Gangland [1x1 with Psychosis]

[Luxii]

It was soothing to her: the loud car horns, the glare of neon lights against the dark background of the city, the punctuated laughter of passersby. Her elbows rested on the railing of the roof, looking down on sprawling city that never seemed to sleep. The silhouette of her curved back against the skyline was a pleasing contrast to the blocky buildings behind her.


The faint reddish-orange light of a cigarette flickered between her fingers. Small trails of smoke spiraled into the air around her. She lifted it to her lips and inhaled. It felt hot to draw the smoke into her lungs - it was air moving past a fire, after all - and there was a sense of breathing and holding breath at the same time. The rush of nicotine started, a tingly sensation around her pierced ears and the back of her neck.


It was quiet tonight, in spite of the city's normal hustle and bustle. AJ had said that not much was happening tonight. They'd just finished a big job a few days ago, so the calendar was pretty clear for the rest of the week.


"Hey, Ari!"


A voice called to her from the stairs, and she didn't need to turn and look to see who it was.


"Hey, Daryl," she murmured, smoke curling out of her nostrils. She knew his long legs could cross the small rooftop in a few steps, that he would be right beside her soon enough.


The weight of his elbows on the railing made a faint creaking sound, and the whites of his teeth reflected from the glow of the streetlight beneath them. "Missed you on the big job the other day," he drawled, voice smooth like caramel.


Ari placed the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply, the final drag that burnt the stick down to the filter. "Mom wasn't doing well..." Her words trailed off just like the smoke around her.


"I'm sorry, Ari. I thought she had been doing better?"


She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, restless. Her problems weren't something she liked to talk about. A strand of dark hair fell into her face, but she quickly tucked it back behind her ear as she ashed out what remained of the cigarette on the top of the railing and flicked the butt over the edge of the roof.


"The doc says this last round of chemo was tough on her." Her voice was barely a whisper. Plus on top of that, she was a month behind on payments for her mother's treatment. It was really a stupid move to blow off the job, would've meant a good chunk of money for Ari. AJ hadn't seemed to pleased about it, but told Ari she could make it up later.


Daryl put his arm around Ari's shoulders in what should have been a comforting gesture, but something about it made Ari's skin crawl. He was always doing that, being a little too touchy, a little too nice, and his smiles were always a little too wide. She shrugged out of the embrace. "It's getting cold up here," she muttered. "I need to go see AJ anyway."


"I can go with you," Daryl offered, following her across the rooftop. "Let me give you a ride."


Their footsteps echoed off the metal stairs that wound down to the street, shadows casting long shapes on the brick beside them. "It's okay, I'll manage on my own. My bike's just down the block."


She swept her hair over her right shoulder, exposing the long curve of her neck.


"Oh, you finally did it," Daryl said, one of those too wide smiles expanding across his tanned face. "I didn't think you'd ever make that commitment."


In flourished cursive the word "Saints" was visible off the side of Ari's throat. The tattoo was in the early stages of healing, it had just started to itch and flake. She thought the whole idea was stupid but AJ had bitched about it, about how she wasn't proving her loyalty, so she had the stupid think inked on herself a few days ago.


She didn't bother responding, since they'd reached her motorcycle and she could finally make a getaway. After she unhooked her helmet off the back and donned it, she swung a leg over and started the bike. It didn't take long before Daryl disappeared in the distance behind her, but Ari swore she could still see the white of his teeth in the darkness.
​

 

[Psychosis]

Another one of the sleepless nights Vincent was spending out. It was a routine already. Seated on a stool, at the bar, watching the bar maid, a young girl, merely in her 20's, pierced and tattooed from head to toes, pour drinks and play with cocktails. He knew her well enough. In fact, she was more than just a mere, simple friend. As soon as she was getting off duty, he was going to hand her her daily dose of coke in exchange for the usual payment plus a little extra for the courier service. A little time together. But until that, he had to sit and watch her while having his fair share of drink.


Searching the inside of his leather jacket, Vincent pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a zippo, with a winged skull engraved into it. Withdrawing a cigarette from the pack, he placed it between his pierced lips and lit it, inhaling the cancerous smoke deep into his lungs and exhaling with a relieved sigh. His body craved it so badly. For the moment, he had nothing else to do than sit in the "Sinner's Dream" underground club and wait. Sinner's Dream was the club that every good citizen described as a back slum, filled with filth and depravity. But for Vincent, it was home. The atmosphere made him feel comfortable and relaxed, and the casual encounters provided him with some hot dates over nights.


Vincent was not even near the ideal citizen. The police had a drawer full with records of his past misdeeds. For a 30 years old man, Vincent has done quite many wrongs. Battery, drug possesion, drug dealing, disturbance of the public peace, violent behavior, gang fights, it was all there. The tall, bulky brute of a man along with the Hellhounds biker gang were responsible for at least 40% of the crime rate in the otherwise peaceful city. And about the same percentage was attributed to the Saints, a biker gang sworn enemy of the Hellhounds. A rivalry that lasted for years. The Hellhounds, however, were a tad bit in disadvantage, as most the territory they controlled was in the downtown, while the Saints had a much larger territory over which they reigned.


Vincent, lost in thoughts while watching the barmaid, was however awakened by the vibration of the phone in the pocket of his leather pants. The noise inside was too loud, so, standing, the man made his way towards the stairs that led into the exit. His stature, somewhere about 6 foot 5, was hard to fit through the many people who were in the club. But none would dare to speak something against him as he moved them out of his way, more or less gently. Finally reaching the exit, he opened the door and closed it behind him, a slight gust of wind waving through his long, raven black hair and ruffling it slightly. It was then that his phone was audibly ringing. Taking the phone out of his pocket, he checked the screen before answering. It was Rick, the guy responsible with gathering guys for fights.


"What's up, Rick?" Vincent's voice came out as he answered the call. The cigarette was nearly burnt out and it threatened to burn his fingers should he not pay attention and throw the remains, however, he was too focused to pay mind. His voice was low and guttural, and as always it sounded irritated as hell.


Some Saints showed up around my place an hour ago. I don't know what the fuck they want, but i can bet you it's not tea and biscuits. I called for Zack and Scar, they'll pass the word. I think it's time we teach the Saints not to show up on our territory. Meet up at the Factory.





And the call was over, leaving Vincent with the slightest of details. So, it was the brawl time again? But what about the coke he was supposed to give and the payment.


"Ah, screw it, i'll just be back later" He spoke to himself as he shoved the phone back into his pocket and took the direction towards his bike. It waited him exactly where he has left it, almost careless. But he didn't care, no one would dare touch it as mostly anyone knew it was his. Lifting a leg over and straddling the seat, he didn't mind putting on a helmet, as he loved feeling the wind through his hair. The engine roared and sounded like a wild lion purring, and in a moment, he sped up on the street like a shadow dart. It was time for some action.

 

[Luxii]

Ari bobbed and wove out of traffic expertly, though the drivers around her couldn't appreciate her skill. Their blaring horns were a testament to that. There was something about the adrenaline rush of skidding between cars, taking turns so hard her knee almost scaped the ground, it was intoxicating. It was these moments, when nothing else seemed to matter, that Ari felt suspended in time, everything slowed to a crawl.


Her cellphone chimed in her ear through her helmet. The caller ID flashed on the surface of her faceplate: it was AJ.


"AJ," she said, "I'm on my way right---"


"Where the fuck are you?" AJ snarled.


Who spit in his cereal? Ari would be suprised if AJ didn't feel her eyeroll through the phone. "I said I was almost there---"


"There's been a change of plans." AJ almost never let Ari finish anything she was saying. "James and Demetri paid a visit to Rick about an hour ago and he didn't seem to take it too well."


Ari didn't understand why AJ and his right hand men insisted on antagonizing the Hellhounds. Things had been pretty peaceful lately. She knew that the Saints had the upper hand -- just barely. AJ was getting too cocky.


"And now we've seen a bunch of Hounds over by the factory. Get your ass over there NOW."


"AJ, I don't think me being there will make much of a difference--"


"If I wanted your opinion, Ari, I would have asked for it. I told you to get to the factory, so be a good girl and do as you're told."


