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Description
The strobe lights flickered rapidly across the crowd, lighting up the raging, dancing bodies. The air was crisp with the smell of sweat and excitement. Girls shook their hair wildly and guys hopped around each other, banging bodies with others. The DJ had Prodigy vibrating through the club, his head bent over the turntables.
"Hand me a Courtship, Cap'n Morgan," called a dark-haired man. The bartender nodded and started mixing the house drink.
The man straightened up in an almost snake-like way. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue and even in the dim light, his pupils were extremely tiny. He wore a skin-tight leather top with fishnet sleeves and buckles across the chest. The top stopped around his mid-torso, exposing his toned abs. His silky black pants dipped down and clung to his hips, a belt worn loosely around his waist. On his feet, he wore heavy black boots.
He tapped a black-painted nail on the counter, eyeing the crowd. He kept looking over at a silver-haired, slim female dancing on the edge of the crowds. She looked alone. The man flickered a near evil smirk in her direction that she didn't see.
"Courtship for the first mate," said the bartender, sliding a drink in his direction. Without looking away from the girl, he snatched the drink up in mid-slide and took a swig. The hard rum burned and numbed his throat as it slid down. He set the glass down and hissed satisfiyingly.
"Thanks, mate," he murmured hoarsely in his thick Irish accent. He slipped away from the counter and made his way to the girl. She had her back to him when he suddenly put his hands to her waist and slid them to her tummy. The girl jolted slightly and whirled around. The man smiled brightly at her.
"How're you this evenin', Angel?" he asked over the music. The girl stammered for a moment.
"D-do I know you?" Her eyes searched him in a slightly scared way.
"Aww, don't tell me you don't remember," he said, raising his head a bit, exposing a Celtic triangle tattoo on his neck. "Ashton's boy."
Angel's eyes widened slowly as she realized who he was. "Tanker?" she questioned softly.
"Good, you do remember," he chuckled, wrapping his arms back around her waist and pulling her close, straightening up. He was easily nine inches or so taller than her, especially with his boots on. Angel gave a slight whimper and tried to pull away, but he held her tight. "Don't go, Angie." He tilted his head, leaning forward seductively. "I don't wanna be alone."
"Y-you're not Tanker!" she snapped, writhing. He went to kiss her but she jerked back, grunting. "Keep your paws off me, you jerk!"
A few guys turned their heads to look. A burly one with a mop of brown hair stepped forward. "He givin' you problems?" he asked Angel stiffly. She only glared up at Tanker, bent over a little. The man looked at him. "Okay, come on bud, you're out. Come with me." He grabbed Tanker's shoulder.
"Get your filthy hands off of me, you goddamn mortal!" Tanker hissed, dodging away. The guy flinched a little, then narrowed his eyes and leapt at him. Tanker snarled and scrambled out of the way, giving him a swift kick to the back. The man toppled to the floor. Instantly, three other guys jumped at Tanker. He only smirked again and darted back at them. He slammed a fist into one of their faces, then whirled and slashed at another with his nails. The two men stumbled backwards and crashed into seperate chairs.
Tanker turned to face the last one as a crowd started to gather around them. The guy flicked out a knife. "Bring it," he huffed. Tanker tilted his head, much like a curious dog.
"You're bringing a knife..." With a clap of air, he disappeared. The crowd looked around, murmuring indistinct questions.
Suddenly, Tanker reappeared behind the guy. "..Into a gun fight?" he finished darkly. The guy turned sharply, only to freeze up as Tanker shoved his clawed hand into his stomach. He grunted quietly, eyes welling up. Tanker sneered, jerking his hand out with a small splurt of blood. The guy dropped, clutching his stomach. Tanker held his hand up and carefully licked at the blood.
"Nice try," he murmured. "But it appears as though I'm better than you."
The crowd started to lean in, people shoving into the circle and kneeling down beside the dropped guy. "Call 911!" someone shouted.
Tanker glanced up. Angel was staring at him through a sea of faces, her amber eyes watching him in disbelief. He kissed his index finger and held it out to her before disappearing again.
______________________

OH GOD OH GOD
HURRY
SOMEONE GET TANKER AWAY FROM ME BEFORE HE BECOMES THE SOURCE OF EMO--
....

He's MIIIIINE~!

Tanker; Uh oh.

