DeaDBeats

Musik Doesn't Die

YOLO

Hey This Is Wyatt J. Davinki Author Of "DeaDBeats." In This Chapter I'll Be Introducing The Rest Of The  Bad-Ass O.M.E.N's In KR3WsoF!X3D Gang. I'd Like A Vote For Every Character One Of My Readers Falls Hopelessly In Love With. ;-* And Comment If You'd Like Me To Include Their Past Life Stories In The Book As Well. Shout Out To My Lil Bro Who's Just Had His Baby Boi!

Fun Fact Of Today;

O.M.E.N Stands For

Over-My-Eternal-Nuts. . . . Lol Just Playing. It Stands For On-My-Empty-Noose

Also If You Dont Like The Term I'm Using Freqently For My Fellow African American Brothers Then That Sounds Like A Personal Problem. Write A Complaint Letter And Mail It To Me. Peace Happiness And Love, Ni9999a.

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                                                                                Musik Never Dies

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~"The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways;

                                                                                          I to die, and you to live.

                                                                                                                   Which is better? Only God knows."~

Inside DownPound was even more beautiful in an extremely abstract, surreal artistic way. All the walls were scrawled in glow in the ink and spray paint. Glow sticks hung everywhere with burning china lanterns and neon signs hung in front of redesigned store fronts. It was like Tokyo or Las Vegas on acid. I instantly fell in love with it. People filled the streets with easy going laughter and screams of delight. Reminded me of Mardi Gras. There weren't any vehicles on the roads but tire tracks ran all over the brick streets and the buildings giving a feel of vertigo. This place was insane, like an eternal party. We walked past the many faces and glowing lanterns. Some squirted us with glow stick liquid and yelled "WELCOME TO DOWNPOUND!" We made our way to the end of the block and turned sharply onto a more quiet street though it wasn't that much less noisy. A motel with a bright neon sign that read "DogPound Inn" burned elegantly. Inside was bizarre. Not like the outside but just way too normal. Red carpets, chandeliers and a black piano where a man sat playing some sort of jazz number near a bubbling fountain. The fountain fizzed with coca cola which i had no doubt had been spiked numerous times.

"Hello, welcome to our inn. Would you like a room?"

Asked the clerk who had somehow gotten behind us with anyone noticing.

"Uhh, yeah. How much?"I asked.

"Well you can pay in cash but there isn't much of that going around these days."

His eyes fell to the custom designed hand guns holstered under my leather jacket.

"You can pay with those or guitar picks or cigarettes, which is the dominant type of currency now a days."

I fished in my pockets not willing to give up my pistols to some stranger. I had spent hours working on them. My hands came back with just a dime and I had smoked my last bogie on the way here. 

"Anyone got any cash?"

They all checked their pockets though in the end we only came up with thirty seven cents.

"Oh dear, well i'll take that and you guys can take room 241 for an hour or two, it doesn't have any beds or anything but it's comfortable."

I thought it over for no more than a minute.

"We'll take it."

"Wonderful, just leave all weapons in this bin and you can pick em back up on your way out."

I gritted my teeth and handed them over, all my Omens doing the same. He then showed us to our room. A very large space with three connected couches covering all the walls but one. A table laid out in the middle of the room, resting atop a bear's hide.

"Well this is nice." Piped V.

"Yeah, extravagant."

I sank into one of the plush couches and eased my aching back into the soft feather pillows. We had been through alot, especially this past month when we had lost Donnie. God rest his soul. I took this moment to assess my team.

Gyzmo looked as energetic as always. V just being Vicious as usual. My mind wandered and I wondered what it'd be like if i decided i wanted her. I knew she would say yes. Underneath her hard shell was a well of passion. She could pretend she didn't care and feign obliviousness but i knew she had feelings for me. Plus she was third degree burns hot. She had gauges, not as big as my zeroes but not far from it either. Not to mention her snake bites, tattoos and her black and purple hair that spilled over the shaved side of her head which had the most intricate patterns. She was an artist with a pair of clippers. Her tank top, black skeleton hoodie, tight cargo jeans and converse boots were just a cover up for how she really felt. Though I would never say that aloud. In case i was wrong.

"Bzzzzzz." The receiver in my ear went off.

"Hey, where are you."

"We've just entered the downtown city limits err well DogPound, whatever."

"Ok, were in the DogPound Motel. Its off the first corner of the front entrance."

"On our way boss, this place is pretty fuckin sick though eh?"

"Never mind that, you just concentrate on gettin here. Over."

I leaned back into the sofa.

"Was that LoudMouth?" Asked Gizzie.

"Yeah, their on their way."

"Finally, the groups gettin back together."

I knew how he felt. The anxiety of being away from your comrades in a world where you need to sleep with one eye open. I spoke the same oath i claimed every day since this all started.

I would fight to make this world safe for my children and my children's children.