Cryptic Apocalyptic

The Voodoo Lounge. The atmosphere within was dark, colored lights you could barely see by, couches and chairs in secluded corners everywhere. The air was thick with a perfume that could only have been burned out of censors, though none were visible.

The dance floor was a hive of energy, never resting or slowing down. One had the tendency to feel that they were being seduced just by walking in, and that's exactly what the owner, Lee Black, had aimed for when he'd created it.

The bartender, a demon coincidentally, gave a slight nod indicating his subservience as his masters stepped in the door. This venue was more than just your average club or bar. It was a den of sin- not that that was unusual in a place like Vegas.

The group started moving, Matt and the other hell-born men smiling widely as they quickened the pace. The humans were deeply confused, and a bit unnerved about this. They knew that the boys were anticipating running into someone, but they had no idea who.

They came to a large and very comfortable looking corner that overlooked the rest of the place. A blood red couch littered with pillows and a table littered with glasses of alcohol- some were full, and others weren't. In the center of this sat Billy Idol, decked in leather and a shirt the arms had been ripped off of, and Dave Grohl, sporting jeans and a t-shirt. Four women were vying for their attention, but they really weren't interested.

They both jumped up as the group approached, giving hugs to all the immortals and politely greeting the others. Dave the bodyguard was staring in such awe at the rock stars before him that there was some suspicion that he might get down on he's knees and pull a Wayne's World. Most of the guys were surprised that after dealing with so many important people and celebrities Dave would be this star struck.

Martin was fighting nervously at first, but soon relaxed as he joined in the conversation and became acquainted with them.

Chuck just sat down took a shot of what looked like Bourbon with a dry expression. The other's followed the less enthused man back to the large couch, chatting animatedly about tour schedules and what everyone had been up to since the last time they'd seen each other.

The girls squealed, already pretty tipsy, and started flirting with the guys trying to get some attention. Matt wound his arm around the one he wanted, and the other three draped themselves over the other guys.

Heather was swaying in Brian's lap, off her head high. He'd grabbed her from behind the desk as they exited the hotel, and had intoxicated her on the way to the club.

Matt looked at his cousin where he sat across from him and giving him a look his brothers knew well. Two seconds later he was challenging Brian to a drinking contest.

With hoots and hollers ten shots of Ever Clear were set up in a straight line in front of both boys. Bets were placed as money was thrown down on the table. Johnny was selected to be the judge, and stood at the end of the table waiting to tell them when to begin.

Matt and Brian grinned at each other, each completely confident. Johnny screamed 'go' suddenly and both men, being prepared for this, started downing the shots like lighting. Twin bangs could be heard as each slammed their last shot glass down on the table in record time.

"Tie breaker!" Johnny shouted, Zacky grabbing the six extra shots by Brian and starting to line them up as Billy took care of the ones by Matt.

"Hey man, is it cool if I start this one?" Dave asked Johnny, who defiantly wasn't about to say no. Dave stood up but stayed where he was. He took a swig of his beer and then cleared his throat. He held his hand up for a second, just looking between the two before him. He made a downward chopping motion.

"Gung ho!" he screamed, sitting back down and taking another drink immediately after.

The boys all shouted as shot after shot was strained like it was water. Matt's glass smacked the table a half a second before Brian's, which a growl Matt's opponent admitted defeat.

Zacky, Dave and Billy all grumbled as they saw their money being split between Dave Grohl, Chuck and Martin.

"Hey guys!" Everyone looked over at Lee, the owner of the Voodoo. His long shaggy black hair was slicked into a perfect ponytail, his loose designer silk shirt and jeans looking extra expensive under the light. Matt noticed with appreciation that he had some very nice snakeskin cowboy boots on. "It's been a millennium!" His perfect white teeth shown through his smile as he did a manly handshake-hug with all the guys he could reach.

"Not even close!" Zacky joked.

"Yeah, it's only been what, three hundred years?"

"I'll never forget the look on that woman's face when you boiled her cat right in front of her!" Brian reminded them as he laughed reminiscently.

"She really should have seen that one coming," Zacky told him, laughing along with the others, except for the humans who were just confused.

"Guys, I'm sure you all know who Lee is, but just in case you didn't realize him and us go way back.," Johnny helpfully explained.

"Three hundred years is not 'way back'," Matt disagreed.

"Whatever man, it's just an expression. Anyway he met us when he sold his soul to our father. He came down to hell bitching about how the powers he'd wanted were out of control, and we bumped into each other. He manned up and figured out how to use what he had been given, and we've been watching all the crazy shit he pulls ever since."

"I never knew that, man!" Billy exclaimed. "Kinda gives the name of the place a bit more meaning."