Description
The strobe lights flickered rapidly across the crowd, lighting up the raging, dancing bodies. The air was crisp with the smell of sweat and excitement. Girls shook their hair wildly and guys hopped around each other, banging bodies with others. The DJ had Prodigy vibrating through the club, his head bent over the turntables.
"Hand me a Courtship, Cap'n Morgan," called a dark-haired man. The bartender nodded and started mixing the house drink.
The man straightened up in an almost snake-like way. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue and even in the dim light, his pupils were extremely tiny. He wore a skin-tight leather top with fishnet sleeves and buckles across the chest. The top stopped around his mid-torso, exposing his toned abs. His silky black pants dipped down and clung to his hips, a belt worn loosely around his waist. On his feet, he wore heavy black boots.
He tapped a black-painted nail on the counter, eyeing the crowd. He kept looking over at a silver-haired, slim female dancing on the edge of the crowds. She looked alone. The man flickered a near evil smirk in her direction that she didn't see.
"Courtship for the first mate," said the bartender, sliding a drink in his direction. Without looking away from the girl, he snatched the drink up in mid-slide and took a swig. The hard rum burned and numbed his throat as it slid down. He set the glass down and hissed satisfiyingly.
"Thanks, mate," he murmured hoarsely in his thick Irish accent. He slipped away from the counter and made his way to the girl. She had her back to him when he suddenly put his hands to her waist and slid them to her tummy. The girl jolted slightly and whirled around. The man smiled brightly at her.
"How're you this evenin', Angel?" he asked over the music. The girl stammered for a moment.
"D-do I know you?" Her eyes searched him in a slightly scared way.
"Aww, don't tell me you don't remember," he said, raising his head a bit, exposing a Celtic triangle tattoo on his neck. "Ashton's boy."
Angel's eyes widened slowly as she realized who he was. "Tanker?" she questioned softly.
"Good, you do remember," he chuckled, wrapping his arms back around her waist and pulling her close, straightening up. He was easily nine inches or so taller than her, especially with his boots on. Angel gave a slight whimper and tried to pull away, but he held her tight. "Don't go, Angie." He tilted his head, leaning forward seductively. "I don't wanna be alone."
"Y-you're not Tanker!" she snapped, writhing. He went to kiss her but she jerked back, grunting. "Keep your paws off me, you jerk!"
A few guys turned their heads to look. A burly one with a mop of brown hair stepped forward. "He givin' you problems?" he asked Angel stiffly. She only glared up at Tanker, bent over a little. The man looked at him. "Okay, come on bud, you're out. Come with me." He grabbed Tanker's shoulder.
"Get your filthy hands off of me, you goddamn mortal!" Tanker hissed, dodging away. The guy flinched a little, then narrowed his eyes and leapt at him. Tanker snarled and scrambled out of the way, giving him a swift kick to the back. The man toppled to the floor. Instantly, three other guys jumped at Tanker. He only smirked again and darted back at them. He slammed a fist into one of their faces, then whirled and slashed at another with his nails. The two men stumbled backwards and crashed into seperate chairs.
Tanker turned to face the last one as a crowd started to gather around them. The guy flicked out a knife. "Bring it," he huffed. Tanker tilted his head, much like a curious dog.
"You're bringing a knife..." With a clap of air, he disappeared. The crowd looked around, murmuring indistinct questions.
Suddenly, Tanker reappeared behind the guy. "..Into a gun fight?" he finished darkly. The guy turned sharply, only to freeze up as Tanker shoved his clawed hand into his stomach. He grunted quietly, eyes welling up. Tanker sneered, jerking his hand out with a small splurt of blood. The guy dropped, clutching his stomach. Tanker held his hand up and carefully licked at the blood.
"Nice try," he murmured. "But it appears as though I'm better than you."
The crowd started to lean in, people shoving into the circle and kneeling down beside the dropped guy. "Call 911!" someone shouted.
Tanker glanced up. Angel was staring at him through a sea of faces, her amber eyes watching him in disbelief. He kissed his index finger and held it out to her before disappearing again.
______________________

OH GOD OH GOD
HURRY
SOMEONE GET TANKER AWAY FROM ME BEFORE HE BECOMES THE SOURCE OF EMO--
....

He's MIIIIINE~!

Tanker; Uh oh.