How's going to claim page 3?
How? You have to write a post.
Lord Wraith
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Thunderbringer
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- Old Guild Username: Lord Wraith
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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Status
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Bio
Reluctantly retired roleplayer.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
Most Recent Posts
How? You have to write a post.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
Well if we did we made a mistake with you...
This is why I'm questioning it.
Wait,
We have standards?
We have standards?
P E R S O N A D R A M A T I S:
SURNAME, NAME
#hexcode
Portrayed By [@Username]
I also have a full detailed map and breakdown of Pointe Bordeaux on Archie's sheet.
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
LOCATION: MILK STREET - POINTE BORDEAUX | URBAN GOTHIC #1.04: HURT |
INTERACTIONS: NONE | PREVIOUSLY: HEAVY IS THE HEAD |
Ow.
His head was spinning. His vision faded in and out. The smell of vomit assaulted Archie's nostrils as he found the strength to push himself up. One side of his face felt like a cat had mauled it from where his skin had roughly dragged against the coarse brick wall. The other side felt swollen and sore; his tongue felt around loose teeth while Archie slowly regained his bearings. He felt like he had been whalloped with a sledgehammer. The smell of vomit refused to dissipate before Archie suddenly realized it was his. He brought an arm to his mouth, vomit staining the cuff of his shirt before he spat the residual from his mouth. Vermillion mixed into the vile substance, as blood flowed freely from his gums and tongue.
His eyes were still seeing stars as Archie tried to piece together what had hit him. He didn't have to look far, however, merely moving his head towards the sound of sneering laughter. Jeers echoed in the alley before another fist pummeled Archie, nearly dropping him to his knees as pain screeched through his entire being. The fist in question shot back, through the air, like a snapped rubber band, while the other dragged along the ground, retracting back to the elastic-like figure it belonged to.
"Pretty Boy ain't lookin' so pretty now."
Right, the @$$#@% from earlier.
Archie rubbed his jaw before turning to look at his assailant. He was flushed from the alcohol and, despite the cooler night air, still warm to the touch. Even still, he felt the sting of his own blood dripping down the side of his face. Panicked eyes darted back and forth from the less-than-kind audience to the busy street towards the front of the club, rapidly surveying the dark alley for an escape. In a fleeting moment of sobriety, Archie cursed himself for not having left with Harri; instead, he was about to experience the World Record for the shortest time with a spine.
"Does this look like a pisser to you, sweetheart?" Jake asked, as Archie shook his head. The problem was that he lost his filter somewhere in the club.
"Definitely looks like a toilet."
"Right," Jake let out a hollow laugh, winding his arm back before it suddenly shot forward, closing the gap and delivering a blow to Archie's abdomen. Unfortunately for Archie, apparently his stomach wasn't empty. It started in the back of his throat, before he exhaled harshly, followed by a retching gag. The limited remnants of a mostly liquid dinner spilled onto the ground in front of him while his eyes saw exploding stars again. The invasive smell of his own vomit caused a third gag while his body tried to empty itself further in revolt.
His ribs felt like they were cracked, and his head was spinning. Hell, even his testicles felt like they had retracted deep into his perineum. Five minutes ago, Archie had considered drinking regularly; right now, he was wishing for the sweet release of death, and luckily for Archie, it seemed like Jake and his Dragons might actually grant that wish.
"I forgot you were funny," Jake finished his statement. "Problem is, this is Dragon turf, and you're defacing Dragon turf."
"Safe to say I didn't hurt property values then." Archie retorted, immediately wincing at his own words.
Inside voice, go back inside now, kay?
"You've got a cajones on ya," Longo smiled, "Surprised you've been hidin' this long."
"I wasn't hiding them," Archie straightened up, wincing as he took a deep breath. "Your mom was busy gargling them."
You definitely should not have said that.
"Ain't nobody comin' ta save ya this time." Jake sneered, cracking his neck before pointing towards Archie. "Kill him." The order didn't exactly come as a shock, though cold-blooded murder felt like a slight escalation. In all of Archie's time in the District Attorney's office, he couldn't recall a single murder being attributed to the Dragons.
But that didn't mean he was going to stand here and wait to find out.
Archie pushed off from the wall, running as fast as he could out of the alley and onto the main street. Normally, running straight into Dairy Way traffic was considered suicide, but in this case, so was staying still. Frankly, Archie was more eager to become a hood ornament than a punching bag.
A horn echoed past his head as he sprinted through traffic. If he had anything left in his stomach, he would have thrown up again. Behind him, the angry din of upset gangbangers echoed after him. But it was the one overhead that worried him the most as Jake used his Gray-abilities to sling shot himself through the air before flattening out and gliding above, easily over taking Archie again.
"Ya know, I was really hopin' ya'd fight," Jake quipped as he landed in front of Archie. "It'd be a lotta more fun for me if ya fought back some."
In his life, Archie had been in a grand total of three fights. The common denominator?
He lost. Everytime.
"Believe it or not," Archie huffed, it was only now, having stopped, that he started to notice how hard his lungs were working. "I'm not really thinking of what's best for you at the moment."
Jake's face turned from a grin to a sneer before another fist rocketed towards Archie. He looked back and forth, trying to get his bearings for somewhere to run. His head was spinning, his knees felt like they could give out at any second, and his feet refused to move. Crossing his arms over his face, Archie closed his eyes and prayed for it all to be over.
Only the punch didn't come.
A scream rang in his ears, prompting Archie to open his eyes. They widened as black fur appeared before him, the large dog snarling loudly, spittle flying from the corners of its clamped maw as rows of razor-sharp teeth held Jake's arm pinned between them.
Archie knew better than to knock a gift dog in its very sharp mouth.
Angry shouts echoed in his ears as Archie began to run again, rounding the corner just in time to disappear before the rest of the Dragons caught up. A howl hauntingly hung in the night behind him, followed by more screams and a horrific crunching sound that Archie wouldn't be able to escape for at least the next week.
Crossing another street, he came to a stop outside of a large bay window before looking around and finally admitting to himself what he had feared the most.
He was lost.
Patting down his pockets, Archie felt for his phone. A sigh of relief echoed down the empty street as he pulled it out, immediately tapping on the missed call notification. Hopefully, Harri would be able to help-
The thought was interrupted as something collided with the side of his jaw. The phone clattered across the pavement just in time for Harri to pick up, and her frantic cries echoed into the night. Archie tried to scramble for the phone, but it was too late. Jake was already on top of him as another rubber fist impacted his rib cage, this time Archie knew for sure that something had cracked.
