What happens in the back alley gets shoved in my trunk
Oct 17, 2018 19:49:22 GMT -5
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Post by Krähe on Oct 17, 2018 19:49:22 GMT -5
The bar wasn't top shelf, but it wasn't a gutter either. It was that happy medium where middle class douchebags could go to feel like a big fish. It was absolutely no surprise when the douchebag Krähe had been waiting for scurried into the bar like a rat out the rain.
What was a surprise was the familiar figure of one Siberia Zombie gliding into the same bar not moments latter.
“Hmmm.” Krähe ruminated with a thoughtful gravelly hum, before flicking his cigarette into a nearby puddle.
Apparently Portugal is a small world after all, and he wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth when he could kill tw- No, he was mixing things up and that wouldn't do. Focus Krähe.
He allowed his mind to refocus, and adjusted his leather jacket. While others rushed inside he meandered his way through the drizzle of rain to slip inside the bar.
It was like any bar you could expect loud music, sticky floors, and shifty characters bathed in neon light. To Zachariah the only thing that stood out in this bar was Siberia herself. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to find her at the bar with two drinks set before her.
As if to sweeten the pot the chair beside her was vacant and would be the perfect vantage point to watch his target. In all honesty he could keep a tab on the stupid piece of shit he was tracking from nearly anywhere in the bar. It was the fact that Siberia sat there that made it the perfect place for him to sit.
She was going to be so annoyed, and he could already feel the grin of anticipation tugging at the side of his mouth. He managed to smother it while gracefully flopping down into the barstool beside her.
“Well, fancy seeing you here. Out slumming are we?” He asked this with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and wicked smirk on his lips.
That smirk widened into a grin as he nodded towards her drinks. In the next moment he began to fire off what felt like a hundred questions, with all the tenacity of a six year old boy innocently asking why the sky was blue. “Are you going to drink those Si dear? I've never seen a drink that drinks itself. Would that be cannibalism if it could, or a form of self mutilation?”
Siberia froze in her seat. Every sentence from him slid against her like an ice cube waking her up from her concentration. She dug her nails into her forearm to prevent from losing it. She wanted to scream, but she needed to maintain control. That’s what this whole exercise was about. She didn’t turn towards him so as not to confirm the worst..
“What are you doing here?”
"I came to catch up with an old...acquaintance. It's a decent bar hun not exactly shocking to see me here." He hated to even call cum stain an acquaintance, but it should suffice her curiosity. Besides it was the closest thing to the truth that he could tell her.
Siberia looked around cautiously thinking that there would be another voyeur on her little pity party. He had gotten the jump on her, and she wasn't in control for once. That has only been happening lately. She turned back to her drinks. "Well go meet them, and leave me be."
His smile was almost sad for a moment, before it melted back into his typical cheerful smirk. "I can't do that just yet dear, but don't worry I won't be ruining you night for long..."
His sharp eyes flicked back over his prey to watch with a bit of disgust, as the shit head tried to stick his hand up one of the waitresses dress.
"So tell me about the drinks you order and never drink...please." Somehow he managed not to say this while grinding his teeth together, so the question came out smoothly.
“It’s none of your business,” she shot back, but the annoying patience he displayed was unbreakable. She hated and admired his persistence at once. She let the silence lie for a few moments longer as he waited. Then she finally gave in. He did ask nicely.
“I used to drink. A lot. I did stupid things while under that daze. Now I have more control over myself, but I still get the urge every once in a while. I need to see that I still have it in me to resist. I set the glasses in front of me, and wait. If I can leave them there, then I know that I am still strong. It is an exercise. I didn’t know I would have an audience this time. The place filled up so quickly.”
She shut her eyes since she didn’t want to see his reaction.
He was quite for a few moments, until she opened her eyes. Her gaze was immediately captured by his stormy grey blue eyes, and for the first time those eyes were devoid of any pretense. It was as if Krähe’s guard had briefly slipped, and allowed her to see the man he was behind the mask. "I meant it when I said that I respect you Siberia, but I don't think even I realized just how much until now...."
She looked away trying to deflect, but the damage was done.