Before Ari could form an appropriate retort, a soft click on the other end ended the conversation. She could feel her blood pounding in her ears, and her fingers shook. She gripped the handles of her until her nails bit into her palms. Her tires squealed on the pavement as she swung around, heading towards the factory.
​

 

[Psychosis]

The Factory. A pretty secluded hang out spot which Jason, the leader of the infamous Hellhounds wanted for his gang since long ago. It consisted of an abandoned factory which occasionally served as many thing, such as simple hang out spots, drug transaction hideout, and of course territory on which the Hounds and the Saints brawled almost every week. Vincent knew already what was Rick's plan. Taunt them out of their neighbourhood and into the Factory, then bash their heads in. As long as he was getting his fair share of bones to break, he couldn't be more content.


Vincent hated the Saints eversince he became a motorcycle rider, many years ago. At that time, they were even more influent in town, and the police couldn't even approach them. Vincent would always find his motorcycle scratched, or his tires popped. And he knew it was those bastards' doing. However, no matter the amount of reports he'd turn in to the police, his problems wouldn't cease. Until he met Jason, the leader of the uprising biker gang named the Hellhounds. Somehow, Jason knew of Vincent's hate for the Saints and by throwing in their name, he convinced the fresh biker to join. The test was simple. Throw a Saint into hospital for good. That wasn't a problem for Vince, he was tall and well built, as he used to frequently go to gym. But that was also the first time he'd end up into a police station with a record for violence and aggression.


However, the newfound brothers Hellhounds have worked their miracles with the otherwise corrupt policemen and took him out of trouble's way, naming him as one of their own. The years have passed, and Vince was advanced in the ranks to brawler, moreover, their ever so lucky card. The man had fists of steel that not only once put someone out for hours. And the pleasure he executed his enemies with made them enjoy watching him tear through Saints. Wherever there was a brawl, Vincent was in the first line. He commited to the Hellhounds so much he wore a tattoo on his right hand of a Cerber, the greek mythology hellhound. The right hand with which he smashed faces.


The destination was finally reached. The factory, looking like a haunted place at night. Vincent's icy blue eyes adjusted to the darkness as he drove the bike through the broken down main doors into the main hall of the factory. The spot lights of 11 another bikes greeted him and bestowed light enough in the place. Parking his own motorcycle next to the others, Vince sat up from it and headed towards Rick, who was no less taller than himself, and embraced him in a brotherly gesture.


"So, who's skulls we're cracking tonight?" One of the bystanders asked. A male of average stature, clad in leather jacket, pants and boots just like Vincent and mostly the rest. His head was shaved and he sported a thick, black beard that covered a mouth with few teeth left, probably from the many punches he has received during time. His face bore a diagonal scar that stretched from under his left eye, over the nose and ended above the right side of his jawline, hence the nickname Scar.


"Those fuckers are already alerted, so we're expecting them to show up anytime now. If any of them runs, don't follow, they're more than surely pulling you into a trap. Pack together and kick them in the teeth. And try not to kill any, if any of us is charged yet for murder we're all going down. Just beat the living shit out of the suckers" Rick gave the instructions clearly as everyone headed to their bikes and picked up the baseball clubs they carried with them. The baseball club was a must have for any rider in the town that wanted to stay alive and with his teeth in their place. "Police shows up, we split through town and keep in touch."


Vincent barely got to pick up his own club when the sound of incoming motorcycles made him turn his head towards the entrance. The Saints. They came.

 

[Luxii]

When Ari pulled up to the factory there were already several Saints waiting. They stood just over the line of the neutral zone, still within their own territory. She counted ten bikes, hers made eleven. She recognized most of them, but there were a few whose faces were new to her.


Demetri stood towards the front of the group. He was easy to pick out since he was the tallest member of the Saints - towering over everyone at 6'9''. Ever since Ari had joined the Saints, he had been nothing but kind to her. She thought of him as the aloof older brother she had never had. His green eyes flashed even in the darkness. Whenever AJ wasn't around, it was Demetri who gave the orders. She could hear him speaking with James in a low voice. Whatever they were talking about wasn't for anyone else's ears, but Ari guessed that Demetri was worried; he kept raking back his hair from his face - it was one of his nervous habits.


James was the third in command, and Ari didn't like him. Everything about him was dark: his eyes, his hair, his complexion. He had a scar on his bottom lip that gave him a permanent sneer. He was a broad-chested man; he easily could've picked Ari up with one hand, she was sure of it. She had only heard mostly rumors about him, but his ruthlessness was infamous. Definitely someone Ari wanted to steer clear of if she could help it.


Somehow Daryl had made it here before her. He was the first to notice her, flashing one of those smiles that made Ari's skin twitch. "Bout time you made it." The sound of his voice was like chocolate over gravel. Ari managed a polite smile back.


Another figure stepped forward, playfully shoving Daryl a few steps over. It was Nikki - she was one of the only respected female members of the Saints. She wagged a perfectly manicured finger in Daryl's face, her smile showed off her perfectly white teeth. "Oh come off it, Daryl," she tsked. "Ari doesn't need any hasslin'. She's here all the same."


Ari smiled warmly at Nikki. The blonde woman had been very motherly to her since she joined; she always came to Ari's defense. In her own words, the girls had to stick together! Daryl seemed put off by Nikki's shove, even if it was playful.


James looked Ari up and down. "You're late," he spat, "Don't know why AJ wanted you here anyway."


That makes two of us, Ari thought. It did everything in her power not to roll her eyes. That was sure to not win her any favors.


"Hey, hey, now," Demetri drawled. He had almost a southern twang to his voice; it made Ari miss her mother's iced tea for some reason. "I'm sure the little gal don't need any more hazin' from you, James." He turned his veridian eyes on Ari, "Glad you made it, sweetie. You ever run into a pack of hounds yet?"


Ari shook her head, "No, sir."


Half the group chuckled. Ari wasn't sure if it was because she called Demetri sir, or if it was because she'd not run into more than one hound at a time. Either way she felt her face flush with embarrassment.


Demetri ignored the group. "Well we estimate about a dozen of them are already in there. You ready?"


Ari nodded, even though she wasn't ready at all. She was sure everyone else could hear her pulse; it was pounding so loudly in her ears. The group moved as one unit towards the factory, many of them had bats or crowbars slung over their shoulders. Ari became acutely aware of the fact she had no weapons. Shit. As if Nikki read her mind, she felt the blonde woman press something small and metallic into her palm. It was a gun. Ari immediately felt sick to her stomach and she almost dropped the damned thing. Nikki arched one eyebrow, "You ever shot a gun before, sweetie?" Her voice was low enough that none of the others could hear. Ari shook her head no. "Well then," Nikki said with a smile, "today is your lucky day. But don't go poppin' off all willy nilly. This is only if things go to shit real quick. You're too damn tiny - a bat would do ya no good."


Ari hoped to God she wouldn't have to pull the trigger, but she thanked Nikki and tucked it into the side of her boot. It was either now or never.
​

 

[Psychosis]

The situation was tensed up to the full the moment the two groups were facing each other. Scar held a pocket knife in his left hand, the blade visibly shimmering in the light, while his right hand held the baseball club, personalized with a few nails for heavier damage. Despite his rather unusual stature amongst the others, Scar was as filled with hatred as he could. One of the Saints rammed his younger sister on the street. Poor bastard died, but so did Scar's sister. Everyone knew the Saints were a bunch of arrogant bastards, and in this particular situation, instead of at least apologizing for what one of them caused, they simply waved his anger off with the middle finger. Nervously, the man twirled the baseball club into his hand, his legs tensed up like a resort and ready to throw him forward in charge against the group of Saints.


Rick was the one leading the Hounds, standing foremost, gazing James with his dark eyes. He bore a particular despise for this character and his attitude. He knew that James wasn't really loved by the ones he ordered around either, and that gave him a somewhat satisfaction, though, he couldn't really feel good until he managed to punch him directly in the face.


"Well, well, well, look who showed up. I see you brought some girls, hm? Planning on paying us with free sex so we leave quietly?" Rick spoke in a mocking tone, attracting a wave of laughter from the Hellhounds, a laughter more mocking and humiliating than the cruel joke itself.


"Didn't you fuck each other enough today, guys?" James made a quick comeback with an ever so lasting grin on his face, attracting only snarls and hisses from the other side.


Vincent stood quiet, but in his mind, he had the target set. James. The dick that was there most of the times his bike was scratched, his tires popped or what not. He always wanted to beat the scum sucker black and blue, but the sly bastard always slithered away from his grasp. But not tonight. However, his gaze was caught by someone else. A girl. Yes, the girl was so out of the scenery he couldn't help not stare at her. She seemed fairly scared and carried a gun in a not so stable hand. A gun on a fearful person, as he knew, was pretty dangerous. But between attacking her and James, he would go for James.


