere of the place, was dressed surprisingly modestly.

"Hey, Arslan. You look surprisingly good after yesterday's fight," Mia remarked, her voice laced with curiosity. She'd been one of the spectators, and she couldn't believe how quickly he'd bounced back.

Arslan shrugged nonchalantly. "Ice does wonders for me," he said with a grin before he continued. "Is Elijah around? He told me to come by."

Mia nodded, confirming Elijah's presence. "Yes, he's in his office with the manager," she informed Arslan, who expressed his gratitude to her before heading towards the office, eager to get things done as he had other things to do.

The strip club was quiet, devoid of customers except for the janitors who were diligently cleaning and a few workers tidying up. there were no performers graced the stage, which Arslan briefly fantasized about waking up to, before remembering the club didn't open until 5 PM.

As Arslan approached the office door, he rapped his knuckles against the open frame. The sound caught Elijah's attention, prompting him to rise from his seat, a welcoming smile gracing his lips when he saw him

"Welcome, welcome, my new champ," Elijah greeted him warmly. As the owner of both the strip club and the underground fighting club where Arslan had competed the previous day, Elijah emanated an aura of authority and charisma as he welcomed the young man.

"Am I interrupting something?" Arslan asked tentatively, observing the formidable stack of paperwork that Elijah and his manager were diligently reviewing. He briefly considered returning at a more appropriate time.

Without hesitation, the seasoned man waved off his manager and gestured for Arslan to take a seat. "Not at all,kid. come and sit," Elijah invited him, prompting Arslan to occupy the now vacant chair, the soft click of the closing door marking the beginning of their conversation.

"Would you like a drink or something to eat?" Elijah offered courteously, but shook his head once and declined, having recently eaten at his apartment.

"No need, thank you," Arslan said politely, swiftly steering the conversation towards the purpose of his visit. "I'm here, so, what did you want to talk about with me?" he asked, prompting Elijah to recline comfortably in his chair with a knowing smile.

"Kids these days lack manners in business transactions," Elijah remarked, eliciting a chuckle from Arslan.

"It's not that. I just don't want to be late for work, the manager would be more than glad to deduct my pay," Arslan explained, mindful of the ticking clock nearing his scheduled shift.

"I think those fools left you with nothing for you to go to work the next day after a major fight," Elijah teased about the lack of remnants left by the Moyah Family from the previous day, to which Arslan simply shrugged, a nonchalant response to the jest.

"But hey, I don't think you'll need that job for much longer after you hear what I've got for you," Elijah hinted mysteriously, making Arslan more curious about this opportunity the old man had for him.

"What do you mean?" Arslan asked, his face showing both curiosity and worry. Even though he was a champ in the underground fights, he knew the money from those fights wasn't enough to pay off his parents' huge debt fast enough.

As they talked, Arslan couldn't stop thinking about his money problems, even with Elijah's interesting offer. The idea of making more money and quickly fixing his family's debt was tempting and made him even more curious.

Arslan's mind raced with numbers as he thought about his parents' massive debt of 420 thousand, plus the growing interest. He had only managed to pay off 55 thousand from his fight winnings, and he knew he had a long way to go. As a champ, he'd make at least 5000 from each fight from now on, but it would still take a ton of fights before he could even think about quitting his day job.

Arslan's eyes lit up with curiosity as Elijah finally revealed the mysterious task he had for him. "There's something I need you to take care of for me," the old man said, making Arslan focus on the challenge ahead as the old man continued speaking. "I need you to go and rough up some idiot who's fallen behind on his payments for this week," Elijah instructed, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Arslan couldn't help but crack a smile at the irony of his own financial predicament mirroring that of his prospective target.

"Will it be just roughing up, or is there more to it?" Arslan asked cautiously, his thoughts drifting towards the ominous possibilities of Elijah's requests, perhaps even veering into the realm of irreversible actions that he might needed to take on this job.

Elijah's hearty laughter echoed in the room as he leaned back behind his desk, his amusement palpable. "No need to worry, young man. I wouldn't task you somethign more than roughing up that fool," he reassured, his tone firm yet lighthearted.

Though Elijah seemed sure of himself, Arslan couldn't shake off a feeling of unease. The old man's casual talk about violence and shady stuff made Arslan wary which made him decide to dig deeper into this matter.

