Post by Jamie Ryan McKinnley on Sept 16, 2013 14:57:22 GMT -5
So he was a werewolf. A freak of nature. A fucking fanged toothed, glowing eyed, hair abomination.
What was new?
Jamie always believed he was a piece of shit that had no business taking up space or wasting good air, but he knew it now as sure as the moon hung in the big, obsidian sky.
And he could feel it running through his veins. The infection. The power. Jamie hadn't blacked out since Sky's revelation, but then again he hadn't been able to force any kind of transformation, either.
All he knew was that a low hum constantly vibrated through him. The animal was right below the surface and now he could distinguish the sensation from the normal anger which always animated him.
What did that mean the homeless young man? Well for one it meant the werewolf was staying as far away from the 'normal' population that normal. If Jamie wasn't working he was hiding...yes HIDING...under bridges and in the woodlands instead of his common sanctuaries like public parks and truck stops.
Better not to have to deal with his little problem while he was cognizant. Actually being aware of what was doing while he was doing it was liable to push him too far over the edge to come back to the human world.
Jamie took a long, deep pull off his smoke and then dropped it on the ground for crushing under his shit-kicker. He immediately drew a pack out of his back pocket and stuck another coffin nail between his lips as the smoke from the last one escaped through his nostrils.
The 'hum' was particularly vicious tonight so it was gon' be a long one. He was out of money and the stuff that numbed him, and he needed a way to still the vibration before it drove him insane.
Shifting anxiously from one boot to another Jamie paused at the sound of footfalls approaching the bridge he'd taken refuge under. As the group drew closer Jamie recognized the individuals to be 3 or 4 young males all amped up for the epic event they were heading to.
The werewolf could hear them clearly and it seemed they might just be the answer to his prayers. (If he prayed, that is.)
The fight club was one of those underground don't ask/don't tell kind of things. It was the sort of illegal operation that constantly changed venues so the cops couldn't pin them down. And what do you know. It was just a few blocks over.
Jamie waited until the group had passed before coming up to the surface and quickly making his way to the covert location. The abandoned warehouse had been temporarily transformed into a bustling arena.
The parking lot was full of cars and shady men loitering about placing bets. Apparently there was some big shot fighting tonight; some undefeated champion that had made a name for himself in the underground circuit.
Jamie wasn't impressed or deterred.
At the door a big bouncer with a face only a mother could love gave him the once over. "The entrance fee is a hundred bucks."
Fuck. He should have known!
The werewolf stood up straight and looked the guy right in his ugly mug. "Look, I'll split whatever I win, 50-50."
Jamie hoped with his scar, the milky white-glowing eye and scowl he could intimidate the guy. To bad the bouncer had seen that look before.
"60-40, and I get the 60." The beefcake nodded to the young man and stepped aside to allow Jamie entrance.
"Looks like our champion might actually have himself a fight." The man arched an unruly eyebrow at the were, "You might wanna' get a handle on those glowy eyeballs tho..."
Jamie stepped into the warehouse and tilted his head once in ackowledgement; stunned at the guy's nonchalance but outwardly unaffected. He paused to lift the hood of his jacket over his head before following the dimly lit pathway that lead down to the belly of the building.
Describing the scene as a madhouse was putting it mildly. There were way too many people crammed in the humid sub-basment. Blood, sweat and tears referred to the den proper rather than a hair band from the eighties.
Jamie literally had to shove his way to the sign-in area, and then it took him another 10 minutes to push his way through the crowd to the make shift fight cage; a section of the floor that had been walled in with chicken wire which hung from the ceiling.
Jamie found a good vantage point off to the side and in a shadow. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he got nice and cozy. He wasn't gonna' be fighting until the last. Apparently the guy that signed him up for opponents had seen the same thing in him that the door man had...
What was new?
Jamie always believed he was a piece of shit that had no business taking up space or wasting good air, but he knew it now as sure as the moon hung in the big, obsidian sky.
And he could feel it running through his veins. The infection. The power. Jamie hadn't blacked out since Sky's revelation, but then again he hadn't been able to force any kind of transformation, either.
All he knew was that a low hum constantly vibrated through him. The animal was right below the surface and now he could distinguish the sensation from the normal anger which always animated him.
What did that mean the homeless young man? Well for one it meant the werewolf was staying as far away from the 'normal' population that normal. If Jamie wasn't working he was hiding...yes HIDING...under bridges and in the woodlands instead of his common sanctuaries like public parks and truck stops.
Better not to have to deal with his little problem while he was cognizant. Actually being aware of what was doing while he was doing it was liable to push him too far over the edge to come back to the human world.
Jamie took a long, deep pull off his smoke and then dropped it on the ground for crushing under his shit-kicker. He immediately drew a pack out of his back pocket and stuck another coffin nail between his lips as the smoke from the last one escaped through his nostrils.
The 'hum' was particularly vicious tonight so it was gon' be a long one. He was out of money and the stuff that numbed him, and he needed a way to still the vibration before it drove him insane.
Shifting anxiously from one boot to another Jamie paused at the sound of footfalls approaching the bridge he'd taken refuge under. As the group drew closer Jamie recognized the individuals to be 3 or 4 young males all amped up for the epic event they were heading to.
The werewolf could hear them clearly and it seemed they might just be the answer to his prayers. (If he prayed, that is.)
The fight club was one of those underground don't ask/don't tell kind of things. It was the sort of illegal operation that constantly changed venues so the cops couldn't pin them down. And what do you know. It was just a few blocks over.
Jamie waited until the group had passed before coming up to the surface and quickly making his way to the covert location. The abandoned warehouse had been temporarily transformed into a bustling arena.
The parking lot was full of cars and shady men loitering about placing bets. Apparently there was some big shot fighting tonight; some undefeated champion that had made a name for himself in the underground circuit.
Jamie wasn't impressed or deterred.
At the door a big bouncer with a face only a mother could love gave him the once over. "The entrance fee is a hundred bucks."
Fuck. He should have known!
The werewolf stood up straight and looked the guy right in his ugly mug. "Look, I'll split whatever I win, 50-50."
Jamie hoped with his scar, the milky white-glowing eye and scowl he could intimidate the guy. To bad the bouncer had seen that look before.
"60-40, and I get the 60." The beefcake nodded to the young man and stepped aside to allow Jamie entrance.
"Looks like our champion might actually have himself a fight." The man arched an unruly eyebrow at the were, "You might wanna' get a handle on those glowy eyeballs tho..."
Jamie stepped into the warehouse and tilted his head once in ackowledgement; stunned at the guy's nonchalance but outwardly unaffected. He paused to lift the hood of his jacket over his head before following the dimly lit pathway that lead down to the belly of the building.
Describing the scene as a madhouse was putting it mildly. There were way too many people crammed in the humid sub-basment. Blood, sweat and tears referred to the den proper rather than a hair band from the eighties.
Jamie literally had to shove his way to the sign-in area, and then it took him another 10 minutes to push his way through the crowd to the make shift fight cage; a section of the floor that had been walled in with chicken wire which hung from the ceiling.
Jamie found a good vantage point off to the side and in a shadow. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he got nice and cozy. He wasn't gonna' be fighting until the last. Apparently the guy that signed him up for opponents had seen the same thing in him that the door man had...