Cryptic Apocalyptic

As the trees lining their privet road disappeared and gave way to even more trees and a road with asphalt so smooth and perfect it had to have been new, the guys realized just how truly hidden they really were.

A few sharp turns at their guides' direction brought them onto the infamous PCH. There were many loud whoops as the boys cruised past all the shops and businesses, watching people, live honest to god flesh and blood people, walk down the sidewalks in their skimpy summer clothes.

"So is there anywhere you dudes want to go specifically?" Dave inquired over the roar of the wind rushing by their topless vehicle. After a quick mental debate with the rest of the crew Matt answered, "Wherever has the best booze and pool tables." Dave conferred with the others via three-way calling and decided that they should stop off at Johnny's Bar.

"It isn't exactly the most evil joint in town or anything, but it's a nice calm place where you can totally get used to being, you know, up here and stuff." Dave screamed as Matt spun his wheels, drifting into the parking lot of the bar tires screeching.

"Yeah, I think that sounds like a good idea. The last fucking thing we need right now is trouble right off the bat."

Few heads turned as the boys walked in, and while they were not used to that they handled the anonymity quite well. Jason Berry, Johnny, and Brian all volunteered to get drinks. Zacky was the first to go up to the bar but that was less out of good will than because the bar tender was fucking gorgeous. The group quickly claimed a shadowed table in a back corner of the bar that seemed like it might usually be reserved for important people.

Obviously no one said anything, knowing instinctively that these people were about as important as it got. The boys all laughed as Zack got shot down after just a few brief moments of flirting. No one really saw that coming, but maybe Zack's skills with the ladies didn't extend to the living ones. He slumped down next to his brothers, warning them not to say anything. The ten of them ad no problem finding space on the couches and armchairs that surrounded the table, so there was even quite a few empty seats in their little area.

The atmosphere of the place was dark, but casual and relaxed. The air was smokey and lit only sparely, with a distinct smell of hops and lemon (perhaps from some sort of cleaner) prevailing. No one bothered them, but at the same time there was no tension. They were just a part of the crowd, but at the same time removed from it.

Rockin' music played softly enough to ignore, but loud enough to head bang to, while the overall clamor gave the place a pulse, a life.

The beer was cold and the jukebox was functional; what more could they ask for? Sure, it wasn't the flaming inferno of scandalous behavior and excess that the underworld was known for, but it had a charm of its own, and they defiantly liked it.

Some girls at the bar caught their eye and winked, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Brian and Jason decided to set down their drinks and get the girls over to where the rest of the guys were. Licking their lips and messing with their hair discreetly, they accepted. Although there was more than enough room for them to grab a seat, a few of the four of them opted to rest on someone else's lap.

"So this is Cassie, Michelle, Jane, and Melissa, girls, I'm sure you won't have a hard time getting their names," Brian introduced to come giggles and smirks. The red headed Michelle was cuddling up to Johnny almost before Brian had stopped peaking. Jane shyly found her way to Matt's lap, while Cassie cuddled up to Brian. Melissa stuck by Jason, until he excused himself to get more beer and flirt with the hot blond who had been eying him over her martini. With a huff Melissa turned her attentions toward the green-eyed fiend who was currently talking guns with his comrades.

He smirked, but his friends could tell he was still a little unnerved about being shot down. When you're one of the three Princes in Hell, you tend to not have any trouble scoring with the ladies. Bar tenders, however, are a different breed altogether than your average damned soul, fallen angel, or demon.

Girls who worked bars usually flirted for tips, but unlike the waitresses more often than not had better sense than to get involved with clients, which really sucked for Zacky and his little fetish with them. He'd probably bang Melissa after a few rounds of alcohol and pool, even though she wasn't as pretty as the other girl, and then forget all about it. Those suspicions were confirmed an hour later when the two disappeared and he returned alone four games of pool later, quipping that she had been 'boring' and 'average' in the sack.

