Outside Los Angeles California
Julie Storm was not in some run down slum motel, while this wasn’t the Andaz West Hollywood, The Sunset Marquis or the Chateau Marmot, it was a respectable hotel and the record company was picking up the tab. Having worked her butt off in the Vegas club circuits she had gotten noticed when her live shows started showing up on Youtube.
“OK I think that track went well, but I still need to work on the high notes, tomorrow at eight? I will be there! Thanks Ms. Cabbot,” Julie said into her phone as she entered her room, “Yes! Mr. Reese and Marian were right! Working hard is paying off!”
“So good to hear that my lovely Storm,” the voice said from the bathroom.
“Richard Williams!” Julie turned and looked at the man who had cut her off from the exit, “I thought The Claw was in jail for all eternity!”
“You should know no one can keep me down…” the Fascist Drug Dealer held up the mechanical hand that was his namesake, “I have work for you too, and frankly I want you to work for me while working for the record company!”
“Forget it,” Julie backed up looking for something to use against Claw, “I’m clean now and I am never going back to the drug life.”
“I have left the drug world too,” Claw snickered, “I found something that works much better for my needs, the odd little woman called it Fog or something. I preffer to call it Catnip! Here have a whiff!”
Julie held her breath as the mechanical had emitted a dark green and black cloud at Julie. Julie tried to wave it way but found it clinging to her body. It kept going towards her face. While the fog was too thick to see Julie’s body, Claw watched what happened to Julie’s face. Her eyes narrowed, crossed glazed over, then glowed green for a minute. Claw stood back as the fog cleared, gone was the trendy top and skirt, replaced with a silk green tiger printed sexy exploitation film parody of an SS uniform. Swastikas and Runes replaced with Cat faces and paw prints, her hat even had cat ears sewn on.
“Meow!” Julie clicked the heels of her jack boots and made a gesture like the Carmelldansen dance, “What do you wish of me Master Claw?”
“Tomorrow you will begin working our agenda into your album,” Claw smiled, “Now who should I recruit next?”