We spilled out of the building in a chaos that was ours alone. The night offered no relief — the air clung to the skin, heavy and grimy, as if the city itself was sweating filth. Leo whistled dramatically and flagged down the first dented cab that pulled up.
"Limousine for the high society!" he announced, opening the door with a mock bow.
We crammed into the back seat, laughing at the whole situation. I sat by the window, trying to ignore the torn upholstery scratching my arm and the stench of gasoline seeping from somewhere.
As the cab jerked forward, Gotham's scenery began to roll past me like an old film on worn tape.
Each block carried its own private hell. One street had prostitutes smoking under flickering neon signs. The next, an upscale restaurant with couples laughing behind pristine glass, like they lived in a Gotham sealed off from everything else.
The driver floored it, desperate to get rid of us as quickly as possible. Every turn hit like a punch. Mirna, perched on Jéss's lap, hummed softly to the muffled music coming from the radio. Lena stayed quiet, her eyes lost in the window's reflection. And Leo — as always — couldn't keep still, trying to chat up the driver, who only responded with grunts and monosyllables.
When we finally crossed the bridge dividing our neighborhood from Gotham's nightlife district, the buildings grew taller, the neon brighter, and the noise sharper. It was as if Gotham had thrown on a party mask — but underneath the makeup, the rot was still the same.
The cab dropped us in front of the glowing facade of the Iceberg Lounge. It was just past eleven, prime time for the sidewalks to be boiling over.
Luxury cars lined up one after another, spilling out men in suits, women in gowns worth more than my entire wardrobe, and a few shady types who didn't even bother hiding it. It was everything I expected: loud, suffocating, dangerous. A place where criminals and millionaires rubbed shoulders, each pretending to forget their lives for a few hours.
Leo wasted no time, dragging Mirna aside to light up cigarettes. They stood laughing, blowing smoke toward the sky.
The line snaked down the sidewalk, far too many people for the space ahead. Girls on impossible heels, sweaty men in half-loosened ties, some barely old enough to pass for adults. One drunk guy was being shoved out by security, yelling at the top of his lungs, drawing laughter from the crowd.
Behind us, a group of girls reapplied lipstick in their phone screens. Ahead, a couple argued in hushed but vicious tones, ready to explode. From inside, the bass thumped so hard it made the ground vibrate.
"You guys really want to go in there?" I asked, frowning.
"Why not?" Jéss shot back, already scanning the crowd for familiar faces.
"Everyone knows Penguin launders money through this place." My voice came out firmer than I intended.
That's when Leo and Mirna returned, their clothes still reeking of smoke. Leo shook his head at me like I was a stubborn child.
"Girl, this is your night. Who cares if Penguin makes a little extra profit off it?"
I muttered something under my breath, folding my arms. Mirna giggled and squeezed my hand.
"Relax, babe. It's not like we're selling guns to the mob."
Jéss finally spotted some friends further up in line — drinking buddies we'd run into before — which meant we'd get in faster.
"Crowd's insane tonight," one of them said, already sweating.
"Normal for a Saturday at the Iceberg," another shrugged. "Penguin must be swimming in cash."
"Yeah, no kidding…" I crossed my arms, glaring at Leo and Mirna. They just chuckled.
"But hey, Jéss said you're leaving Gotham? For real?" one of the guys asked me.
I sighed, adjusting my bag before answering.
"Yeah. Things aren't working out here. Metropolis has more opportunities."
Both nodded in agreement.
"Gotham eats people alive. Just last week, the guy from the auto shop got mugged while locking up."
"This city's a mess," the other added, taking a swig from a hidden bottle. "At least there are vigilantes doing something. Batman's been scarce lately, but new faces are popping up."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
"Please. They just sweep the dirt under the rug. Beat up a few thugs at night, and by morning everything's the same."
The two exchanged awkward glances, not sure if they should laugh or agree politely. Jéss clapped her hands like she was breaking up a schoolyard fight.
"Okay, okay — let's save the public safety debate for another day."
The group laughed, though a bit uneasily, as the line shuffled forward.
When we finally reached the door, the bouncer scanned us from head to toe with that stone-faced look. IDs checked, a quick pat-down, then he stepped aside. Another guard collected our tickets with a curt nod.
