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by Chey_Rose_13

by Chey_Rose_13

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Jackets fingers twitched impatiently against the answering machine, fingers tapping against the wooden end table it sat on, filling the quiet room with a hollow clicking.
He couldn't count the amount of times he's gone to bed and woken up to a message, a casual message that would always disgust him.
'Hey it's Jane, I need you to tell the neighbors to quiet down, can you take care of them? Thanks.'
Or something of the sorts.
It could never be that simple, everywhere he went he left blood and guts behind. But he could separate it as long as he wore that mask. He was doing it for the greater good, right?

Either way, this time he was determined to stay up long enough to answer the call before it could go to voicemail, accompanied only by the sound of the rain pittering against his window wafting in the smell of freshly bloomed flowers into his dingy apartment. It was a pleasant contrast from cheap liquor and cigarette smoke that had been basically burned into the dirty, greenish carpet. It was a small that made his nose twitch, it was familiar yet it wanted to make him sneeze.

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Clinks and clatters filled the bar atmosphere, you'd been working here for awhile now - pretty much since you moved to Miami, the people werent inherently the friendliest but the pay was good, enough to buy yourself a small apartment on the coast.
The bar was owned by a Veteran from the Russian war, he was a pretty good guy, scruffy beard, fatherly in a way.
Currently you stood behind the bar overlooking the customers, drinking, dancing, mingling. It was loud, hard to focus on one thing. What you did notice though was Beard, is what he called himself. Was talking with a customer, they seemed to be life long friends judging by the friendless they shared. The man Beard was talking to didn't say much, just responding with the occasional laugh or shrug. He looked familiar however, especially his jacket. A heavy variety jacket, cream colored sleeves, red torso with a copper 'B' embroidered onto his chest.
God knows how long you were staring at the poor guy, hardly even noticing a thing around you till a hand slapped the smooth black countertop you stood at, lit up with some purple LEDs underneath,
"Are you listening to me?" His voice was rough, looking over you noticed a man, his blue shirt clashing with the pink vest he wore. In a way, the clashed colors fit the blue haired man. Even the biker helmet that was propped between his side and inner elbow was blue.

"Sorry." You responded, straightening back up a bit. "What can I get you tonight?"

"A Bartender capable of listening the first time someone talks to them." He responded back snappily. "A beer.

"A beer." You repeated, nodding as you ducked under the countertop to hide your eyeroll while you grabbed a glass mug, clinking against the others. The sour smell of alcohol immediately filled your senses once the keg tap was twisted, the off yellow liquid filling the cold glass quickly alongside the fizzy bubbles echoing inside the glass.
Turning back around and sliding the mug back to the man, he gave a simple nod of thanks, seemingly interested in something else - or someone else.

His gaze was locked onto the blonde man your boss, Beard was speaking with. Didn't seem to have the friendliest of intentions either. Either way he seemed just as interested in the man as you were, however he seemed to know exactly where he knew the man from - unlike yourself.

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Cold droplets from the condensation forming on glass dampened the faux leather of his gloves creating moisture against his skin underneath, he hardly noticed however. Too busy pissed off about just about everything around him. Shamelessly staring at the man standing just a few barstools away from him.
He knew exactly who he was, what business he was in and what he'd done.
And he didn't want Jacket to have all the fun did he?
God knows if there weren't so many witnesses around Biker would've stuck a butcher knife to him then and there. But of course he couldn't risk it. Not with this many people around.

So for the time being, he'd simply sit. And observe..
But so would Jacket, his eyes occasionally glancing to the side making it clear he took notice of Bikers presence aswell.
He didn't seem all to happy with it either, seemed he felt the same way.

If only looks could kill.