They laughed handing him another beer, even the girls pretending to be amused by his comment. Growing bored of the lack of action, they decided to head somewhere with a little more excitement.

Most of them ditched their girls, except for Jason, Matt and Chuck who all escorted their lovely ladies back to their homes to do the horizontal tango for a while. Martin lead the way to a less well kept side of Huntington, navigating them to a deteriorating house with two pit bulls and a Mercedes out front.

The pit bulls began to bark wildly, but with one quick look from the boys, they shut up and coward away. Junkies were passed out on the porch, needles next to their arms and powder fresh on their noses. Matt grimaced, disgusted, as he passed them. He was never one for giving control over to anyone, and seeing so many people make themselves helpless half dead zombies was revolting on a certain level. Another part of him was silently cheering though, because it wouldn't be too long before these people would join the ranks of his subjects.

Martin kept a very straight face but they all knew he was reliving his drug days, and it wasn't nice.

"What the fuck you doin' here, boy? I thought you was out of the game son!" A man with gold grills and 'gangster' clothes came up to Martin, giving him a manly hug that turned into a handshake.

"Well man I had to get my head straight for a while, but I'm back, only this time I work for them." The simple comment brought all attention from the surprise guest to his unknown associates. Dave stood on the other side of the group, his stance protective with his arms crossed and his feet planted shoulder width apart. Eyebrows rose at that. Everyone knew Dave, but he made it clear he had no interest working for gangsters in the past. Combined with their knowledge that Martin was hooked up with everyone in the underground and didn't do anything for charity, all the gangsters were suddenly on their guard.

"Who're your friends?" Another gangster asked from his seat right in front of the piled cash on the coffee table. There was a dangerous edge to his voice that hinted at violence.

"We're your new fucking bosses, so you better show some respect, punk," Matt spat brazenly, not taking anytime to beat around the bush with Godfather-like insinuations and speeches.

"Who the fuck you talkin' to?"

"You callin' me a punk, you sorry motha fucka?"

"You really think you can just waltz in here with that shit?"

And more indistinguishable exclamations rose up as surely as the men who spoke them, the half annihilated junkie girls who were sitting on their laps practically being flung to the floor.

Nine millimeters, and one shot gun were suddenly in the hands of the gang members, who were all livid. The boys all just laughed, a gleam of red flashing across their eyes, except for the two humans.

Martin was smirking while Dave just gave them the same warning look, his hands now balled into fists as they were crossed in front of him.
"You think those little toys are gonna do anything against us? Obviously you don't know who you're dealing with." Zacky snickered after he spoke, turning to Brian who was on his right. "You think we should show them?" They all laughed a little, scaring one of their opponents so bad he shot Zacky a few times in the chest. The bullets didn't even tear the fabric of his shirt, but fell to the ground with a dull 'ping'.

"They was duds dog, they was duds..." One of the gangsters tried to tell his friend, the mantra only portraying him as more afraid and unsure than the other man.

"This is only the start," Brian informed them, the same smirk on all of their faces. Two of the men had actually pissed their pants visibly. "From now on you work for us. We take a cut of everything you make; you follow our rules and do as we tell you without question. Martin will handle all the details, if you have any questions go to him, and if he can't handle it, report directly to Jimmy, you got that?" Brian clasped his taller friend on the shoulder, all the men nodding in stunned silence.

"Put down your guns, boys," Johnny teased. The all immediately did as they were told. They made to leave but Zacky turned around. He smiled and walked right up to the man who'd tried to shoot him. The others all stopped to watch. Zacky grabbed him by his jacket collar and punched him in the face. After he fell down with his hands covering his wound Zack gave him a good few harsh kicks.

"No one fucks with us and gets away with it. You're lucky I have shit to do or you wouldn't be getting off so light." He strode out of the disgusting shack, all the others following. Martin told them he'd be back tomorrow and that they should all be there and be ready to take orders. The boys went home to a pissed off Papa G and several text messages from Lewis jabbering about how they shouldn't have used their powers but telling them they'd done a good job anyway.

