It's 3am and your exhausted. You slouch in a chair in the back of the dark, empty club surveying the wreckage left in the wake of The Joe Weider's Mr. Olympia After-Party: floor littered with cigarette butts, tables and chairs pushed and shoved into incongruous patterns, empty glasses and beer bottles everywhere, semi-deflated balloons hovering ingloriously mid-air, like Skid Row has-beens. The smell of stale smoke and booze fill your nostrils, and you're pondering what life really is about...All of a sudden, you hear footsteps...You lazily look to the left and see a vague human form stirring about in the darkness...The janitor? The Bartender? Who? But wait...this shadow in the dark begins to take inhuman dimensions at it draws closer...human,yes, but so much more...my God!..it's Branch Warren, the Mr. Olympia Runner-up! "You work here?", he begins. No, you respond as your senses come alive, you're just kind of still there, after an unbelievable night of partying, getting ready to leave..."Whatever", the mass monster cuts your feeble explanation off, your the sense of own insignificance heightened as this hunk of human perfection now stands only inches away, possessing a musculature that could only have been forged by the very hand of Hephaestus himself..."I left my keys somewhere in this place, and I have to find them." The sound opportunity knocking reverberates, of course you could help...You ask Branch where he might have left them? "Maybe on one of the tables over there, or maybe on the bar over there, or perhaps the dance floor...", he surveys the place, thinking..."Wait a minute," he is overcome by a new thought, "I was also next door, at the Mirage, by the Ice Machine...Why don't me and you walk over there and take a peek".