"Enough talk, time to beat some fuckers down!" Scar quickly set down the banner of war as he charged at the other group, followed closely by the rest of the Hellhounds. Vince swung his club just in time to parry an incoming hit of a crowbar, and his foot quickly hit into the knees of the attacker, making him lose balance and fall down. With his victim on the ground, Vincent followed with heavy hits against his back, arms and legs, blowing his ever so raging steam of anger. Scar's club was already tearing through the flesh of one Saint's arm, causing the latter to pull back and let another in front. However, Scar's head received a heavy crowbar blow that caused him to stumble away and wander lost for a few seconds, taken off by the confusion. But it only lasted a moment before he charged back into the middle of the battle, striking left and right as heavy as he could.


The brawl was intense enough already, and victims were falling as well. Vincent finally left his initial victim where he fell, and with a quick glance, he targetted James. So close and open, busy with another Hellhound. He charged with fury at the rival, but a hit out of nowhere threw his club away from his hands, leaving him with no other option than a leap. His stature allowed him to bear hug and tackle James down with no effort, causing the second to also lose his weapon, then, holding him to the ground, he started applying James punches with his right hand, wilder with each bit of blood that left his nose.


James also managed to return a fist strong enough to disorient Vincent and put him off his body, just enough to let James gain some terrain in the hand to hand fight and roll over. Sitting on the giant that Vincent was, James was now returning his furious punches, but only for a while before Vince managed his way at James' throat, catching it into a grip of iron that promised to suffocate him would he not manage a way out of it in time.

 

[Luxii]

The Saints and Hounds wasted no time before throwing themselves into an all out brawl. Ari barely had time to look at the faces of their rivals before a huge, bald hound with a thick beard led the charge against the Saints. She briefly wondered if this was the one called Scar she had heard about. From the stories he was a force to be reckoned with, and he certainly did them justice by swinging into the fight with all he had.


She also knew Rick - she had seen him once before. It had been during Ari's initiation. She was running heroin for AJ along with another recruit. Rick and a few of his men caught them and beat the other initiate so bad he was in the hospital for a week. Ari had managed to scamper away unscathed and with her portion of the drugs intact.


Before she knew it, three of the Saints were out of commission. One boy's arm looked like it had been through a meat grinder; he was on his back screaming. The other two were knocked out cold. She lost track of Demetri, Daryl, and Nikki, but she saw James fighting with another Hound. They grappled back and forth, trading heavy hits back and forth.


A heavy hand wound into her hair and yanked her back. She cried out from the sharp pain and failed to try and hit her attacker. It was a Hound who had a prominent belly and he smelled of beer. He pressed her against him and she felt his laugh in her spine. Something inside her snapped. She brought down as much of her body weight and possible onto the oaf's left foot, then almost instant roundly threw back her head and caught her assailant under the chin. It was enough to startle him and he loosen his grip for a moment. It was all Ari needed. She slipped through his fingers and spun around, planting a solid kick right to his most sensitive parts. He would be out of commission for a little while.


During her tussle, James had quickly become the loser in his fight with the tall Hound. The Hound had his fingers wrapped around James' throat. Ari knew he would suffocate unless something happened.


Now Ari had no love for James, but she wasn't about to let him die if there was anything she could do about it. James was facing her, the Hound had his back to her. It was a clear path to the both of them, and she was fairly confident she had the element of surprise.


It only took a few steps and she closed the distance between them. She knew it was a cheap move but she pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of James' attacker's head. Ari, what the fuck are you doing... she thought. She just wanted the fighting to stop. She mustered all that she had and screamed "STOP!! STOP IT OR I'LL KILL HIM!"


Miraculously, the fighting came to a screeching halt. All eyes were on her.


Oh fuck.
​

 

[Psychosis]

Vince felt the cold metal barrel at the back of his head and stopped in the way, his grip still heavy on James' throat, causing him to choke and his face to get an even heavier shade of red. Vincent was taken aback by this sudden twist of situation. Shit, i should've dealt with her before... he cursed his neglective spirit in his own mind, while slightly loosening the grip on James' throat. The latter was anyway exhausted enough not to put a heavy fight from now on. Every of the members from both gangs that were still standing were now focused on the scene, blocked in the way of their action. However, a second point of focus appeared somewhere behind.


Scar, shocked for a second, quickly shook it off and leaped at the first person in his reach, Nikki. Grabbing her in an immobilizing grip, he placed the sharp blade of the knife he held to her throat, grabbing her by the hair with his other hand so he could reveal more of her neck to the blade of his knife. His nose bled, and with a sick grin, he tugged at her hair as he gazed towards the rest of the Saints, including Ari.


"Let him go, slut, or i'll cut her like a fucking pig." He threatened, blood crazed. And for good, his threats were to be taken seriously. However, Vincent was nowhere near ending the fight. His mind worked to find a solution, a way to turn and twist to disarm Ari. The minute of silence stretched endlessly as everyone gazed at everyone, aside for the few from both gangs that were still recovering from the beatings they've received. Vincent finally spoke in a grunty voice calling out to the one that was threatening his life with a gun and a trembling hand.


"Are you sure you know how to use that? It might backfire on your pretty little ass. Come on, pull the trigger, blow my brains over this motherfucker's face. I'm sure he'll have a great time." He spoke in a mocking tone, with the underlying purpose of buying himself time enough. However, just as he was prepared to react, the police sirens in a distant sound signaled that some witnesses called for the forces of law. It was time to wipe the slate clean. Vincent simply let go off James' throat and stood, as if he didn't even have a gun pointed at the back of his head. As he stood at his full height, he was now towering over Ari like a beast. Turning around, he gazed downward in her eyes, his icy blue eyes as cold as possible, as he simply thrown her a malicious grin. "Seems our time tonight is over. What a shame, isn't it?"


He then proceeded to head towards his bike, just like the others. Scar quickly pushed Nikki forward, making sure to leave a scratch of knife on her cheek as he hissed. "Eye for an eye, bitch." He laughed shortly before heading towards his bike as well. Just as the police was making an appearance, the Hellhounds left the building in speed, spreading out throughout the town just as they have planned before the brawl.


As he rode his motorcycle back towards his home, Vincent couldn't take the image of the girl that had threatened him off his mind. Who was she?

 

[Luxii]

Demetri was already pulling James to his feet. "Everyone go, now!" he bellowed. The sirens were just outside - soon the place was going to be swarmed with cops. Daryl yanked up the kid with the mangled arm, while Nikki and a few of the others took care of the unconcious ones. The scratch on Nikki's face was bleeding pretty bad, droplets flecked onto her white t-shirt, but she didn't seem to notice.


Meanwhile, Ari was still in the center of the room. It felt like her blood had frozen inside her body. As Demetri was leading James out the side of the building, he shot a look back at Ari. "Come on, sweetie, let's get a move on!" he hollered back as he turned the corner.


That's when the shakes started; all the adrenaline and terror coursed through Ari's frame, her hands trembled so bad she lost grip on the gun and it clattered to the floor. Thankfully, she had enough sense to make it to the side just as the police burst through the front. It was only two of them for now, they entered with guns drawn.


"Stop," one of them commanded, "get down on the ground and put your hands behind your back!"


Ari paid them no mind, slipping through the other entrance, she sprinted to where her bike was. Everyone else was already gone - the only bikes left were the ones whose owners couldn't drive. She flung herself onto the bike, fumbling her her keys. Shit, shit, shit! Her fingers were shaking so bad she couldn't get the key into the ignition. The glint of one of the cop's guns in the moonlight, steadied her hands just enough to get the bike started.


"Stop or we will shoot!"


The bike came to life with a roar, and Ari had never pealed out so fast in her life. The arid smell of burning rubber cleared her head, but the blood pounding in her temples didn't fade. Other vehicles were a colorful blur as she whizzed past, but there were also several cop cars lying in wait. She had to make a hard right - exactly the opposite of the direction she wanted to go. This road led downtown: Hound territory.


Okay pull your shit together... Where can I go, where can I go...





She remembered AJ talking about Sinner's Dream - an underground bar that was nearby. It was better than being out on the street at least. She could lie low there until the cops stopped looking for her. It only took her a few minutes to get there. She made sure to park her bike around by the dumpster so that no one could easily see it.


She paused just outside the doorway and pulled a cigarette from her pocket. The pack was crush a little, but the cigs were still intact, thank God. With the cigarette resting between her lips, she cupped one hand around the end and flicked her lighter to ignite the tip. The first deep inhale steeled her nerves, the pleasant tingle in the back of her neck eased away the pounding in her skull.