He barely had time to stand before he saw Jake preparing another blow when out of nowhere red eyes appeared and a pair of heavy paws shoved Archie backwards against the fenestration. The window shattered under the force of Archie's weight being slammed against it. Glass shards flew across the floor while Archie crashed through a display. Numerous lacerations covered his body, pain felt like it was coming from everywhere. A metallic taste filled his mouth, barely noticeable between the numbness and lingering taste of his own vomit. Spitting, blood splayed across the cold wooden floor beneath him.
A pained groan escaped from between his lips as his body refused to respond to his insistence that he move. A bark rang in his eyes, pure adrenaline beginning to take over as he worked solely on survival instinct. Numerous objects filled the dark shop, towering over Archie as he crawled along the ground, searching for a place to hide before finally coming to rest hidden beneath a towering bookshelf.
"Archibald Hardwick..." The whisper felt like it crawled inside his head. His head whipped around side to side, crouching even lower to the ground as he continued to hide behind the bookshelf. Furious voices echoed from outside the shop before the sound of crunching glass alerted Archie that they had entered the store. The aged wooden floor creaked as the Dragons continued to look for Archie. He winced as a sudden crash echoed nearby.
There was no doubt in his mind that they were desperate to tear this place apart to find him.
"Hardwick..." The voice grew more persistent, "I can give you the power you desire."
A growl sent a shiver down his spine as it was followed by a scream. The sound of a body impacting against a wall shook Archie to his core. Another scream echoed across the store, and Archie's nose recoiled as he smelled urine; unfortunately, he quickly realized it was his.
The whispering voice continued to crawl through his skull, it bordered on agony with how persistent it was. Archie's eyes darted around, looking for the source of the voice, before his eyes were drawn to a large book on the shelf above him. Bound in weathered leather and tarnished metal, he had never seen such a tome in any of his numerous visits to the library. From within its pages, an ethereal glow emitted in the darkness of the shop and a morbid curiosity arose within Archie. A shaky hand reached towards the book, touching it before almost instantly retracting. The book tumbled loudly to the floor, and Archie quickly pounced on it. If the situation were better, he probably would have laughed at himself for how futile that had been.
"There you are!"
Archie's eyes went wide as a Dragon rounded the corner, spotting Archie and the glowing book in the darkness. He slid backwards, the metal edge of the cover catching on his palm. A cry of pain came from between Archie's pursed lips as fresh blood spilled down the fore edge of the grimoire he gripped. It suddenly fell open in his hands, the once glow now nearly a blinding light.
"Archibald Hardwick, accept my help!"
His head was spinning. His vision faded in and out. The smell of vomit assaulted Archie's nostrils as he found the strength to push himself up. One side of his face felt like a cat had mauled it from where his skin had roughly dragged against the coarse brick wall. The other side felt swollen and sore; his tongue felt around loose teeth while Archie slowly regained his bearings. He felt like he had been whalloped with a sledgehammer. The smell of vomit refused to dissipate before Archie suddenly realized it was his. He brought an arm to his mouth, vomit staining the cuff of his shirt before he spat the residual from his mouth. Vermillion mixed into the vile substance, as blood flowed freely from his gums and tongue.
His eyes were still seeing stars as Archie tried to piece together what had hit him. He didn't have to look far, however, merely moving his head towards the sound of sneering laughter. Jeers echoed in the alley before another fist pummeled Archie, nearly dropping him to his knees as pain screeched through his entire being. The fist in question shot back, through the air, like a snapped rubber band, while the other dragged along the ground, retracting back to the elastic-like figure it belonged to.
"Pretty Boy ain't lookin' so pretty now."
Right, the @$$#@% from earlier.
Archie rubbed his jaw before turning to look at his assailant. He was flushed from the alcohol and, despite the cooler night air, still warm to the touch. Even still, he felt the sting of his own blood dripping down the side of his face. Panicked eyes darted back and forth from the less-than-kind audience to the busy street towards the front of the club, rapidly surveying the dark alley for an escape. In a fleeting moment of sobriety, Archie cursed himself for not having left with Harri; instead, he was about to experience the World Record for the shortest time with a spine.
"Does this look like a pisser to you, sweetheart?" Jake asked, as Archie shook his head. The problem was that he lost his filter somewhere in the club.
"Definitely looks like a toilet."
"Right," Jake let out a hollow laugh, winding his arm back before it suddenly shot forward, closing the gap and delivering a blow to Archie's abdomen. Unfortunately for Archie, apparently his stomach wasn't empty. It started in the back of his throat, before he exhaled harshly, followed by a retching gag. The limited remnants of a mostly liquid dinner spilled onto the ground in front of him while his eyes saw exploding stars again. The invasive smell of his own vomit caused a third gag while his body tried to empty itself further in revolt.
His ribs felt like they were cracked, and his head was spinning. Hell, even his testicles felt like they had retracted deep into his perineum. Five minutes ago, Archie had considered drinking regularly; right now, he was wishing for the sweet release of death, and luckily for Archie, it seemed like Jake and his Dragons might actually grant that wish.
"I forgot you were funny," Jake finished his statement. "Problem is, this is Dragon turf, and you're defacing Dragon turf."
"Safe to say I didn't hurt property values then." Archie retorted, immediately wincing at his own words.
Inside voice, go back inside now, kay?
"You've got a cajones on ya," Longo smiled, "Surprised you've been hidin' this long."
"I wasn't hiding them," Archie straightened up, wincing as he took a deep breath. "Your mom was busy gargling them."
You definitely should not have said that.
"Ain't nobody comin' ta save ya this time." Jake sneered, cracking his neck before pointing towards Archie. "Kill him." The order didn't exactly come as a shock, though cold-blooded murder felt like a slight escalation. In all of Archie's time in the District Attorney's office, he couldn't recall a single murder being attributed to the Dragons.
But that didn't mean he was going to stand here and wait to find out.
Archie pushed off from the wall, running as fast as he could out of the alley and onto the main street. Normally, running straight into Dairy Way traffic was considered suicide, but in this case, so was staying still. Frankly, Archie was more eager to become a hood ornament than a punching bag.
A horn echoed past his head as he sprinted through traffic. If he had anything left in his stomach, he would have thrown up again. Behind him, the angry din of upset gangbangers echoed after him. But it was the one overhead that worried him the most as Jake used his Gray-abilities to sling shot himself through the air before flattening out and gliding above, easily over taking Archie again.
"Ya know, I was really hopin' ya'd fight," Jake quipped as he landed in front of Archie. "It'd be a lotta more fun for me if ya fought back some."
In his life, Archie had been in a grand total of three fights. The common denominator?
He lost. Everytime.
"Believe it or not," Archie huffed, it was only now, having stopped, that he started to notice how hard his lungs were working. "I'm not really thinking of what's best for you at the moment."
