Chapter Text
Vic Fontaine adjusted his jacket backstage as the crowd noise filtered through the curtain. His shoulders ached as he stretched them, not from the performance, but from the thought of standing in front of a crowd that didn't care.
The familiar scent of food and drink wafted in with the noise raising his spirits.
Nevertheless, the faint scent of floor polish mixed with stale cigarette smoke from the old curtains only reminded him of how far he'd fallen.
Just another ordinary night at Vic's Lounge.
The band members were tuning up their instruments as Vic was making his last adjustments to his clothes. This is a class joint and I have to look the part, he thought. He had a final look in a mirror and made an adjustment to his bow-tie. Satisfied, he took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage.
The crowd applauded and there were even some wolf-whistles — once, that would have made him grin with pride, basking in the spotlight like it was the centre of the galaxy.
He'd once lived for the cheers. Now, they felt hollow, like they were meant for someone else — someone more alive.
Vic looked around forlornly. From what he could see, the lounge was only partly full.
Amazing how much noise a small number of people can make, he thought as he prepared for his first song.
The vast majority of the guests present were just holographic characters. The rest of the crowd – if 30 or so people count as a crowd – were non-commissioned Starfleet crew-persons.
Crew-persons – what a funny phrase, thought Vic.
Vic got the distinct impression they’d wandered in out of boredom — not exactly the kind of reception a performer dreams of after all their effort One would definitely not describe them as the heart and soul of the party. He was obviously bottom of the list of *Things To Do Before You Die — if he was even in it at all.
Vic knew that he could simply conjure up some more guests just by asking the computer. But where's the charm in a conjured crowd? However, he preferred to keep things as real as possible. Pretending he had a genuine audience gave the performance meaning. A connection, however artificial, was still better than a room full of programmed applause.
If people don't want to come then that's their loss, he thought, not convincing even himself.
Vic fidgeted with his hands, scanning the room as he always did. He saw that the tables furtherst away from the stage were empty with chairs pushed in. Clearly untouched — and likely to stay that way.
Behind the bar, the bartenders were standing chatting between them rather than serving. There was simply no one to serve.
There were only two waitresses on duty tonight and they were hardly overworked.
They wore the usual Vegas-style uniforms: glittery, revealing, and eye-catching. Super-short flared skirts and minimal tops, designed to catch the eye.
A sharp contrast to the dull hush that hung over the room and to the weight pressing down on Vic’s mood.
It all felt like a stage set left running after the audience had gone home.
Vic stepped into the spotlight and picked up his mic from the stand. He gave the band leader a nod — half-hearted at best.
The band struck up and Vic launched into the Irving Berlin classic, 'Steppin' Out With My Baby.' He sang with a smoothness born of habit, but his heart wasn’t in it — not since the days when the lounge was packed and every smile felt earned, every cheer a real reward. He used to linger on stage then, soaking in the warmth of a crowd that clapped like they meant it — not like the scattered applause of tonight. All sparkle, no joy. All memory, no magic. Holographic customers just didn't have the same warmth.
[sings]
If I seem to scintillate
It's because I've got a date
A date with a package of
The good things that come with love
You don't have to ask me
I won't waste your time
But if you should ask me
Why I feel sublime...
The small crowd seemed to enjoy the show, but Vic didn’t see their faces light up like they used to. Even the holographic characters weren’t overly enthused.
Among the few real people was Vulcan security non-com Sevak. Vic had overheard Starfleet crew joking about dragging Vulcans in just to see if they’d react. Sevak observed him with typical detached curiosity — textbook Vulcan.
Back on stage, the song wound down. Before the last note faded, Sevak stood and left.
Vic accepted the polite applause, but it stung. Another dissatisfied customer. Maybe he should ban Vulcans. It’s not as if they brought much life to the place.
Vic stepped off the stage, still singing, weaving through the tables with practiced flair. He twirled past a young couple clearly more interested in each other than the music. The lad gave Vic a look: not now.
He tried to smile, but it came out hollow. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
'Ladies and gentlemen, thank you, thank you. But I’m afraid it’s time for me to say goodnight.'
A few polite groans. They knew it hadn’t been a great set. He knew it too. It had been a long time since he felt proud of a performance.
'Hey,' he added, forcing a grin. 'Didn’t you hear the song? I’ve got a big night planned!'
Some laughter. He bowed. 'Enjoy your evening. Don’t forget to kiss your loved ones goodnight.'
He climbed back on stage and exited right.
In the wings, Ginger, the cocktail girl, stood with champagne. She handed it over with a smile and dabbed his brow.
'Great show tonight, Vic.'
'Eh, it was okay. Thin crowd. People had better things to do,' he muttered, biting back the word again.
'Better than you? Ain’t no such thing, Vic honey.'
'You’d sound more convincing if you weren’t programmed to say that.'
She blinked. He regretted it immediately. It wasn’t easy being a self-aware hologram. Sometimes he envied their ignorance.
Maybe there’s something to that old saying — ignorance is bliss.
'I appreciate it, really,' he said, softening. 'Now go on. You and Bobby were making googly eyes all night. Poor guy could barely keep the beat. Go have fun.'
Ginger giggled. 'What about you?'
'No one listens. I said I’ve got a big night planned.'
'Night, Vic.'
'Night, Ginger.'
Ginger moved away and Vic straightened himself before stepping back into the lounge.
The room had mostly emptied. Waitresses collected glasses and wiped tables. Chairs were stacked. Closing time.
Vic strolled through the club, nodding to staff and the few lingering guests. He reached the small anteroom at the edge of the holosuite.
He smiled. It always reminded him of when Frankie Eyes was dragged offstage. One of the highlights of his time here.
Hidden from view, he changed clothes with a simple wish. He usually preferred doing it the manual way, but tonight he cheated.
He looked himself over — casual, but sharp. Better to blend in. That stage suit would have made him look ridiculous out there.
He stretched, rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath and wandered out into the streets of Vegas.
The familiar lights of the Strip seemed brighter now, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just another player in a game with no winners. He wandered aimlessly through the streets, searching for something — anything — that felt real.