The Crow

III: Devil's prelude

The 9mm bullet spun slowly upwards through the air before descending down into the dark cave of Funboy's mouth.

"Heh, tha's good", said the ratty-looking man sitting on his left, his voice matching his face. Skank looked on in further admiration as Funboy, long blond hair swishing back behind his head from his tank top-covered chest, downed his whiskey shot in one fell swoop before letting out a yelp as it went down. "Whoo! See if you can top that, man. Can ya?"

The man he was talking to, none other than T-Bird, slowly placed his bullet on his tongue, showing off with a comical eye-roll before taking it fully into his mouth. "Here's to Devil's Night, my new favorite holiday", he toasted, downing his own shot and following it up with the ashes of his put-out cigarette on his tongue.

"God, are you outta your muthafuckin' mind, man!?" Tin-Tin asked, horrified and impressed at the same time, smoke billowing from his clenched teeth. Skank gave his friend T-Bird an admiring look – they'd been friends before the gang formed, Skank treating T-Bird like a big brother – before he raised his own shot and promptly had it smacked back down to the table by Tin-Tin. Then Tin-Tin threw down his own gunpowder medicine and alcohol without even taking the time to let things settle in between. "Pussies drink last, man", he chuckled to Skank.

But Skank wasn't in a laughing mood, and he bolted to his feet, snatching up the Colt that T-Bird that given him long ago and leveling it at the dark-skinned man's head. "Fuck you, Tin-Tin!"
"Hey..." Tin-Tin let the exclamation linger as he slowly rose to his feet, drawing one of his knives and holding it against the homely man's throat. "That shit ain't even loaded, man."
"This one is", Funboy cut in, aiming his .357 Magnum at Tin-Tin's cheek.
Bolting up straight, T-Bird held Skank's gun downwards while aiming his own at each of them in turn, "Which of you Motor City motherfuckers wants to bet me this one isn't!?" He held the readied gun at them a second longer before..."Hey! Fire it up! Fire it up!" The rest of the gang joined in their own chanting ritual, thrusting their arms with their words as Funboy's girlfriend, a buxom blond-haired beauty named Darla, came over with some more shots.

"Here's your shooters", she said in a soft, scratchy voice while setting the serving tray down. "Put your guns away, huh guys?" They'd been thrown out of worse places for less, but they did as she asked, greeting Darla with a general air of politeness. As much as they could manage, anyway, with Tin-Tin running the tip of his tongue against Darla's exposed shoulder as she shared a deep kiss with Funboy.
"Hey, come on, man. None of that right now", T-Bird said as he nudged Tin-Tin's shoulder. "We can have fun on our own anyway – don't you have some more scum-bags to carve down?"
Tin-Tin straightened up to look at T-Bird, a glint in his eyes and a dark smile below that. "I can always find some. But I got some quick scratch to make first, chief", he said darkly as he departed from the club, leaving Funboy and Darla to do what they would, T-Bird and Skank heading into the bigger part of the building where a rock concert was gong down.

It was down a long stretch of road, but it was the only pawnshop that Tin-Tin actually trusted with what he picked up from the gang's nights of fun. It also helped Gideon's Pawn Shop in both of their favors – he sold Gideon his stuff, Gideon gave him just enough money to count as good, and he stayed protected by the gang and their boss. It didn't stop the fat, slovenly coward from being a rough smart-ass with all of them, though.
Tin-Tin pulled the door open with all the politeness of a rhino, the bell clanging around the walls stacked with disused musical instruments, cans of gasoline, and the front shelf that contained various used guns and knives. All he wanted was the shit he had off of his hands and he back on the street, ready to cut someone down.