Near downtown Geneva, just two blocks from the Novella Bridge, the nightclub 13th Hour served booze until two AM, supplied drugs bagged by the ounce, and sold to-go partners in leather and lace packaging. And on occasion, cursed slaves with demonic power.

All under Cobra’s command.

During the day, 13th Hour looked like a polished, but abandoned building under renovation. At night, Keitaro hadn’t seen much other than the dark, dank backside of the building. Illuminated by a lonesome lantern outside the basement door with a view of the abandoned strip mall across the street.

“That’s the cleaner’s van.” Victor nodded toward the unmarked white van parked outside the club.

From outside the closed down barber shop under the Novella Bridge, Keitaro safely assessed the nightclub. The parking available on the property’s lot exceeded no more than thirty spaces or so. Enough for the staff maybe, but not for the amount of guests the club could accommodate. Keitaro noticed an empty lot across the street; possibly a customer parking lot. The building was constructed like an expensive villa.

Embellished with elegant black trimming and eggshell-colored concrete walls. The structure resembles traditional yet subtle
styles that, with one glance, brought Mexico to mind.

“There are two fire exits?” Keitaro spoke toward his shoulder without taking his eyes off the nightclub.

“The entrance we can see from here, and the one by Cobra’s office that leads out back.”

“Okay. Here’s the plan. I need to know the building’s blueprints thoroughly, to judge distances and develop comfort in the environment. Go in as if you’re me, which means no walking through walls, no transporting yourself across two places.”

“You’ll be able to see what I see?”

Keitaro nodded.

“Can you hear my thoughts or should I speak aloud?”

“Speak, please.”