When blood spills I WILL be there. Guarantee it...
He stopped directly before Frankie and gave a silent nod to one of the brutes in the background, who promptly grabbed Frankie by the hair on the back of his head and yanked it upwards so that he could look Don in the eye.
“When, Frankie-boy? When youse gonna get me my money?” He whispered, with a smirk to the petrified young man.
“Soon Don! I don't know when, but I'll. I'll get you the money, Don! I swear! I swear it on my life!” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks and warm urine slithering down his legs. He looked up slowly at Don, who had stood up straight with a surprisingly puzzled look plastered on his face.
“You swear on your life, Frankie-boy?” he questioned, his thick eyebrows furrowed and his eyes displayed the utmost intensity for the situation.
“Yes! I swear on my life!” Frankie sputtered again, unknowingly causing a few droplets of spit and blood to spray onto Don's shoe at which Don stared at in silence with a slightly twitching eye. After a few moments of listening to Frankie's cowardly sobbing collide with the booming base of the rave going on just outside those bathroom walls, Don leaned down and into Frankie, close enough so that his lips would brush gently against his ear as he spoke.
The mind-shattering bang filled Frankie's ears causing his entire body to jump, and then still. He slowly brought his hand to his stomach to find the hole through which his blood was now hastily gushing out from and spilling onto the tile floor beneath him. He stared at his blood-soaked hand with wide eyes as his body began to quiver from the sudden cold sensation that seemed to be trickling across his skin. He fell face first into a pool of his own blood, and was unable to do anything, save stare unblinkingly at his blood spreading on the tile floor, threatening to forevermore stain the once pure white into a now ruby red, as well as listen as their footsteps echoed off of that stained tile floor, quietening as each step took them further away from his dying presence.
'Is this it? Am I, really going to die?' He asked himself, noticing that his breathing had shallowed, and his eyesight was slowly becoming blurred.
“H-Help. Help!” he tried to choke out from the sea of blood that was caught within his lungs.
“Don't bother with that nonsense, young one” A malevolent voice called to the dieing upon entry to the bathroom. With the last of his strength wearing thin, Frankie weakly outstretched his hand and lifted his head which bobbed desperately the whole time
“P-please. I beg you. H-H-Help m-me!” The young man pleaded, his entire body quaked as he tried to keep awake and gain the help he so necessarily needed. He watched as the pale man, dressed head to toe in black with with red eyes which seemed as fiery as the wickedest flame, stood in front of him with a gleeful smile spread upon his lips. Kneeling closer to his trembling body, the man whispered with a devilish smile,
“Now why on earth would I wish to do a foolish thing like that?”
Frankie's eyes widened out of both disbelief and fear at the stranger's words, and he tried frightfully to shy away from the man's slowly oncoming hand, but with his body's inability to move due to its loss of blood, he mostly ended up creating gargling noises from nearly drowning in his own pool of blood.
“Hm? Now now. There is no need to fear me, as I am merely Damien, The Collector,” Damien spoke as he reached out again, this time gently placing his palm upon Frankie's trembling back.
“Your true fears lie in wait for you in the fires beneath us” he said with a sorrowful smile, just as Frankie's eyelids dropped halfway. His quivering silenced, as too did his heartbeat, and a final sough of air passed though his frozen blue lips whilst all life faded from his eyes. Damien sat back up on his heels and looked about the blood-splattered room.
“Still no sign of her, huh? I wonder why,” he muttered to himself as he stood and left the magnificent chaos in his wake.
Damien walked through the sea of dancing, sweat-drenched bodies and was bothered by none as no one could see him. Not while he was outside of his homunculi at least. God forbade they ever could, lest the entire supernatural judicial system be utterly destroyed by human interference.
He stared at his homunculi from across the room, who sat in a booth, hand gripping tightly against a perspiring glass of whiskey with his head tossed back and eyes closed, making it appear as though he had drank himself into an unconscious stupor. Taking advantage of this 'fact', a blonde female escort decides to service her client beneath the table, her head occasionally bobbing up from underneath the table while his moans and groans of ecstasy were drowned out completely by the almost deafening music surrounding them.
“He too must be well endowed” Damien smirked as he continued towards his homunculi, and just as he was about to enter his vessel, a brunette passed through his spiritual being and jammed her hands inside the pants pocket of his homunculis.
Finding nothing in the first pocket, the brunette leaned across the unconscious man's lap, glancing at the man receiving a blowjob beneath the table. He brought his index finger to his slightly puckered up lips with a smirk, signaling for her silence as he clenched a fistful of the whore's hair in pure pleasure.
“Fucking perv” the brunette muttered as she went back to searching the unconscious man's pockets.
“Bingo!” she whispered with a smile as she pulled out a large wad of cash from his pockets.
“Is that what we're playing?” came a deep, sultry voice, hot and full of breath that tickled her ear. With a yelp she threw her body away from the newly awakened man out of both shock and fear, and landed on her butt with a heavy thump.
Damien stared down at the woman on the floor from his spot in the booth as she rubbed her backside with a soft moan of pain. She had fallen so that her legs had parted, slightly hiking up her already-thigh-high mini-skirt, enough so that after having already traced her obviously silky smooth legs with his eyes, he was gifted with the beautiful and pleasurable sight of her black and red laced panties. And it made his insides itch and burn with desire.
Damien stood and leaned down, extending his hand to the woman who was trying desperately to claw her skirt back down to its original position, her cheeks growing dangerously close to the same rouge as the lace on her underwear.
“I'm sorry that I frightened you. You aren't hurt, are you?” he asked innocently but with a devilishly handsome smile resting snuggly upon his lips, revealing his most earnest desires.
“N-no. I'm. I'm okay” she whispered sheepishly as she took his hand and he pulled her up to her feet and close to his chest as if they were slow dancing and he had meant for her to hear his heartbeat.
Both shocked and embarrassed, the brunette turned her back and placed her hands on her furiously blushing cheeks.
'This can't be happening! I just stole from this man and he doesn't even realize it! Not only that but he's hitting on me and he's too fucking hot! But if he finds out it was me who stole his money, and he is sure to find out sooner or later that it's gone, there's no telling what he might do to me. God, what the hell do I do?!'
'My, my. What an adorable little mouse' Damien thought to himself with a smirk as he snaked his arm around her small waste line and drew her into him so that her butt was placed firmly against his pelvis.
“Come on. Let's get out of here. I know a place that is so much better” he whispered softly in her ear making his soft lips brush up against the tip of it with ease and loving how flustered she looked as she nodded her consent.
Walking out of the club, Damien hailed down a taxi, opened the door and smiled as she coyly slid into it, her innocent behavior unknowingly thriving his every lecherous thought.
'Without doubt,' he thought to himself as he closed the taxi door behind him. 'this cat loves mice. And desires to play with one all. night. long.'