[img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjExNi5hY2FjZWYuUTJ4aGJtTjVJRkJoZEhKcFkycy4x/burn-out-fade-away.regular.webp[/img] [hider=Ambience][youtube]https://youtu.be/IUuHNhWheRo?si=pLm5hZibUzx1-Zxd[/youtube][/hider] [@Punished GN][@Fernstone][@Estylwen][@AtomicEmperor] [hr] [code]Veni Vedi Veni - Backstage[/code] Getting into the club was just another leg of the journey. Going in through the front door was out of the question, between the regulars and the bouncers, an open window slit that was conveniently just wide enough to fit a child was a much better alternative. Clancy had slipped in while some of the night's main attractions were busy entertaining their audience. Music pulsed through the walls, lyrics and rhythms muffled by the physical barriers between the backstage areas and the main hall from whence it they were broadcast. It looked like he'd wandered into the corridor preceding some of the private booths, but there wasn't anyone around - just the faint scuffing of high heels on expensive carpet, so for a while he sat around, listened in. Nothing all, except perhaps [i]one[/i] guy that he caught a glimpse being led towards one of the private rooms, who didn't strike him as a leader, but had some of the hallmarks you'd associate with the trash found with some of the ex-cons that had fallen into the biker crowd. He wore a red-and-black lumberjack shirt and denim pants, with an almost [i]shiny[/i] clean-shaven dome that seemed to reflect the multi-coloured ambient lighting pretty well. The only thing that gave it away was what looked vaguely like a dog's head for the belt buckle, and the fact he was a skinhead at a club associated with a local group of assholes. Leading him was one of the dancers, a petite girl somewhere between her late twenties and mid thirties, with platinum hair that he was almost certain had been brought on via artificial means. She was clad in black leather, and reminded him of one of those women he saw on the internet who got paid to stamp on men and tell them how useless they were. He waited a while, caught some glimpses of their conversation. Based on the chuckling and the trash-talk, he was a regular. [i]Her[/i] regular - Skinner, she called him. It sounded like they were [i]very[/i] familiar, indeed. And then, some noise muffled by a couple of walls. [h1][i]"SECURITY! GET HER OUT OF HERE!"[/i][/h1] The girl heard it, it seemed. Her client wasn't so interested. "-just wait here a sec, I'll deal with you in a moment." Footsteps, rapidly pacing away. Clancy caught the outline of the girl disappearing around a corner, probably to see what the commotion was. [i]Some privacy at last.[/i] This was probably the only lead he'd have. Checking over one shoulder, then forward again, he leaned in through the doorway. "Everything okay?" Skinner, the girl's client, was seated on a leather couch with some mood lighting overhead. To make things interesting, he was already partially undressed; his shirt was hanging off a hook to one side, and his denim unfastened in a tangle around his ankles. To make it even [i]more[/i] interesting, he was handcuffed by his wrists to a railing behind the couch. Another set of manacles chained his ankles to the legs of the couch. Now that Clancy had a chance to get a better look at him, the illusion of masculinity had been broken. Skinner was paunchy, and judging by the vague outline across the rim of the guy's head, he was compensating for a spell of baldness that had come in some years too early. Adding to it all, it was much easier to make out sharp, angular tattoo on the guy's upper torso running from shoulder to pectoral, drawn to resembles thick bolts of lightning and repurposed norse runes. [i]Definitely trash.[/i] [b]"Uhm... I'm lost, mister."[/b] "Go on, get outta here kid. This ain' elementary school." Clancy shut the door behind them, then ignorantly dusted off his palms. "You deaf? C'mon, I'm being fair. I gotta shout, they [i]will[/i] toss your ass out. You wanna look at titties, go look 'em up on your phone." Skinhead wasn't amused. "You hear me?" [b]"Uh-uh,"[/b] Clancy shook his head,[b]"I got questions. You're not exactly in a position to drag me, and I think security are a little.... busy. I want to know about your boss, or maybe your boss' boss.. you look too much like dirt to associate with management."[/b] "Fuck you, kid. You [i]seriously[/i] oughta get outta here before I slap you upside the head." [b]"With what?"[/b] Clancy waved his palms, [b]"I'm guessing your date has the keys. And I bet neither the cops, or your [i]friends[/i] would really love dealing with a [i]chomo.[/i]"[/b] "Fuck you talkin' about you stupid little cocksucker-" Clancy pressed a finger to his own lips and made a 'shush', [b]"I wouldn't say that too loud, or you're just making it worse for yourself."[/b] He whipped out the [i]new[/i] phone he'd acquired the other night, shifting into the camera app. It took him a moment to figure out the selfie button. Skinhead flailed, cursing away - fruitlessly, as the commotion had pulled any would-be intrusions to the main viewing gallery. Clancy leaned in close, posing for a few snaps, placing himself in a few [i]compromising[/i] poses. A few snaps and it was done. [b]"Unless you want this getting outside the club, you'll tell me what I want to know."[/b] "You better fuckin' delete that shit, or-" [b]"Or what?"[/b] Clancy cut in, rummaging through the pocket of Skinner's shirt, [b]"You'll dislocate your thumbs to come at me? Make it easy, you spend time with this crowd of [i]losers[/i]."[/b] He tugged out a switchblade. [b]"I want to know what you know. You play with some [i]real[/i] losers, so I'm guessing you know something. What about about the guy they call Judas? What's his uh.. deal?"[/b] "Nunya fuckin' business you mongoloid fuckEAARGH!" A shriek drowned out anything coherent. Clancy had stuck the blade in Skinner's knee. [b]"I asked nicely the first time. And now I'm asking one more time before I decide to..."