She was able to get a glance inside. A haze of smoke blanketed the bar but it seemed busy enough that she could slip in unnoticed. The bartender was a girl about Ari's age, maybe a little younger - for some reason that was comforting.


The cigarette was gone much quicker that Ari would've liked, but she ashed out the remains and stepped inside the bar. She chose the end of the bar closest to the back, it was slightly in shadow but offered a clean look at all the entrances and exits.


"What's your poison?" the barmaid quipped.


"Uh... shot of whiskey, please," Ari mumbled, pulling a ten dollar bill out of her wallet. "Make it a double."



​

 

[Psychosis]

"You seem quite tensed up, love. You need some stuff to take it off your mind?" The young bartender questioned in the most insinuant of ways, pulling a kinky smile along with the question. As well as most who were related to biker gangs and clubs, the barmaid, going by the name of Sara, was a drug dealer as well as a drug addict herself. That, mixed up with her neverending sexual desire and her orientation towards both sexes made for the perfect prostitute who worked under the cover of bartender. Her behavior was flirtacious with most of the clients, unless they were really insufferable and stepped on her toes way too much. With a fluid move, she served Ari her drink and bending forth over the counter, she allowed her a peek into her generous cleavage exposed by the black laced leather corset she wore as she picked up the ten dollars and licked her black lips in a not so subtle flirt gesture.


"Thank you. One more of these and i'm yours for the night." She winked playfully before going back to cleaning up the counter and the glasses remaining from other clients.


Vincent was finally closing in to his home when he remembered. He still had to deliver Sara her dose. Anyway, the home was lonely. His parents having had died years ago in a car accident, he was left all by himself to deal with life. Well, all by himself with the help of the Hounds. At least no one else had to suffer from his misbehaviour. If only his father would know what has become of him. The thought put a bitter smirk on his face as he slowed down, decided to take the way to Sinner's Dream. He needed to get it all off his mind. The bike followed his command and took a turn on the first street to the right. The traffic was becoming really scarce, as it was already 3 A.M. The night always belonged to the bikers, everyone knew it.


And his phone rang again. Thank the skies for bluetooth headsets. He had it into the chest pocket of his jacket, miraculously untouched by the fight just 20 minutes ago. Setting the head piece onto his ear, he turned it on and it automatically took the call.


Everything alright, Vinnie? The cops didn't get you, you're not being followed? Rick's voice heard immediately, with a slight concern. Rick was pretty fond of Vincent, as he came to understand the latter was a very loyal member of the gang and therefore precious. So his well being was Rick's concern everytime.


"Yeah, no problems over here, i'm heading over to the Dream to make the delivery then i'll lay low 'til tomorrow night. What did Jason say about all this?" Vincent replied and questioned all while he was approaching the backstreet where the Sinner's Dream was found. Finally reaching the destination, he pulled up the bike in a place, but something caught his attention. There was another bike there. Unknown to him. It wasn't one of the Hounds', he knew them all. A lonely biker, maybe? He didn't think any of the Saints would dare show up in a bar that was utterly frequented by the Hellhounds.


"Rick, we'll talk tomorrow, i'm at the Dream and i gotta get in. Cheers." He finished the conversation before leaving the other answer his previous question, shutting down his bluetooth headset and putting it back into his pocket. Curious even more to see who exactly was the one who owned the stranger motorcycle. The loud music greeted him as he made his way in and towards the bar. The first person he noticed was the one girl that sat oh so far, as if she was almost trying to hide. And from the distance, she seemed so familiar. As he now headed with big steps towards the bar, he dismissed Sara's flirtacious greeting and stopped right near Ari's stool, eyeing her with icy blue darts and greeting her ever so unwelcoming with a snarl.


"What the fuck are you doing here?" He growled at Ari, clenching his fist and trying to contain the desire of grabbing her and throwing her off the stool.

 

[Luxii]

The whiskey burned all the way down into Ari's belly. She choked on the cough that threatened to force its way out of her throat. The pink flush across her cheeks could've been from the whiskey or from the bartender's advances, probably both. She managed a meek smile at the other woman but was glad when she spun away to attend to other patrons on the far end of the bar.


There was still a swallow of whiskey left in the glass. Ari swirled the caramel liquid around with one hand, resting her chin in the other. A year and a half ago, if you had told Ari she'd be sitting in a biker bar with a gang tattoo on her neck, she would've laughed in your face.


Ari was a good girl growing up, an only child to a single mother. Her grades in school were always excellent and she was always on her high school's dance team. She had a natural grace and rhythm, and did so well in dance that she was offered a full scholarship to an out of state art institute. She was there for three years before her mother got sick.


It was cancer. And it was everywhere, the doctors' had said. Ari had been devastated when her mother finally told her the news; she moved home immediately. Soon her mother was so sick she could no longer work and Ari became the sole provider for the family, often working two or more jobs to support her mother and pay for her medical bills.


But the cancer got worse. Her mother was referred to an out of state specialist as she met the criteria for a new clinical trial of treatment. Ari uprooted herself and her mother, praying that the treatment would work.

It became harder and harder to make a living in this new city. The cost of living was so much higher here than back home. At least her mother had all the comforts that the hospital could provide, with round the clock care and supervision. But the bills kept piling up, and soon she was one month, two months, three months late on the rent on her tiny apartment.


Then Ari realized she was really good at stealing. At first she would take small things, toiletries and things from the grocery store, but soon she moved onto pick pocketing. Having cash or credit cards was so much better.


The worst mistake of her life was trying to pickpocket AJ. She remembered being able to practically smell the money on him. He'd hopped off of his motorcycle and stride towards one of the local bars. She had timed it perfectly; she bumped into him just enough to distract from the fact that she nicked his wallet. But he'd realized it instantly and he'd spun on her, confronting her. But instead of attacking her, as she was sure he wanted to, AJ offered her a position within in the gang. He paid so much better than waiting tables.


And that was how she ended up here, in a smoky biker bar, drowning her nerves with whiskey. But it seemed that her misfortune wasn't over yet for the night. The bar door swung open and she saw the silhouette of the tall Hound from earlier. She cursed inwardly. Could she not catch a fucking break?


She tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, but she could feel his presence coming closer and closer until the clunk of his boots sounded just behind her. She barely gave him time to finish asking her what the fuck she was going there before she leapt up, vaulting over the bar and took off for the exit. She wasn't about to stick around for any of his friends to show up; she heard her phone clatter to the floor and she swore under her breath but she wasn't about to stop now.
​

 

[Psychosis]

He didn't even have the time to realise when Ari swung off and dissapeared into the crowd. Sara's gaze was nothing short of surprised and slightly dissapointed, seeing the woman she had targeted as a possible night partner dissapeared. Who was going to satisfy her now? She gazed up to Vincent, hoping he'd at least give an answers as quick, but she soon understood what all was about and went back to silently cleaning the glasses. Vincent made a move towards following his rival but the thought was swept off his head as soon as she headed out the door. She could as well lead him into an ambush. But he saw the phone drop off her pocket. The phone. That thing could contain important details, messages, something the Hellhounds could use in their fight against the Saints.


Without a second thought, the man moved towards the exit and picked up Ari's phone, the curiosity too big, and he tried accessing it.


"Shit, it's password locked." He cursed under his breath, sticking the phone in the inside pocket of his jacket, to take it to Jason when they were going to meet. Shrugging, he returned to the bar, taking his seat and signaling Sara. The bar was going to close soon. If only the owner knew what happened after. Receiving his vodka, Vince downed it with thirst. It burnt his throat but it felt excellent. Again, he fell back in thoughts. Who the hell was this stranger girl?


The train of thoughts was broken minutes after. Without him noticing, the whole bar remained empty, the clients being tired, drunk or simply understanding. Nearly 4 A.M. Sara locked the entrance door to make sure nobody would come barging in, then, with slow moves she came to sit at the bar, next to Vince.


"So, got my stuff, big guy?" She questioned in her usual flirty manner, receiving as an answer a small pack of coke placed on the counter. Sliding her hand into her boot, she took out the 500$, the price she payed for that dose. Opening the pack and spilling the white dust on the counter, she carefully arranged it with a credit card, and with the help of the 10 dollar bill from Ari, she began snorting a full line. As she finished, she looked up at Vince and winked, inviting him to have at it as well. It didn't take much for him to get his own share of the psychoactive dust. And less did it take for both of them to turn the bar into their personal bedroom.