Jake's face turned from a grin to a sneer before another fist rocketed towards Archie. He looked back and forth, trying to get his bearings for somewhere to run. His head was spinning, his knees felt like they could give out at any second, and his feet refused to move. Crossing his arms over his face, Archie closed his eyes and prayed for it all to be over.
Only the punch didn't come.
A scream rang in his ears, prompting Archie to open his eyes. They widened as black fur appeared before him, the large dog snarling loudly, spittle flying from the corners of its clamped maw as rows of razor-sharp teeth held Jake's arm pinned between them.
Archie knew better than to knock a gift dog in its very sharp mouth.
Angry shouts echoed in his ears as Archie began to run again, rounding the corner just in time to disappear before the rest of the Dragons caught up. A howl hauntingly hung in the night behind him, followed by more screams and a horrific crunching sound that Archie wouldn't be able to escape for at least the next week.
Crossing another street, he came to a stop outside of a large bay window before looking around and finally admitting to himself what he had feared the most.
He was lost.
Patting down his pockets, Archie felt for his phone. A sigh of relief echoed down the empty street as he pulled it out, immediately tapping on the missed call notification. Hopefully, Harri would be able to help-
The thought was interrupted as something collided with the side of his jaw. The phone clattered across the pavement just in time for Harri to pick up, and her frantic cries echoed into the night. Archie tried to scramble for the phone, but it was too late. Jake was already on top of him as another rubber fist impacted his rib cage, this time Archie knew for sure that something had cracked.
He barely had time to stand before he saw Jake preparing another blow when out of nowhere red eyes appeared and a pair of heavy paws shoved Archie backwards against the fenestration. The window shattered under the force of Archie's weight being slammed against it. Glass shards flew across the floor while Archie crashed through a display. Numerous lacerations covered his body, pain felt like it was coming from everywhere. A metallic taste filled his mouth, barely noticeable between the numbness and lingering taste of his own vomit. Spitting, blood splayed across the cold wooden floor beneath him.
A pained groan escaped from between his lips as his body refused to respond to his insistence that he move. A bark rang in his eyes, pure adrenaline beginning to take over as he worked solely on survival instinct. Numerous objects filled the dark shop, towering over Archie as he crawled along the ground, searching for a place to hide before finally coming to rest hidden beneath a towering bookshelf.
"Archibald Hardwick..." The whisper felt like it crawled inside his head. His head whipped around side to side, crouching even lower to the ground as he continued to hide behind the bookshelf. Furious voices echoed from outside the shop before the sound of crunching glass alerted Archie that they had entered the store. The aged wooden floor creaked as the Dragons continued to look for Archie. He winced as a sudden crash echoed nearby.
There was no doubt in his mind that they were desperate to tear this place apart to find him.
"Hardwick..." The voice grew more persistent, "I can give you the power you desire."
A growl sent a shiver down his spine as it was followed by a scream. The sound of a body impacting against a wall shook Archie to his core. Another scream echoed across the store, and Archie's nose recoiled as he smelled urine; unfortunately, he quickly realized it was his.
The whispering voice continued to crawl through his skull, it bordered on agony with how persistent it was. Archie's eyes darted around, looking for the source of the voice, before his eyes were drawn to a large book on the shelf above him. Bound in weathered leather and tarnished metal, he had never seen such a tome in any of his numerous visits to the library. From within its pages, an ethereal glow emitted in the darkness of the shop and a morbid curiosity arose within Archie. A shaky hand reached towards the book, touching it before almost instantly retracting. The book tumbled loudly to the floor, and Archie quickly pounced on it. If the situation were better, he probably would have laughed at himself for how futile that had been.
"There you are!"
Archie's eyes went wide as a Dragon rounded the corner, spotting Archie and the glowing book in the darkness. He slid backwards, the metal edge of the cover catching on his palm. A cry of pain came from between Archie's pursed lips as fresh blood spilled down the fore edge of the grimoire he gripped. It suddenly fell open in his hands, the once glow now nearly a blinding light.
"Archibald Hardwick, accept my help!"
Your familiar can't keep taking hits for you, child.
Is this really the best that the great Zechariah Auber has to offer? A whelp of an apprentice who can't even cast a basic ward?
Prepare to die, Warlock.
Is this really the best that the great Zechariah Auber has to offer? A whelp of an apprentice who can't even cast a basic ward?
Prepare to die, Warlock.
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
LOCATION: GALLOWAY'S EMPORIUM OF ANTIQUITIES - MILK STREET | URBAN GOTHIC #1.05: HUNGOVER IN HANDCUFFS |
INTERACTIONS: NONE | PREVIOUSLY: HURT |
Everything felt so loud.
The cold wooden floor beneath him offered little to no comfort as Archie's nose was bombarded with the foul smell of something burnt and rotten. He still felt like he could throw up. Disoriented and unsure of either where he was, let alone when it was, he started to stand only to be immediately blinded by a beam of piercing light. He lifted a hand to shield his only, only to be tackled, his arms wrestled behind his back and clasped into two rings of metal that dug against his wrists.
Wait!
Archie cried out internally as the handcuffs were placed on him and he was hauled upright. He looked from the uniform on his left to the one on his right. The two large officers dwarfed the scrawny, lithe man held firmly between them. Several body bags lay on the floor while another had been loaded onto a gurney and wheeled into the back of the ambulance sitting outside.
I have rights! I didn't do this!
"If you attempt to use your powers again, we will be forced to respond accordingly."
"Powers?" Archied replied, finally finding a voice, "I'm not gray, I don't have any powers?"
"Had a little too much fun at the club then? Scored a designer cocktail?" The officer asked, locking Archie's arms into a painful position. "If there's anything I hate more than a Gray, it's a wannabe Gray."
Archie was internally screaming, what was he being charged with? Where were his rights?
The book?
Where was the book?
-Archie arrested
-One phone call to Harri
-Galloway
-"Oh, this is your blood? Ah, I can't take your money, you've already paid the price for the grimoire. It's yours now, watch yourself."
The cold wooden floor beneath him offered little to no comfort as Archie's nose was bombarded with the foul smell of something burnt and rotten. He still felt like he could throw up. Disoriented and unsure of either where he was, let alone when it was, he started to stand only to be immediately blinded by a beam of piercing light. He lifted a hand to shield his only, only to be tackled, his arms wrestled behind his back and clasped into two rings of metal that dug against his wrists.
Wait!
Archie cried out internally as the handcuffs were placed on him and he was hauled upright. He looked from the uniform on his left to the one on his right. The two large officers dwarfed the scrawny, lithe man held firmly between them. Several body bags lay on the floor while another had been loaded onto a gurney and wheeled into the back of the ambulance sitting outside.
I have rights! I didn't do this!
