Disclaimer - Don't own The Lost Boys

25th Jan 2013 (Update)

I'm slowly going through this story with a fine tooth comb as after re-reading this chapter I have noticed bad punctuation and grammar.

Santa Carla - 1983

Lou's bar.

It wasn't an unfamiliar place in the wild city of Santa Carla. On a backstreet, Lou's bar was a small, dangerous, wild and full of violence little place. Mainly gangs, bikers to be more precise, came to this bar but now and then the odd person would go there. The sort that looked completely out of place. The sort that screamed 'I don't belong here.' Nine out of ten they had gotten lost or were checking it out by someone who had stupidly mentioned it to them. Half left within twenty minutes and the bar would be noisy with laughter as the person scarpered away in fear at what a certain someone had done to them. It wasn't a surprise to the regulars if a fight broke out or, if say, someone was beaten up by three bikers for saying something insulting. Lou's bar was known to all of the locals, very few tourists, but those who did know of the place steered clear of it. If it was wild times, violence, trouble making and racing you liked then Lou's bar was the place to go.

As usual, the atmosphere in and outside of the bar was loud with shouting, hollering and laughing. Vicious snarls came from the dogs that were fighting outside and groups stood around them, cheering on the dog they had bet on who would tear the other to pieces. Few checked out each other's bikes, others raced up and down the empty long street, shouting at the top of their lungs and shoving insults at the other who would get in front of them. Glass bottles were smashed, groups sat around tables doing lines of coke and others sang and downed their whiskeys and beers. Bad to the bone blasted from the juke box and a pair of hands were broke when someone went to turn the song over. Darts were repeatedly thrown at the board; the clatter of balls moving around the snooker table could be faintly heard over the racket of the bar and the occasional sound of extremely loud hooting came from the far circled table at the back of the room.

The guy standing against the wall, smoking and talking with two others stopped mid sentence when a slim lanky figure bounced its way towards the jukebox. His black heavy boots banged on the ground as he moved and his fingers tapped against his legs to the music.

''Don't think about turning that song off, kid.''

The guy turned away from the jukebox and a hand went through messy, greasy blonde hair. ''It's got about a minute left and I'm turning it.''

''If you know what's good for you, you'll piss off.'' Grounding out his cigarette on the floor, the big beef of a guy took a step away from the wall.

''No, if you know what's good for you, you'll fuck off.'' The blonde took a step forward, his face full of laughter but his eyes told something else. ''You want your fingers then walk the fuck away.''

A glass was smashed against the corner of the snooker table then and the guy pointed it at the blonde. ''Walk away now, punk or I'll be the one who cuts your fingers off.''

The people sitting at the back of the bar watched the exchange in silence and the one shook their head. Lou watched, waiting for the fight to break out that was surely to come, knowing straight away which one was going to win. Blood was going to be spilt for the third time that night and this time he wasn't going to be the one cleaning the shit that was about to go down. The blonde was a regular, along with his gang of friends and Lou had seen many fights with him involving others in his bar. The blonde always won but it tended to always get out of control more than usual. Mainly because he was a fucking junkie who lived off fighting and once one fight went down with him and someone, he started up with everyone else.

The blonde changed the song and chairs went flying across the room then. Bottles smashed to the floor, tables were turned over and others got involved when they got caught up in it all. The blonde grabbed the cue off one of the customers and snapping it in half, he grabbed one of the guys and pushed it sharply through his arm. It dug deep within the flesh and parts snapped as the blondes grip tightened on it. Blood ran down the cue, dribbling onto his fingers, and he discreetly brought his fingers to his mouth, savoring the taste.

The guy shouted out when the part of the cue was removed from his skin and he was violently thrown to the floor. Fights scattered all over the bar then and the group sitting at the far table stood up.

A grin came onto the blonde's face when the beef of a guy moved towards him. Within a second he had a hold of him and beefy's hand was placed down onto the snooker table.

A knife was produced and the blonde slammed the guys hand back down onto the table when he struggled. ''Ready? This is going to hurt.''

The knife came to his fingers and singing along to the music that was playing, he began to cut through the guy's flesh, ignoring the scream that suddenly erupted. Blood spilled, and it ran down the table, forming a crimson puddle at the end. The second one was cut and his eyes followed the fingers that began to roll. He went for the middle finger but an arm came around his throat, pulling him backwards. It tightened on him and the knife that was still in his hand, stabbed through the flesh of his own skin. The arm was removed when a scream came. The blonde turned and removing the knife from the brunettes arm, grabbed a hold of him and slammed him onto the counter.