His eyes flicked back over to his prey watching as he twisted the young waitresses arm, and whispered oily into her ear. Money was shoved into her bra, and a look of shame fell over her young face causing a queasy disgust to roll Krähe's stomach.
Eyes hardened once more, and his fist clenched sporadically, as he tried calmed himself. Not just yet Krähe not just yet it's all in the timing. Give the shit head just enough rope to hang himself with. He told himself this repeatedly like some internal mantra.
While his eyes remained locked across the room he kept his voice almost gentle when addressing Zombie. "Maybe one day I will be as strong as you are..." The honesty of the sentiment was stark in his voice even as he trailed off.
It felt like everything inside of him was coiling up like a snake ready to strike. He was rather proud that his hands didn't shake with anticipation, when he slid a handkerchief and flask from his pockets.
It was a small blessing that Siberia didn't seem to notice while she smirked at his forwardness.
He poured out some of the liquid into the cloth that would soon send the dickhead to dreamland, before quickly pocketing the flask. The dickhead in question had escalated to pulling the young waitress towards the back door that he knew lead to an alley. An alley that was conveniently close to his rental car. It was show time.
"I doubt that tonight will be that night though." He could feel the feral grin trying to tug at his lips even though he did his best to control it, but he was fighting a losing battle.
"It's time for me to get out of your hair Siberia. I would like to say I am sorry to have interrupted you again..but I'm not. I will pay you back for the drinks later."
Siberia's confusion turned to shock for a moment when he reached over and snagged her “test”.
“I think tonight I need these more than you.” He downed each drink as if it were a shot while he stood up. Siberia found herself surprisingly laughing out loud with some small relief as he took the temptation from her.
In that moment her laughter was like sunshine, and the smile he throws her over his shoulder is genuine. That smile melts off as soon as he turns to make his way through the crowd towards his goal.
Layers fell upon him one after another as he moves, until he was cold to everything save a red hot thirst for violence. There was a fine line between justice and revenge, and he had never been good at staying in the lines.
Minutes later Krähe was enjoying the satisfying sound of someone being slammed into a wet brick wall. Followed by the equally satisfying feel of the bastards futile struggles subsiding, as a wet drug laced handkerchief was forced over his mouth and nose.
The young waitress stood in wide eyed wonder as Krähe handed over the money from her would be attacker's wallet.
“Não fale mal entenda?” Krähe's deep voice was firm but soothing, as the waitress stared at the money with the dumbfounded expression.
“Entenda?” He repeated the last part again with a harder tone that seemed to finally penetrate her daze.
Large brown eyes shot up to his face, of course she would say nothing. If anyone asked she serviced the slimy man, and returned to her work.
Her mind whirled with all the new possibilities. After a few days she would quit her job and go back to school. This was enough money to cover her remaining expenses, and she would never betray this dark figure that crashed into her world like some violent angel.
“Sim senhor, não vejo nenhum mal não fala mal.” Her voice was firm and clear with conviction.
The words were exactly what Krähe wanted to hear, and so he gestured with his chin for her to leave. No more was needed for her to do just tgat, and she knew better than to look back.
If anyone else had been watching they would have seen a sober man assisting his drunk friend to the car. The illusion of course was shattered when Krähe brutally slammed the man's head into the car, before popping the trunk and stuffing him into it.
Afterwards the alley was filled with the heavy thrum of base from the bar, a cacophony from out of sight traffic, and the drunk distant laughter of revellers wandering through the night.
The alley itself was quite as Krähe leaned against the trunk and lit a cigarette, the angles of his face were briefly highlighted by the flame. Smoke curled up around the dim backlight. At one point it had been a flood light, but that day must have been long ago.
He sat there for a few moments silently gazing at the club in intense contemplation, as if he could somehow see through walls if he looked hard enough.
Things had seemed much simpler a matter of weeks ago. This situation would have been simpler just days ago...hours ago. Now he had questions, and a burning desire to try and answer them.
Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Did it really matter if he killed a few cats to answer his questions?
Krähe shook his head and tossed his cigarette down ro crush with his boot.
What was he thinking, he loved cats...bastards that were stuffed in trunks though? That was a whole nother story.
