Long Nights

The music was live, the explosive beats rumbling through the narrowing bones of those who felt the rhythm more clearly than those who hadn't. Many sweaty bodies bounced and swayed with one another in synchronization, looking like an ocean of lurid waves created by God's flesh. Women wore those ridiculously high heels with those skimpy dresses, showing no respect for their sacred groves. Small stages that held stripper poles were placed here and there, utterly fit women wearing angel wings and skimpy outfits dancing provocatively around the silver beams. ”How digusting...” a demon muttered under the bellowing music, slithering his broad body through the wiggling stream of moist bodies. A few hands that belonged to a circle of women caressed his chest as he passed by, their giggles stinging his ears with vexation. If no one had been around, he would have easily torn those filthy limbs right off of his chest, and then their body, too. Pushing forward, he jerked away from the thirsty women and continued forth towards the bar, a place he found himself at rather commonly now after befriending the bartender, Connor. He was a chill guy, one who never got on Nero's nerves. He had this relaxed demeanor that Nero could relate to, immediately falling as allies.

When Nero had reached the bar, his fellow bartender hadn't been in sight, so he casually sat down on one of the iron stools and tapped his claws against the glass bar, the eerie clanking of his demonic fingers drumming to the beat of the metal song that boasted from the speakers beside the DJ. This being's attire was a style that was more so for comfort rather than looks. The twenty year old donned a long, deep onyx trench coat with a vest the hue of sheer crimson, a hoodie connecting to the shoulders that plucked out over the trench coat. A black muscle-shirt could be seen worn under the hooded-vest, scooping just below the man's collar bones. He wore his typical pair of black pants and brown mid-calf boots, though tonight he had left his gun holsters on his bed. He had finished work early today, and didn't really feel like exposing his part of the O.A.P.D. Turning his head, the blasé look that once confiscated his face shifted to a more friendly look as his eyes found his friend, waving his ghastly blue hand. “Connor!” he shouted over the music, grinning slightly. “Amaretto and coke.”

When the native bartender caught Nero's gesture, he gave him a nod and sarcastically replied, "Right away." The demon grinned at the man's fair share of sarcasm, his eyes then glancing off to the side as Connor mixed his drink. The strippers who clung to the poles all did their own thing, hooking one leg around it and spinning downward, their wings glittering in the strobe lights above. "So Nero, what brings you here tonight? This isn't exactly the place someone comes because they're bored. They either want to get laid or get drunk. And I don't think you're the type of guy who sleeps around with a bunch of chicks," Connor's voice intruded Nero's horrifying watch, turning towards the front to see his drink before him. A brutal grin cranked the right corners of Nero's lips, his demonic hand grasping the drink. "Just here to allow the Devil's Poison to succumb to my body! Had a fucking long day at work. Got yelled at for killing one of the targeted men. I told 'em it was an accident, but..." he smirked, putting the glass up to his grimacing lips. The cool alcohol rushed into his mouth, the icy cubes lightly tapping against his top lip as he dipped the cup upward. "They know me better than that," the demon bantered in a sardonic tone, placing the glass down. "Seriously, what the fuck happened to letting the imagination wander?" Connor mumbled under his breath just then, shaking his head slightly at the sight of begrimed women.

Looking over his shoulder, Nero's sporadic eyes observed the women with disgusted eyes. How pathetic it was to see these impure imbeciles lure men in through such foul tactics. The sleazy dresses that tightly wove around their bodies, the smudged makeup beneath their eyes that looked like black tears due to the sheets of sweat that broke loose from their gasping pores. And then, the provocative dance moves that made them look like suffering fish, swaying and wiggling their corrupted bodies. "Humph, its a damn shame," Nero muttered under his cold breath, his eyes flashing away from the grungy women. "But then again, it's not so bad. A man's mind sometimes expects too much. Saves us from drastic disappointment," he grinned, his cool voice smooth beneath the obnoxious club music. Taking another sip that put an end to his alcoholic beverage, he swallowed it slowly as he stared at the class cup, the ice glaciers within clanking against the cold glass. "So," he scoffed, pressing his lips tightly for a minute as the beverage sunk in. "Anything eventful happen here tonight?" he smirked, handing him the glass to have another.

