FicWad

The night club was dark, filled with flashing neon lights glowing from all directions. A High Mountain, that was the name of the club. The name wasn't at all glamorous, and it wasn't the type of name that would attract people to the club, but the name had a deeper meaning, a biblical meaning. Only those who were particularly close to the Bible, or at least knew a great deal of the Bible, would understand the concept of "A High Mountain," although it was only mentioned once in the Great Book.

New age techno metal music played loudly in the flashing club; people were dancing provocatively and drinking wine and blood. Well, at least the actual people were drinking the wine; a few of the others were the ones that were drinking the blood.

A man who looked as if he were in his early thirties was standing in the darkened corner of the main room, a martini glass in his hand which was filled with a dark oily type liquid. He put the glass to his lips, taking in a sip, letting his eyes wander around the room seductively, hoping to lure someone into his arms tonight. He smirked to himself, yes; well, his arms wouldn't be quite the right place in which the luring would actually take place.

The music stopped playing for a moment, before a new song started, and the dancing continued on again. The man drained down the rest of his drink, entering the dim light on the dance floor. He held the empty glass with the tips of his fingers as he crossed the floor, looking forward the entire time, not making eye contact with anyone, a playful smirk placed gently across his full lips.

He didn't acknowledge the women (and a few of the men) who had stopped dancing to watch him cross the floor. He was used to attention like that, and he had learned to ignore it.

Lucifer, that was the man's name. It wasn't an everyday name, and Lucifer found himself to hate it. What were his parents thinking when the decided to name him after the devil himself? He shook his head to brush those thoughts away. He was at this club, to get away from the world of reality; there was no need to waste his thoughts on his name and his parents and their idiotic reasons for choosing it.

He walked over to the bar, feeling a few of the longing eyes leaving him and returning to their dance partners. He set the glass down on the bar table, motioning for the bartender to fill it up again. He rested his body against the stool, laying his elbow on the face of the table.

Lucifer glanced around the room again, his royal blue eyes still seductive as ever. His body was relaxed, which was quite surprising for his attire. He was wearing a nice black business suit, with a white undershirt, a nice medium length trench that went just up to the middle of his thighs, and a plain black tie. His muscles weren't as tense as usual, which was nice for a change. He took in a deep breath, running his slender fingers though his jet black hair.

He was feeling bored, wondering if he should make a move on someone, but no one was sticking out to him, nothing was catching his eye now. Everything was black and white tonight.

The bartender filled up his martini glass again, with the same oily type liquid that had occupied the cup before. Lucifer gave a nod to him, giving him a quick thanks as he handed him a few bucks, lifting the glass, taking in another sip. The ice cold liquid felt quite nice as it ran down this throat.

Setting the glass down, Lucifer could sense someone take a seat on the stool behind him. He turned around; letting his body face the bar as he set his gaze upon a man. He studied this man for a moment or two, taking in his features. The man looked worn out, as if he had just been through a rough day. He had short black hair that was neatly gelled up, in a clean-cut Johnny Cash type of way. He looked as if he were in his early twenties, and he had tired grey eyes that seemed to be sunken in from a lack of sleep, but Lucifer found him attractive as hell.

Lucifer sat down on the bar stool in which he had been leaning against, keeping his gaze on this peculiar man. He didn't look as if he belonged in this club; he looked like he'd be at a regular bar at this time of night. Lucifer smirked to himself, noticing that the man seemed a bit uncomfortable with him staring at him. He loved that, knowing that he had the power to make someone feel a certain way. In his mind, that had to be one of the greatest gifts ever given to mankind; the power to make someone feel a certain way. It was priceless.

Lucifer quickly turned his gaze over to the back wall of the bar which was plated with mirrors and watched the man as he spoke.

"Forgive me," he said aloud, surprised that his strong British voice was carrying over the music. He spoke slowly as he normally did. "I did not mean to stare."

Lucifer glanced back at the man, still smirking lightly.

"It is just...you do not look as if you belong here," Lucifer said, a bit quieter this time, comfortable that his voice would be heard.

The man turned his head, looking at Lucifer. He gave a slight smile, a weak and tired smile.

Lucifer found himself being, well, very attracted to the man. He wasn't too sure why though. This man wasn't his normal, favored type, but there was something about him that he found...irresistible.

"Yes," the man replied with a raspy American accent. "Well, I like to look as if I don't belong. It gives me a feeling of independence, if that makes any sense to you."