With his thoughts and emotions in check once more Krähe climbed into the car. Soon Willie Nelson crooning “On the Road Again” filled the dingy alley briefly, before the car vanished into the night.
What was a surprise was the familiar figure of one Siberia Zombie gliding into the same bar not moments latter.
“Hmmm.” Krähe ruminated with a thoughtful gravelly hum, before flicking his cigarette into a nearby puddle.
Apparently Portugal is a small world after all, and he wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth when he could kill tw- No, he was mixing things up and that wouldn't do. Focus Krähe.
He allowed his mind to refocus, and adjusted his leather jacket. While others rushed inside he meandered his way through the drizzle of rain to slip inside the bar.
It was like any bar you could expect loud music, sticky floors, and shifty characters bathed in neon light. To Zachariah the only thing that stood out in this bar was Siberia herself. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to find her at the bar with two drinks set before her.
As if to sweeten the pot the chair beside her was vacant and would be the perfect vantage point to watch his target. In all honesty he could keep a tab on the stupid piece of shit he was tracking from nearly anywhere in the bar. It was the fact that Siberia sat there that made it the perfect place for him to sit.
She was going to be so annoyed, and he could already feel the grin of anticipation tugging at the side of his mouth. He managed to smother it while gracefully flopping down into the barstool beside her.
“Well, fancy seeing you here. Out slumming are we?” He asked this with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and wicked smirk on his lips.
That smirk widened into a grin as he nodded towards her drinks. In the next moment he began to fire off what felt like a hundred questions, with all the tenacity of a six year old boy innocently asking why the sky was blue. “Are you going to drink those Si dear? I've never seen a drink that drinks itself. Would that be cannibalism if it could, or a form of self mutilation?”
Siberia froze in her seat. Every sentence from him slid against her like an ice cube waking her up from her concentration. She dug her nails into her forearm to prevent from losing it. She wanted to scream, but she needed to maintain control. That’s what this whole exercise was about. She didn’t turn towards him so as not to confirm the worst..
“What are you doing here?”
"I came to catch up with an old...acquaintance. It's a decent bar hun not exactly shocking to see me here." He hated to even call cum stain an acquaintance, but it should suffice her curiosity. Besides it was the closest thing to the truth that he could tell her.
Siberia looked around cautiously thinking that there would be another voyeur on her little pity party. He had gotten the jump on her, and she wasn't in control for once. That has only been happening lately. She turned back to her drinks. "Well go meet them, and leave me be."
His smile was almost sad for a moment, before it melted back into his typical cheerful smirk. "I can't do that just yet dear, but don't worry I won't be ruining you night for long..."
His sharp eyes flicked back over his prey to watch with a bit of disgust, as the shit head tried to stick his hand up one of the waitresses dress.
"So tell me about the drinks you order and never drink...please." Somehow he managed not to say this while grinding his teeth together, so the question came out smoothly.
“It’s none of your business,” she shot back, but the annoying patience he displayed was unbreakable. She hated and admired his persistence at once. She let the silence lie for a few moments longer as he waited. Then she finally gave in. He did ask nicely.
“I used to drink. A lot. I did stupid things while under that daze. Now I have more control over myself, but I still get the urge every once in a while. I need to see that I still have it in me to resist. I set the glasses in front of me, and wait. If I can leave them there, then I know that I am still strong. It is an exercise. I didn’t know I would have an audience this time. The place filled up so quickly.”
She shut her eyes since she didn’t want to see his reaction.
He was quite for a few moments, until she opened her eyes. Her gaze was immediately captured by his stormy grey blue eyes, and for the first time those eyes were devoid of any pretense. It was as if Krähe’s guard had briefly slipped, and allowed her to see the man he was behind the mask. "I meant it when I said that I respect you Siberia, but I don't think even I realized just how much until now...."
She looked away trying to deflect, but the damage was done.
His eyes flicked back over to his prey watching as he twisted the young waitresses arm, and whispered oily into her ear. Money was shoved into her bra, and a look of shame fell over her young face causing a queasy disgust to roll Krähe's stomach.