"If you attempt to use your powers again, we will be forced to respond accordingly."
"Powers?" Archied replied, finally finding a voice, "I'm not gray, I don't have any powers?"
"Had a little too much fun at the club then? Scored a designer cocktail?" The officer asked, locking Archie's arms into a painful position. "If there's anything I hate more than a Gray, it's a wannabe Gray."
Archie was internally screaming, what was he being charged with? Where were his rights?
The book?
Where was the book?
-Archie arrested
-One phone call to Harri
-Galloway
-"Oh, this is your blood? Ah, I can't take your money, you've already paid the price for the grimoire. It's yours now, watch yourself."
Anyone keeping tabs of the lore drops?
Bruh, I'm not even keeping tabs on my own lore drops.
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
LOCATION: THE HAUNT - MILK STREET | URBAN GOTHIC #1.04: HURT |
INTERACTIONS: NONE | PREVIOUSLY: HEAVY IS THE HEAD |
Ow.
His head was spinning. His vision faded in and out. The smell of vomit assaulted Archie's nostrils as he found the strength to push himself up. One side of his face felt like a cat had mauled it from where his skin had roughly dragged against the coarse brick wall. The other side felt swollen and sore; his tongue felt around loose teeth while Archie slowly regained his bearings. He felt like he had been whalloped with a sledgehammer. The smell of vomit refused to dissipate before Archie suddenly realized it was his. He brought an arm to his mouth, vomit staining the cuff of his shirt before he spat the residual from his mouth. Vermillion mixed into the vile substance, as blood flowed freely from his gums and tongue.
His eyes were still seeing stars as Archie tried to piece together what had hit him. He didn't have to look far, however, merely moving his head towards the sound of sneering laughter. Jeers echoed in the alley before another fist pummeled Archie, nearly dropping him to his knees as pain screeched through his entire being. The fist in question shot back, through the air, like a snapped rubber band, while the other dragged along the ground, retracting back to the elastic-like figure it belonged to.
"Pretty Boy ain't lookin' so pretty now."
Right, the @$$#@% from earlier.
Archie rubbed his jaw before turning to look at his assailant. He was flushed from the alcohol and, despite the cooler night air, still warm to the touch. Even still, he felt the sting of his own blood dripping down the side of his face. Panicked eyes darted back and forth from the less-than-kind audience to the busy street towards the front of the club, rapidly surveying the dark alley for an escape. In a fleeting moment of sobriety, Archie cursed himself for not having left with Harri; instead, he was about to experience the World Record for the shortest time with a spine.
"Does this look like a pisser to you, sweetheart?" Jake asked, as Archie shook his head. The problem was that he lost his filter somewhere in the club.
"Definitely looks like a toilet."
"Right," Jake let out a hollow laugh, winding his arm back before it suddenly shot forward, closing the gap and delivering a blow to Archie's abdomen. Unfortunately for Archie, apparently his stomach wasn't empty. It started in the back of his throat, before he exhaled harshly, followed by a retching gag. The limited remnants of a mostly liquid dinner spilled onto the ground in front of him while his eyes saw exploding stars again. The invasive smell of his own vomit caused a third gag while his body tried to empty itself further in revolt.
His ribs felt like they were cracked, and his head was spinning. Hell, even his testicles felt like they had retracted deep into his perineum. Five minutes ago, Archie had considered drinking regularly; right now, he was wishing for the sweet release of death, and luckily for Archie, it seemed like Jake and his Dragons might actually grant that wish.
"I forgot you were funny," Jake finished his statement. "Problem is, this is Dragon turf, and you're defacing Dragon turf."
"Safe to say I didn't hurt property values then." Archie retorted, immediately wincing at his own words.
Inside voice, go back inside now, kay?
"You've got a cajones on ya," Longo smiled, "Surprised you've been hidin' this long."
"I wasn't hiding them," Archie straightened up, wincing as he took a deep breath. "Your mom was busy gargling them."
You definitely should not have said that.
"Ain't nobody comin' ta save ya this time." Jake sneered, cracking his neck before pointing towards Archie. "Kill him." The order didn't exactly come as a shock, though cold-blooded murder felt like a slight escalation. In all of Archie's time in the District Attorney's office, he couldn't recall a single murder being attributed to the Dragons.
But that didn't mean he was going to stand here and wait to find out.
Archie pushed off from the wall, running as fast as he could out of the alley and onto the main street. Normally, running straight into Dairy Way traffic was considered suicide, but in this case, so was staying still. Frankly, Archie was more eager to become a hood ornament than a punching bag.
A horn echoed past his head as he sprinted through traffic. If he had anything left in his stomach, he would have thrown up again. Behind him, the angry din of upset gangbangers echoed after him. But it was the one overhead that worried him the most as Jake used his Gray-abilities to sling shot himself through the air before flattening out and gliding above, easily over taking Archie again.
"Ya know, I was really hopin' ya'd fight," Jake quipped as he landed in front of Archie. "It'd be a lotta more fun for me if ya fought back some."
In his life, Archie had been in a grand total of three fights. The common denominator?
He lost. Everytime.
"Believe it or not," Archie huffed, it was only now, having stopped, that he started to notice how hard his lungs were working. "I'm not really thinking of what's best for you at the moment."
Jake's face turned from a grin to a sneer before another fist rocketed towards Archie. He looked back and forth, trying to get his bearings for somewhere to run. His head was spinning, his knees felt like they could give out at any second, and his feet refused to move. Crossing his arms over his face, Archie closed his eyes and prayed for it all to be over.
Only the punch didn't come.
A scream rang in his ears, prompting Archie to open his eyes. They widened as black fur appeared before him, the large dog snarling loudly, spittle flying from the corners of its clamped maw as rows of razor-sharp teeth held Jake's arm pinned between them.
Archie knew better than to knock a gift dog in its very sharp mouth.
Angry shouts echoed in his ears as Archie began to run again, rounding the corner just in time to disappear before the rest of the Dragons caught up. A howl hauntingly hung in the night behind him, followed by more screams and a horrific crunching sound that Archie wouldn't be able to escape for at least the next week.
Crossing another street, he came to a stop outside of a large bay window before looking around and finally admitting to himself what he had feared the most.
He was lost.
Patting down his pockets, Archie felt for his phone. A sigh of relief echoed down the empty street as he pulled it out, immediately tapping on the missed call notification. Hopefully, Harri would be able to help-
The thought was interrupted as something collided with the side of his jaw. The phone clattered across the pavement just in time for Harri to pick up, and her frantic cries echoed into the night. Archie tried to scramble for the phone, but it was too late. Jake was already on top of him as another rubber fist impacted his rib cage, this time Archie knew for sure that something had cracked.
