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Another good-looking honey walks in and scans quickly the scene playing out in her horizon. She sees someone that catches her attention quickly. She takes this hasty opportunity in sitting next to what caught her attention, money in a tall drink of water. She sits next him in a vacant chair by the man. The man that is in dark and quite world of his own deep thoughts as Judas Priest’s “One On One” lashes out throughout the bar.
His long black hair tied in a tight single ponytail looks into the mirror on the other side of the bar as a flash of rage crosses his eyes like lightening. Dressed head to toe in nothing but black expensive attire nurses on his glass of Jim Beam on the rocks; he begins to feel an interruption of the mundane coming and sighs heavily as his nostrils begins to flare in doing so. He wears on every finger Black Hills silver rings to including the one on both his thumbs.
Somewhat pensive, he pays no real mind to the older woman looking at him through her baby-blues. He senses her, she is only a nuisance, and nothing more. She is the source of the impending disturbance in his tranquility, an interruption he feels that would surely ensue with a heart-felt conclusion of a typical “fuck you, bitch” to end the ever-brief conversation.
Without looking at her, he slams his now emptied glass minus the ice rattling in the heavy glass tumbler as Marilyn Manson begins blaring though the bar’s elaborate sound system as the establishment filled with Goths and the darker side of reality begins to hit the dance floor to the musician’s special rave-industrial mix. He almost smiles as he realizes that he too is a fan.
He grabs the keys to his BMW parked out front in the VIP section and gives the bartender; a rugged man honed from a solid piece of mountain granite and covered in tattoos gives the other now leaving a nod as the man rises from his stool.
“See ya, Raven!” He yells at the tall and powerful man clean-shaven and looking a bit out of place there in the bar on Deadwood’s lower south side.
“Later, Holmes, almost a fuckin’ pleasure…” His piercing dark orbs mock the back of the woman’s brunette head as the bartender’s eyes dart to her. In a measure of disdain, that only the taller man standing can easily pick up with an equally mocking grin.
He walks out catching the darting eyes of a couple of younger women paying no mind to them.
Out the door and passing the security men in a conversation of how easy Mary is and how much she craves for cock, “Does your mother know that you sleep with easy women and then talk about them?” He quips as they glare back at him.
Again, he pays no attention, they are absolutely nothing to him as his mind is blazing on something much more ominous that Marilyn or for that matter, anyone in the bar could begin to fathom.
He wastes no other moment as he gets quickly into his car as one of the security men yelp a whisper of “what an asshole…” and Raven is lost to anyone through the dark tinted glass as the door closes quietly.
The car pulls off with the Scorpion’s “My City, My Town” playing fading off into the night.
Like a viper in the night the chrome from the expensive low profile tires catches the street lights and those colorful ones from the windows of the casinos. He reaches into his glove box and pulls out his Oakley dark blue and black finish sunglasses and put them on as his hand slides back across the controls of his car stereo without even taking his eyes off the road. In a second the music changes to something much more menacing. He puts his sunglasses on and whips the car off of Main Street and stops in front of the Gallows between two rows of motorcycles.
He gets out of his car as quickly as he got in and see that there are two men, much more powerful than the other two idiots he just left. These men unlike the others, they are much more than they appear to be to the naked eye. Raven knows the nature of these creatures in long hair and tattoos as the street light from above picks up reflective shards of their jewelry and assorted piercings.
He walks up directly to them as they guard the door in their blue jeans and black sleeveless T-shirts as their smiles just as quickly leave their faces as they look back equally hard at him.
“Good evening.” Blackstone replies as he could hear the thunderous bass of that club’s sound system. It is none other than Disturbed’s “Criminal.”
How fucking fitting… Blackstone thought.
“This is a private club. Do you have an invitation?” One of the men who’s voice sounds more like five miles of crushed gravel and a bit more on the near unnatural side.
“Why yes I do, Pearce.” Raven smiles coldly leaving his dark shades on.
“How do you know me?” Pearce asked rather nerved as he obviously doesn’t know Raven.
“Terrance, you fucking know him don’t you?” Raven quipped.
Looking at Raven harder than before as the other man equally as intimidating looks over at Pearce standing there looking like he is about to throttle Blackstone.
“Terrence…?” Blackstone barks out at Pearce, “Your room dog in the joint. I am surprised that he isn’t working tonight.” Pearce’s anger escalates as Blackstone is undaunted by either of the two.