Lucifer watched him intently as he spoke. His voice was strong, and it had a bit of a rasp to it, which Lucifer found very...inviting.

"It makes sense," Lucifer replied.

There was a moment's silence before he spoke again.

"The name is Lucifer," Lucifer said, holding his hand out for the man to shake. Normally, Lucifer wasn't this forward, this out-going. He liked to be the one who stayed quiet through out most of the conversation, and he would have to be asked his name before he let in. He was only that type of shy in conversations though. When it came to other activities, he liked to be the one in control.

The man looked at Lucifer's hand for a moment before reaching out and shaking it firmly, giving him a gentleman's nod.

"Blaise," the man said, introducing himself by name as he released Lucifer's hand.

Blaise studied Lucifer for a moment before speaking again.

"You're not the real, actual Lucifer, are you?" Blaise asked, a nervous smile playing along his lips.

Lucifer let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head and taking another sip from his glass.

"Hardly," he said. "I may have my dark side, that is a given, but I am not pure evil. Do not worry about it though, that is not the first time I have been asked that question."

Indeed, that wasn't Lucifer's first time being asked if he was actually Satan. The places in which Lucifer mostly hung around wouldn't be too shocking for the actual devil to be staying a night at. The clubs and bars that he attended were for the select few, the ones with the sight or the touch of evil or goodness.

Blaise just gave a single wary nod, with a look of relief on his face.

"Afraid you would meet him tonight?" Lucifer asked a bit teasingly, laughing quietly.

Blaise glanced at Lucifer and stared at him for a moment, a look of deep concentration in his eyes.

"Not exactly," he said, turning his eyes away from Lucifer.

This time Lucifer was the one to give the wary nod, wondering what Blaise meant by, "Not exactly," but he figured not to pry into it, it wasn't really any of his business. It's not as if he cared anyway.

"Would you care for a drink?" Lucifer finally asked, noticing that he hadn't ordered anything to drink yet. This was a night club, its nearly breaking the law if you don't order something to drink.

Blaise shrugged, glancing at Lucifer.

"If you feel like ordering one for me, then yes, I suppose I'd care for one," he said, scratching the back of his head.

His tone was a little stand-offish, as if he were suspicious of Lucifer. Lucifer smirked again, to himself this time as he ordered up a margarita for Blaise. Blaise had every right to be suspicious of him, as did every person in which he came in contact with. His intentions weren't the purest after all.

The bartender handed over a margarita to Blaise and Lucifer passed over some more cash.

"Thanks," Blaise said as he took a sip of the drink.

Lucifer smiled and nodded.

"No problem at all," he said as he ran a hand through his black hair once again, watching Blaise take a sip.

"So, Blaise," Lucifer said, taking another drink of his own liquid, watching Blaise intently all the time. "What do you do for a living?"

Blaise set the glass down, looking around the room before turning back to Lucifer.

"Do you really even care?" he asked.

Lucifer was a bit taken aback by this question, but he kept his composure none the less. He hadn't quite been expecting for him to snap out at him like that. Unpredictable, he liked that. He wanted to see where this conversation would lead, so he went on, talking playfully.

"No, not really," Lucifer replied, turning his body on the stool so that he was now facing Blaise.

"Then why ask?" Blaise said.

Blaise looked as if he were trying to hold back a smile, as if he were beginning to get interested in this little conversation as well. Lucifer had a way of making people interested in him if they already weren't, but it was rare for him to ever use that special talent. Normally, everyone was interested in him.

"It's just small talk," he said, hearing the song change again to another rock song with a techno beat. He had heard this one before. Who was the artist again? Rob Zombie? Yes, the song was titled, Never Gonna Stop. It was a rather good song, mainly because Lucifer thought it to be based upon A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess; great literature right there.

Blaise hadn't replied to that, although he kept his gaze on Lucifer for a moment before looking around out to the dance floor.

"What do you do for a living?" Blaise asked after a moment or two, looking back to Lucifer.

Lucifer let out a quiet laugh and then drained the rest of his drink, ordering up another one.

"Not to sound as if I am repeating you," Lucifer said. "But do you really even care?" He spoke with a smile on his face. He really did like this Blaise fellow.

"I don't necessarily care," Blaise said, taking in another sip of his margarita. "But I am a bit curious. You're dressed rather nicely, and you're in a place like this, a place for the elite. I was just wondering what you do to pay the rent."

Lucifer gave a nod, understanding him as he took drink from his new glass.