"I got a noise complaint about you guys, but that prick can fuck off," Lee revealed why he'd suddenly shown up.

"Who the fuck would dare?" Zacky was enraged, and stunned. No one had ever had the balls to actually complain about anything they'd done before.

"It doesn't matter, I'll go straighten them out. It was really good seeing you guys again, keep in touch if you're in Cali long, alright?"

The guys agreed and waved Lee off. The chicks at the table were too drunk to make sense of any of it.

Not long afterwards the alcohol was running low but spirits were soaring. They all decided to go up together since they'd need more drinks than people anyways. Most of them were drunk off their ass already, but they weren't about to stop drinking until all the bottles ran dry.

A man in a blue shirt knocked into Johnny's shoulder as he walked past, not bothering to stop or apologize. Brian grabbed the man from behind; spinning him around and punching him square in he jaw. A few of the guy the man had been with jumped to the rescue, only motivating the rest of the immortal crew to start their fists flying as well.

Matt took on two guys who were coming at him simultaneously and grabbed both of their necks, smashing their heads together with enough force to smash their skulls, little pieces of each other's brain matter poking out of hair as blood coated the floor by their heads.

Zacky grabbed a wineglass from a near by table. A man shot a punch at him but he just grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it painfully to the side, a look of agony on the mans face. His skin became red, as he was being churned from the inside out. Zacky sipped the last of the wine and leaned down an inch from the man's face.

"Just a little tip? Don't fuck with us." He smashed the wine glass across the man's face stabbing his artery with the jagged stem a minute later. He smiled at his work, and looked up in time to freeze a man's fist, a hair's reach from his nose.

"That wasn’t very nice," he taunted, watching the man gasp to breathe, his face and neck turning blue, but unable to move either his body or his lungs. A switchblade appeared in Zacky's hand and he stabbed the man in his lower abdomen so that the hilt was pressed against his flesh. He ragged the blade upwards until it hit the sternum. He pulled it out stabbing another man through his ribs as he attempted to go after his older brother, who was already battled five guys.

The whole scene was a brawl. People started to panic when they realized other people were dying and the security, loyal to Dave, and aware of the fact that their new masters were being attacked, reacted as quickly as possible, but couldn't do anything over the rioting that turned into massive fist fights, until sirens could be heard in the distance.

Even Dave and Billy were in on the action, though obviously their methods didn't involve the magic their cohorts possessed. They were having a fucking ball. This was the closest thing to home they'd experienced since they'd been here (although while Jimmy was one for a week, there was some torture going on, and every operation in Huntington to take control of, but this was on a much larger scale. Lee found Brian at last, grabbing onto his bicep before he could start another fight.

"Please, sire, I beg you, leave before the police come. I can clean this up, I can protect you more easily if you and the others would see fit to give me a clearance of time-"

"Sure thing, Lee. Just chill okay? Give us a day and we'll own all these pigs." They had to scream over the roar, but they understood each other. Brian patted him on the back, sending a message to everyone, including the mortals mentally.
Get your asses to the car. Back door. He headed to the exit Lee was waving to, standing by it to account for everyone as they passed. Soon everyone was out, and waiting in the limo except for Zacky.

Dude, where the fuck are you? Brian directed the question at his cousin.

Watch my last one. Zacky invited. Brian took a look through Zack's eyes, watching as the man who was nailed to the wall with knives gurgled up water from nowhere, drowning in the middle of the club.

Hurry the fuck up man. There's time for that shit later. Zack sighed and slit his throat, water running red as it poured to the floor. He materialized by Brian and the two exited the club, the limo pulling away just in time to watch SWAT enter the Voodoo.

"What happened to all the chicks?" Johnny noticed suddenly.

"Shit. Well let's go get some more." Brian shrugged, throwing a handful of the complimentary nuts for the limo into his mouth. Billy laughed at his statement; Dave just smiled and shook his head.

"Man, do you have any blooming idea how chauvinistic you sound?"

"No?" Brian gave the rocker an odd look, confused. "I like women, they're nice and soft, and they usually smell better than dudes. In fact, me and Zacky were the ones who thought of the plan to let all the women continue to live on Earth after the apocalypse." Zacky high fived his cousin. "Lewis wouldn't let us, but it's the thought that counts." It was Billy's turn to shake his head. He banged on the divider between Chuck and the back, only to have it promptly roll down.

"Yes, sir?"

"Pull off up here on the right. Take us to the Crazy Horse."