Two hours later, Vince was found at home. A successful night, one could say. Or not? He didn't even want to think anymore. The effect of the drug wore off already, causing his sleep to kick in. Not trying to even take his boots off, the giant collapsed on the bed into a deep slumber. Another day of his tumultuous life has passed.


The sweet sleep of his was stolen by the sound of the phone ringing. His head hurt and his eyes were sore as he opened them into a blinding light. It was probably past mid-day. He felt sick in the stomach and barely could contain the urge to throw up. Searching aimless for his phone, he finally found it, and answered sleepily.


"Yeah...?"


Vince, listen, i've just seen some weird shit, man. It was Bill, one of the Hounds. The old subway station, there was something there... a corpse, bro, a motherfucking mutilated human body with all sorts of weird shit inscriptions on him. I didn't announce the police, they're probably still looking for us, but this shit looks really bad. I'm at the Den now, come by.





The click on the other side signaled Vince that there was no worth trying to reply. A corpse? Mutilated? Inscriptions? By the looks of it, seems Bill had way too much stuff recently. Vincent finally found the strenght to stand up and wobbly head to the kitchen. As he headed towards the fridge for a beer, he opened the TV on the way, with the remote he always left carelessly wherever he'd see fit.


Another fight was taken last night at the Factory. The police are attributing the hostilities to the Hellhounds and the Saints, rival biker gangs. Will follow with more details on the case. The abandoned subway station in the centre is the scene of a horrible slaughter. The police have been alerted about a mutilated corpse of a man who seems to have been the subject of a ritual. Police have no details as to the victim's identity nor any suspects....





Vince froze as he watched the news report with wide eyes. So, Bill was right. There has been something going on.

 

[Luxii]

This part of town was so unfamiliar and Ari was so tired. It was all she could manage to keep herself upright on her bike. The adrenaline had look since worn off, leaving her body achey and heavy. But soon, streets began to look familar and she made it back to the gang's headquarters all in one piece. She found an empty spot for her bike, and practically slid off.


She tried to be as quiet as possible - it seemed like everyone was asleep. The first couch she saw would be where she slept. She was asleep before she had laid all the way down.


Morning came too fast, a hand was shaking Ari awake. She half-hearted mumbled for them to leave her alone and rolled over into the back of the couch, but the person trying to wake her up was insistent. The shaking was even more violent the second time around. Ari finally cracked one bleary eye and Nikki's face filled her vision. Someone had neatly stitched up the cut on the side of her face, and other than that you wouldn't have known she was in an all out brawl last night.


"Wake up, hun," said she - her voice was much too chipper for so early. "AJ wants to see you."


Ari pushed herself up on her elbows and groaned. Her neck hurt from last night. But she got up anyway and followed Nikki into the main living area. AJ, James, and Demetri were waiting. James looked terrible. His left eye was almost swollen shut and his bottom lip was split, the rest of his exposed skin was so black and blue that Ari wasn't sure there wasn't a part of him that hadn't been bruised.


"Glad you decided to grace us with your presence," James said. The tone of his voice suggested he was anything but glad.

Demetri shot him a dirty look. "Lay off, James. If not for her, Vincent woulda killed you."


AJ was laid back on one of the four couches in the space, feet kicked up on the edge, arms laced behind his head. His blue eyes sparkled in amusement. "So..." he drawled. "I hear you finally decided to grow a pair, hm?" He simultaneously sat up and twisted so that both feet were flat on the floor and his elbows rested on his knees. "Takes big balls to put a gun to Vincent's head, little one."


Ari shuffled uncomfortably, and decided his statement didn't warrant a response.


AJ's expression darkened. "We tried calling you. Why didn't you answer your phone?"


"I-- I lost it," she said.


James made a noise between a chuckle and a snarl, earning another disdainful look from Demetri.


"Well," AJ said. "The replacement can come out of your pay."


Ari swallowed. She was already late with a payment for her mother's treatment. "I'll go back and find it.... I know where it is."


Daryl poked his head in through one of the archways. "Hey!" His eyes were bright, excited. "You guys are gonna want to see this. Turn on the news!"


Demetri switched on the tv just in time to catch the reporter's description of the grisly subway station scene. "What the fuck--" AJ whispered. The hairs on the back of Ari's neck stood up, and she shivered. Something was very wrong about this.


"We should go check it out!" Daryl exclaimed.


AJ thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Take Ari, watch for cops."


Fucking fantastic....
​

 

[Psychosis]

Having finished eating his breakfast in disgust, Vincent finally decided to go to the Den. It was the Hellhounds' headquarters. He had to talk to the others about this new sick thing and also about the phone that the Saint girl dropped. Jason would surely know some hacker who could break the code and get in her phone. Said and done, Vincent was straddling the seat of his bike and driving off on the street, away from the rather simple block he lived in.


Upon entrance in the Den, the big Cerber painted on the wall at the end of the hall greeted him with its fiery eyes and open mouth of Hell. The guys seemed rather relaxed, some of them were at the pool table, while others were working maintenance on their bikes and whatever else.


"Hey, Vinnie!" Rick greeted him warmly followed by the others who simply nodded in acquaintance of his presence. "Have you seen the news, bro? That shit's everywhere. Jason wants to talk with us about it." Rick presented the situation to Vincent plainly as he moved to the mini-bar to grab himself a drink. However, all the motion in the room came to a halt when Jason finally made an appearance. A man well in his 40s, Jason was the classic type of old biker, slightly grey haired and bearded, with an affinity for leather and patches. Green eyes watched about the room as he finally spoke out for everyone to hear.


"Listen up, everyone. We all know who did that shit there. We all know it was the Saints. Fuckers want to blame it on us and get us all in the prison. We need to build a plan for this. We need to catch one of them and interrogate him until he spills it."


Vincent was watching Jason with a slight concern but in his mind, he slightly questioned his "findings". Indeed, the Saints were not even close to saints, they were a bunch of shit stains filled with arrogance. But to think that they would go to such lenghts... Something was off about this, this was way too bad even for the Saints. No. Someone else was behind this. Or something else. But he had to make sure of another thing.


"I got some things to handle, i'll come back around later, call in if you need me." Vincent quickly apologized before leaving, before deciding to go searching for the stranger Saint girl. He had her phone. He could pull her away to speak to her and ask her one thing or two.

 

[Luxii]

Ari had told Daryl she would meet him at the old subway. She wanted to see about getting her phone back first. After a much needed shower, Ari pulled on a pair of holey skinny jeans, a black tank top, and a plain, purple zip-front hoodie. Instead of her usual boots, she opted today for a pair of low top Converses. To keep her hair out of the way she plaited it down her back in a simple braid. After examining herself in the mirror, she decided some makeup was in order - the circles under her eyes has been getting worse and worse. She made quick worse of camouflaging her undereyes and flicked a swoosh of black eyeliner above her lashes. The cat eye shape elongated her almond shaped eyes. For good measure, she applied a bit of red gloss to her lips. It had been awhile since she'd gussied herself up like this - it was nice.


The Sinner's Dream was about 20 minutes from the Saints headquarters - 15 if Ari was driving. She parked right out front this time, the daylight made her feel safer this time around. Unsurprisingly, the bar was fairly deserted, but the bartender from last night was there. After a brief (very brief) conversation with her, Ari established that no one had turned in her phone. Vincent probably had it. She hoped he hadn't broken in to it yet. Not that she was privy to any important Saints secrets anyways.


Her dreams last night were plagued by those ice blue eyes. Ari dreaded having to confront him again, but if the Hound had her phone then she was getting it back whether he liked it or not. She couldn't afford to have AJ cut her pay just for a replacement. The hospital's billing office would probably call again today to see if she could make a payment.... Ugh, a stress headache was building between her eyes again.


It took her 45 minutes to arrive at the station. From the looks of it, Daryl hadn't arrived yet.


Guess I better take a peek...


The old subway station was cold, dank and smelled like dead rats... At least Ari hoped it was rats. Being underground made her feel like she was being suffocated; the ceiling seemed much too low and just the thought of the weight of the world pressing down above her made Ari nauseous.


