Taco's Musebox

[The world was fucked. There was a reason why no one went there anymore. Something happened a couple hundred cycles ago that left a lot of the planet simply unlivable, yet the people that had no choice but to stay had managed to survive despite the harsh climate, all of the radiation, and all of the mutated wildlife.

Small settlements managed to thrive in places where grand cities once stood. Ruined buildings could be seen, each one hiding unknown creatures or people. Those that managed to survive on this harsh world weren't without their scars.

One particular survivor was having a hell of a time. She stood in the middle of a small gang of large angry men. She was alone, save for a canine looking creature that was letting out a low growl. The woman looked like a lot of the other survivors. Dirty and scarred. Unlike the men that surrounded her, she looked cocky and sure of herself and not pissed off. She was carrying multiple visible weapons. Firearms by the looks of them. She had a small gun strapped to her right leg and a shotgun and rifle on her back. Who knows what kinds of blades she might have on her. Scars trailed up her visible right arm, claw marks, thin knife marks, burns and even some projectile holes. It was amazing that she had any use of her right hand at all. A wicked set of claw marks circled her wrist.]

Look. Are you going to actually do something? Or can I go take a nap?

Angel looked around from the upper level of the club. It wasn't her club, but she owed the owner for letting her sleep in a small apartment that was behind the manager's office. So she worked in different positions around the bar when she didn't have another job lined up.

Tonight she was helping security. Just keeping an eye on things until one of the other bouncers came in. It wasn't long before she spotted some all too familiar horns in the crowd. The night just got a lot better. She just had to bide her time.

When her cover came up the stairs she nodded and slipped away. A short while later she emerged from her apartment and headed into the club. She wore a pair of black jeans that looked painted on and a matching black halter top. Nornally she kept the scars on her back and arms covered since she didn't want to deal with all of the questions that came with them. She wanted to do the opposite tonight.

She wanted the attention tonight so she had done something a bit special. She had found some reactive body paint and took the time (and a quick favor from a bartender friend on break) and painted her scars so she would light up when she got down to the main floor and under the black lights.

And light up she did. All of the different scars on her arms were almost like a tiger's stripes and her jeans had different runes and sigils for strength, protection, and endurance. Why did she choose those? She did odd jobs for all sorts. From repair work to bodyguarding to item retrieval and most things in-between but she didn't do torture or outright murder. These were just her go-to protections for any job.

Now to see how long it would take to get the attention of the one she had spotted earlier. For now, she was going to dance until she caught his eye.