''All I wanted was to turn a song, friend.'' The blonde grinned wider and dragged the guy along the bar, ignoring his shouts as glasses and bottles smashed, causing pieces to cut into his scalp. ''Just one song.''

The blonde stopped and threw the guy across the room. Others moved towards him with heavy silver chains then and knifes were produced. No one moved, but waited. He threw his knife away and removing his blazer, took a step back. Lou grabbed it from his hands and with a shake of the head, moved away from him. Was he hell getting involved in the shit the junkie was going to fucking cause in his bar.

Blue eyes went to the one guy and, with a grin, he held up his hand, wriggling his fingers. The grin came wider onto his face as the guy swore out threats, but made no move to follow out with them. Instead, he clutched his hand that was missing fingers and pouring with blood. Blue eyes went back to the others.

''God damn junkie'' The blonde laughed out loud at the voice that came from behind him. ''You don't know when to stop, do you?''

More laughter came and he shrugged in response. ''These bastards started it, not me. All I wanted to do was turn a fucking song''

''It's never you, Paul.'' The person leant their chin on his shoulder and grinned a Cheshire cat grin at the guys. ''David's gonna be pissed.''

''Fuck it, I'll pay Lou for the damage this time.'' Paul grinned when the figure disappeared from behind him and, instead, came to a stand next to him. ''Joining in on the fun, are you?''

Marko grinned and looked up at Paul. ''No, I'm making sure you don't go overboard''

''Who cares? Lou don't give a shit as long as we pay for the damage at the end.''

''I think he would if he has to explain to the cops why there are dead bodies in his bar.'' Marko shook his head.

Paul laughed again. ''I wouldn't go that far.''

Marko gave him a look. ''You get carried away.''

Paul went to reply but the feel of a fist cracking him in the nose made him turn away from Marko. All were on him then. A pair of hands grabbed him by the t-shirt and within a second he was thrown across the bar, crashing straight into the table. Bottles fell, smashing over his head and Paul blinked in surprise, then cursed when blood began to seep down his forehead. He fought the urge to change and go on a killing spree. More blood dribbled down his face and his tongue licked it away from his mouth. His hand shot out when a thick, heavy silver chain swung towards him, and pulling on it hard, the owner went crashing down onto the glassed and bloody covered. floor. Fights were still going on all around Paul, blood was spilled, people were unconscious on the floor, groups had taken it outside but still it wasn't enough for him. Feeling dizzy from the loss of blood, Paul grabbed the guy up off the floor. The chain was wrapped around his neck and he pulled on it hard, feeling pleased at hearing the guy making choking sounds. His hands clawed at the chain, and Paul pulled harder on it in response.

''Enough'' Marko dragged the remaining two guys back, just as they went to close in on Paul. Their anger was turned towards Marko then and he let the first one get a hit in. They weren't so lucky the second time. Both were on the floor and Marko's boot repeatedly laid into them.

''Paul, let the guy go.''

''Fuck off, Marko.'' The chain tightened. ''Someone's gonna pay.''

''Yeah, and not here.'' Marko gave the guy one more kick and then moved towards Paul. ''You want to get us exposed? Time out before you lose it completely.''

He gave him a pleading look. ''Just let me kill this bastard, please? Just this one, lousy fucking piece of shit.''

''Paul'' Marko warned.

It was too late. The chain was dropped to the floor and the guy fell down when Paul hit him hard in the face, using his complete strength. He retched violently, gasping for air, all the while his hands massaging his bruised and swelled neck. The guy stopped suddenly when he was kicked hard in the face. Blood spilled and something cracked. It never stopped there. A black boot came down on the guys head again and again and again. Paul never stopped even when he went immobile. He felt his face change as the anger formed within and his kicks becameharder.

''Stupid, asshole.'' Marko dragged him backwards. ''Lou, give us a hand.''

''Again'' Lou popped up from behind the bar and he shook his head when his eyes landed on the guy on the floor. ''Fucking hell, Paul, I can't keep doing this. One day someone's gonna drop me right in the shit. I ain't going down for murder because of your temper. God damn junkies, god damn vampires'' Lou muttered and grabbed the guys' arms as Marko grabbed his legs.

''Where we taking him?''

''Dwayne's waiting by the back door'' Marko looked around the bar, noting no one had even noticed what Paul had done.

