A small band by the name of prism was formed and created by the founding members Ozzie Mckagan and Ray Bailey. As the band grows more popular by the days, Lawrence, the bands lead guitarist goes missing. Suspicions are high and all the blame goes to...
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"Motherfucker!"
A dreadful curse strung out in the night, and the ford fair-lines door was slammed shut, ringing out until it fell back into a peaceful churning of crickets, and the comforting hum of the street lamps. He sat back against his Harley, clicking the lighter against the chilly night and letting his lanky bangs fall over his eyes. Approaching foot-steps didn't faze him for a moment, neither did it cause him to look up from lighting his cigarette.
His black leather jacket fit formally across his upper torso, blocking the sightless- freezing air from reaching his toned skin. Lawrence stood in front of him with unimpressed eyes, slouched angry posture, and hands resting formally across his hips. He waited, staring at the dark figure as he took a long drag from his cancer stick, slowly lifting his head as the tarnished amber faded out as ashy grey smoke exhaled from the entity's lips. The curly headed boy huffed, moving his arms from his hips and wrapping them around his body in a hug; guarding himself from the second wave of chilly night air and mentally cursing at himself for wearing a shirt, and not bringing some sort of coat with him.
"You know, I could crush your fucking skull without even flinching," the lanky, nightly shadows casted an uneasy hue around the two males, and the dart that hung loosely from the taller males mouth was retrieved from his leather cladded hand, listening closely to the curly headed males empty threat. A chuckle rose from his throat, dark and sorrowful as he adjusted himself against the side of his Harley.
"you came here for something, didn't you?" The male sat back, letting the last of the smoke mix with the air around them, and he watched with interest as everything seemed to grow eerie around them. Even the ford in the near distance was becoming swallowed in nightly mist, and it soon turned into a ghost car.
"I did," Lawrence unhooked his arms from his body, and an unwelcome lump began to form at the very back of his throat, causing him to bow his head a bit to swallow it back. He felt exposed standing in the very ray of the street lamp, small bugs fluttering around it and it causing it to dim across his skin.
"For what?" Warren sat forwards, the cold white /light hitting his merciless expression, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling the stale, copper taste before retrieving it. "You're wasting my time with your empty threats," each word was blown out with the heavy smoke, stinging his lungs and causing him to revolt back with a deep cough.
Lawrence scoffed. He wasn't afraid of warren, and it was the exact reason why he was standing here, knowing he could be off laying in bed and getting a good nights rest, but instead he decided this fate was better to let off his steam. He growled darkly, nearly baring his teeth. "To kill you," he let out deeply, letting his hand hover over his back pocket, towards the small switchblade he kept securely tucked there, "that's what I came here for," he finally finished his sentence and a small snicker came from the darkness.
