*Those who call the number given on the Court flier are put in touch with Ciara, who gives directions and instructions on how and when to get to the meeting. Anyone that comes is asked to bring a small personal memento to pass on to someone else. Ciara wasn't a big fan of the whole new age feel of the touchy-feely aspect of the Movement, but a little gift exchange couldn't hurt.
The directions lead to a closed-down blue collar bar. Long deserted, the neon sign out front is broken and shattered; the only clues to it's name an intact S and a P, or maybe an R. The windows are boarded up, and at first there are no signs of life on the deserted property. But those who look closely will note a faint light coming from the back of the bar, and the parking lot has recently been repaved with fresh gravel.
A faded "One Way" sign leads down a space between buildings just large enough to drive a car down leads to a small parking lot. No lines are sprayed on the loose gravel, and the size of the lot shows whoever build the bar never expected it to be one of the city's Hot Spots. There is already a car parked in the back, a 60's E Type Jag with fresh emerald green metallic paint.
The light comes from an old incandescent bulb hanging over the back door, the Bell jar-like protective glass cage miraculously intact. The heavy wooden door underneath is slightly ajar, additional light spilling out into the parking lot from within the bar.
Going through the door takes the visitor past the bathrooms and into what was once the dance floor, a raised platform where the band would have set up off in one corner. At the far end of the building and up a small incline is the bar area; the tables and booths having been removed and just the well-worn wooden bar stools remain.
Despite all appearances, the place is spit-polish clean. The hardwood floors are freshly waxed, to the point the scratches and dents seem to add a distressed appeal instead of a detracting damaged look. The brass of the actual bar is freshly polished, the dark mahogany wood shining with a rich warmth. It seems the Prefect had a lot of work put into cleaning the place up.
Speaking of Caira, she is busy putting the finishing touches on the only piece of furniture in the bar, a circular wooden table large enough for a dozen people that is set up in the middle of the dance floor and a dozen high back office chairs. She wasn't expecting that many tonight, but it was always best to be prepaired.*
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