Incubus

Prologue

Violence is temporary good, the evil it does is permanent

I felt all of their eyes on me as I entered the club. Wide, and filled with fear by one look I could feel it in the thickness of the air. Their eyes followed my every move- as I wiped my hand over my forehead to move the stray strands of hair and as I sat myself down on a bar chair, slamming my hand down on the table, casting my gaze downwards.

Avoiding any detection.

The hair fell back into place in the front of my face.

I busied myself with staring at the ground as the music continued to blare around me, deafening.

People shouted all around and the drunken laughter echoed in my ear.

The booming noise was something I grew used to, having been in clubs almost every night of my life for the past four years.

I heard drunken laughter behind me and suddenly became aware of a hand on my shoulder. A smirk steadily glided across my lips as I chose to disregard the hand and instead looked up and signaled the bartender for a shot of whiskey. He took in my appearance fearfully and quickly slid it across the table top.

I examined the glass for a fraction of a second before I tilted my head back and imbibed it. The hand on my shoulder suddenly tightened, as if to grab my attention, followed by an intoxicated slur which I, again, chose to ignore.

"Hey you, I'm talking to ya!" he gruffly shouted over the music. Turning swiftly, I took in their drunken state- their clothes were wet with perspiration and stunk, and their eyes were red and bloodshot.

"And when I'm talking to ya, ya listen!" he continued. His eyes tried hard to focus on my face.

I reached up and removed his hand from my shoulder and spun back around. But once again, he clamped his hands onto both of my shoulders and swung me around. The muscles in his jaw clenched as he stared at me. All the while, I had an amused expression plastered on my face, which he didn't seem to have a liking for.

"Listen, buddy, nobody ignores me," he growled lowly into my ear, oblivious to my fists as they slowly tightened into balls on either side.

"I was just trying to save myself the headache of having to talk to you," I said.

He snarled as he balled up his fist and sent an exceptional punch to my jaw. My head snapped back and I gingerly lifted my hand to my face to inspect the damage.

"Hey, there! We don't tolerate any fighting!" the bartender yelled at the man. 

"Stay out of it!" the man yelled back.

I saw the bartender move over to me out of the corner of my eye. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked carefully.

I looked up and smiled, holding my hands up as if no harm had been done, before I sent my own fist flying his way. It knocked him down onto the ground and he landed on his back with his legs in the air. His friends helped him to his feet, glaring threateningly at me while offering blandishments his way.

The man rubbed his mouth as he looked me over, as if sizing me up for the first time. Only now did he take the time to gaze at my face, where his eyes widened in realization. A frown replaced it in seconds.

"Don't I know ya from somewhere?"

At the mention of that, my muscles flexed. If he realized who I was, I had to take him down, it would no longer be an option.

His eyes screwed together tightly as he tried to think about where the two of us might have crossed paths before. I could see it took a great effort- he was strong, but he lacked a good education. For the second time that night, his eyes widened as the gears began to turn. He was almost there.

"Didn't I see you when-" but before he finished the thought, I tackled him to the ground, and knocked down a table in the process; people began to yell out in alarm as they saw the two of us scuffle on the ground. Behind me, I could vaguely hear the bartender threaten to call the police. The man's friends seemed to be in too much awe to try and intervene.

He thrust his hand into my face and began to push against my eyes. I jerked my head to the left and grabbed his hand with both of mine before snapping it to the side. A loud crack echoed around room and the man cried out in pain. He recoiled and gripped his hand, which now sported a broken bone. One of his friends seemed to finally come back from his haze and tackled into me from the right, which knocked me onto the ground. I easily rolled out from underneath him and swung my leg out into his gut. He had rightfully earned himself broken ribs as he lay there, moaning. The other men who had all been motionless up until that point, decided to attempt to take me on at the same time. I smiled at the challenge as I gazed about the circle that formed around me.

"Stop it, you hear?" the bartender yelled. "I already called the police so you better break it up before anything else happens!"

I reached up and wiped away a trail of blood that escaped my cut lip and looked down at the man as he cradled his broken hand. He caught my glance and gazed up at me fearfully. I smiled victoriously as I leaned down lower for him to hear.

"Forget my face," I snarled. With that message imprinted into his brain, I stalked out of the club and grabbed my ebony trench coat on the way out, leaving it slung over my shoulder. 

That would be my only warning.