In Between The Lines Of Vice

Chapter 5: Denver The Bomb Maker

No, I'm am not aware of how horrible I am. Yes I used so much italics in this chapter it hurts. Yes, Percy is going to be a little bit psychopathic because how else will there be any fun.

The moment that Percy took a moment to snarl at his opponent, his back was flattened in an unsavory position to the cold brick wall behind him.

The man was fast, talented enough to make him have to try. He had thick brown hair pulled back into a bun, completed with handyman-type blue jeans and a white wife beater. From what was visible, he had scars down his arms, burn patterns that made him wonder what kind of accident had gotten himself into. Who ever the man really was (Because for some reason he really doubted that the man's name was really Death Lightning) he was definitely meant for something greater than low level drug trafficking, something preferably legal.

He found himself grinning as he blocked a punch meant for his lower ribs. He had missed this, not necessarily fighting a drug dealer and totally winning, but the rush of adrenaline as he manhandled the guy to the ground with as much grace as possible. The oh so good burn of the muscles that, in his opinon, had been inactive for far to long.

He found himself straddling the guys back, holding his hands in place and incapacitating his leg with his feet. He panted from excerption, he really had been out of commission for way to long. It would have been a lot simpler if the man had offered the info he wanted instead of punching him in the face. It still stung, and he was lucky that his nose wasn't broken, not that it hadn't been before.

"Look," He deadpanned. "We can continue this until one of us pass out, or die possibly, but that's not what I want."

The man struggled in him, trying to get out his hold without any progress. He leaned down, putting his mouth closer to the man's ear.

"What I want is for you tell me who your friend Denver. Not you, no matter how much you disgust me." He moved to dig his knee into the middle of the man's back, he cried out in response. "Word on the street is you know who and where he is. Care to share with the class?"

"Fuck. You." The man spit out with bloody teeth.

"C'mon DL, I thought we were friends!" He cried. "You help me out, you get to live."

He probably wouldn't have killed him...probably.

"Fine! Fuck. He lives at the center, man. I didn't know what he did man, I swear!" He struggled further in his grasp, again, uselessly. "Don't fucking tell him I told you man, I'd be dead by morning."

"Oh DL!" His voice falsely offended. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He dug his hand into the man's hair and pulled it up towards him. The man cried out and he smiled. "Thank you very much DL, your a lifesaver."

He slammed the mans head back into the concrete harshly, at which point he went limp. He was probably okay. Really.

"So, the center, got to found out where that is." He bit his lip.

_

An hour later, the son of Poseidon found himself in front of a large building. The center apparently was, true to it's name, an abandoned sports center. According to google, and damn he had to go to the second page, it closed down twenty years ago due to either lack of funding or an owner death, he had skimmed the page. But whoever owned it, was now dead, and the community was entirely to lazy to knock the building down. He wasn't sure if that was from the abundance of crime going on inside (Hint! Drugs!) or lack of department funding. He found out soon that he really didn't care, his man was inside and Denver was in for the reckoning of his life.