"Why not send one of your goons instead of me?" Arslan asked, wondering why Elijah had picked him of all the people he had under his thumbe. "Well, have you seen those motherfuckers?" Elijah's answer brought a grin to Arslan's face. He remembered Elijah's crew as they were a scary bunch, and their looks definitely made them stand out. He knew the target would run immediately as soon as he saw them.

As the conversation unfolded, Arslan couldn't help but reflect on the curious blend of danger and intrigue that seemed to accompany every interaction he had with Elijah. The old man's cryptic nature and unconventional methods only served to deepen Arslan's entanglement in a web of uncertainty and dealings of the underworld.

"Alright, how much am I expecting to be compensated for this job?" Arslan inquired, his gaze fixed on Elijah, awaiting the inevitable reply.

"Let's say you can take this week's payment he owed me, about 12.5k," the old man said. Arslan was bummed when he heard that amount, it was a good chunk of cash, but not enough to get him out of debt fast. He still had a long way to go with Elijah to get back on his feet and be free from the Moyah Family.

The realization dawned on Arslan that this was probably a one-time deal, not a way out of his debt. He sighed, thinking about the extra work he'd have to do for the old man to reach his goal.

"Well, I suppose I've got three jobs on my plate now," Arslan remarked to Elijah, whose knowing smile hinted at the intricacies of their intertwined fates.

Without missing a beat, the old man retrieved a piece of paper from his desk, carrying information about their target, and handed it to Arslan, eliciting a playful smile appear on his face "You know there's these thing called phones, right?" Arslan teased, amused by Elijah's reliance on more traditional tools in a digital age.

"I know," Elijah replied with a hint of nostalgia as he knew a lot of people who was taken down because they were complasents, acknowledging the potential risks of leaving trails. "And there's also the matter of leaving behind evidence when sending around these things to your phone, right?" he said, shedding light on his cautious approach he needed to take.

Arslan's understanding nod signaled his compliance with Elijah's methods, recognizing the importance of discretion in their dealings. "Make sure to remember it all before you throw it away. I expect nothing but excellence from you," Elijah emphasized, his words filled with unspoken expectations.

With a final nod of acknowledgment, Arslan bid Elijah farewell, the weight of his newfound responsibilities settling upon his shoulders as he left the office, bracing himself for the tasks he needed to get done.

As Arslan left the office, he spotted Mia once again, balancing a plate with coffee and a light breakfast. She stood just outside the owner's office, and even in her modest attire a fitted blouse that hugged her curves and a knee length skirt that swayed gently with her movements, she radiated an undeniable allure.

Her long, dark hair cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders, and her striking eyes sparkled with mischief. The subtle shade of rose on her lips accentuated her warm smile, making Arslan's heart race as she approached.

"Hey, Mia," he called out, leaning casually against the wall. "When are you gonna give me your number? I'm starting to look like a beggar at this point."

Mia paused, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "I keep telling you, you're too young for me," she said, her voice light and teasing. She leaned slightly closer, giving him a glimpse of her collarbone, and Arslan felt a spark of excitement.

"Too young? I'm a grown man," he replied, trying to sound confident. "Besides, age is just a number, right?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You really think so? Go and find some girl your age to play with," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"But none of them compare to you," Arslan countered, unable to hide his admiration. "You bring breakfast to your boss, but who's bringing you breakfast?"

Mia raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Are you offering to cook for me, Arslan?" she replied, her tone flirtatious. "I'm not sure if you're ready for that kind of commitment."

"Anything for you," he said, feigning seriousness. "I could whip up something special. You'd be my muse."

Mia stepped back slightly, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "You're charming, I'll give you that. But charm only goes so far."

As she turned to head into the office, Arslan called out, "Can you pretend that I'm not younger than you for one day? Just give me a chance."

She glanced back at him, her expression playful yet thoughtful. "Maybe one day, Arslan. But for now, keep working on your cooking skills."

With that, she opened the door, leaving him standing there, captivated by her presence, a mix of hope and frustration swirling in his chest as he watched her figure disappear into the office.

As Mia vanished behind the office doors, Arslan released a wistful sigh, his gaze lingering on the now-empty hallway. A quick glance at his watch jolted him back to reality, a sharp exhale escaping his lips as he realized the passage of time. With a resigned click of his tongue, he hastened his steps, the looming specter of tardiness for his mundane day job propelling him forward.