RESERVED FOR SAIKETSU (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forums/member.php?u=163)
There was no mistaking the distinct smell of her blood. No matter how masked that precious scent was, the Zalmric could always zero-in on its location. The Akari girl had been wounded, that much he was sure of, and that trail had brought the man to the ever-so-popular Risk. Laurent hadn’t the slightest idea of what could have possibly led her here since it was so clearly not her type of place to venture into—but it was not his main concern. The trail wasn’t more then a day old and he could not afford to waste time trying to understand her patterns when he was so close.
Confidently the man pushed his way through an upset cluster of girls who were too young to be permitted to enter, his black trench coat fluttering behind him. His eyes didn’t bother to scan the corridor as he briskly walked through, ignoring any lingering people or any posted notices on the walls around him. As soon as he stepped inside the club itself, the blaring music hit him full force with a song he could not recognize but took a liking to nonetheless. The angry voice boomed over the speakers, conducting the mass to move at close quarters to whatever beat he decided to bellow;
“I’ve got an ‘F’ and a ‘C’ and I’ve got a ‘K’ too,
and the only thing that’s missing is a bitch like you.
You wanted perfect. You got your perfect.
Now I’m too perfect for someone like you…”
[/B]
Oh, you can’t run from me forever, darling. Laurent scanned the ocean of eagerly aroused bodies for any sign of his target. Having her scent, her very essence this close for the first time in so long made his entire body ache with predator desire.
“What’s my name, what’s my name? Ahh-ahh ahh-ahh. Hold the ‘S’ because I am an ‘AINT’”
[/B]
Someone here must’ve seen her… the man theorized, glancing quickly to the bartender who was most likely the most sober one in the whole building. Laurent hadn’t expected the girl to have ordered a drink—in fact, the only time he’d ever seen her drunk was when he personally forced liquor down her throat. Oh, that was a fun night. The man grinned demonically to himself as he crossed the floor, the thudding of his heavy combat boots lost to the high amplitude speakers.
“This isn’t music and we aren’t a band! We’re five middle fingers on a mother fuckin’ hand!”
[/B]
Pupil-less, icy eyes zeroed-in on the heavyset man behind the polished counter, taking him in to the last detail and trying to decide upon the best approach for extracting the needed information. Within the short distance between the door and the bar, Laurent had decided that a direct inquiry would be best. There was no real need for him to fabricate anything particularly extravagant, and judging by his posture and facial expressions, this man wasn’t in the mood for any games.
Laurent swiftly took a stool near a younger man two seats down who seemed to be absorbed in his drink. The Zalmric paid little attention to him, Laurent was too focused. Planning. The sooner he was back on the trail the better. The bartender strolled over, glancing indifferently at the Zalmric as through he were just another customer.
“What’ll it be?” Laurent wasn’t in the mood to drink. He turned away from the man sitting two seats to the right and motioned for the bartender to move closer.
“I was wondering if you’ve seen a girl,” the man began in a low, velvety voice that was intended for only the two of them to hear. “She has dark hair, dresses in all black, she might be bleeding—”
“Take a look around, bud. There’s plenty to go around.” The heavyset man chuckled. Laurent’s eyes narrowed as he hissed angrily under his breath. He leaned slightly over the counter and his hand darted out quickly, catching the collar of the man’s shirt and roughly pulling him to eye level. He spoke quickly.
“Her eyes change color. She would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb. Have you seen her?” the growl was demanding and Laurent released his grasp the instant the bartender tried to pull himself free. Momentum exaggerated his intentions, causing him to stumble backwards slightly. Laurent eyed him coolly.
“No, sir, I haven’t seen her. I’ve had enough goddamned trouble for one night and if you want to pull another stunt like that again I’d be happy to have my boys show you the way out.” With that said, the man walked to the other end of the bar.
Laurent was visibly infuriated by this lack of respect and lack of answers. He cursed furiously under his breath, not willing to accept, much less tolerate, defeat. The splintering edge of the countertop in his hand forced the Zalmric to regain his composure. Reformulate. Redesign. Execute. Things were finally beginning to run so smoothly too.
The Zalmric casually pulled a cigarette from the inside of his coat pocket, methodically lighting it and taking a long drag to calm his nerves. The man watched the smoke drift lazily to the ceiling as he leaned back on his barstool. Failure would not be tolerated.[/COLOR]