016 - From the ashes: Nightclub

After Madam Almer moistened her dry throat once again with some water from the glass, she seemed to remember something, and her expression turned a little awkward:

"You are here to rent a place, but here I am, complaining to you about my troubles. I'm really sorry."

Daemon didn't care. Actually, he had found the situation kind of entertaining.

"There is no harm, ma'am. I accept the conditions to rent the place."

Madam Almer was stunned:

"Don't you want to visit the place?"

"No need. It's empty, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then, that's good for me."

Madam Almer turned hesitant. The prospective tenant was not having the supposed behavior, making her a little wary. Who would buy things without carefully checking them first? He was too quick to agree, and he only wanted an empty place.

"You won't do anything illegal with the place, will you?"

Without saying anything, Daemon smiled, in part to reassure her, and in part due to how amused the question made him feel. Though the concern of the woman out of caution was justified.

He took out his old wallet from his pocket, and from it, he took out his ID card that he gave to her to have a look.

"Damien, Peak?"

The hesitancy with which madam Almer questioningly read the name on the card could show that what Daemon did brought the opposite effect as the woman looked even more untrusting now.

"You didn't read it wrong, nor did I give you a fake name. It is just a new one I became used to while serving."

Madam Almer was still not fully at ease.

"But the photo seems different."

"Then look closely. That card is a bit old, as I have not had it renewed for some time due to certain reasons. I just bear the traces of a few more years now."

Madam Almer looked closely, before she nodded:

"Well, the wound on your face makes it a little difficult, but you seem to be right. Did you get it in battle? Did you just come back?"

It was marked on the more than six years old card that he was a soldier, lending him more credence. Daemon smiled noncommittally:

"Don't worry, ma'am. Six months with upfront payment and no trouble. I only came back recently, and after the six months I will be renting the place, I will make further plans."

"This…"

"You don't need to worry. I won't be bringing anyone there, and after six months you will get it back. I just need a place to call my own for some time to settle down. If you are okay, let's sign the papers and I will wire the money to you."

Madam Almer hesitated for a moment, looked at the ID card once more, before accepting.

"Alright. I will trust you. After all, if we can't trust those who use their lives to protect us, who shall we trust."

This made Daemon smile,with his thoughts going to his comrades, some dead, some still in active duty. Many failed to retire like he did, even more from his branch.

He said with a shake of his head:

"I understand your thoughts, madam. No matter where, morally questionable people exist. I can only thank you for your trust in the rest of us."

Madam Almer replied with a smile:

"Then, let's sign the contract."

_ _ _

_ _ _

In the evening, Daemon got down from a car not far from the address given to him. Looking around, the number of people still away from their home at the late hour was not low. And most were clothed quite nicely.

Walking along the path he had looked up beforehand, he didn't take long to reach the club.

Just the facade was enough to show that it was not a low-level one. Adding the people in the crowd that, for the most part, were wearing clothes that were costly and stylish, either not everyone could afford to enjoy themselves there, or they would have to save for a good while just to come here and splurge a little.

Daemon attracted attention when he arrived, and not because he was handsome. That might have been part of the reason, but the main points should be the covered half of his face, and his clothes that were not luxurious. He was not in rags, but he was dressed too casually compared to everyone around.

Daemon frowned at the crowd. He didn't feel particularly interested in being here. Still, he thought that since Cynthia had been considerate enough to take care of him during the time he spent in a coma, he could also show some consideration.

His frown deepened, as he thought about how he would have to look for her once inside the noisy environment. So he took the phone she bought for him and called her.

She answered in a trice. Maybe it was a coincidence, or she might have been waiting for the call.

She raised her voice to have it win the fight against the noise around her:

"Hello? Daemon, have you arrived yet? Where are you?"

The background noise gave him a preview of what he was about to get subjected to.

"I'm outside."

"Alright, I'll come get you."

He cut off the call and made to ignore the bouncers that had been looking at him with some vigilance.

"Hey, Daemon!"

The call of Cynthia hurrying out of the club took the attention away from him at last.

She came running to him in her short dress that only reached the middle of the thighs. The skin on display from the high-heels up had many men in the line waiting to enter the club hooked. And judging by the other direction of many gazes, the back view should not be bad either.

She had her hair down on one side, giving her another kind of allure compared to the office lady look from the last time. And she was more attentively dressed than the night she visited him at the hospital.

"You are here."

With a smile, she took his hand and pulled him through the space between the bouncers who finally saw him as a guest.

Daemon followed without resistance, but his sight did linger on the hand holding his, though he said nothing. His mind only wandered to the last person to have held his hand, and also his heart.