Marko looked towards him. ''Don't think about moving.''

Paul never listened. The minute Marko and Lou disappeared, he was gone in a flash. His eyes took in the fights that were still going on outside and leaning up against the brick wall, he produced a joint from his jean pockets. There was no doubt about it, David was going to kill him, but if Max found out he was truly fucked. He knew David said the last time if it happened again he wouldn't lie to Max. The way Paul felt right at the moment, he couldn't have given two shits about Max. The wound was healing on his head and the dizziness had now gone but he was thirsty now. His face, hair and forehead was caked in crusty, dry blood, and the first joint seemed to go straight to his head.

The bar door slammed open and the guy who Marko had been laying into locked eyes with him. ''You! You fucking stupid cunt. It was you who started all of this and it's you whose gonna pay.''

Paul put his joint out. ''Didn't you learn from the first time? I thought my brother did enough damage. You come back for seconds?''

Other guys came to a stand next to him then, all giving him dangerous looks. Paul shook his head and then laughed wildly. This time, it was his turn to be on the floor. More joined in, kicks were given, fists came into contact with his face and the unmistakable scent of blood reached his nostrils. His eyes found David who was leaning against the spot he had been in not minutes ago. As always, in his hand was a packet of Marlboro, a cigarette was brought to his lips and he stared at Paul in his David way. Yeah, when the bastards were finished laying into him, David was going to kill him, even more that Max had somehow found out what had been going on. He managed to bring three guys to the floor but even more appeared. Other fights were breaking apart and all were joining in on the current one where he was literally getting his ass fucking kicked. The loss of blood from before and now was really bringing the monster to the surface. He needed to feed before he lost it in front of everyone. Another two guys were brought to the floor and Paul's boots came into contact with their faces.

''Who's laughing now you stupid punk.'' Paul groaned when someone hit him in the face again. The laughter and shouts got louder around him until whistling started up. He frowned when someone moved off him. His eyes caught a flash of white and he groggily sat up, rubbing his face. Spitting blood on the floor, he looked through the group still around him, trying to see what that white was. Jasmine, the faint scent of laundry detergent and lilacs reached his senses and he blinked. A woman was around. Chickies Paul thought with a hungry grin.

''What did I say?'' Marko appeared in front of him and pulled him up from the ground. ''Fucks sake.'' Marko shook his head. ''I ain't sticking up for you this time. You deserved those beatings. I am not saying anything when the shit hits the fan. Max is beyond pissed at you''

''Yeah, sure'' Paul pushed him aside and his eyes landed on a petite figure that was surrounded by guys who were giving it hungry looks. It moved away from the people surrounding it and one grabbed its arm, pulling it towards him. Paul moved then, ready to play the hero. His eyes went over its body, taking in the white pumps, white dress with dark blue flowers on it, and then to its face.

Damn he thought and eyed it some more. Coming to a stop by the guys who were still surrounding it, Paul pushed the one away.

''Piss off, Mate.'' The guy pushed him back. ''Get your own piece of ass''

''Excuse me. Ass... kindly get your god damn hands off me.'' The girl slapped the one guys arm and side stepped the other who circled around her like some hungry vulture. ''Honestly, have you never seen a woman before?''

''Not someone as fine looking as you. You seen the girls in this place?'' Another guy grabbed her. ''Mmmm, you're a beauty, not like the girls who hang here. Beautiful, delicate, flower''

Her hand connected with his cheek and she was let go in an instant. Paul grabbed her then, dragging her away from the group.

''A way to get yourself killed, chickie.''

''Chickie.'' The girl said in disgust. ''Killed?''

Paul laughed. ''You never been here?'' He looked her up and down. ''Course you ain't. People like you don't. Guys who come here won't give it a second thought to beat on a woman. You slapping one won't go don't well with them.''

She wrenched herself from his grip and flicked her hair behind her shoulders. ''Well, thank you for...saving me...'' She rolled her eyes. ''My hero. Although I really would...love to talk, I'm afraid I'm looking for someone.''

''Dang'' Paul said with a grin. ''I just hope he ain't as hot as me.''

''Hmmm.'' She looked towards the bar. ''Well, I don't know what he looks like. He goes by Paul, that's all I know. I have a message, well, a package for him. Know where I can find him?''

Paul's grin widened. ''You're looking at him, babe.'' He moved around her then.' 'What can I do for someone like you?''

''Figures'' she muttered and produced a brown envelope from her handbag.