Max checks out the club.

"The needle?" Max repeated tightening her grip around the perverts collar.

"Yeah... Yeah... It's a club, on the west part of town, just off main street."

Max loosened her grip on the mans shirt and backed away.

"Jeez, you're one crazy strong bit-" the man shut up upon seeing Max's glare. His hands lifting up in surrender.

A red neon sign flickered against the dark Seattle night sky. The pounding muffled music coming from within breaking the otherwise silent night.

"The Needle," Max muttered to herself as she parked her bike. It wasn't the classiest place she had ever seen, but it was better than some. Slowly Max made her way through the crowd of people that were cluttered around the entrance. This was the last place she wanted to be tonight, but if she had another clone running around she needed to find out.

The look of recognition that crossed the doorman's face as he let her through dashed any hopes that this was just a case of mistaken identity.

Max entered the club. The rich aroma of smoke mixed with spilled beer was barely masked by the gallons of perfume and cologne that everyone inside the club was seemingly wearing. She hated strip clubs. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark smoky room, with military efficiency she scanned each girl. The faster she could get out of here the better.

Nope, nope, nope, Max mentally ticked off as she glanced through all of the working girls. Most were scattered around the club, trying to weasel money out of the men, a few others danced on one of the many staged that were placed around the room.

"Fuck..." Max muttered as her gaze fell upon the girl on the main stage. There she was, wearing assless chaps, a tiny g-string, her breasts barely contained by the tightest bra Max had ever seen. Grinding her hips against the pole as if she was riding the last man on earth.

Max had another clone... and she was a stripper.