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The City of Camphoreon took on a different life at night, as the sun set, and the buildings provided a healthy glow to the streets, night clubs started to open their doors, welcome the partiers in for drink and dance.
People walking by in their best evening casual could hear the thrumming of bass when they passed open doors from these clubs, and greet their friends waiting in line for acceptance in.
It was a cut throat business to stay current and popular to be allowed in at any of the clubs, making their way up to the high any clubs, where anyone who is anyone go to party.

But clubs like that were usually reserved for the up street arias of the city, those were made for the wealthy, beautiful and socially uptight. One couldn’t expect to find many accepting people in high end places such as that.

It suited one Jerome just fine though, as this particular man was never seen in the upper parts of the city.
No, he was limited to the lower slums and middle businesses of Camphoreon, and by more than his social status in the city. It was never wise for gangsters to leave their turf, especially in times like this… numbers dwindling, rivals everywhere you turn, and a growing rumor of a greater power that’s tightened its grip on control of the lower cities.
One had to watch your back here.

This gangster, a man of 27 years, and standing at 5’9” was not one that looked like he would be particularly approachable, and anyone who knew the ‘politics’ of the ghetto, would know how to recognize a runner of the streets, and with his fit form, he was easily identified for what he did.
… That was, if the eccentric look of the man wasn’t a tip off at first sight.
With dark toned skin, and black hair, woven into carefully kempt Dreadlocks that slung back over his head, hanging below his shoulders, one side shaven bald, to better accentuate a black tribal tattoo curled around his left eye.
Similar Tattoos of black tribal markings sprawled over his arms and neck; dipping down under the gray wife beater he wore to imply that there was a further sprawl of tattoos under his clothing.
A gold pricing right in the middle of a dark bar tattoo running down his chin, and gaged ears, one of which was hidden by a drape of dreads on his right side.

Though easily the tattoo he was most known for was the extreme ink job done to his eyes.
The light brown of his iris settled within orbs of pure glossy black,
the dangerous procedure of injecting ink into the white of his eyes, giving him a chilling unwelcome stare to most.

Jerome was alone tonight; hand shoves in his pocket while the over held a burning cigarette to his lips.
He walked with a lack of urgency, though there was a stiffness in his shoulders that showed he was ready to bolt at any second.
For him, things were getting worse in the hood, with several of his friends missing, and the growing threat of rivals pushing in on their territory.
It had been like this for some time when the rumors of an organization called Team Rocket moved in on Kodo. Despite all the tough talk, Team Rocket was a well funded organized crime, with numbers that could stagger any one of the gangs in the city, since than it was constant pressure, and struggle for more power.

Jerome knew it was hopeless, but that didn’t keep him from standing up for his bro’s, his family, his friends, gatta do what it takes to keep them as safe as possible.

As he rounded a corner, dark eyes lifted to an expected sigh of a club entrance, and a bounces standing at the entrance.
Jerome said nothing to this man as he made to enter, only to have a hand reach out and push against his chest, keeping him from going on.
Saying nothing, he shifted his head to lock eyes with the bounces, sharing a story look with the other man.

“Get lost TJ, Griffin doesn’t want you and your bangers around these streets.”
The bounces was taller, and thicker than Jerome, clearly a good fit for this job.
What he said drew a raised brow from the gangster though, a look that could be translated to troubled annoyance.

“And when the ******** did Griffin get say around here?” He asked with a hint of a growl in his deep voice.

“Since he stepped up, the boys you run with are old news, so shove off before I call some of my boys. You’ll get tagged real quick walking these streets now.”

So it finally happened…

Jerome was forced to take a few steps back when the Bouncer put pressure on him, forcefully moving him out from in front of the door.
this didn’t seem to affect Jerome’s demeanor at all though, not losing his footing once as he softly stared at the man at the door for another few moment, before taking a drag from his cigarette and shifting to continue down the street, the bouncer watching him the entire time.

Jerome and the boys had worried about Monuul extended absence…. If this wasn’t a clear reason for his disappearance, then Jerome didn’t know what was.

This wasn’t a fight Jerome wanted to get into right now, despite the huge urge to punch the bouncer right in the face; He knew taking an action like that right now would only result in his own death.
Besides, Jerome had come here to get into the club, get a drink, dance with some women, get lucky maybe.
This drew an amused snort from him; he never got lucky, not with eyes like these.

Had he been less angry, he might have just gone home, but there was a swell of defiance growing in his chest, he WAS going to get into that club.
<******** the front door, Jerome didn’t need doors!

Exhaling out a jet of smoke from his mouth, Jerome shifted his gaze in a weary scan of the aria, before he side stepped and slipped easily into an ally next to the club.
His shoes smacked lightly against the moist ground, only to jump into a running start,
Ffeeing his hands by putting the now short cigarette between his teeth, he reached up in a jump. Catching the top of the fence and with ease pushed himself up, only to kick off again and grab onto a ledge of the building.

Being skilled in Parkour, the man was able to easily, and quickly climb his way up the building to drop into the roof.
“Hm” he grunted around the cigarette as he once again strolled casually over to the glass sky light sprawling most of the length of the club.
Crouching down to force one of the glass openings, he easily slipped in, and onto one of the steel support beams sprawling over the ceiling.
People dancing below to distracted with company and the loud booming music to notice.