“Terrence the blonde wolf not so fucking bright and shit with a gun that got your asses busted in the first place.” Blackstone can immediately tell by the now, confounding and perplexed look on Pearce’s face that his own personal research is paying off and he is about to enter this club where the only humans, true humans are outnumbered five to one by the likes of Pearce and the other standing next to him.
Raven removes his glasses from his stern face, “Pearce, so what will it be? You’re standing between me and the door. Must I eat a fucking hole through your chest to get in and have a drink not to mention a shot at some real snatch?”
The other standing next to Pearce smile and then chuckles brining up his balled fist to his mouth to conceal the growing laughter as Blackstone smiles.
“No, not really. You seem all right I guess. When I see Terrence, who may I say asked about him?” Pearce isn’t stupid as his eyes peer deep into Blackstone’s own for any sign of treachery or deceit that he is naturally feeling.
“Tell him the truth…” Blackstone flashes another smile beaming from his clean-shaven face, “Blackstone, Raven Blackstone comes calling.”
The other man immediately stops laughing as fast as his own smile leaves him with growing concern.
“Yes, yes, I know of you.” Blackstone remained as cool as dry ice as Pearce’s eyes narrowed and gleamed even more.
“You should. You both should…” The other one now looking even harder remains silent, “You fuckers are not the only predators out tonight.”
Pearce bring his right hand up pointing his index finger towards Blackstone’s chest as Deathstar Assembly’s “Pale Blue” begins, “You try some shit tonight and I swear it will be you in a fucking body bag and being hauled somewhere that God himself will not be able to find you!”
Blackstone smiled once more undaunted by the powerful man nearly spitting his words froth with a growing anger.
“Shit? No shit tonight. Just some pussy if all goes well.” Blackstone assured in his own strange way that the two would only understand.
“We’ll be keeping a fucking eye on you, motherfucker.” Pearce warned as he began to cool off and step aside.
“Thank you, Pearce…” Blackstone walks passed them and then stops suddenly as he turns his head towards Pearce, “Make damn sure nothing happens to my car. The last time some pup fucked with it, he lost his paws.”
Pearce’s eyes now blazing with a smoldering rage hinted a growl as Blackstone gave no other thought to him and walked in.
The club, this club known as the Gallows is at best, a semi-private club with good reason. Blackstone knows as much about the establishment as almost they know about him. An uneasy truce between him and these creatures that would rather see him dead than alive, those that really know what Blackstone really is under his own sculpted façade.
They sure do play some serious music here…
Blackstone thought to himself walking into a cloud of tobacco with a hint of something more exotic even he picks up.
Blackstone walks right up to the crowded bar of what one would think are a bunch of bikers, rockers, and a few sluts. Though Blackstone knows full well as with the two outside, most of these people are not actually people. His senses, his own predatory self-preservation skills told him that there were other eyes on him already and can only imaging hearing their whispers among themselves. He also knew a few of these creatures can talk telepathically amongst one another, especially when they were what they called, “The Change.”
A pack of rabid dogs…
Blackstone thought reminding himself of Daniel in the Den of Lions in sorts.
Raven walks up and there he sees a porcelain-skinned dark eyed beauty tending bar with another younger woman, a typical boring blonde-haired blue-eyed type chewing bubblegum. He puts his sunglasses in the inside pocket of his full lengthen lightweight black coat and rests it on the back of a vacant bar stool to the right of him.
The dark brunette comes up to him on the other side of the bar. It is early Friday night and already it is very busy as this establishment just opened this year for business, “Whatta have?” She asks.
“Beam on the rocks.” He could see that she doesn’t recognize him in the least. She shouldn’t but there is no doubt in his mind that she has heard of him.
Blackstone looks around and can see that the club has been remodeled. To him, it looked nice as he looks up at the special lamps, the U.V Lamps and smiles looking back down towards her brawless breast heaving under a very thin white t-shirt. It was either cold, which it wasn’t, or she was glad to see him, which she wasn’t.
Blackstone sits down as AC/DC’s “Shoot To Thrill” comes on drowning out the various conversations at the tables behind him. He looks on at her heart-shaped firm ass as she bends over finding the bottle of Jim Beam, other men, and a few women take notice of her backside.
Blackstone then removes a silver cigarette case from his front pocket along with a slim silver and onyx black lighter and lights up sliding a vacant black fiberglass ashtray next to him. The drink comes quickly that looks more like a triple than a single watered down shot he would get in most casinos in town here.
