Two mugs came together, composing a symphony of clattering. Smoke filled the air. The sound of conversation was prevalent. These were common features of the hole in the wall hookah den that beings of the night frequented. It was small enough to cozy, yet still spacious enough to house a hundred or so persons that wished to escape the worries of everyday life. Even its entrance portrayed obscurity. After all, all conventional exits led to the alleys of a city. But dear reader, you came to see a specific being, not hear about some den.
The one called Chesh sat in solitude. He sat alone at the bar, his lean frame easily seated by the wooden stool beneath him. Clothed in dark unobtrusive colors, he blended in well with the scenery. His hood was pulled over his head, obscuring eyes that held no color, no detail. When coming to such a mundane establishment, he took explicit care to hide the features that branded him as an inhuman. For those that got close enough, he would appear to be an anti social man that happened to wear a lot of make up. Which ultimately was the intention he tried to give in order to deter potential questions.
He gave the bar top a few raps, the only remainder of the act being a hundred dollar bill. The bar keep slipped the bill into his pocket and set about acquiring the usual poison that this particular patron enjoyed. Within the minute, a large glass bottle was placed before the hooded male. He gave a grateful nod to the bar keep before turning his attention to the bottle. His arm rose from the surface of the counter, causing the sleeve of his hood to dangle. It slipped over the neck of the bottle and drew it closer to the one that purchased it. With a pop the cork was withdrawn and the scent of alcohol became evident.
Chesh flipped his sleeve over, allowing himself to see the claw that held the neck of the bottle, without revealing it to other. As he brought the bottle to his lips, the sound of movement nearby caught his attention. Somebody had taken a seat beside him, and even dared to speak. "You really want to share some of that." The woman's tone held a certain charm to it, one that he was much accustomed to hearing. Chesh lowered the bottle only slightly, eyeing the glass as he replied, "Not today. Go get your own."
His brusque reply surprised the woman, the fact that he had refused her request surprised her more. As abruptly as she had arrived, she left the bar. Within moments she had vanished back amongst the other patrons. Free from the incessant banter of the woman, he lodged the neck of the bottle between his teeth. He threw his head back and allowed the familiar burn of absinthe to run down his throat and throughout the core of his body. The sensation was exhilarating. For a brief moment he felt aware, and to a lesser extent, alive. That was, until the bottle was empty. At that point, he set it back upon the counter and stood from the bar without a word.
As he made his way to exit the bar, a light gust of wind entered. The sound of the door closing made its way to his sensitive ears. Shame, he thought as now he would have to go through the trouble of opening it himself. His hidden hand pushed upon the bar, causing the door to swing open. Chesh smiled as he was greeted by the chilled night air. Still grinning, he stepped out of the bar and into the poorly lit alley.
The moment he had reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by yet another burst of wind. He turned his head back to see that the door to the bar had a well dressed man before it. He turned back and found that several men now stood at his nine to three. Effectively, he was trapped in an alley outside of a bar. "How cliche guys." He sighed, putting his hands up as if giving up some unknown task. The gesture made him vulnerable to a punch to the ribs.
The deliverer of said punch had moved faster than any human, giving Chesh no time to react. He fell to his knees as he began to cough. "Should have known. Can't even have a nice night..." He looked up at his assaulter, causing his hood to fall back upon his shoulders. The man smiled, revealing large fangs in place of his canines. "Sorry lad. Anna's orders. Should have just given her the drink." His leg swiftly rose, rushing to Chesh's face. Chesh brought a hand up to catch the shin. The block was followed by a strike to the groin, courtesy of his free hand.
The self defense was short lived though. A kick to the back of his neck put Chesh on the damp concrete. The smiling vampire and his cohorts then proceeded to stomp upon him whilst he was down. This went on for a solid minute before Chesh was grasped by the arms and pinned to the wall opposite the bar door. His glasgow smile had been freed of the stitches during the beating, giving him a look of enjoyment. His head rose weakly, revealing the black blood that dripped from his chin. He gave a cough before speaking. "You hit like a b***h." As was expected, his snarky comment was rewarded with a swift knee in the gut. At that point, he was left to fall in a puddle of his blood. His vision began to blur, but before he blacked out he caught sight of the seven vampires making their way to a white limo.