"Well," he said, setting the now half empty glass down. "I do random jobs here and there, depending on where I am needed at the time."

Lucifer left it at that, not really wanting to go into full detail about his job. He did do random jobs here and there, but they weren't all that normal. You wouldn't see Lucifer doing a little yard work for some old couple, no, that wasn't his type of job to do.

He worked for both the good and the bad, but never coming in direct contact with God or Satan themselves. He did come in direct contact with close members to both of the kings. He met with demons, and the so called angels.

These people, the demons and angels were technically human, although they had special traits that separated them from regular beings. The angels obviously had wings, and only those with the sight or touch could see those lavish wings, as well as the pure eyes. The demons did not have horns, no, that was only a common myth. What the demons had was something different. They had dark eyes, the entirety of the eye was black, and they also had tails, which could sometimes be seen or felt. These angels and demons could be very well anyone. They could be a powerful business owner, or a poor convenient clerk.

What Lucifer did for these people depended on what the person, either the angel or the demon, wished for him to do. Sometimes Lucifer would be called in to take care of an unwanted demon, to perform an exorcism or something along the lines of that. Other times, he would be called in to do the exact opposite; to help a possession, to help a demon into a being.

Lucifer hated to admit it, but he found both, the helping and the destroying of a life by means of a possession or such, to be quite pleasurable. He wasn't a holy man, he was far from it to be exact, but he wasn't pure evil. He liked to help people, but he liked to hurt people. In the back of his mind, Lucifer knew that he was going to go to hell once he passed on. That was a given, but that thought didn't really bother him like it should have.

Blaise just gave a slight nod, and Lucifer figured that he made his point that he wouldn't really go into the details of his job at the moment.

"Well then," Blaise said. "I guess I'd better answer your question. I just have an average job. I'm only twenty-one, so I haven't quite figured out what I want to do with the rest of my life yet."

Lucifer nodded, understanding, and he was just about to ask him what his gift was. By gift, he meant his reason for being here, in this club. As Blaise had said himself, this place was only for the elite, for the ones with the sight and such, but Lucifer decided it best not to ask. After all, that wasn't the most polite question to ask someone upon meeting them.

"Very understandable," Lucifer said. "Most of today's youth seems to think in the same manner, not knowing where they want to go in life, especially if you are able to enter a place like this. Most youth with a gift do not actually go after a career."

Blaise just gave a nod, obviously not wanting to explain his gift. Lucifer didn't really blame him. Not all people had a good gift, or a gift that was to be proud of. He himself wasn't at all proud of how he came about the touch and the sight. Every time he saw the scars on his body, he would get that fleeting feeling of regret about the path he chose to gain it.

"So..." Lucifer said, feeling a bit uncomfortable for some reason.

He looked out at the dance floor, a new song playing, and one that he didn't know this time.

"Do you dance?" Lucifer asked, looking back at Blaise, smiling playfully still.

Blaise let out a quiet, and a bit of a nervous laugh.

"Not at all," he said, taking in another drink of the margarita. "I'm horrible at doing any kind of dancing. I've got two left feet. Why?" He gave him a suspicious look. "Were you going to ask me to dance?"

His last words were spoken with a tone of humor, as if it were rare for him to be asked to dance at a club, or maybe it was just rare for him to be asked for a dance with someone of the same sex.

"Actually, yes, I was," Lucifer said, finishing off the rest of his drink, this time not ordering another. He figured that he'd had enough for tonight; he was starting to feel a tad bit of a buzz now. That was already his fifth glass of the night, and what he was drinking was no average beer. He had been growing a tolerance for the liquid the past few weeks.

"Oh," Blaise replied. "Sorry."

"No," Lucifer said, smiling. "No need to be sorry, not everyone dances."

Lucifer was starting to wonder if he had blown it; well, if there was anything to be blown in the first place, both figuratively and literally. He didn't really get the vibe from Blaise that he'd go for a man, but then again, he wasn't getting the vibe that he would be totally turned off by the idea either.

The atmosphere around the two grew a bit more uncomfortable before Blaise abruptly stood, running a hand through his hair.

"Well," Blaise said after a few moments. "Thank you very much for the drink, but I must be off. It was a pleasure to meet you Lucifer."

Lucifer gave a nod, feeling a bit brought down that Blaise was leaving, but he hadn't expected him to stay long anyway.

"You're very welcome," he said, giving a subtle nod. "It was quite a pleasure to have met you as well, Blaise."

Blaise gave a nod, smiled, and left the club.