He barely had time to stand before he saw Jake preparing another blow when out of nowhere red eyes appeared and a pair of heavy paws shoved Archie backwards against the fenestration. The window shattered under the force of Archie's weight being slammed against it. Glass shards flew across the floor while Archie crashed through a display. Numerous lacerations covered his body, pain felt like it was coming from everywhere. A metallic taste filled his mouth, barely noticeable between the numbness and lingering taste of his own vomit. Spitting, blood splayed across the cold wooden floor beneath him.
A pained groan escaped from between his lips as his body refused to respond to his insistence that he move. A bark rang in his eyes, pure adrenaline beginning to take over as he worked solely on survival instinct. Numerous objects filled the dark shop, towering over Archie as he crawled along the ground, searching for a place to hide before finally coming to rest hidden beneath a towering bookshelf.
"Archibald Hardwick..." The whisper felt like it crawled inside his head. His head whipped around side to side, crouching even lower to the ground as he continued to hide behind the bookshelf. Furious voices echoed from outside the shop before the sound of crunching glass alerted Archie that they had entered the store. The aged wooden floor creaked as the Dragons continued to look for Archie. He winced as a sudden crash echoed nearby.
There was no doubt in his mind that they were desperate to tear this place apart to find him.
"Hardwick..." The voice grew more persistent, "I can give you the power you desire."
A growl sent a shiver down his spine as it was followed by a scream. The sound of a body impacting against a wall shook Archie to his core. Another scream echoed across the store, and Archie's nose recoiled as he smelled urine; unfortunately, he quickly realized it was his.
The whispering voice continued to crawl through his skull, it bordered on agony with how persistent it was. Archie's eyes darted around, looking for the source of the voice, before his eyes were drawn to a large book on the shelf above him. Bound in weathered leather and tarnished metal, he had never seen such a tome in any of his numerous visits to the library. From within its pages, an ethereal glow emitted in the darkness of the shop and a morbid curiosity arose within Archie. A shaky hand reached towards the book, touching it before almost instantly retracting. The book tumbled loudly to the floor, and Archie quickly pounced on it. If the situation were better, he probably would have laughed at himself for how futile that had been.
"There you are!"
Archie's eyes went wide as a Dragon rounded the corner, spotting Archie and the glowing book in the darkness. He slid backwards, the metal edge of the cover catching on his palm. A cry of pain came from between Archie's pursed lips as fresh blood spilled down the fore edge of the grimoire he gripped. It suddenly fell open in his hands, the once glow now nearly a blinding light.
"Archibald Hardwick, accept my help!"
His head was spinning. His vision faded in and out. The smell of vomit assaulted Archie's nostrils as he found the strength to push himself up. One side of his face felt like a cat had mauled it from where his skin had roughly dragged against the coarse brick wall. The other side felt swollen and sore; his tongue felt around loose teeth while Archie slowly regained his bearings. He felt like he had been whalloped with a sledgehammer. The smell of vomit refused to dissipate before Archie suddenly realized it was his. He brought an arm to his mouth, vomit staining the cuff of his shirt before he spat the residual from his mouth. Vermillion mixed into the vile substance, as blood flowed freely from his gums and tongue.
His eyes were still seeing stars as Archie tried to piece together what had hit him. He didn't have to look far, however, merely moving his head towards the sound of sneering laughter. Jeers echoed in the alley before another fist pummeled Archie, nearly dropping him to his knees as pain screeched through his entire being. The fist in question shot back, through the air, like a snapped rubber band, while the other dragged along the ground, retracting back to the elastic-like figure it belonged to.
"Pretty Boy ain't lookin' so pretty now."
Right, the @$$#@% from earlier.
Archie rubbed his jaw before turning to look at his assailant. He was flushed from the alcohol and, despite the cooler night air, still warm to the touch. Even still, he felt the sting of his own blood dripping down the side of his face. Panicked eyes darted back and forth from the less-than-kind audience to the busy street towards the front of the club, rapidly surveying the dark alley for an escape. In a fleeting moment of sobriety, Archie cursed himself for not having left with Harri; instead, he was about to experience the World Record for the shortest time with a spine.
"Does this look like a pisser to you, sweetheart?" Jake asked, as Archie shook his head. The problem was that he lost his filter somewhere in the club.
"Definitely looks like a toilet."
"Right," Jake let out a hollow laugh, winding his arm back before it suddenly shot forward, closing the gap and delivering a blow to Archie's abdomen. Unfortunately for Archie, apparently his stomach wasn't empty. It started in the back of his throat, before he exhaled harshly, followed by a retching gag. The limited remnants of a mostly liquid dinner spilled onto the ground in front of him while his eyes saw exploding stars again. The invasive smell of his own vomit caused a third gag while his body tried to empty itself further in revolt.
His ribs felt like they were cracked, and his head was spinning. Hell, even his testicles felt like they had retracted deep into his perineum. Five minutes ago, Archie had considered drinking regularly; right now, he was wishing for the sweet release of death, and luckily for Archie, it seemed like Jake and his Dragons might actually grant that wish.
"I forgot you were funny," Jake finished his statement. "Problem is, this is Dragon turf, and you're defacing Dragon turf."
"Safe to say I didn't hurt property values then." Archie retorted, immediately wincing at his own words.
Inside voice, go back inside now, kay?
"You've got a cajones on ya," Longo smiled, "Surprised you've been hidin' this long."
"I wasn't hiding them," Archie straightened up, wincing as he took a deep breath. "Your mom was busy gargling them."
You definitely should not have said that.
"Ain't nobody comin' ta save ya this time." Jake sneered, cracking his neck before pointing towards Archie. "Kill him." The order didn't exactly come as a shock, though cold-blooded murder felt like a slight escalation. In all of Archie's time in the District Attorney's office, he couldn't recall a single murder being attributed to the Dragons.
But that didn't mean he was going to stand here and wait to find out.
Archie pushed off from the wall, running as fast as he could out of the alley and onto the main street. Normally, running straight into Dairy Way traffic was considered suicide, but in this case, so was staying still. Frankly, Archie was more eager to become a hood ornament than a punching bag.
A horn echoed past his head as he sprinted through traffic. If he had anything left in his stomach, he would have thrown up again. Behind him, the angry din of upset gangbangers echoed after him. But it was the one overhead that worried him the most as Jake used his Gray-abilities to sling shot himself through the air before flattening out and gliding above, easily over taking Archie again.
"Ya know, I was really hopin' ya'd fight," Jake quipped as he landed in front of Archie. "It'd be a lotta more fun for me if ya fought back some."
In his life, Archie had been in a grand total of three fights. The common denominator?
He lost. Everytime.
