The Chronicles of Beck and Eli

It Must be Fate!

Beck Lee was not a happy camper. In fact, he was a pissed off camper duped out of green Jolly-Ranchers.

In other words, this asshole wasn't letting him buy his cigarettes.

He slammed in hands on the counter, "I'm telling you, I'm eight-fucking-teen!" In no way did Beck have the patience for this shit.

The cashier just blinked at the midget's display of anger, nonplussed he said, "No I.D. no cigarettes."

Beck balled his hands into fists on the countertop, "Listen to me, you fucker," he hissed, "I'm eighteen and if you don't give me my fucking cigarettes right fuckin' now, I'm going to chop you up into little dumbass pieces and see how you do as a cigarette."

The cashier looked vaguely disturbed but still didn't give in.

"Yo! Take this guy outta here," the cashier called, holding his hand up to wave over the armed man who stood at the back of the store. Who the hell needed security at a fucking gas station?

Definitely every gas station Beck Lee had ever entered into. This definitely happened just about as often as you would expect it to.

Beck climbed over the counter, fisting the startled man's shirt in his trembling fist, "Look you motherfucker give me my fucking cigarettes and you keep your fuckin' neck."

Oh, now the fucker looked scared, "Security!"

Beck gave an animalistic hiss when to buff arms came up around his chest, pulling him off of the poor cashier.

"Get off of me!" He growled, kicking his legs wildly in the attempt to kick the cowering cashier.

Beck let his claws lengthen, sticking them into the wooden post near the door, "I ain't leaving 'til I'm good and fuckin' ready, give me my cigarettes!"

"Don't make me call the cops, kid!" the guard warned gruffly, struggling to pull the teen away from the post.

"...Did I walk in at a bad time?" came a mumble from Beck's right, putting a full stop to the chaos.

Beck fell limp on the security guard, glaring at the poshly-dressed man from under his bangs. He looked exactly like the kind of guy that pissed Beck off. Trimmed, dark red hair that gave him an exotic and outlandish look with bright and friendly brown eyes that sparkled as he smiled. In other words; he looked like a push-over. Add in his sun-kissed skin pulled over lithe muscle that women and men alike would die for, he was a lovable push-over. Disgusting.

Beck wanted to rip his face off already.

"Sorry, sir, please excuse the disruption, I'll escort him out," the security guard greeted respectfully, keeping a firm hold on Beck.

The stranger blinked, his lips pulling into a friendly smile, "What's he in for?"

"Just some kid trying to snag some cigarettes sayin' he's eighteen. Made a real fuss," the security guard answered.

"Oh," the man mumbled in understanding, looking Beck up and down with childlike wonder on his face, "No, he's eighteen." The guard and cashier glanced at each other.

"Regardless, sir, he doesn't have an I.D." the guard reasoned politely, giving a respectful nod.

"And he attacked me!" The cashier piped in angrily. One jerk and hiss in his direction from Beck had him cowering back behind the counter again, baby.

The man looked vaguely amused at the young vampire's antics and he turned back to the guard, "You can put it under my name, no reason to cause more of a fuss over something so silly, right?"