Littered amongst the old station's many bars and clubs down in the civilian quarter lies the establishment known as The Viewing Room, its main feature being a vast window to the outside soup of murky blackness. An upmarket venue but not exclusive to members, by day it is a restaurant and bar area, by night the mainly blue velvet interior is transformed into a vibrant nightclub and casino.
The patrons of the club vary wildly, from those of a criminal nature who have been turned away from nearby Hek's busy club scene, to loners, station-side workers, spaceship crews, gamblers, drop-outs, high-ranking corporate elite, starship captains and your basic every day civilians, all attracted to the blue lights of The Viewing Room.
The management turns a blind eye to the black market dealings that are rumoured to be brokered within the walls of the club. Narcotics, boosters, firearms and weapons of any kind are strictly not permitted inside the venue but that does not deter the smugglers, arms dealers and contraband specialists from drumming up business with the clients. Away from the main seating area and dancefloor, fourteen curtained off private rooms, each one with a security officer stood guard under a single deep-blue spotlight give away a tell-tale sign that business is good for those with access to the 14 Club.
Behind the black curtain Duke Thunderhorse takes a deep drag of his cigar, leaning back in his chair he blows the smoke up towards the ceiling fans seemingly oblivious to those around him, lost in his own moment he stares at the rising smog as it is chopped effortlessly by the silver blades of the whirring fan. A crisp blue-white hanging lamp casts the centre of the room in glorious light, the borders of the room untouched and masked in their own mystical darkness. It is not yet noon but Judge Sarn clutches a bottle of Old Number 47 Tribal Whiskey, his hands shaking from the last session.
"The fuck are we doing up at this hour in some swanky disco?" Duke was now standing, he stubbed out his cigar and grabbed the bottle from Judge. The rest of the Rebels were sat watching a blinking neocom screen in the far corner. Before Judge had chance to make some sense of the situation Duke had took one hard pull from the bottle of brown liquor, he grimaced slightly as the fiery liquid attacked his throat.
"Urghh, that's some strong poison right there Judge, good stuff man."
Judge nodded and then grabbed his bottle back before taking a swig for himself.
Grernandez entered the room with an unlit cigarette pursed in his lips, without hesitation Duke flipped open his lighter, the scintillant orange flame glowing in front of the Brutor's tattooed face and momentarily lighting him up like a beacon. A sharp drag later and the Rebel was also questioning his surroundings.
"Pfff, this ain't no Ingot."
At that exact moment Miura entered via the black curtain and the Rebels all turned to face.
"Indeed this is not The Ingot, but I hear the party is good around here and have you seen those poker tables?" Miura began to laugh, the rest of the Rebels coming to the realisation that maybe they'd be spending a little more time in the area and in The Viewing Room.
"Welcome to your new headquarters Rebels."