"Believe it or not," Archie huffed, it was only now, having stopped, that he started to notice how hard his lungs were working. "I'm not really thinking of what's best for you at the moment."
Jake's face turned from a grin to a sneer before another fist rocketed towards Archie. He looked back and forth, trying to get his bearings for somewhere to run. His head was spinning, his knees felt like they could give out at any second, and his feet refused to move. Crossing his arms over his face, Archie closed his eyes and prayed for it all to be over.
Only the punch didn't come.
A scream rang in his ears, prompting Archie to open his eyes. They widened as black fur appeared before him, the large dog snarling loudly, spittle flying from the corners of its clamped maw as rows of razor-sharp teeth held Jake's arm pinned between them.
Archie knew better than to knock a gift dog in its very sharp mouth.
Angry shouts echoed in his ears as Archie began to run again, rounding the corner just in time to disappear before the rest of the Dragons caught up. A howl hauntingly hung in the night behind him, followed by more screams and a horrific crunching sound that Archie wouldn't be able to escape for at least the next week.
Crossing another street, he came to a stop outside of a large bay window before looking around and finally admitting to himself what he had feared the most.
He was lost.
Patting down his pockets, Archie felt for his phone. A sigh of relief echoed down the empty street as he pulled it out, immediately tapping on the missed call notification. Hopefully, Harri would be able to help-
The thought was interrupted as something collided with the side of his jaw. The phone clattered across the pavement just in time for Harri to pick up, and her frantic cries echoed into the night. Archie tried to scramble for the phone, but it was too late. Jake was already on top of him as another rubber fist impacted his rib cage, this time Archie knew for sure that something had cracked.
He barely had time to stand before he saw Jake preparing another blow when out of nowhere red eyes appeared and a pair of heavy paws shoved Archie backwards against the fenestration. The window shattered under the force of Archie's weight being slammed against it. Glass shards flew across the floor while Archie crashed through a display. Numerous lacerations covered his body, pain felt like it was coming from everywhere. A metallic taste filled his mouth, barely noticeable between the numbness and lingering taste of his own vomit. Spitting, blood splayed across the cold wooden floor beneath him.
A pained groan escaped from between his lips as his body refused to respond to his insistence that he move. A bark rang in his eyes, pure adrenaline beginning to take over as he worked solely on survival instinct. Numerous objects filled the dark shop, towering over Archie as he crawled along the ground, searching for a place to hide before finally coming to rest hidden beneath a towering bookshelf.
"Archibald Hardwick..." The whisper felt like it crawled inside his head. His head whipped around side to side, crouching even lower to the ground as he continued to hide behind the bookshelf. Furious voices echoed from outside the shop before the sound of crunching glass alerted Archie that they had entered the store. The aged wooden floor creaked as the Dragons continued to look for Archie. He winced as a sudden crash echoed nearby.
There was no doubt in his mind that they were desperate to tear this place apart to find him.
"Hardwick..." The voice grew more persistent, "I can give you the power you desire."
A growl sent a shiver down his spine as it was followed by a scream. The sound of a body impacting against a wall shook Archie to his core. Another scream echoed across the store, and Archie's nose recoiled as he smelled urine; unfortunately, he quickly realized it was his.
The whispering voice continued to crawl through his skull, it bordered on agony with how persistent it was. Archie's eyes darted around, looking for the source of the voice, before his eyes were drawn to a large book on the shelf above him. Bound in weathered leather and tarnished metal, he had never seen such a tome in any of his numerous visits to the library. From within its pages, an ethereal glow emitted in the darkness of the shop and a morbid curiosity arose within Archie. A shaky hand reached towards the book, touching it before almost instantly retracting. The book tumbled loudly to the floor, and Archie quickly pounced on it. If the situation were better, he probably would have laughed at himself for how futile that had been.
"There you are!"
Archie's eyes went wide as a Dragon rounded the corner, spotting Archie and the glowing book in the darkness. He slid backwards, the metal edge of the cover catching on his palm. A cry of pain came from between Archie's pursed lips as fresh blood spilled down the fore edge of the grimoire he gripped. It suddenly fell open in his hands, the once glow now nearly a blinding light.
"Archibald Hardwick, accept my help!"
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head
_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man
_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,
_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though
_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...
LOCATION: THE HAUNT - MILK STREET | URBAN GOTHIC #1.03: HEAVY IS THE HEAD |
INTERACTIONS: NONE | PREVIOUSLY: THE HAUNT |
Archie had never been drunk before.
Sure, he had tried a drink or two after his twenty-first birthday, but he had quickly decided that alcohol wasn't for him. The constant buzz in his head, the gurgling of his stomach, the warmth that clung to the back of his jaw and danced across his ears. He didn't like it. The slower cognitive speed, the slurring and stumbling over his words, and the delayed response time. He didn't like it.
The lights of the club were invigorating as the beat of the thumping subwoofers found its way into Archie's body and moved his limbs along with it. Laughter echoed in his ears; some of it even sounded like his. Gangly limbs flailed about rhythmically, and cheering encouraged further display. He had even managed to find himself a tie at some point throughout the night; it was now wrapped around his head.
Archie was drunk.
But for the first time in his life, he didn't seem to mind. Harri was enjoying herself, dancing and laughing alongside him. The cute bartender kept topping up his drinks, and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but Archie felt like he actually had a chance with her. Maybe alcohol really could solve all of his problems? He fell into a hypnotic trance, letting go of his thoughts as he became one with the music, distancing himself from everyone around him, and letting the warm feeling in his belly lull him into an idyllic place.
The music fell into a decrescendo, a hush falling over the dancefloor. Tension hung in the air before the tweeter suddenly started to build, a snare and high hat queued up the beat, before suddenly the entire club burst out in unison as the bass dropped.
"I'M NOT GRAY!"
The 'Calder City Blues' was a favourite track among the city's mundane population. Originally a viral clip from an interview at a horrific crime scene involving the abduction of three children under twelve, the mother had lamented, 'I'm not gray,' to the reporters seemingly unprompted, leading to numerous remixes. The most popular of which was of course 'Calder City Blues', a heavy house track by DJ R3TCH!D R@T.
You couldn't walk down Milk Street during the evening without hearing the familiar beat pumping from behind the doors of its various clubs. 'The Haunt' in particular was known to host R3CH!D R@T frequently, and tonight was one such event.
The strobing lights followed the resumed tempo, pulsing along with the meter as the dance floor exploded. Archie had never had this much fun in his entire life, but a strange sensation was washing over him. It started in his toes and went all the way to his head. The room began to spin, and he stumbled forward, pushing himself off a nearby support column before stumbling into a pair of women. He heard laughter again, but this time it sounded like it was only his, followed by the sound of shattering glass and curse-laden shrieks.
