by Blackwulf, thedoctor, Grimm and I'm Not Mister Mxypltk
Inside the bar, Blackwulf smelled the air as if he had noticed something.
"Hey, Wulf, something isn't right..." Grimm said.
"Greem, I am smelling something foul. Something!" With that said, the giant Russian disappeared into the back of the bar.
"Wulf, where the hell are you going?" Grimm shouted, but the giant Russian was swept away into the crowd.
"Damn it, what the hell is going on?" Grimm asked as if talking to the barkeep.
Bhaghhh-rupth seemed to be entranced and didn't even notice the tall, dark figure take the stage with him.
"Well, well, it would seem like I have found a rather large meta populace here," the dark figure said. "How rude of me. I haven't introduced myself. My name is Claus Von Feznek, but you can all just call me God," Claus spat.
"For, you see, I have come here for a reason! And that reason is to become your god, and how will I do that, you might ask? One of you is the Harbringer of Doom, the Great Devourer, the lord of consumption. And when I find you and kill you, we the vampire populace will never have to worry again about he who walks the days. Your reign of terror will be over, and I will be crowned king of all vampires, lord of the night, and god of darkness," Claus said in a less-than disdained voice.
As that was said, the doors of the bar slammed shut.
"If you are not him, then you don't have to worry, for he is the only one that I want. He is the one that I will have. There is a great distaste for your kind in the world of my..." Claus' voice trailed off as a large, purplish-gray hand pushed through his chest, holding his now-severed heart.
"You have found me!" gasped Claus. "Beast, do you not like the taste of what I bring?"
"I give you what you seek, immortal," a voice said with a thick Russian accent. "Ha! More like immoral! I waste nothing on you! Begone, for you are not of this world," Blackwulf said as he dropped the heart to the ground and stepped on it.
Watching the now-limp body of Claus Von Feznek turn to swirling ash and wisp away, Blackwulf jumped down from the stage and moved to the bar again.
"So, Comrade Greem, another round?"
Well, Dirk Bell thought to himself, Let's recap the night: Hallucinations, mutated octopus hitting on me, fish-man bartender with girls hanging all over him, a dude who claims to be a vampire has his heart ripped out on stage, the same stage that a demon summoned from another plane was doing an Elvis impersonation on, and most importantly, the beer tastes like shit. He stood up and began walking toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Grimm asked as the gunslinger passed by him.
"Out and about. Things are pretty boring here." Several of the bar's employees ran past to the stage with a broom and dust pan. The band began to pick up again in an attempt to settle down some of the weaker-hearted audience members.
"Some weird shit out tonight. Be careful," Grimm said in as caring a manner as an avatar of death could.
"Don't worry," Dirk quipped as he headed out the door. "I'm wearing clean undies in case I'm in an accident."
The rain beat a hard, quick rhythm onto the brim of his fedora. He fastened his trench coat around him, more to protect his guns than himself from the rain. As his boots splashed through the water running down the streets, the gunslinger began to walk like a man with a purpose.
His quest took him to yet another alley. He knew that the establishment would be open at this hour; most people didn't like to visit this type of place in the broad daylight. The door looked like any other in the alley. There was nothing special about it. It was just a door. Dirk tapped on it quickly three times, a pause, two more quick taps, another pause, and finished with three slow ones. An electronic buzz sounded, and he pushed the door open.
Inside, the lights were bright, and a sight that would be shocking and frightening was set out almost as if they were in a prestigious art gallery. Guns of any imaginable, and some even unimaginable, type and size surrounded Dirk. This was his temple, his church.
As he rounded the corner that took him to the main counter, his joy was almost totally destroyed. Behind the counter sat the son of one of the most knowledgeable gun dealers in the world. Unfortunately, the son had the intelligence and know-how of a retarded chicken. Julius McArthur was one of the brightest men Dirk knew, with a lineage of scholars that ran back hundreds of years. Too bad his wife's gene pool was shallow.
"How's it goin', Mike?" Dirk managed to say without gritting his teeth.
"Um..." came the response, "...um... okay." Just as Dirk thought the boy was finished speaking, Mike McArthur quickly mumbled, "I'm not gay."
Oh, Christ, the gunslinger thought to himself. "Has my order come in?"
"Um... um... I... um... I'll check," the thick boy staggered to the back, bumping into crates, walls, and the like as he went. "UM...!" came the call from the back. "UM... I... I DON'T SEE..." A large crashing sound erupted from the back. Dirk jumped the counter and hobbled as quickly as he could to the store room.
