Lorenco was right, as usual. Clubs looked a lot easier to hunt in.
He picked the first one he could find in Steel Canyon, Genzyme. Bomber hated clubs. Bars, he didn’t mind; there were pool tables, TV’s, tables, things to do other than dance. Bomber wasn’t a dancer.
The music was not his style, more electronica than anything. It was conductive to dancing, which consisted of standing close to each other can caressing each other lewdly.
He had actually gotten dressed up for this, at Lorenco’s suggestion. He wore a simple button-down shirt, black jeans and his ever-present motorcycle boots. Lorenco suggested using the cowboy hat that he was going to use for his “costume”, and although Bomber balked at first, Lorenco said that hat would hide his feeding. Lorenco had that hungry look in his eyes, and Bomber promised to pay him back with interest when he got home.
He went up to the bar in the middle of the room, and a half-naked female bartender with what looked like teddy-bear ears came up to him. He looked closely at her and saw that she was covered with a very light brown downy fur. “Hi, you’re new here.”
“It’s obvious?” he said, sitting down.
“I’d remember a big guy like you,” she laughed. “What can I get you?”
“Jack and coke.”
She poured the drink, using both hands, reminding him of Destiny. She poured a copious amount of Jack into it. “Here ya go, four dollars.”
“Damn,” he muttered, pushing over a ten. “Keep it, I’ll need another.”
Again she laughed, and sauntered down the bar to the next customer. He looked around the bar a little more, seeing more mutants. A man with four muscular arms. A woman with bright blue and white hair that frosted a mug by holding it before handing it over full of beer. He had to be careful, especially after the last time he had taken from a mutant and was twice his normal size which was more embarrassing than anything.
A young woman sat a little ways down, red hair cascading down her back. She wore a very low-cut beige blouse that billowed seductively. Her brown skirt was half-way down her thigh, but the slit went all the way up to her waist. She had creamy white skin. How could a girl like this be alone?
He beckoned over the teddy-bartender. “See the redhead? Get her a drink from me.”
Teddy grinned, and went over to her. She poured her a red wine and then walked away with a nod to Bomber. The girl looked down the bar at him and smiled.
With the initial contact finished, he headed over to sit next to her. However someone cut in front of him, a greasy little Hispanic who sauntered over next to her. “Hey, baby,” he said, his voice with a heavy Spanish accent, “Wanna dance?”
“No,” growled Bomber.
The guy looked at Bomber. “Who’re you?”
“Nobody special. Scram.” He stepped between the Hispanic and sat down at the stool next to her. The guy backed off and disappeared back into the crowd.
The woman chuckled at Bomber as he sat. “Nice job.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Are you here alone?”
“I’m waiting on someone.” She sipped the wine.
“Lucky man.”
“Actually, a few girls from work.”
“Ah, I see. Are they all as pretty as you?”
She looked blatantly at him and laughed. “You’re direct, aren’t you?”
“I like to put my cards on the table. I really don’t have the time or patience to dance.”
“Some girls like to dance.”
“Do you?”
“Actually, I do.”
Damn, Bomber thought. Another time consuming night for something he could get in fifteen minutes of hunting. There must be some other easy bitch around.
She looked at him, “But I’ll make an exception for you.”
Yes! “Want to go over there?” he motioned to a dark corner, that seemed made just for his plans.
“What do you expect to get, a quick feel?”
“Depends. How far do you want to go?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Blackhawk.”
She snorted. “That’s not your real name.”
“You can give me a fake one, too.”
Her tone grew cold. “This is really a one night stand, isn’t it?” She held her wine loosely in her hand. He looked to him like she wanted to throw it at him.
He really didn’t have time for this crap. Screw being nice. He got up from her, snatching up his drink and walking deeper into the club.
Hungry, disgusted, he plopped down on a couch on the second floor of the club so he could see the patrons below. He contemplated going out into the alleyways again, grabbing unsuspecting Council, when a thin, emanciated woman started heading his way.
He watched as she sat down next to him, grinning. “Hey, baby,” she said, and curled up next to him like a cat. She smelled like cigarettes and probably had track marks up and down her arm. He didn’t give a shit.
He bent down and kissed her shoulder and then neck, and bit. She shuddered in pleasure as he drank his fill of her. He couldn’t do his normal ending ritual, so he licked the wound clean before lifting his head.
He lay her down head on his lap, as she had passed out. He had gone too far, he realized. Her blood wasn’t sweet like others. It was nourishment, tasteless and bland.
As he sat on the couch, he watched the lights of the club, hypnotized. He didn’t want to get up, and he didn’t know if his limbs would work even if he wanted to. She was probably drugged, he thought. I need to get out of here before I pass out.
He waited, hoping it would pass. The crowd in the club ebbed and flowed, some coming upstairs, more and different people dancing. He saw his first prey dancing with a couple of other girls.
Take her. Take her in the back alley and show her who’s boss.
A vision of sucking her dry, and pounding her at the same time, shattering bones and making her bleed internally, came over him. For a long minute, he surrendered to it, eyes closed. He didn’t realize he was standing at the top of the stairs until he opened his eyes.
Take them. Take them all. They’ll know you’re their master, master of all men.
“No,” he whispered, even though he went down the stairs. He followed her off the dance floor to a table to the side. At this table were three other women, probably the other office girls. He stood in the half-light, close enough to see and possibly be seen if one was looking.
She deserves it, the cocktease.
Oh, the Beast was good, knowing that was one of Bomber’s hot buttons. Because the Beast brought that up, Bomber shoved it down savagely.
“I don’t need her,” he snarled, and a man who was being dragged by another woman to the dance floor turned around and stared. His head cleared. He whirled on his heel like he had learned in the Army and stormed to the door of the club.
Teddy-bear girl watched him go, a slightly sad look on her face.
Words: 1214
Inspiration: lady who frosts mugs: Keen Frost had done a story about a year ago mentioning that scene.
Music: None