“Well, that sounds about right for a day at work for you. I don't really see how killing someone can be an accident, as I imagine you aren't the most merciful person in the world. That's just my guess, though; for all I know, you could actually be a softy,” the bartender assumed, throwing a lopsided grin in Nero's direction. “Oh yeah. Total softy,” Nero smirked, taking a sip of his refilled poison. "Eh, the usual. Some chick tried hitting on me, but in the middle of her pick up line, she hurled right into the trash can. It was such a turn on, I had to restrain myself from kissing her right then and there. So, I decided to turn around and walk away. She was probably too good for me anyway. Hmm, what else... a girl walked in here, trying to find her wasted brother. Being the good samaritan that I am, I walked into the bathroom and retrieved him. I also discovered that potheads apparently find this place dandy, so I kicked that guy out. All in all, a pretty average night." Nero arched a brow at the series of unfortunate events that rolled into Connor's night, a chuckle brushing his lips momentarily. ”That would have been one hell of a kiss, Connor. Should have pulled her in and made a move,” Nero teased. “I don't see why potheads come here... I'm sure the strobe lights and loud music makes them shit their pants. I'd be tripping like hell if I were stuck here on some herb. God knows what fucking kids smoke these days...” Nero grunted.

“S-stop! Don't touch m—“ “Bitch, quit complaining and get over here! I jus' wanna' get to know 'ya a tad better!” a drunkard slurred, his jerky movement tainted with intoxication. A heavy sigh drifted from the demon's lips. Picking up the glass cup, his corpselike eyes gazed at the poison for a brief moment before bringing it to his ice lips and downing in, slamming the cup down. “Excuse me,” Nero said politely. Rising from his own personal hell, the hellion crept silently through the iron gates with a look of cruel bereavement caressing his aesthetic aspect, eyes inflamed with calamity. Cocking his head to the right, a sharp crack stunned the air, a low smirk of malice corrupting his lips. “This party's gettin' started...” he stated in a divine tone, coolly walking towards the struggling commotion. The lush man soaked in alcohol roughly held the poor martyr in his cruel grasp, his jaw tightening from the frustration that feasted upon her stubbornness. Through anger, the man smacked the girl across the face, her shrilling wince stinging the air. The demon narrowed his eyes. Appearing behind the two, an ominous glow rose from the crooks and dips of the man’s inhuman arm, his claws twitching in anticipation. “Do you really want to play those cards, fuckface…?” a voice so relaxed questioned, the demonic claw suddenly lurching forward and grasping onto the drunkard’s bent arm, stopping him from clutching the girl. Gasping as the man released his hold, the girl quickly stumbled away from the two men with the given opportunity. With superb speed, the relentless demon twisted the man’s arm down and caused him to drop his beer, the glass shattering into a million shards beneath the beating music. The man let out a quick wince, though it was not yet music to Nero’s inhuman ears. With cold, ruthless sporadic eyes, he slammed his heinous palm down upon the man's elbow, allowing little strength to effortlessly flow to the palm for this strike. The man's elbow snapped inward, the beautiful symphony of bones shattering erupting the area. A bloodied bone intruded through his skin as it snapped in half, his onyx pupils shrinking to mere beads as the sweltering pain spawned within him. A few men and women screamed at the horrifying sight, pushing off from the bar and running off past the demon. A bloodcurdling scream ripped out of the man’s raw throat just then, his scream causing Nero to grin.