"Yes sir." A quick swerve to the right threw everyone in the limo, the tires squealing in protest just in time for a sharp stop to jumble them all up again. They were at the front doors of one of the most prominent adult entertainment clubs in all of Sin City. Not only that, but to say they had made an entrance was an understatement. Had most of the police and SWAT in the city not been preoccupied they would have probably been under arrest for reckless driving and endangering pedestrians. Everyone was looking at their limo as if it had just been beamed down by aliens.

Matt just barely caught Dave an Billy's conspiratorial mutterings from next to him. Brian provided the propane torch, and Johnny unwittingly provided a target for their prank.

The crowd gasped, falling backwards as the short man ran from the limo with the seat of his pants on flames and slabs of bacon slathered all over him. A twin reaction was gathered as Dave and Billy came out, Billy fiddling with the torch so it gave off short but fearsome bursts of flame and Dave casually gnawing on a shish-ca-bob. The rest of the guys scrambled gracefully from their vehicle, laughing at their comrade's expense.

The boys walked into the Circus Maximus, the main showroom. The performers were in the middle of their cabaret routine as they came in. The word ran through the bodyguards that some very important people were here, and a lesion came to show them to the most coveted seats in the house.

Not only was the décor of the establishment exquisite in it's own right, but the performers themselves were all trained expertly in ballet and as gorgeous as could possibly be expected.

Alcohol was brought to them, while no one questioned the flamethrower. Certainly the guards would do nothing about it now that Dave had been seen personally attending to them. The boys only grew more and more fond of Dave.

Some of the performers came to chat with them, warming them up, hoping maybe that they could get a good word in or perhaps a request for a privet dance (although these paid exceptionally well, it was more about the competition than the money. They were all here because they worked their asses off to be here).

Tanya, Shauna, and Rockette were particularly clingy. They twirled their hair, and flirted subtly while the others were charming, fun to hang out with, but without actually throwing themselves at the men.

They had a few drinks, and quickly grew bored. The Crazy Horse put on a hell of a show, but it really couldn't much compare to the ones in Hell. They seemed to have rules here, an orderly, safe, clean establishment, and for the sons of Satan, that simply wouldn't do.

Zacky was fidgeting, and took to playing with the flame throwing propane torch to soothe his boredom. What resulted was a scorching flame crawling rapidly up the wall nearest to them, burning the drapery, scaring off the patrons and causing mayhem as it licked it's way further and further.

Matt took another swing of his drink- a martini which he wasn't really averse to, but was only really drinking because he'd lost a bet. The strippers flipped out, rushing for the exits. Had it not been for their five human cohorts, the guys would have been content to stay inside while the place burned. As it was they were a little pissy about leaving, but they would rather do that than sacrifice the lives of some of their favorite mortals.

By the time the fire department rolled onto the scene, lights flashing and sirens screeching in a way that could only be described as unnecessarily annoying, there were only two hours left until dawn.

Billy's room at The Flamingo was looking better and better, as annoying heaven-bound pedestrians and public servants began crowding around the scene. No one could understand how the fire retardant walls had gone up so quickly.

A wicked smile was set on Zacky's lips as he watched the firemen huddle together, suggesting only too clearly that the incident had not been as accidental as he made it appear.

Johnny and Brian erased the memory in the strippers' minds anyway- after Lewis's last lashing about precaution and safety they weren't taking any chances about the mortals getting suspicious.

When the guys woke up in the mid-afternoon they really should have been expecting the mammoth hangover that comes with binge drinking in such excess that a small lake of liquor had been consumed.

The humans were in a sort of a coma, their bodies still struggling to detoxify them of the poison that had been pumped in until the rising of the sun found them passed out with their stomachs pressed into what had once been the carpet of Billy's room in the Flamingo.

It had been stained with all sorts of unidentifiable bodily fluids, charred beyond recognition, and even ripped from the floor in some places. The television was missing, and the boys had the strangest sensation that it could be found on the cement below their broken out window, though none of them checked. The bed, sofa and chairs had all been gutted and singed, the mini-fridge door hanging open limply at an angle that suggested it's hinges had been bent severely.

The interior of that seemed to be covered with mustard, which was sprayed all over the rest of the room, leaving a stench that openly defied nature. The original color of the walls was unidentifiable, and not simply because of the condiments that were now sparsely decorating it.

A blow up doll with a picture of Winston Churchill taped on its face was tied to the dresser and sporting a leopard print thong and a red brazier of the Victoria's Secret line with candles set up all around it.

All of the mirrors were broken, and several of these shards had been stabbed into the doll's face, while many more spelled 'foam' on the floor by the window. There was no sense to the scene, and no one was willing to enter the bathroom. They might not remember last night, but they certainly knew they weren't psychologically prepared to do that. Most of the damage was too frightening and obscene for them to think about, but the boys were just glad they had the power to make Advil and bottles of water appear in their hands.