Just before crossing the heavy curtain that separated the street from the dancefloor, I felt the air shift. Outside: Gotham's cold night. Inside: a heartbeat pounding with the music.
The impact was instant. The deafening beat swallowed my words before I could even think of saying them. Red lights cut through cigarette smoke, the air thick with booze, expensive perfume, and sweat. The sound was so loud it vibrated inside my chest, as if the club's heart was synced with mine.
Every corner was packed. On the dancefloor, bodies pressed together, moving like one single mass. Upstairs, the balcony booths flaunted trophy women on the arms of suited men, their shrill laughs and champagne toasts raining down on the chaos below. In the back, recognizable mobsters played cards with the calm of men who felt untouchable.
A waiter rushed past me with a tray of colorful drinks. Another nearly crashed into someone, drawing a string of curses drowned by the music. Gotham itself seemed compressed into this room — luxury and decay, dancing side by side.
And yet… something about the place was hypnotic. Like at any moment, something absurd could happen.
I caught my reflection in the mirrored tiles along the wall. The dress — borrowed from Jéss — was black, tight, shorter than I'd ever pick for myself. Off-shoulder, long sleeves hugging to my wrists, paired with dark tights that, according to her, gave me a femme fatale look. The chunky heels already tortured my feet, but at least she hadn't forced me into stilettos. Falling flat on my face would've been the perfect tragic ending to my Gotham chapter.
"Enough with the drama, Luci!" Mirna yelled over the music, tugging me into the center of the floor.
The others followed: Lena dancing with her reserved grace, Jéss scanning the club like a hunter, and Leo — already swallowed by the sweaty crowd.
"This is Gotham's diva's last dance!" Leo shouted, pointing at me and drawing stares.
I threw my arms up, swayed my hips, and struck an exaggerated pose, earning whistles and cheers.
"Work it, girl!" Leo spun around near me, hollering.
The music didn't stop — and neither did we. Jéssica's hips worked the rhythm in ways that bordered indecent, quickly stealing the spotlight. Mirna, drenched in sweat, twirled me around, laughing wildly — manic and loyal as always. Lena just sang along, way off-key, but grinning like she didn't care. And Leo? He was already making out with some random guy, as usual wasting no time.
After several rounds of thumping EDM and bizarre remixes of classics everyone somehow knew, the heat became unbearable. My clothes clung to me with sweat, and the whole floor pulsed in unison. Funny — for a place called the Iceberg Lounge, it was a furnace.
I caught Lena's eye and made the universal sign: drinks. Together we carved our way to the bar. She leaned on her elbows, giving me that calm half-smile of hers.
"Tonight, you're not leaving here empty-handed."
I laughed, shaking my head, raising my voice so she could hear me:
"Look who's talking! You're always the quiet one. Nobody here caught your eye?"
Lena lowered her gaze to her glass, stirring the straw before murmuring, almost to herself:
"Always…" she said cryptically.
So softly I almost thought I misheard. I was taken aback — Lena never talked like that. And before I could press her, Jéss appeared, yelling and dragging Mirna along.
"My night is ruined!" she wailed, collapsing against the counter. "My guy's not coming!"
"That mysterious dude from Tal's Bar? What was his name again?" I asked, raising a brow.
"Dick. That's him. Been stringing her along forever," Mirna laughed.
Jéss straightened, tossing back her curls with defiance.
"No one strings me along! Forget him, Mirna — we're sweeping this whole club tonight!"
"If Leo left anyone alive for you…" Mirna teased, cracking up.
Lena and I burst out laughing as the duo stormed off, ready for trouble.
I pressed my cold glass to my fingers, letting the laughter fade. Then the ache crept in.
How many nights had we lived like this? Drinking, laughing, stumbling from bar to bar till sunrise. Mirna dragging us into shady karaoke bars, Leo flirting with anything male that moved, Lena trying to play responsible but ending up in the chaos anyway, and Jéss falling in love head-first — at least for a night.
Moments so common I never imagined they'd become precious. Gotham had been cruel to me, but these four… they were the best thing this city ever gave me.
I smiled to myself, sipping again, trying to lock the memory in place.
Then the mood shifted. A stir broke out near the giant ice statue in the center of the club. Voices rose over the beat. I glanced up — people on the balcony pointed, laughing.
Something was happening — something even the Iceberg Lounge wasn't used to.