[/b] he twisted the blade in place, causing the man to yelp and flail. "YEARHGFUCKER-!" [b]"Judas. Wolf guy. What does he want? [i]Where. Is. He?[/i]"[/b] Another twist. [b]"This kneecap is going to pop out [i]aaany[/i] minute..."[/b] "I DON'T KNOW! S-STOP!" [b]"I don't believe you."[/b] "F-fuckin' psycho kid... I d-don't fuckin' know, whaddya even want with 'em?!" [b]"Child support, he owes my mom a [i]lot[/i] of child support."[/b] Another twist, for emphasis. [b]"I'm not really good at this, my fingers might slip and hit an artery."[/b] "F-FUCK, STOP! P-please, I really don't fuckin' know! I'll... j-just lemme tell ya'.." Clancy kept a couple of fingertips on the hilt of the blade, [b]"I'm listening."[/b] "I-... I really don't know much shit 'bout Judas, I swear. He don't... we don't mess around with him much, you think I'm into that crazy shit?" [b]"Keep on talking... I wanna know why he's killing people like Ashley Stone."[/b] "Ashley wh-.. what the fuck are you talking about? I don't know about any shit like that! W-why are we even talkin' about this, jesus... bet you don' have a clue what you-" Clancy leaned back into the blade. "FURGHh-f-fine! I d-don't know anything about girls b-[i]but[/i].. hear me out, we all seen he's been meetin' with some weird fucks, they come by t-the clubhouse to meet in private. But we d-don't get into that shit." [b]"[i]What[/i] weirdos are we talking about?"[/b] "I d-dunno, they're into some weird demon shit. Sometimes they want people, I got told to stay the [i]fuck[/i] away from them, so that's what I do." Clancy eyed the blade, a dull expression in his eyes, "Uh.. s-ssomethin' about dolls... D-Dollhouse, that's their crew!" [i]Dollhouse.[/i] The penny dropped. That it was a name he'd [i]heard[/i] before. It didn't evoke a fond memory. More questions came. [hr] [b]"It goes without saying that if you talk about this with anyone, these-"[/b] Clancy waved the phone at Skinner, compromising photos on show, [b]"-will find their way out there. That won't be good for you at all. If anyone asks, you uh... figure it out. Nod if you understand."[/b] Skinner frantically nodded, sweat beading down his forehead and [i]other[/i] fluids of varying darkness having pooled around the couch cushion and his feet. One of the sleeves of his shirt had been torn off and wedged in his mouth. The blade had been left wedged in his knee, and had left an ugly picture for how small it was. The stench of meat, blood and [i]other[/i] human odours was almost overwhelming. Clancy turned back to the door, fleding his fingers. He had a starting point, at least, and there wasn't anything left for him here - between the information, some extra cash and a few little things borrowed from Skinner's pocket, he had most of what he came for [i]On second thoughts.[/i] Clancy turned back for a moment; there was [i]one[/i] more thing he needed. He'd almost forgot. [hr] [code]Veni Vedi Veni - Parking Lot[/code] [hr] Slipping back out hadn't been too much trouble, though one of the girls in the back had made a point of reminding him on her way out, "Jasper c'mon, your mom doesn't work here anymore." It was almost funny. [i]Almost.[/i] Except the commotion that had drawn Skinner's date away had spilled outside. Peaking around the corner, Clancy saw a trail of destruction leading out of the main dance hall, overturned tables and broken glass everywhere. And the air reeked of something beyond the overpriced liquor, aftershave and perfume that left their pungent trademarks. [i]Something[/i] surged at his insides, briefly - a sensation he hadn't felt for a long while. He wasn't sure if that was a good of a bad thing. Instead, he felt through his knapsack for security. A couple of phones rating from bad to okay, including the new one Skinner had generously gifted him. And the [I]key.[/i] A motorcycle key to be specific. Could he still ride a bike? The learned motions were there, somewhere deep within him. Depending on what it was... well, a [i]long[/i] time ago, his older brother had taken him out to a road near a quarry to ride on his '31 Indian Scout, a hand-me-down from Uncle... Gerry? [i]Sometimes the memories were a blur[/i] - Frank had made Clancy do the run by himself, and he'd almost gone over the handlebars when he hit a rock in the road... except he hadn't, and beat the odds. Lucky for them, really. If their mom had found out, they'd have both got the belt. He shook the memory off as he stepped outside. [i]Back to the now.[/i] And there it was. Clancy could see [i]a[/i] motorcycle parked across the lot, and judging by the profile, it matched Skinner's key. Except there was another problem. Some kind of tussle had broke out in the lot, and he couldn't make hide or hair of who these people were, save that they vaguely matched the profile of [i]weird demon shit[/i] that Skinner had alluded to. But he didn't get the impression [i]these[/i] people were Dollhouse, even though they [i]reeked[/i] of power. And an ivory-skinned girl with matching hair, projecting phantom limbs which had no business being attached to a human body. There was no warmth felt in his recognition of that ephemeral shadow, clutching a redhead in its grasp, and there was little doubt it might recognise him... in a fashion. A kindred spirit of sorts, from the Void. [i]Hunger [/i] One of the others in the opposing group spoke up. "We do not wish to fight! [i]Please[/i] release our friend and we will leave! There are more of us on the way, and the Wolfpack is likely on the way as well; there is [i]no[/i] way for you to win! We will do [i]anything[/i] for our friends. If you do not stop... we [i]will[/i] be forced to [i][b]kill[/b][/i] you! And trust me, [i]everyone[/i] here has taken a life before, and we will show you [i][b]no[/b][/i] quarter!" It occurred to him he was a 12 (and-a-half) year-old boy stood outside the local biker crew's favourite titty bar, in the middle of a fight between powers beyond human mortality. [b]"Uh... I'm lost."[/b] he remarked, to nobody in particular. Something was uncanny about the boy, and it wasn't the dried blood on his fingertips.