There was caution tape everywhere and in the center of the web of yellow and black was a dark stain. Blood. Another wave of nausea crashed over Ari and she gagged; there had been a dead man there not too long ago. She desperately wanted some fresh air, but the last thing she needed was Daryl spotting her in a moment of weakness.
​

 

[Psychosis]

I wonder where in the hell does she lurk now? Vincent questioned his mind as he sped up on the street, paying attention to the traffic around him. He was still extremely busy thinking about the situation. Why for the name of hell couldn't he associate the gruesome murder with the Saints? After all, they were a bunch of cocky bastards that nearly everyone hated. But were they really that bad as to commit a murder only to blame it on the Hellhounds, like Jason suggested? No, that was taken way too far, even for them. But he still wanted to confront the stranger girl. He thought of trying to check Sinner's Dream, maybe she came back to look for her phone. Driving off on the street that was the fastest way to the Dream, he finally stopped at the bar.


It was open, but merely no one inside. The Dream was alive at night, during day it was mostly only Sara around, cleaning stuff and what not. As soon as she spotted Vince, she all but approached him in her usual flirty manner, the loneliness having striken the desire for yet some more sex.


"Oh, look who came. Just in time, i needed someone to fuck the minds outta me..." She didn't even bother to hide her desire, going directly to the point. However, Vincent had no mood for such things now, so he simply hammered a question.


"Listen, i don't have time for this, did you see the girl last night around here?" He adressed the question and little did he mind Sara's dissapointment as she saw he was not interested in her advances for the moment. She simply moved away to tend to her duties and shrugged nonchalantly as to give him a taste of her being upset. "Meh, she probably was here earlier and asked about a phone or something. I think she's a virgin, she really doesn't want to have fun."


Vincent didn't listen to the last detail, he simply turned around and left, decided to go to the next spot to look for her. Wherever that would be. Just as he was straddling the seat of his bike, a phone rang. But it wasn't his. Ari's phone. For a few good seconds, he pondered between answering or not, and, taking it out of the pocket, he checked the ID of the caller. Hospital. Why would possibly someone in a hospital call for her? Something was odd. Finally, he decided to answer.


Miss Ariana?





"Um... no. No, it's her cousin. She's sleeping right now." Vincent quickly formulated an answer, trying to seem as unsurprised as possible. He was really aching to know what was behind this.


Could you please tell her she's running late on payments for her mother's treatments? We don't want to do this but if she will not pay as soon, her mother will not be able to benefit from the cancer treatments further on...





Cancer treatments? This new girl had a mother suffering from cancer? Vincent's mind suddenly blurred out as he thought about it. So, the little one wasn't just a spoiled bitch with a "cool kid" complex. But this still didn't make him have too much sympathy for her. She put a gun to his head just last night and he wasn't going to forget that way too easy.


"Yes, yes i will. Have a nice day." He finally answered before ending the call and sliding the phone back into the pocket. Kicking the pedal twice he turned on the engine of the bike, then rode off. 20 minutes later, he was arriving at the abandoned subway station. Something was tugging him towards that spot, curiosity at most. Gazing about, he immediately noticed Ari's bike, but none other. Parking his own, he unmounted and hurried down the stairs that led into the obscure abandoned subway, that was mostly home to the homeless. Maybe the one who was murdered was a homeless man.


"Ariana?" He questioned as he stopped just feet away from her, for the first time not taking an agressive stance before her. He understood well enough that if he wanted to make her speak, he had to keep calm and be diplomat. "Hey, listen, we need to talk."

 

[Luxii]

Ari had heard the footsteps and assumed it was Daryl finally arriving, but the voice that spoke was not the one she expected. If it had been yesterday, the very sound of Vincent's voice would have paralyzed her. But something was different. Today his posture and voice were different, non-threatening. The odd lighting in the subway cast his face into strange shadows, highlighting the planes of his face - his eyes almost glowing. This was the first time Ari had really gotten a good look at him. He was actually very handsome, but he wore much of his life experiences on his face - it was definitely not a life of ease he had led so far. He had the air of someone that was used to getting want he wanted, when he wanted it.


And how did he find out who she was? No one in this city knew that her full name was Ariana. She'd purposefully not mentioned it to anyone - she hated her full name. Had he cracked the password on her phone? But even that wouldn't have given up her full name, unless.... Shit, the hospital probably called... If this bastard answered and talked with them. He has no right putting his nose in my business!


Ari was not as naive as she used to be; she was almost positive his more relaxed, diplomatic energy was a ruse in order to get her to let her guard down. Something about that really fucking irritated her. She crossed both arms in front of herself, and raised one eyebrow. "What would you want to talk to me about?" She didn't want any trouble with Vince, but she knew he wouldn't easily forgive the fact she'd had a gun on him not even 24 hours ago.
​

 

[Psychosis]

Her stance was as defensive as it could. She rose the fences around herself and now he had to work his way somehow.


"Listen, some really weird shit happened here. I shouldn't tell you this but Jason is blaming this on the Saints. Is it true? Was it one of you that did this? What are you doing here, anyway?"


He didn't hide anything, openly speaking all of his thoughts to her, for whatever reasons. He raised a pierced eyebrow in question as he gazed upon her while doing the interrogation. He could sense she surely had no idea about it at all, even if she seemed less than welcoming, she was nothing more than a cheap pickpocketting girl, not a murderer. But he had to make sure before he would grab another trail. At this point, he wished that none of the Saints would show up, that would make shit hit the fan and he was in no mood for fights for today.


"Oh and..." He paused a second before pulling out her phone from his pocket and extended it to her. "I figure you'd want this back, i got nothing to do with it anyway."


It was his first moment of slight kindness for a total stranger in a long time. Somehow, something inside him cracked at the thought of this girl's hardships and his mind couldn't process her as a full enemy, but nor as a friend. He was trapped in a point inbetween, and for the second, he was even wondering what the fuck was he doing there, chatting in open space with the enemy. It was odd to say the least. As his eyes wondered upon her, he spotted a little shiny object somewhere behind her. It looked like a piece of jewelry of sorts. How come nobody noticed it before? The police? His curiosity reaching its peak, he walked past Ari as if he didn't even see her anymore.


Using his hand to tug at the crime scene warning band, he bent enough so he could pass under it and into the field. The ground was stained with soak blood. Kneeling, he picked up the strange object that was also soaked in blood. A pendant.


"What the hell is..." He mumbled as he looked at the pendant. Was it the victim's? Or the criminal made a mistake and dropped it there? Vincent's thoughts were yet again ravaged by a slight diziness, diziness that amplified the more he held the pendant in his grasp. Weirder was the fact that the pendant had an inscription in a strange writing upon it. And an eye engraved upon it. Stepping back from the scene, Vincent decided to fold the jewelry carefully and keep it to himself. This crime bore something really ominous and the pendant seemed to be more than met the eye.

 

[Luxii]

Taking the phone from Vincent felt like reaching into a pit of snakes. His seemingly uncharacteristic display of... kindness? was unnerving. Nikki had told her terrible stories of this bloodthirsty Hound. He had been responsible for more Saints put into the hospital than any other Hellhound - he was utterly ruthless against those who crossed him. It was scarier that he seemed so nonchalant during their whole exchange. Ari half expected him to turn and crush in her skull in the next moment.


"AJ wanted us to come here to check all of this out," she said in reply to his question. She made sure to keep several feet distance between them as he moved into the space between the caution tape. Her brows furrowed. What is he doing? Something silver glimmered between his fingertips, and Ari felt a wave of dizziness crash over her. "What the--"


"ARI~!"


It was Daryl's voice. He'd finally decided to show up. It would be moments before he descended the stairs and caught her with Vincent, and that was something she did NOT feel like explaining.


"Shit, you have to go," she urged Vincent. "Or hide or something.... Please!"
​

 

[Psychosis]

Indeed, Ari was right. He needed no more brawl for the moment, especially in a place like that. Turning around, he waved in a swift motion of goodbye to her, mumbling a few words under his breath. "Don't stand in my way...". His boots made heavy sounds as he headed out on the stairs. However, another pair of boots was making descending sounds down the stairs, and at about halfway, Vincent inevitably stopped before Daryl, who immediately took an angry face and folded his fist.


"Hey, what the fuck are you doing here around Ari? What'd you do to her?" He snarled cocky at the giant Vince, his anger making him disconsider the fact that the latter could crush his head with not too much effort. However, Vincent simply dismissed his question as if he has not even heard it, trying to step up, but Daryl seemed decided to keep him there. Vincent's nerves were already tensed up to the max as he snarled back at his enemy, shooting him the blue death stare that meant that he didn't have too much time before Vincent would rush at breaking his neck. Vincent's hand grabbed violently at Daryl's throat and in a fluid move, the Saint was slammed to the side wall, causing him to choke. Vincent murmured under his breath.


"Get out of my way if you don't wanna leave here in a body bag."


