Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Aug 10, 2015 18:22:13 GMT -5
A loud hiss resounds through the road as a bus comes to its final stop for the night. A run down bar with a motel on its extension. A single person steps off the bus. A medium sized man with a young face. He wears a pork pie hat that's tipped over his eyes and a trench coat. Underneath he wears a vest, a white dress shirt with a black vest over top and dress pants. A faint glint of a silver necklace hangs off his neck where his tie should be. The bus doors shut behind him and rolls off as he approaches the bar section of this bar and motel. There's plenty of bikes out front, most of the them black but you have the occasional bright blue or maroon red. His hand glides over the bikes one after another till he stops at one. Another black bike, much like any other. A Harley Davidson knock off with fake leather saddle bags. He walks around to the side and brushes his fingers across the letters. B-I-G S-T-A-N. A white swastika sits in the middle of the white lettering. A smile crosses the young man's face. His white teeth seeming to glow from the shadows. His protruding canines a tell tale signs of his true nature. He hides his fangs as his stomach growls and he turns to the bar. I'm coming for you Stanley.
He walks in through the front door. Not many notice him over the loud music and their own conversations. Slot machines line one wall where a couple of older people seem to be playing, ignoring the prominent young people who're laughing and talking much louder than they need to at their various tables. Many of the younger are wearing leather and many more seem to have patches with that same hateful symbol of Nazi supremacy. The young man walks to the bar and takes off his hat as he takes a seat. Laying it on the bar he greets the bartender with a smile. A young heavy set fellow who's probably better at throwing out rowdy customers then washing the tiny glasses approaches from behind the bar. "What can I get'cha, b'y?" He asks, his newfie in full effect. The young man reaches into his trench coat and pulls out a flip phone. His thumbs move quickly across the phone's number pad and he turns it to the bartender. The bartender grabs the mans hand and raises the phone to his eyes. Then he cocks his eye at the man before disappearing behind the bar. The man turned in his chair and looks out over the crowd before he spotted his target. A bald, tall, skinny man with a leather vest with the words "Big Stan" written in a circle around a swastika like his bike. He stands in front of a number of men and a few women leaning against two women of his own. His arms wrapped around their shoulders and his hands stuffed inside their tops, groping them as he talks to his Neo-Nazi friends. The bartender comes back with a glass filled with a dark liquid. "Rum n' Coke" The bartender says. The man tosses a ten on the counter as he scoops up his drink and walks toward the group. He stops before Big Stan and sets the glass on the table in front of him. He then pulls out his cell phone and begins to type. Stan scowls and looks up and down at the man. "What the hell do yo-" Stan silences himself as the flip phone is turned to him. "My name is Benjamin Bones. I'm an associate of Miss Tracy Russel's and I wish to discuss some matters with you regarding her death" It reads. Stan cocks his eye and looks at the man. "Anything you got ta say ta Big Stan" He says, pulling his hand from his lady friends cleavage to point to himself. "You can say to my crew" he finishes waving his hand to gesture to his leather clad friends as they nod and voice their agreement. The man sighs and seems visibly bothered by hanging around so many people. He types away on his phone and turns it to Stan once again. It reads; "I'd really rather we discuss this in private". Stan stands to his full height, pulling his hand out of the woman's cleavage once more and pokes the young man's chest. "And I said-" he begins but stops himself as he pokes something hard on the man's chest. "What the-" Stan asks as he pulls on the silver chain around the man's neck to fish out the pendant from his vesting. A blue steel Star of David.
He walks in through the front door. Not many notice him over the loud music and their own conversations. Slot machines line one wall where a couple of older people seem to be playing, ignoring the prominent young people who're laughing and talking much louder than they need to at their various tables. Many of the younger are wearing leather and many more seem to have patches with that same hateful symbol of Nazi supremacy. The young man walks to the bar and takes off his hat as he takes a seat. Laying it on the bar he greets the bartender with a smile. A young heavy set fellow who's probably better at throwing out rowdy customers then washing the tiny glasses approaches from behind the bar. "What can I get'cha, b'y?" He asks, his newfie in full effect. The young man reaches into his trench coat and pulls out a flip phone. His thumbs move quickly across the phone's number pad and he turns it to the bartender. The bartender grabs the mans hand and raises the phone to his eyes. Then he cocks his eye at the man before disappearing behind the bar. The man turned in his chair and looks out over the crowd before he spotted his target. A bald, tall, skinny man with a leather vest with the words "Big Stan" written in a circle around a swastika like his bike. He stands in front of a number of men and a few women leaning against two women of his own. His arms wrapped around their shoulders and his hands stuffed inside their tops, groping them as he talks to his Neo-Nazi friends. The bartender comes back with a glass filled with a dark liquid. "Rum n' Coke" The bartender says. The man tosses a ten on the counter as he scoops up his drink and walks toward the group. He stops before Big Stan and sets the glass on the table in front of him. He then pulls out his cell phone and begins to type. Stan scowls and looks up and down at the man. "What the hell do yo-" Stan silences himself as the flip phone is turned to him. "My name is Benjamin Bones. I'm an associate of Miss Tracy Russel's and I wish to discuss some matters with you regarding her death" It reads. Stan cocks his eye and looks at the man. "Anything you got ta say ta Big Stan" He says, pulling his hand from his lady friends cleavage to point to himself. "You can say to my crew" he finishes waving his hand to gesture to his leather clad friends as they nod and voice their agreement. The man sighs and seems visibly bothered by hanging around so many people. He types away on his phone and turns it to Stan once again. It reads; "I'd really rather we discuss this in private". Stan stands to his full height, pulling his hand out of the woman's cleavage once more and pokes the young man's chest. "And I said-" he begins but stops himself as he pokes something hard on the man's chest. "What the-" Stan asks as he pulls on the silver chain around the man's neck to fish out the pendant from his vesting. A blue steel Star of David.