He needed another drink.
Approaching the bar, he managed to flag down another bartender, re-ordering the cocktail that Carmilla had made for him, although she was nowhere to be seen. He pouted into his drink, looking around for the buxom, raven-haired beauty, hoping to weaponize his liquid courage for the good of getting her number, or at least her 'Snapshot' handle.
"How many of those have you had?"
Harri suddenly appeared beside Archie, causing him to jump, spilling the drink in his hand before he sloppily bent down and slurped up as much as he could so as not to lose the magical elixir that was responsible for the thus far best night of his life.
"Only like three," Archie replied, holding up a hand with five splayed fingers. "I don't tell you enough how pretty you are."
"That's sweet, but you're very drunk. Not a good look, Mr. Hardwick." Harri shook her head, "You need water and grease, like yesterday."
"I need you, like yesterday," Archie replied, his words slurred as he attempted to playfully poke Harri, not realizing the force he put behind his finger. She winced, quickly pushing his hand away before Archie opened his mouth again, his glassy eyes batting eyelashes that looked like they came straight out of a Maybelline ad towards her.
"Our babies would be smart and beautiful."
"I'm more surprised you can still manage three-syllable words. What are you drinking?" Harri asked, taking the glass from Archie's hand before batting his hand away from petting her hair. She took a sniff of the glass before a small taste. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.
"Oh, hun, you are going to have the worst hangover. This is pure sugar." Harri replied, "We need to get you to a greasy spoon stat, coffee, bacon and water. That's all you're getting from this point on."
"But I want the magic juice," Archie pouted, piquing up as Carmilla reappeared behind the bar.
"How's my favourite customer?"
"He should be cut off." Harri interjected, putting herself between Archie and Carmilla, "Is he all settled up? We're about to leave."
"Oh," Carmilla replied, looking from Harri back to Archie, "Is this your girlfriend?"
Archie stared back at Carmilla; he hadn't previously noticed the colour of her eyes. The subtle hues of gray mixed in with her blue reflected the light of the club, giving them almost a supernatural violet glow. He felt drawn in, forgetting the question or Harri for a moment as he froze like a gazelle caught in a snare by a hungry lioness. The stillness of his mind was broken, his internal monologue waking up and snapping him back to reality.
Say something smooth, you idiot.
"Not if you're available," Archie replied, making a finger gun and following it with a clicking noise out of the side of his mouth.
"Sorry," Harri interjected, her jaw agape. "I've never seen him like this; he's pretty wasted."
"He is pretty," Carmilla replied, "I think he's cute."
"I guess," Harri shrugged, "If you're into that kind of thing." Her voice trailed off as she realized that Archie was hanging onto her every word. Scratching the side of her head, Harri looked at her feet, pursing her lips before tucking a strand of straightened hair behind her ear.
Archie stared at Harri. The side of his face twitched slightly. What did she just say? After all this time, he felt like a burden had been lighted, only it was a damper that just stoked a fire.
If you're into that kind of thing? Where does she get off? I've been buying her drinks all night. If you're into that kind of thing? What kind of thing does she think I am? She does realize I'm a person, a person with feelings, right? Feelings for her, especially. I thought we were friends and she doesn't even think of me as more than a thing?
"Uh," She cleared her throat, "We really do need to get you something on your stomach that's not sugar or liquor." Harri insisted, gently wrapping an arm around one of Archie's.
"No," Archie stated flatly before finishing the drink he held in his hand. His knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the glass. Shifting his body, Archie turned away from Harri, hunching his back and looking straight down at the counter.
"No, I'm staying here, where people like me." He replied bitterly, pushing the empty glass forward for a refill.
"Archie, c'mon. You're drunk, you're not seeing things for what they are-"
"No, I think I'm seeing things pretty clearly," He snapped angrily. He slammed the glass down on the bar rail before standing up from the stool. Taking a step back, Archie stumbled, nearly falling to the floor before Harri caught him. Taking hold of the countertop, he shook her off before straightening his shirt and standing up.
"I've got to hit the head, don't wait for me." He stated, swaying back and forth as he did before spinning around and heading for the bathroom.
"I'm so sorry," Harri apologized behind Archie to Carmilla, "I've never seen him act like that."
"I don't think it's me you have to apologize to," Carmilla replied, cleaning a glass as she watched Archie walk toward the restrooms. "I'll watch out for him if you want to take off. Maybe give him some space until cooler and more sober heads prevail."
"Nah," Harri shook her head, "I think you've done enough for tonight."
Pushing through the crowd, Archie continued his way towards the washrooms only to realize the size of the line leading to the men's. Apparently, someone had managed to fudge their way through a code inspection since there was no way the bathrooms were undersized enough to cause a line of this length.
Shaking his head, he felt the need to urinate rapidly rising within him as his eyes darted back and forth across the club, looking for an alternative option. Seeing no other signs indicating a second bathroom, his eyes landed on an exit sign to the adjacent alley.
Hastily pushing through the crowd, Archie burst the door open, the cool night air doing him no favours before he ducked around a corner and found himself a secluded spot amid dumpsters and shadows. The zipper on his pants echoed in the quiet alley before being replaced by the steady stream of what felt like a firehose worth of piss he had to unload from his bladder.
Relief washed over Archie. There were few sensations he had experienced that felt better than this did in the moment.
"Yo!" The voice called angrily.
"What the #&$% do you think you're doing?" The familiar voice added. Archie shook himself out before zipping up his pants. Taking a step back to turn around, he soundly found his face smashed into the nearby brick wall.
And the world went black.
Sure, he had tried a drink or two after his twenty-first birthday, but he had quickly decided that alcohol wasn't for him. The constant buzz in his head, the gurgling of his stomach, the warmth that clung to the back of his jaw and danced across his ears. He didn't like it. The slower cognitive speed, the slurring and stumbling over his words, and the delayed response time. He didn't like it.
The lights of the club were invigorating as the beat of the thumping subwoofers found its way into Archie's body and moved his limbs along with it. Laughter echoed in his ears; some of it even sounded like his. Gangly limbs flailed about rhythmically, and cheering encouraged further display. He had even managed to find himself a tie at some point throughout the night; it was now wrapped around his head.
Archie was drunk.
But for the first time in his life, he didn't seem to mind. Harri was enjoying herself, dancing and laughing alongside him. The cute bartender kept topping up his drinks, and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but Archie felt like he actually had a chance with her. Maybe alcohol really could solve all of his problems? He fell into a hypnotic trance, letting go of his thoughts as he became one with the music, distancing himself from everyone around him, and letting the warm feeling in his belly lull him into an idyllic place.