“Apologize to the girl,” he muttered with a dull smirk, his intoxicating voice falling flat and malevolent. The man peered up at the demon with ruined eyes, his teeth gritting. Spitting on Nero's shoes, the man barked up a storm. “Fuck you, you fucked up bastard!” Nero, still holding onto the man's arm, cracked a smirk, leaning in slightly. “Whaddya say? I don’t think I heard you correctly,” he commented, a light sneer escaping past his marbled lips. Nero twisted his broken arm even more. The drunkard let out a stringing yelp, much to Nero's displeasure. “No, no I want to hear an apology. Not a cry,” Nero corrected in a sarcastic manner. Though, his serpentine eyes caught a glimpse of the drunkard making eye contact with someone from behind, and the devil smiled widely at the sight. A slight shift of in the moist air pattered against his senses, and the demon released the man. With expeditious speed, Nero spun around and launched his elbow right into the face of another man, the crowbar that had been held in his hands clashing onto the ground. A loud crackle exploded from beneath the man’s now-shattered nose bridge, his mouth lurching open as if he were about to scream, but nothing came out. As he fell to the floor, his body writhed wildly as he cupped his face. Nero's leg suddenly swooped out from beneath him, kicking up the crowbar from its position on the ground. Whilst the bar was in midair, Nero grabbed the weapon and rashly leaned his lanky body forward, thwarting the bar forward and whacking a third man who was armed in the head with it. Still in his held stance from swinging the crowbar, Nero's eyes glanced down at the man with the broken arm, supposedly the leader of these pathetic morons. “You have a jacked up notion for fair play, pal,” he sighed. “But 'ya know, a fight every now and then does make life a bit more interesting!” the demon grinned, straightening his lanky torso as he no longer felt alarm, casually twirling the long crowbar in his fingers. Glancing down at the girl who had been struggling in the drunkard's tangling grasp earlier, Nero ran a hand through his white hair and smiled ever so charmingly, putting a halt to the twirl of the crowbar. “In the end, we're all satisfied,” he winked, causing her to look down in embarrassment, a faint blush coating her cheeks. Without saying her thanks, she rashly pushed through the crowd surrounding them, disappearing into the sweaty current of humans. “Humph, women...they never appreciate anything!” Nero chuckled as he dropped the crowbar on the man who had originally owned it, a leisurely pace becoming him as he sauntered back towards the other side of the bar with a deliberate slowness. Sitting back down before Connor, Nero looked up and grinned. “I'll be needing another one of those drinks, man.” Glancing over at a woman who took a seat beside him, he took great note of how dark her skin was, compared to her drastically platinum hair that sat upon her head. His ruthless eyes squinted at the unhealthy skin of the woman, and the demon made a disgusted look. “I will never understand the need to tan... It's like being set on fire. And fire's bad for the complexion. I burn easily, never tan!” Nero sarcastically informed as he turned to Connor, shrugging his broad shoulders.]

The low, elongated wub wub that surfaced whenever the beat sputtered caused this demon of snow to ever so slightly bob his head, the crystal glass tainting his lips. "You know,” the Native, started, Nero's cobalt eyes of abhorrence shifting towards the ally. ”It must suck to not be as beautifully, naturally dark like me. I hear they've got counseling for that. Supposed to help raise your self esteem or some shit like that." Is that so? The demon grinned at the bartender's cockiness, setting the drink down upon the glassy bar. He folded his elbows before the glass now, leaning in slightly; his right foot tapped along to the beat. ”Pathetic that such an opportunity exists...” he muttered, his demonic fingers tapping against the glass. Suddenly, such contorted expressions mustered his defined features, Nero arching a brow at the sudden change of mood. “Woah, hold on a minute. You care to explain why you just completely fucked that guy up?” Connor asked, Nero nodding his head in understanding. So that's why his facial expressions shifted. Ha. Man doesn't know me very well, now does he? A grin lapped the lips of this demon. ”I mean, 'cause at this point, I don't know whether I should be intimidated by you, or just come to terms with the fact you're fucking insane sometimes." Without hesitation, Nero lifted a hand and jabbed his pointer finger at Connor. “Fucking insane sounds apropos,” the demon smirked, the lifted hand now reaching for his poison. “A little fight every now and then does make life a bit more interesting, don't 'ya think?” the hellion grinned widely, tilting the cup to get more of the toxic substance. Lightly, the scent of smoke crawled within his sensitive nostrils, and his eyes immediately fleeted towards the source from where it had floated from; the overly tan chick. Leaning away by a smidgen, the corner of his upper lip twitched up in an appalled manner, narrowing his eyes. “Disgusting,” he grunted under his harsh breath, turning away. Women who smoked? Not attractive. The action, when women do it, just made them seem...masculine? In a sense. This demon smoked himself, yes. But he had his own preferences when it came to women. “Keep it classy, never trashy,” he muttered after his eyes caught the glimpse of a pole dancer twirling downward to her hell from the mirrored wall behind the bar, taking a sip of his drink.

I'll be right back man, I've got another customer to serve,” the Native informed, Nero looking down as he placed his drink down, his demonic hand wavering Conner off to go do his duty. His demonic hand reached over to his left pocket, shoving his right hand into it; though, he came out with no loot. A dent formed between his eyebrows out of slight agitation. Patting down his trench coat's breasts pockets, he finally grabbed a box of cigarettes and pulled out a cancer stick. Just then, a rather familiar song began to play, the demon grinning in somewhat satisfaction. “Silent words from a bleeding mouth,” his alluring voice of tranquility sang lowly, the sound of inhalation following his words, “—Swallows pride with a swollen tongue." The cigarette bud had bounced betwixt his marbled lips with each word spoken, the grey fumes crawling uniquely into the dark air of the club. Nonchalantly blowing out a ghastly cloud of smothering smoke, the white haired figure looked down at his glass, watching the ice slam down as tactile as black tar.