As promised the next night Jimmy and Martin drove to the drug house. Martin had already given his Master all the details of the operation, though Jimmy didn't really need to be told. It was noticeable when they got near 'drug country'. Although the substances permeated the entire community, they were known to come from one specific area, and it was a place Jimmy knew well already. The decor for this visit included new junkies sitting on the porch, though none passed out yet. They'd heard about the take over, but didn't know who was in charge. Walking pass them they didn't seem to think anything of the two, just another dealer and his friend. But once they were in the inner sanctum of the house they were certainly noticed.

All the gangsters shot to their feet respectfully, alternating between looking at them with wide eyes and staring at their shoes.

"Bow!" Martin ordered, knowing it was crucial to inveigh how important Jimmy was at this first meeting, now that the others weren't around to back them up. They all quickly did, falling to their knees. "Alright," Martin relented, after a nod from Jimmy telling him that that was good enough. "Take out your stock, Master Sullivan is only here to check the purity for himself and then he's gonna bounce. " All the men did as they were told, laying out their drugs on the table in stacks according to what it was so that Jimmy could assess them.

The cocaine, he decided, was fine, but the heroin and marijuana had too much other junk in them and there were frightfully low supplies of LSD, ecstasy, and the other slightly less mainstream drugs. He picked up a few different things, enough for at least three people each, and pocketed them, a little smile playing on his lips.

The dealers were just glad they were escaping this encounter with their lives, and were way to chicken shit to be upset, nonetheless say something about it. Jimmy left, as Martin started talking about the cut the guys were taking and when where and how to deposit the money, and other such things.

All that was left for the Horseman of Plague was to find a climate appropriate for using his newly acquired substances. Jimmy didn't really want to go home just yet- the other guys were all out taking care of other things and Papa G defiantly wasn't the first person that came to his mind when he thought of whom he wanted to get high with.

Following his 'fun instinct' he began walking down the street in the first direction that appealed to him. His feet take him to another house, this one much nicer, but still clearly not any responsible adult's home. The smell is what first caught his attention. It was a distinct odor of sweat, booze, drugs, sex and food that told him there was some kind of raging rave/drug party going on inside.

The music came next, pulsing and thumping, the perfect thing to grind to. Smiling widely at how he never failed to find exactly what he was looking for. He walked up the steps and opened the front door to absolute chaos. He smiled and walked in, thinking fondly of Hell.

Taking a cold Heineken out of the fridge, he began the winding incomparably spastically enjoyably horrific experience that was a drug binge. Colors and lines blurred and flipped around, his whole body feeling like a feather, light and happy, floating. He swayed a bit as he walked, his feet not working, his hands not looking right.

He laughed a little at nothing, taking another drink and a small white capsule with it. He'd get into the hallucinogens soon. All the lights were making patterns like too-bright fireflies, and the faces of everyone around him seemed to be melting like forgotten ice cream. He laughed some more, not even noticing how insane he sounded. Cotton candy clouds and little birds were flying all around him. He could have been here for hours, days, weeks for all he knew. He liked it.

He tripped over his own feet, not feeling the fall, but noticing when his large hands met warm, soft black cotton and a hardly noticeable weight landed on top of him. He looked up at the ceiling and surmised that he must be on the ground.

A girlish giggle greeted his ears, and it sounded like the silver bells Edgar Allen Poe must have been so fond of when he wrote his poem.

"Look," the girl giggled. "You fell, and then I fell, and now we're laying on top of each other." He laughed too, finding the situation hilarious. He didn't have to look at her dilated pupils to know she was just as whacked out as he was. When his searched for those orbs, wanting to see for himself, he got a shock, thinking he was staring into a mirror. Bright blue eyes were looking back at him, with natural black hair with brown highlights falling into her face. She was pretty, and he was in need of a drug buddy.

"I'm Jimmy, and you and I are gonna have lots of fun." He grinned, holding her to him. She smiled and laughed, knowing this meant trouble and liking it.