The Warlock of South Side 🗡🌃

[Mature Content]

Shit always happens when you’re balls-deep in a hooker.
The bed rattles like only those cheap-as-fuck ramshackle metal frames can. Bothers my peace of mind, but at some point a man learns to either fuck against a wall like Hulk, or fade out the noise without having your dick go limp. It isn’t ideal, but what in life is?
The forty-dollar-whore’s groans don’t really improve the whole thing. My grandma could fake it better in bed than that peroxide-bleached piece of misery. I wish she’d just shut up.
This whole deal probably is as much of a business transaction for her as it is for me. I want to release some pressure, which requires the ol’ in n’ out game. She wants to earn a few bucks and has to endure the lice-infested mattress for that. We’re a perfectly adorable couple of shared misery. Yippee!
Just as I find the right rhythm, the one that fuses her squeaking with the clatter of the bed frame and therefor limits my agony to one sound per second, just as I think I might just have a happy ending despite all of the setbacks, the door explodes inward and showers us with wooden splinters. It wasn’t the sturdiest door to begin with, but against the vampire strutting through the hole even a metal security door wouldn’t have had a chance.
The whore screams and flops around beneath me like a spiked butterfly. With her legs over my arms, she won’t get away that easily, but the vampire is nice enough to help her by grabbing me at the collar and throwing me against the next best wall with such force, I drool blood instead of spittle on impact.
As I unceremoniously slide to the floor while trying to get my battered lungs to cooperate again, the hysterical whore flees through the hole that was once a door.
This is gonna be one of those nights.
“Hey, Creutz, remember what you said last week? ‘You’re never gonna find me’, remember?” the slimy pencil pusher says, grinning as he shoves one hand into the pocket of his suit pants as if to adjust his balls. His posture does undeniably good things to his custom-made suit jacket. If he weren’t such an asshole, I may have tried to get him into bed instead of cleaning out his vault. Oh well.
My lungs finally start to work again and I use my first good breath of air wisely and expediently to laugh at that shitface. Okay, laughingly cough at him, if anything, but the thought counts. If he hadn’t interrupted me in the middle of a fuck and before I had a chance to deposit my sperm somewhere— anywhere, really,— I probably would have been tamer and more helpless than this, but be that as it may, our encounter won’t end well for either of us.
“Hey, Eric,” I say and lick a few drops of blood from my lips. “Did Envy blab to you why he didn’t come himself to get back his goods?”
Eric the vampire laughs and throws back his head, making his damn quiff bob to one side. Rehearsed, artificial, idiotic, as everything about vampires. Those sucking fangers.
“Envy trusts me, that’s why he sent me.” He looks very convinced, that blond jobsworth.
I grin. Envy is almost as big an asshole as me. It’s one of the reasons why we plague each other with gusto, but never risk an open confrontation; it would be a shame to lose such an opponent, for both of us.
“He sent you because you’re expendable, Eric,” I explain, grinning, coughing, and with as much fatherly derision as I can possibly manage while baring my bloody, very human teeth.
Eric actually isn’t that clever and that’s a good thing. I’m counting on that, just as I hoped that a minimum of provocation would be enough to make him grab me at the collar and slam me against the wall again. That does hurt, and a lot at that, but it also offers me a chance to push my hand against his chest and set him aflame with but a thought.
While the vampire stumbles around the brothel room in the throes of death, burning like a phosphorus torch and setting stuff on fire that won’t be covered by my insurance, I pick myself up off the ground and lick the now blackened blood from the corner of my mouth.
The Dark inside me purrs like a cat, touching on things inside of me that really shouldn’t be touchable, or touched. My fingers prickle with bloodlust, greed for more and more destruction. Fucking or casting abyssmal spells, those are the choices I face on most days. He disturbed my fuck and chased off my whore, so what was I gonna do?
As I pull up my pants and swipe the rest of the clothes, Eric the walking briquette jumps out of the window and  shatters on the sidewalk. One vampire less to worry about in this world, and I didn’t even get paid.
I bare my teeth. I knew this day would end shitty.