Bloodshed for the safety of your well being.
Crimson liquid drips to obey the rules you are given.
Always violence, nothing but endless pain.
Holding onto your past to not become entirely insane, lost in the chaos.
This is all I know.
I am Sense Three.
It was only a level two. Jade knew the standards of my abilities and the fact that this would be an easy clean up for me. I slipped my hand into the pocket of my black baggy shorts, which tightened around my knees. I wrapped around rough but fragile paper that made crunching noises between my fingertips. I pulled it out, folding it over with my leather fingerless gloved thumb. The stained paper had smudged pen writing on it. Thomas Ferguson, it read. I tapped my tongue to the roof my mouth to memorize it. I folded this small paper over, then ripped it in half, tearing it into puzzle pieces. I flicked them with my pointer finger, letting the wind catch the miniature sheets of paper.
Voices were coming from behind me. I peeked over the side of the bricked wall I was leaning against. Down a alleyway were what sounded like two drunken men. The night sky was being unfair to me as I couldn't see their faces. I had gotten the description of an overweight man, balding, and of his early fifties. These two sounded much younger, maybe early twenties. They were leaving what seemed to be a bar; where I needed to be. The purplish light gleaming out and the massive beats of striding sounds catching the general idea. I cut the corner, keeping my head down, making a quick glide past the two strangers. They didn't seem to be of a threat to me. Drinking as they had been, they were more threats to themselves.
I waited for the two of them to fully merge from the doorway, before stretching out my army booted shoe to keep the door from closing on me. They both completely ignored my presence, too hooked on their rambling alcohol flavored mouths to surface their surroundings. I crept the metal door open, massive lights blinding my eyes and thick screeching sounds rumbling my eardrum. I honestly don't know how anyone could stand it.
I glanced up to check my surroundings as I stepped inside, no eyes really focused on the man in black coming through the back entrance door. No one, except for what seemed to be the Bouncer. A tall, African-american, overly muscular, Bouncer to put at that. The stereotypes for these men were always accurate, but I guess for this job, it was needed. I wasn't in the mood to cause a scene either. I just wanted to finish my task and go home to see Grace.
I cut a quick turn to my left, through a thin passage way. I was on a lower ground level, brick walls to my left and an incline of the floor to my right. I kept slick on my pace through obstacles of tables, chairs, and sweaty human bodies. I peered behind me for a split second to know my distance from the Bouncer. He was close, but I was still in far enough range from him. I eased myself along the walls until I hit a corner, searching for some sort of doorway. No luck on the left side. I would have to go toward the front, past the bar, crowd of people, and somehow sneak past the Bouncer. I hesitated. This would be cutting it rather close, but I couldn't have too much time to think it over. Time wasn't my friend right now.
I edged to my right, up a three step staircase, where the full action was lively. The tiled floors were covered with rapid tapping feet, that never seemed to seize. To my left was the bar, clustering foolish people who were sitting on stools, awaiting their own dose of alcohol to burn their braincells. I stepped over what appeared to be vomit with the color splotches of oranges and reds. This, not being near the most disgusting thing I've ever seen before.
I lifted my head, grazing on my tiptoes, to search over the various heads. A shaved one I had been looking for inching closer every second. The only way through was past the mob of fast heartbeats blocking my path. I sighed, taking small gathered steps through a few people, staying close to the bar, nudging against elbows and shoulder blades. It began to become more suffocating in the center, bony, soft, hard, body parts rubbing against every hint of my existence.