His hand released Daryl's throat before moving up on the stairs and out. With nerves stretched to the max, Vincent straddled the seat of his bike and soon drove off with screeching tires, heading towards the house of someone he knew, someone who could help with identifying the pendant he has found.


Daryl, recovering quickly from the encounter, stepped down the stairs and all but rushed towards Ari, unnerved and with a still aching throat.


"What the fuck were you doing with that Hound? You tryina' betray us?"


Vincent arrived at a lonely house in one of the city's outskirt neighbourhoods. The place looked deserted and decrepit to say the least. The bike was stopped and Vince unmounted. The house looked left out, as if no one has been living there for quite long. Lighting himself a cigarette, the man took steps towards the house and finally reaching it, he knocked on the small, nearly broken poor door. As he stood awaiting, he kept trying to swipe away Ariana's image from his mind, though with no success at all. What was going on?


After a minute or two, the door finally opened, revealing a fairly elder woman who stood there, looking up right in Vincent's eyes. However, she could not see anything, apparently. She was blind. The woman seemed to have an affinity for mysticism, as she was adorned with all sorts of ammuletes and rings which she considered protective. As she looked up to Vince, she finally spoke, as if she actually could see him.


"Oh, you are a tall man looking for answers, are you not? What is it that i can help with?"

 

[Luxii]

The red welt across Daryl's neck told Ari that his encounter with Vincent had not been a pleasant one. It shouldn't have made her happy that one of her gang members was roughed up but she smirked at the thought of mouthy Daryl trying to take on the obviously more powerful man. But Daryl's presence made the deserted subway an unbearable environment - she needed a fucking cigarette.


"Let's just go, Daryl," she muttered, feeling in her pocket for her cigarettes. "There's nothing here anymore."


She moved passed Daryl towards the stairs, but he reached out and yanked on her shoulder, spinning her back around behind him. He was furious, the fire burning in his eyes made that apparent. Ari wasn't sure if he was mad that Vincent had been there or because she had tried to brush him off. Either way, this wasn't going to end well.


He moved towards her as he spoke until her back pressed against one of the crumbling walls. "You know, I have been nothing but fucking nice to you since you were lucky enough for AJ to give you a chance with the Saints." He placed both hands on the sides of her head, upper lip curled back into a snarl. "But now, I think I've had it with you. I wonder what sort of punishment James will have in store for you, once he finds out about you and Vince." He spat off to the side as if the taste of the Hellhound's name disgusted him.


She tried to duck under his arm, but he blocked her path with his leg, stepping close enought that she could smell his breath: whiskey. "Daryl, are you fucking drunk?" A tiny bit of fear bloomed in the pit of her stomach. "It's not what you think," she stammered. "I was already here when he showed up. He just wanted to check out the crime scene, same as us."


Daryl laughed, a deep throaty sound that echoed off the walls around them. "That fucking Hound is not the type to just forgive and forget, sweetheart," he drawled. The slur in his last word left no question that he was drunk. "He's killed other Saints for a lot less than what you did to him last night." He lowered his mouth until it was almost grazing the edge of her ear. "What makes you so fucking special that he left you untouched?"


Ari could feel her body begin to shake, but she took a deep breath to steady herself and then with all of her strength, she planted both of her palms flat onto Daryl's chest and shoved. It wouldn't have done much normally but Daryl was intoxicated and his equilibrium was off, so he windmilled backwards, almost falling to the ground. Ari wasted no time, sprinting across the room and up the stairs - taking them two and a time. The effort winded her, she stood at the top of the stairs, hands on her knees, taking in big gulps of fresh air.


"Are you okay?" The voice was unfamiliar.


Ari's head snapped up. It was a man, probably no older than her. He was dressed sharply in dress slacks and a button down shirt. They had obviously been tailored to fit him perfectly. A Rolex watch gleamed on his wrist.


"I-- I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile, pretending that nothing was wrong. "Thanks for asking."


He smiled at her, showing impossibly white teeth. "If you say so. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be out here by yourself. Haven't you heard about the murder?" Oddly enough, she didn't feel threatened by this stranger. In fact his presence was oddly comforting.


"I just wanted to see what of it was about," she said. "But there's nothing there now, just a lot of caution tape."


The man's smile faltered for just a moment. "You didn't happen to see a necklace around here somewhere, did you?" His smiled turned sheepish. "I was out with some friends last night and I lost it. Been trying to retrace my steps all morning to find it. It was my mother's."


She shook her head. "I'm sorry, no. There's nothing of value around here." Could that have been the silver thing Vincent had pocketed.


"Well thanks anyway," he said. "But if you happen to find something like it, please give me a call." He pulled a gold embossed business card from his pocket. "I'm Liam by the way, Liam Wentz."


She plucked the card from his fingers. "Will do."


"Thank you!" he said. "Take care!"


She watched him walk off down the street until he turned onto a side street and was gone. She examined the card. Hm, a lawyer. What's a golden boy like him doing in a trashy area like this? She slid the card into the plastic sleeve around her pack of cigarettes, also pulling out a cigarette for herself. It was the quickest cig she had ever smoked, she crushed the butt on the sidewalk when she was done. She would leave to Daryl to find his own way back. She climbed atop her own motorcycle, revving it to life and heading back towards the Saints headquarters.
​

 

[Psychosis]

"Come in, please." The blind, old woman asked Vincent before moving out of the doorway to let him in. Her house wasn't much to look at, but inside resided a whole temple dedicated to all sort of spiritual matters. Vincent's eyes gazed about somewhat awestruck. He has never been one to believe, but he didn't bash beliefs either.He actually found them more than curious. The old woman led him into another room, not much different from the previous, and pointed him towards a small table with two chairs. "Sit down, my son. Do you wish to drink some tea? You seem awfully distressed."


The old woman was Martha. Everyone knew of her. She never expressed a clear belief, instead, she seemed to know so much about so many things related to spirituality. Some said she could sense evil beings and some others that she could predict the future. However, no one had an actual grasp as to what she did, exactly. Vincent was coming to her for the first time, as he felt the pendant he had taken was much more than a simple object. It made him feel odd, as if something was tugging at his clothes or at his very being. His heart and mind were heavy.


"No, i'm fine, i don't need any tea. They say you can sense evil. Something about this doesn't feel right." He spoke as he took out the still blood soaked pendant and placed it withing the woman's grasp. As soon as he did, she gasped and placed it on the table with a trembling hand. Vincent squinted as he watched her reaction. She clearly couldn't have faked it, he didn't even tell her where he had it from.


"This... it's bathed in the blood of the innocent. A great evil from beyond the mortal realm is calling. I cannot tell where it comes from, but many have already been tainted... the presence is ever so growing... something will unfold..." The woman spoke with drawn out breaths, as if she was giving out her very soul. Then, silence fell, and the old Martha remained in a place, gazing with her blind eyes towards nowhere and not moving. She seemed to be in a trance, and Vincent's hand on her shoulder did not wake any reaction.


"Dammit. Tell me more. What is the evil?" He questioned the woman, but received no answer. Unnerved by such, he finally decided to take his leave. But as soon as he grabbed the pendant, his head seemed to explode as a blurry image ran before his eyes. It looked like something close to a basement, and something lain on the floor in semi-darkness. The image dissapeared before he could try to see more. His head was exploding with pain. Vince left the old house in a matter of minutes, jumping on the bike and riding off, back to the Hellhound headquarters.


"Where the fuck have you been, Vinnie?" Rick questioned him as soon as he made an appearance inside the hall. "Jason wanted to send you off with the guys, they'll grab a Saint and bring him here for the night, to interrogate him. But you just missed all the fun."


They wanted to what? They wanted to abduct a Saint and torture him into speaking? That was insane, it could turn on a full war. Vince didn't know if to speak to Rick about his findings, and finally decided to leave it be for the moment. Rick wouldn't believe it if he told him what the old woman said. His mind, however, was being ravaged by a storm.


"Listen, Rick, something else is behind this, not the Saints..." He found himself speaking, attracting a suspicious gaze from Rick. But he knew not what to further explain. Moreover, the feeling caused by the pendant was intensifying. He could see everything blurring out before him, and through the whole tornado, he heard the main entrance open and more voices speaking, along with a muffled scream. Then everything turned dark.


"Put him in the garage, guys!" Rick yelled to the Hounds that were bringing in a member of the Saints, tied up and gagged. Vincent, however, simply turned around and left, without saying a word. Little did anyone else know that for the moment being, he was not in control of his own body anymore.