Eyes hardened once more, and his fist clenched sporadically, as he tried calmed himself. Not just yet Krähe not just yet it's all in the timing. Give the shit head just enough rope to hang himself with. He told himself this repeatedly like some internal mantra.
While his eyes remained locked across the room he kept his voice almost gentle when addressing Zombie. "Maybe one day I will be as strong as you are..." The honesty of the sentiment was stark in his voice even as he trailed off.
It felt like everything inside of him was coiling up like a snake ready to strike. He was rather proud that his hands didn't shake with anticipation, when he slid a handkerchief and flask from his pockets.
It was a small blessing that Siberia didn't seem to notice while she smirked at his forwardness.
He poured out some of the liquid into the cloth that would soon send the dickhead to dreamland, before quickly pocketing the flask. The dickhead in question had escalated to pulling the young waitress towards the back door that he knew lead to an alley. An alley that was conveniently close to his rental car. It was show time.
"I doubt that tonight will be that night though." He could feel the feral grin trying to tug at his lips even though he did his best to control it, but he was fighting a losing battle.
"It's time for me to get out of your hair Siberia. I would like to say I am sorry to have interrupted you again..but I'm not. I will pay you back for the drinks later."
Siberia's confusion turned to shock for a moment when he reached over and snagged her “test”.
“I think tonight I need these more than you.” He downed each drink as if it were a shot while he stood up. Siberia found herself surprisingly laughing out loud with some small relief as he took the temptation from her.
In that moment her laughter was like sunshine, and the smile he throws her over his shoulder is genuine. That smile melts off as soon as he turns to make his way through the crowd towards his goal.
Layers fell upon him one after another as he moves, until he was cold to everything save a red hot thirst for violence. There was a fine line between justice and revenge, and he had never been good at staying in the lines.
Minutes later Krähe was enjoying the satisfying sound of someone being slammed into a wet brick wall. Followed by the equally satisfying feel of the bastards futile struggles subsiding, as a wet drug laced handkerchief was forced over his mouth and nose.
The young waitress stood in wide eyed wonder as Krähe handed over the money from her would be attacker's wallet.
“Não fale mal entenda?” Krähe's deep voice was firm but soothing, as the waitress stared at the money with the dumbfounded expression.
“Entenda?” He repeated the last part again with a harder tone that seemed to finally penetrate her daze.
Large brown eyes shot up to his face, of course she would say nothing. If anyone asked she serviced the slimy man, and returned to her work.
Her mind whirled with all the new possibilities. After a few days she would quit her job and go back to school. This was enough money to cover her remaining expenses, and she would never betray this dark figure that crashed into her world like some violent angel.
“Sim senhor, não vejo nenhum mal não fala mal.” Her voice was firm and clear with conviction.
The words were exactly what Krähe wanted to hear, and so he gestured with his chin for her to leave. No more was needed for her to do just tgat, and she knew better than to look back.
If anyone else had been watching they would have seen a sober man assisting his drunk friend to the car. The illusion of course was shattered when Krähe brutally slammed the man's head into the car, before popping the trunk and stuffing him into it.
Afterwards the alley was filled with the heavy thrum of base from the bar, a cacophony from out of sight traffic, and the drunk distant laughter of revellers wandering through the night.
The alley itself was quite as Krähe leaned against the trunk and lit a cigarette, the angles of his face were briefly highlighted by the flame. Smoke curled up around the dim backlight. At one point it had been a flood light, but that day must have been long ago.
He sat there for a few moments silently gazing at the club in intense contemplation, as if he could somehow see through walls if he looked hard enough.
Things had seemed much simpler a matter of weeks ago. This situation would have been simpler just days ago...hours ago. Now he had questions, and a burning desire to try and answer them.
Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Did it really matter if he killed a few cats to answer his questions?
Krähe shook his head and tossed his cigarette down ro crush with his boot.
What was he thinking, he loved cats...bastards that were stuffed in trunks though? That was a whole nother story.
With his thoughts and emotions in check once more Krähe climbed into the car. Soon Willie Nelson crooning “On the Road Again” filled the dingy alley briefly, before the car vanished into the night.