In the rafters he crouched, hands down next to him to hold onto the beam as he leaned forward, eyes locked on the dance floor below, waiting for the appropriate time for a clearing so he could jump down.

It took a while though, and he was up on the beam, watching the people below dancing and shifting around.
His eyes narrowed softly, the song blended into another hard beat techno, as the lights took on a darker glow, and the people in light clothing began to glow as the crowd was bathed in black light.

He hummed once more, and leaning forward when he saw an opening coming. it was small, but he could take it without hurting anyone.
Rolling forward, to flip his legs over his head, he dropped down from the rafters, catching his landing as softly as he could, by landing into a crouch, barely missing the people around him.

For a second he was out of sight, only a couple of people catching that he had suddenly dropped in.

Chuckling to himself, pleased with the perfection of it, he pushed himself easily back into a standing position.
now that he was bathed in black light, the dark man took on a completely new appearance.

Glowing from his skin, covering his face to his upper lip the white form a skull gleamed, throwing his eyes into a further darkness.
Smoke curled from his nostrils before he exhaled a jet out with a heavy breath.
Hand reaching up to pull the cigarette out from between his lips, his whole lower arm and hand now glowing with the skeleton of an arm.
Carelessly flicking the cigarette butt away, into the crowd of people pulsing around him, eyes surveyed the first female they could find.

What they fell on. was a small young women, glowing brightly from her bright neon hair to her toes.
a brow lifted, intrigued.

So it looked like there was another person with a body full of not just tattoo's, but black light tattoos, that wasn't something you saw everyday.
Brow still arched up when she didn't seem to watch where she was going and bumped into him, and it drew her attention up to him.

Teeth were barely slightly in a grin, also glowing from the black light.
Even if he spoke, she probably wouldn't hear him, that was okay, she seemed as good as anyone to dance with.
He started dancing, a more stiff dance than the women's, but quite appropriate for a packed club like this, seeing if she would accept his invitation.

He took her continuing to dance after a smile as an acceptance of his invitation, Watching what kind of moves she was doing so he would move to complement them with his own. showing that for the time being this was his dance partner.

This continued for some time, the fluid or jerky movements with the music, bodies from the crowd constantly bumping into each other. It wasn't a surprise at all when it got pretty hot on the dance floor, Jerome's skin already starting to glisten a little with sweat.

He took a pause from dancing, looking to the women who had chosen to dance with him and moved a hand to gesture to her, then point to the bar.Indicating an casual invitation to get something to drink and take a break form dancing.

The black-light was also unable to reach the bar, returning him to his usual dark tattooed look, working his way toward the bar, and leaning himself against the counter where he found a large enough empty space for two people, he glanced down at bar, before looking over at the women he had been dancing with. noticing that she had stopped glowing as well, though she was certainly not lacking in any brightness.

"Nice Ink" was the first thing he said to her, before looking up at the Bar tender, who lingered at a distance, watching Jerome.
The gangster narrowed his eyes softly at the man, before reaching into his pocket. "Ain't seen you here before," He spoke to the women again, though not looking at her when he said this.

Slapping some bills on the table, when the bartender finally walked over and pored out two cups.
Picking up his own, and using the same hand to slide the second over to the women, he pushed himself up and turned around, leaning back against the counter with his elbows.

A deep chuckle escaped his chest before he lifted his own glass to his lips, dark eyes surveying the club carefully.

"Well, this ain't a bad joint to chill at," he replied to her, taking another drink before looking over, noticing the movement of her stepping away from someone who was being a little careless with personal space.
It happened a lot at clubs though, quite often.
Shaking his head to move the draping side of his dead locks further out of his face, he shifted to the side a little more to give her move room to step away from the drunk man.
"Ya don't live around here?" he asked, though his careful gaze was on the drunk man.

If Jerome heard anything she had said, he certainly made no comment to it, or indication that he was even paying attention.
Instead, he was looking down at the floor to where the drink had spilled, wearing a deep frown, before he straightened up and looked past the women to the man that had bumped into her, shoving a hand out roughly to get his attention.

"Yo man, ya ganna pay for that drink ya spilled all over the floor? Those things ain't free ya know."
While he remained calm outwardly, his voice took on a loud, confrontational tone. Intended as more of a warning to the guy of impending head smashing, than an immediate threat.

That dumb a** b*****d was so drunk off his a** that he probably had no idea what the hell was about to happen, let alone remember the lesson tomorrow.
But money didn't grow on trees, Jerome bought a girl a drink, -with his own money-, and now this fool things he can go forgetting his manners? oh naw, naw this wasn't going to work.

He looked over at the young women when she said she could just get another one, he blinked at her a couple of times, but this only served to grow Jerome's annoyance with the drunken man even more.
That dude didn't deserve this girls patience.

The dread-locked gangster didn't have to move very far from where he was standing, simply kicking a foot into one of the chair near by, and sending the seat crashing into the back of the drunken man's legs.
Stepping forward to be there to grab the fool's shirt if he fell.