 

[Luxii]

While paused at a stop light, Ari checked the balance of her bank account. Finally! AJ had transferred funds to her account. She hadn't seen her mother in a few days, so she decided to visit and make a payment on the account in person. It was a fifteen minute drive to the hospital, and it took another ten to reach the cancer ward. She showed her driver's license to the receptionist, then headed to her mothers room: the last door on the left.


Her mom looked as if she'd aged a decade in the last few weeks, but her eyes brightened at the sight of her only daughter. "Ari..." She murmured, she voice barely a whisper. "I thought you had forgotten about me." She teased, a familiar twinkle in her eye. "Come here and give your mom a hug." It pained Ari to see that her mother no longer had the strength to lift herself off the bed. She gave her a long, heart-felt hug over the side of the hospital bed, then kissed her mom on the forehead and brushed her greying hair off of her face.


"They still treating you good here?"


Her mom grunted., nose crinkling. "The food could be better, but what else is new."


It was good to see her mother in such good spirits. They talked for awhile about how the treatment was going. Her mother complained of feeling tired and dizzy, but otherwise seemed to be doing well. She grilled Ari about life outside the hospital, and Ari told her made up stories about a job and friends that didn't exist. She hated lying to her mother but the truth would kill her.


She stayed until her mother drifted off to sleep, and she planted another kiss on her forehead before she left the room. The billing office was on the bottom floor, just a quick elevator ride away. She applied everything in her account to the balance, but she was still a month behind. The woman, Monique, was very nice and knew Ari since she was in all the time to visit her mother. Monique told her not to worry, she would tweak the account so it wouldn't alert in the system until the end of the month.


Ari left the hospital feeling a bit lighter than when she arrived. Visiting with her mother took her out of the nightmare her life had become. She straddled her bike, flicking through the missed notifications on her phone. It looked like Vincent had answered the phone when the billing office had called. That bastard.





She wanted to know what he had picked up from the subway. It certainly wasn't a good idea to go back to the Saints hangout, if Daryl had made it back in one piece she wanted to wait for that to blow over.


It was beginning to get dark outside. Rush hour traffic was over and it was calm in the city. Most people had gone home for the night. Ari missed that, having a home. A few of the Saints were very nice to her, but they weren't family, it wasn't home. There was that damned burning sensation behind her eyes again. She blinked back the hot tears; it wasn't often the loneliness of her situation overwhelmed her, but for some reason she was letting her emotions get to her tonight.
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[Psychosis]

What the hell is happening?





That was what his consciousness was asking while his body moved controlled by a stranger force. It seemed unreal. It was as if he has been imprisoned into the abyss of his own mind, unable to do anything else but watch the darkness embracing him and wonder where this force was off to with his body. As soon as "he" exitted the Hounds' headquarters, he jumped on the bike. His gaze was devoid and he seemed nothing more than a marionette at the hands of a master. Kicking the pedal, he woke the bike's engine to life and drove off, just before Rick exitted the hall to ask him what the hell was wrong with him.


The Hellhounds were now gathered up in the garage, around the chair to which was tied the Saint. A young guy, merely past his 25. His black eyes gazed at all the faces and the hate was easy to read into him. He was sure they weren't going to leave him away, not alive, for that matter. The door finally opened and everyone's attention shifted only to behold Jason's entrance in the scene. His eyes fell on the hostage and his lips pulled into a satisfied grin. He knew the guy. With a hand, Jason signaled for someone to take out the rag from his mouth, allowing him now to voice his anger and confusion.


"The fuck you want from me, dogs? Is this some sick fantasy of yours? You're tired of each other's asses and now you want mine?" Were his words, spoken in a mocking angry tone. However, a fist was quickly deployed and blown fully into the side of his face, causing his head to snap to the side and blood to immediately trickle from his mouth. The fist was delivered by Scar himself, the one closest to the hostage. Jason strode silent until he was standing before the tied man, then, placing his right boot on the chair between his legs, he supported himself and leaned forward, looking him dead in the eyes with an impenetrable calm.


"Listen, boy. I'm really calm and peaceful as of now. However, me remaining in this state depends now fully on your answers. You piss me off and these boots will be all over your fucking face."


The tone Jason let out was terrifyingly calm. Everyone who knew Jason well enough was aware that this was apparently his full time mood. He could nearly kill someone in a beating without even putting on an angry face. With the same calm demeanor, Jason took out a cigarette and lit it with slow movements, blowing the smoke right into his prisoner's face with a defying gesture. Everyone watched as the leader was running his interrogation.


"Which one of you, Saints, murdered that guy? Hm? Was it that little bitch Daryl? Or maybe James? Nikki? I know that slut has done some pretty fucked up shit so murder wouldn't be far. Who did it? You wanna blame that on us, don't you?"


The Saint was gazing at Jason and questioning his sanity. What Jason was supposing could only be thought by a person with severe paranoia. The man was fucking nuts.


"Listen, man, we ain't done nothing, you're imagining stuff. I don't even know what you are..." His words were cut short by a heavy punch that made his head snap yet again. Moreover, the rings that Jason wore made good scratches on the guy's face.


"Don't you lie to me, boy. I know you shitstains are behind this, you wanna get us into prison for good. Gonna be a long night for you if you don't spill the fucking beans."


Vincent's mind was suddenly released. He felt free, and for the moment, he didn't realize what happened. He felt he was sitting on something hard, however, he didn't know exactly what it was. Deciding to open his eyes, he did, but the image that greeted him was beyond gruesome. A corpse lain just out of his reach, in a pool of blood. It appeared to be the one of a man, naked and mutilated almost beyond recognition. Vincent's heart skipped a beat at the thought. What has been going on? What was he doing there with a corpse? Only if... No. It... it wasn't possible. He couldn't have. Or could he? Doubt slipped into him as he stood, wobbly, almost as if he had been drinking. He had to make a run out. Without even bothering to check anything anymore, he simply rushed out towards what he found to be the exit. The heavy feeling of the pendant was however not present, making him wonder what happened. But upon inspection he realised, the pendant was gone. Where could he have lost it? As he took a look around, he found out he was in the industrial zone, not too far away from the hospital.


"Man, what the fuck have i done?"

 

[Luxii]

Ari's phone started ringing. It was AJ. She held the buzzing device in her palm, then sent the call to voicemail. He called three more times and each time she sent the calls to voicemail. Daryl had probably been throwing her under the proverbial bus, and she didn't feel like getting an earful from AJ right now. Her phone buzzed for a fifth time, but this time it was Demetri; maybe something was wrong....


"Yea?"


"Ari, where are you?" His voice sounded worried.


"I'm at the hospital. Just finished visiting my mother..."


"Can you please come home?" Home? Ari certainly didn't think of the hideout as home. "We just heard a group of Hounds abducted Aaron." Aaron had joined the Saints shortly before Ari did, he was about her age. Abduction certainly didn't sound like the Hellhounds usual MO.


"I'm fine, Demetri, I can take care of myself."


There was an exasperated sigh from the other end. "Ari, please. We're calling everyone home to regroup."


She paused. "Is Daryl back?"


"No, he isn't answering his phone either."


"Damn," Ari muttered. Why couldn't she be an asshole and not care about the wellbeing of others? "I'll look for him first and then I'll come... home."


"Thanks, Ari." She could feel Demetri's relief through the phone. "I'll touch bases with you soon." With a click, the conversation was over.


Ari pulled her helmet on and slid her keys into the ignition, kick starting her bike to life. She pulled out of the hospital slowly, even though there wasn't much traffic. Should she go back to the subway? The thought almost made her nauseous. She would rather eat nails than go back down there.


The industrial zone was off to her left, and it was usually dark this time of day. But there was a light shining there now. She slowed her bike to a crawl, her curiosity getting the best of her. A quick detour wouldn't hurt right? Besides maybe she would see something useful.


She pulled in passed the chain link fence that surrounded the area, the crunch of gravel seemed louder than it should have been. Her legs swung around and off the bike and she walked a few paces towards the light. Something sparkled on the ground a few more paces ahead, she approached and knelt in front of it. A locket. It was silver with a long chain attached. She gingerly picked it up, running her fingertips over the inscriptions. It had the image of an eye emblazoned on the back. She pulled it over her head and tucked it beneath her shirt.


The crunch of gravel a little ways off in the distance startled her. She peered into the darkness in that area but it was shrouded in shadow. Her pulse quickened. She could probably make it back to her bike in just a few seconds. But maybe it was just an animal? Should she keep looking around?
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