Whichever drink the present twin drank, it's definitely kept her going, or at least not cumming. She looks fit to put a load on the first feather that touches her, but the way she starts pounding as Juna's ass suggests somebody that feels like they're just getting started to fuck all night long. Of course, this also puts one of the Factory's cheap work comms right in front of Alex, not-at-all coincidentally with a tab left to just what Alex wanted to see. Can't be bribery or anything, if the worker is just getting a tab payed off some, right? Well, that's probably this twin's line of thought. The other would have just gone for Alex in a straight bit of tit-for-tat, pardon the incorrect term.<br/><br/>The bad news is that not only could all three of the acts count (whoever did the billing on stage really messed up there), but two of have an actual chance of counting. Gran Ape can actually rap and play the drums, but suffers when doing both at the same time. Idol and the Lostech Knives are mostly a strange cover band, but there's some kernels of talent. As long as you can take the ultra-sugary take on whatever they've chosen to play today. The A-hole Raiders, though, are the definition of not bad enough to actually boo off the stage.<br/><br/>The good news is that not only are the two past performers still here, but the server 'map' points out where they are. And hey, there's even a little more info on that map. Blackhole Bess, an act from yesterday, is off in one of the semi-private corners sleeping off her pay of drink, food, and a bed. January Jones, the female head of Juna's little clan, is meeting with the night manager in the office. And they'll be done in about a half-hour, at least by scheduled time.<br/><br/>Then the Thriller Chillers walk in, and all the civilian types hold their breath a moment. The Chillers, by this point, are less a gang and more a meme. Since the 2050s, there's been at least one gang in Seattle going by that name and they all follow the same pattern of getting really mad at something minor or stupid, being mostly or all wiped out, and eventually popping up a few years later, usually with no connection but the name and icy skull patch.<br/><br/>But so far, it seems like they're mostly here to enjoy the show. The probable boss, a troll in form-concealing, Clearsight-inhibiting bike leathers and a literal blue skull mask, seems to be doing a quick job reigning in the rowdier members, liberally using the funtime chairs to give those members something else to focus on. The people relax, and the band starts to play, a very poppy cover of an ancient song called Mac Tonite.