Mike lay underneath an overturned filing cabinet. The chaos that the boy had caused revealed that the cabinets were blocking something else. Dirk inspected a bookshelf that had been hidden in the wall behind the cabinets. On those shelves, he saw the largest collection of porn that any one man could possibly have. The titles stood out as most porn titles do, such as Dr. Lust and Debbie Does Dallas.
The gunslinger saw one tape without a case. He picked it up. "Is this a Betamax?" Dirk asked. He hadn't seen one in over a decade. His eyebrow raised in an emote that registered that he was both disgusted and outright perplexed as he read the title. "ASSMASTERS?"
Mike's gaze would not meet Dirk's as he replied, "Um... I'm... um... not gay."
"What's an ASSMASTER, then? The sheep at my dad's place would be really freaked."
Dirk heard the female voice with the slight Scottish brogue and turned around very slowly. When he was all the way around, he looked straight into the face of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
"So, do you work here? I'm here to pick up an order for my dad. I'm passing through on a job." She held out her hand.
Dirk wasn't sure what to do. He began to stammer, "Er, uh, no, I'm just here to pick up an order myself. Stupid owner's kid fell down in the back looking for it. Name's Bell, Dirk Bell."
"Hello, then, Bell Dirk Bell. I'm Aine Kilbirnie. Pleased to meet you." She smiled. "Are you gonna take my hand, then?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, sorry about that." Dirk began to take the girl's hand in his, when...
"I have a straw..." came a dazed voice from the back room.
"Shut up, Mike!" Dirk yelled, half turning his head.
"I'm not gay..."
Mike let out a scream of agony. One, for having his nose busted by the tape that Dirk threw into his face. Two, for fear of losing his one and only Betamax copy of Assmasters.
Dirk took the young woman's hand. "Nice to meet you, Aine. Maybe I can help you out." Dirk moved toward the shelves and searched.
"You... um... you can't do..." Mike mumbled before he caught the heel of Dirk's cast in his ribs.
"Kilbirnie, eh? I think this is it." He handed her a fairly nice-size box. "Must be a new sight for his rifle. Your dad, I mean."
"And why would you say that?" she asked, already knowing the answer. And Dirk gave her the right one. The company whose name was on the package was known for two things: shitty guns and excellent scopes for hunting and sniper rifles. Since it came through an underground arms dealer, the client must have some beforehand knowledge of guns and sights and been smart enough to stay away from the firearms the company manufactured. "Very impressive, almost as impressive as that Smith & Wesson .38 you have hanging out of your coat." The gunslinger noticed that the butt of his gun stuck out from under his coat. She had to know her firearms as well to be able to tell that it was a indeed a Snub-nose .38.
"You're pretty impressive yourself." He even smiled a bit when he said it. "Why don't we get together and impress each other?"
"I do believe that you are trying to make me blush," she retorted. "But, I don't see why not. I've still got a day or so before I have to leave."
"Sounds like a plan." Dirk grabbed his small package that he had found looking for Kilbirnie's and stuffed it in his coat pocket. He opened the door for her and followed her out into the rainy night.
Mike still lay on the floor, under the cabinets. As the door came to a close, he let out yet another statement of, "I'm not gay."
"Who's that, Mickey?" asked Mick Harrison's mom as she sat next to him and took a look at what he was drawing.
"That's M'xy," Mick answered, feeling a bit stupid for a second, as if he shouldn't have said that word. The strange feeling soon faded away, and he continued, "He's from the fifth dimension, and he can do whatever he wants."
"Whatever he wants?" Mick's mom asked.
"Yep," Mick replied. He grabbed his crayons and started adding color to the drawing.
"What kind of superhero is that?" Mick's mom asked, laughing. "Isn't it too easy for him to stop the bad guys if he can do whatever he wants?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Cause he's stoopid."
"MICK!"
"What? It's not a bad word..."
"MICK!"
"What?"
"WAKE UP!"
"Huh?" Mick said as he lifted his head from the plate and wiped the food off his face.
He saw Shirley Francis and a bear, her uncle Otto, staring at him.
"I'm sorry if the conversation is too boring for you, Mick, but I haven't seen my uncle in a while and need to catch up," Shirley said.
"Uh..." Mick replied. "It was the aliens or something, babe. They used their cosmic rays to attack me... I bet that pesky K'tl is at it again."
"Why don't you go join the guys, Mick?" Shirley said, annoyed. "You clearly don't wanna be here..."
"'Kay!" Mick exclaimed with eagerness, jumping out of his chair to walk away as fast as possible.