The Darker Side Of Me!

Chapter 6 - 'Dangerman'...

Skye cut the engine of his Harley-Davidson and stepped off his ride. With his helmet still glued to his head, he stared towards his destination. A large abandoned warehouse situated just a few metres away from pier 70. A graffiti artist's paradise from the look of it. There were murals everywhere; the paintings varied from gang names to oddly shape faces to unicorns even. The building itself had countless smashed windows, half peeled paint lining the metal frame and all that remained from the original gleaming sheets of Alloy was an incalculable amount of copper rust.

And hidden in plain view, a drug dealing gang founded their territory... fancy that?

Staring through his tinted viser, Skye surveyed the area, looking from left to right and making sure it was clear. He didn't want passersby to suspect him from any wrong doing. He had an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. Snap out if it man! Skye thought, he knew he couldn't show weakness in front of the 'dangerman's gang.

Skye removed his gloves to realise his hands were rebelliously shaking. God damn! He needed to soothing ability of his Zippo. With his free left hand, Skye unzipped his trouser pocket to reach for the trusty lighter. The instant his fingertips caressed the icy cold metal of his Zippo, Skye felt calmer. Not that he ever truly felt calm. He took the lighter out of his pocket then flicked it over and over. A couple of minutes must have passed before Skye eventually ended his Zippo rampage with one final click.

Returning his Zippo and finally taking his helmet off and hooking it around his arm, Skye cautiously approached the warehouse. He occasionally peered over his shoulder in case he got jumped on by one of the 'dangerman's cronies. They all must know that Skye owed their boss big money.

Skye headed to the rusted iron door of the overly sized warehouse. He thought he had been lucky to not bump into one of the 'dangerman's comrades. However, this good luck was not meant to be.

Skye's heart sunk when the 7ft tall Damien Johnson (the 'dangerman's right hand man) came strolling around the corner after discarding a half smoked cigarette on the ground. Damien's bald head shimmered in the afternoon sun, is tight black top displayed his overly muscular torso and veins seemed to be popping out if his bronzed arms. Damien looked like superhuman who was created in a laboratory.

Skye stopped dead in his tracks trying to think of some witty comment as to not let Damien see his rapidly increasing anxiety.

"GOOD AFTERNOON SLAP HEAD!" Skye shouted, finally finding the will to walk.

Skye's ever-racing heartbeat working overtime. If his heart pumped any more frantically, Skye feared it may pummel straight out of his chest!

Damien gave Skye a slight lopsided smile as he saw the white-haired man approaching, but he never spoke a word.

Skye picked up on the fact that Damien didn't answer him, so he continued his harassment. Skye held out a fist, an indication of a fist bump, "yo dawg," he announced.

Damien swaggered towards Skye's held out fist and made one of his own. The veins in his biceps bulged even more; they looked as if they were about to burst open.

When the two men got close enough to each other, Damien raised his clenched fist. However, instead of bumping Skye like an old friend, he swung his arm around so that it collided square on Skye's jaw.

"Ugh!" Skye yelped.

Damien punched Skye with such a force that he flew backwards, landing with such a thud it could be mistaken for an earthquake. His bike helmet running for its life behind him.

Dazed but remarkably still alive, Skye laid on the filthy dry ground. He reached to hold his jaw where he felt the monstrous blow. He tasted a bitter mouthful of blood in his throat that he coughed it up once on hands and knees. The slight breeze compelling it flow like a red river in a dusty terrain.