This isn’t a casino. No sir, far, far fucking from it…
Blackstone took a cool drink and in doing so, he noticed two more large creatures as security roaming through the club. He looked over to the far side as he saw a door open and his friend, very few that he has walk out with an older man following behind him laughing.
Blackstone knows the older one as well, he’s the owner of the establishment responsible for playing good music and drinks that have some back in them.
The big man, his friend in long brown sees Blackstone, as Blackstone lifts his glass of bourbon to him. The man’s eye widen as the man is half-surprised to see Raven there of all places. The man turns to the old man, laughs, slaps the older one on the back of his shoulder and then excuses himself walking directly over to Raven sitting there smiling.
As the man is careful so others will not hear him, he leans towards Blackstone and as he begins to sit in the vacant barstool next to the man in black, “You crazy motherfucker. What in God’s name are you doing here of all motherfucking places. Jesus-fucking-Christ Raven, have you gone completely balls-deep crazy?”
The man grabs the back of Raven’s chair, “Well..?”
Raven takes another sip and sits it down and turns to look at his friend, “Figured I’d come in and check out my competition.”
“Fuck you, asshole. You come in here to start some shit!” His friend’s eyes dart around, “If you didn’t come in here to start some shit, you’re gonna get some shit. I fuckin’ tell you that much.” Uneasy as Blackstone’s friend sits and awash with dread for his friend.
“Listen buddy, you came to the very last place you ever wanted to be.” His friend concludes momentarily as the female bartender comes up to him smiling affectionately.
“Doug, did you want something?”
“Yeah, a tall glass of Hot Damn and Seven with some ice, Aimee.” He doesn’t smile in return as he usually does. She could feel his tension and looks quickly at the possible source sitting there smiling.
“Oh come the fuck on, I came for a drink and to see you.” Blackstone smiles even more.
“Bull-fucking-shit. You didn’t know I was gonna be here. Fuck, I didn’t know I was gonna be here until thirty minutes ago.” His friend looking pensive still as Blackstone could smell that very same exotic smell on him when he came in that was in the air.
“What is that I’m smellin’?”
“Sour Diesel they call it.” Doug snaps.
“Any good?”
“Does the fucking job.” Doug looks over Raven’s shoulder as Raven can see his friend’s eyes are remarkably bloodshot.
“You’re fucking stoned.”
Douglas flashes a condescending look to his friend still smiling, “Yeah, ain’t you fuckin’ bright. I bet your mamma even called you ‘son’, motherfucker.”
Blackstone laughs as Douglas turns his attention back to his friend. “So if you ain’t planning to start any shit, why did you come then? And, don’t tell me to see me and shit.”
“Okay, you got me, motherfucker. I came here for some easy slick pussy.” Doug looks a bit confused now and then laughter washes over him like a waterfall.
“Easy slick pussy!” Doug bellows out catching the disdain from Aimee as Doug points to Blackstone that is also caught up in laughter.
Doug not caring in the least about Aimee’s immediate thoughts, “Bitch, you couldn’t get pussy if the whore died and willed it to you, fucker!” Douglas bellows out again as Blackstone is caught in full measure of laughter.
Aimee rolls her dark eyes and moves on.
Then a big powerful baldheaded tattooed man walks up smiling at Douglas and slaps him on his back, “Doug what’s up?”
In a flash, Douglas grabs the man’s crotch and squeezes, “Just fine, asshole!” As Bon Scott’s voice booms across the air above them in the opening lines of the notorious “Highway to Hell.”
Douglas quickly releases the man bent over, “Fuck you, Taylor.”
“Hey Chris, how’s it hangin’, Bitch?”
“Fuck you…” Chris nearly tipping his drink out of his glass.
“Say Chris, I want you to meet a friend of mine, and like with you, I use the term loosely…” Doug point over to Blackstone.
“This is Raven Blackstone. I am certain you have heard about him?” Blackstone looking a bit odd reaches out with his hand to meet Chris’.
“Nice to meet you man.” Then Chris looks at his friend, Doug.
“Heard you’re the guy to talk to about some ‘Chronic’?”
“I am that man. Sure…” Douglas rises out of his chair as Blackstone realizes that this Chris knows nothing of him which gives him a small measure of relief.
“Let’s go into the office, Chris.” As Douglas points to the Men’s room as they both leave.
Blackstone is alone as Aerosmith’s “Back In The Saddle” baths him as he keeps to himself eyeing Aimee’s ass.
(To be continued…)
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