The music fell into a decrescendo, a hush falling over the dancefloor. Tension hung in the air before the tweeter suddenly started to build, a snare and high hat queued up the beat, before suddenly the entire club burst out in unison as the bass dropped.
"I'M NOT GRAY!"
The 'Calder City Blues' was a favourite track among the city's mundane population. Originally a viral clip from an interview at a horrific crime scene involving the abduction of three children under twelve, the mother had lamented, 'I'm not gray,' to the reporters seemingly unprompted, leading to numerous remixes. The most popular of which was of course 'Calder City Blues', a heavy house track by DJ R3TCH!D R@T.
You couldn't walk down Milk Street during the evening without hearing the familiar beat pumping from behind the doors of its various clubs. 'The Haunt' in particular was known to host R3CH!D R@T frequently, and tonight was one such event.
The strobing lights followed the resumed tempo, pulsing along with the meter as the dance floor exploded. Archie had never had this much fun in his entire life, but a strange sensation was washing over him. It started in his toes and went all the way to his head. The room began to spin, and he stumbled forward, pushing himself off a nearby support column before stumbling into a pair of women. He heard laughter again, but this time it sounded like it was only his, followed by the sound of shattering glass and curse-laden shrieks.
He needed another drink.
Approaching the bar, he managed to flag down another bartender, re-ordering the cocktail that Carmilla had made for him, although she was nowhere to be seen. He pouted into his drink, looking around for the buxom, raven-haired beauty, hoping to weaponize his liquid courage for the good of getting her number, or at least her 'Snapshot' handle.
"How many of those have you had?"
Harri suddenly appeared beside Archie, causing him to jump, spilling the drink in his hand before he sloppily bent down and slurped up as much as he could so as not to lose the magical elixir that was responsible for the thus far best night of his life.
"Only like three," Archie replied, holding up a hand with five splayed fingers. "I don't tell you enough how pretty you are."
"That's sweet, but you're very drunk. Not a good look, Mr. Hardwick." Harri shook her head, "You need water and grease, like yesterday."
"I need you, like yesterday," Archie replied, his words slurred as he attempted to playfully poke Harri, not realizing the force he put behind his finger. She winced, quickly pushing his hand away before Archie opened his mouth again, his glassy eyes batting eyelashes that looked like they came straight out of a Maybelline ad towards her.
"Our babies would be smart and beautiful."
"I'm more surprised you can still manage three-syllable words. What are you drinking?" Harri asked, taking the glass from Archie's hand before batting his hand away from petting her hair. She took a sniff of the glass before a small taste. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.
"Oh, hun, you are going to have the worst hangover. This is pure sugar." Harri replied, "We need to get you to a greasy spoon stat, coffee, bacon and water. That's all you're getting from this point on."
"But I want the magic juice," Archie pouted, piquing up as Carmilla reappeared behind the bar.
"How's my favourite customer?"
"He should be cut off." Harri interjected, putting herself between Archie and Carmilla, "Is he all settled up? We're about to leave."
"Oh," Carmilla replied, looking from Harri back to Archie, "Is this your girlfriend?"
Archie stared back at Carmilla; he hadn't previously noticed the colour of her eyes. The subtle hues of gray mixed in with her blue reflected the light of the club, giving them almost a supernatural violet glow. He felt drawn in, forgetting the question or Harri for a moment as he froze like a gazelle caught in a snare by a hungry lioness. The stillness of his mind was broken, his internal monologue waking up and snapping him back to reality.
Say something smooth, you idiot.
"Not if you're available," Archie replied, making a finger gun and following it with a clicking noise out of the side of his mouth.
"Sorry," Harri interjected, her jaw agape. "I've never seen him like this; he's pretty wasted."
"He is pretty," Carmilla replied, "I think he's cute."
"I guess," Harri shrugged, "If you're into that kind of thing." Her voice trailed off as she realized that Archie was hanging onto her every word. Scratching the side of her head, Harri looked at her feet, pursing her lips before tucking a strand of straightened hair behind her ear.
Archie stared at Harri. The side of his face twitched slightly. What did she just say? After all this time, he felt like a burden had been lighted, only it was a damper that just stoked a fire.
If you're into that kind of thing? Where does she get off? I've been buying her drinks all night. If you're into that kind of thing? What kind of thing does she think I am? She does realize I'm a person, a person with feelings, right? Feelings for her, especially. I thought we were friends and she doesn't even think of me as more than a thing?
"Uh," She cleared her throat, "We really do need to get you something on your stomach that's not sugar or liquor." Harri insisted, gently wrapping an arm around one of Archie's.
"No," Archie stated flatly before finishing the drink he held in his hand. His knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the glass. Shifting his body, Archie turned away from Harri, hunching his back and looking straight down at the counter.
"No, I'm staying here, where people like me." He replied bitterly, pushing the empty glass forward for a refill.
"Archie, c'mon. You're drunk, you're not seeing things for what they are-"
"No, I think I'm seeing things pretty clearly," He snapped angrily. He slammed the glass down on the bar rail before standing up from the stool. Taking a step back, Archie stumbled, nearly falling to the floor before Harri caught him. Taking hold of the countertop, he shook her off before straightening his shirt and standing up.
"I've got to hit the head, don't wait for me." He stated, swaying back and forth as he did before spinning around and heading for the bathroom.
"I'm so sorry," Harri apologized behind Archie to Carmilla, "I've never seen him act like that."
"I don't think it's me you have to apologize to," Carmilla replied, cleaning a glass as she watched Archie walk toward the restrooms. "I'll watch out for him if you want to take off. Maybe give him some space until cooler and more sober heads prevail."
"Nah," Harri shook her head, "I think you've done enough for tonight."
Pushing through the crowd, Archie continued his way towards the washrooms only to realize the size of the line leading to the men's. Apparently, someone had managed to fudge their way through a code inspection since there was no way the bathrooms were undersized enough to cause a line of this length.
Shaking his head, he felt the need to urinate rapidly rising within him as his eyes darted back and forth across the club, looking for an alternative option. Seeing no other signs indicating a second bathroom, his eyes landed on an exit sign to the adjacent alley.
Hastily pushing through the crowd, Archie burst the door open, the cool night air doing him no favours before he ducked around a corner and found himself a secluded spot amid dumpsters and shadows. The zipper on his pants echoed in the quiet alley before being replaced by the steady stream of what felt like a firehose worth of piss he had to unload from his bladder.
Relief washed over Archie. There were few sensations he had experienced that felt better than this did in the moment.
"Yo!" The voice called angrily.
"What the #&$% do you think you're doing?" The familiar voice added. Archie shook himself out before zipping up his pants. Taking a step back to turn around, he soundly found his face smashed into the nearby brick wall.
And the world went black.
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