He felt his world spin a thousand ways; as he moved out of the tube. Feeling himself crawl, and search his surroundings. He was cold, wet from blue - what was that, solidified kool-aid? Oh lords, whatever it was; it was cold and wet and damp and sent a chill up his spine. Why was the ground moving? He felt like he was going to hurl.

He hasn't had hang overs this bad before. He takes a moment to orient; to search around for anything familiar. This wasn't Strife City; he didn't need to be Sherlock Fucking Holmes to get that. So where the fuck was he? Maybe he had gotten kidnapped.

Blue lift, passenger quarters, he doesn't remember getting this tattoo. Okay, think Suzrou, THINK. Where would you go - where you wouldn't remember anything the next morning, wake up with what feels like a jagermeister hang over; glowing lights; new ink and a room full of half naked people?

"I'm in vegas," he realizes.