Night. Pitch black darkness. It was pretty much the same inside. Except that in here, the "sky" was bluish grey and was streaked with flashing strobe light that bounced off the walls and soared around the room. In here, perspiring bodies, swaying along with the pulsing music, were jammed together on the dance floor. In here, the walls were decorated with lewd drawings left by prominent future artists who used graffiti paint to express themselves. In here, there was no space to walk, only to dance; no need to talk, only to dance. In here, the air was thick with sweat and thick with rhythm, so that it became almost impossible to breathe after a while.
Still, they danced on. Because in here, nobody cared. They would not stop even if someone fell and the only way to avoid being trampled on was to stand back up. Nobody would offer a helping hand, because nobody would notice.
And if they did, they did not care.
They danced the night away and welcomed the early morning with complete indifference. The club was a hot favourite among the locals, and it was buried among some of the oldest and most derelict buildings in Soho, New York City. This place used to be a refuge for homeless teenagers who were getting high on cocaine and heroin, but ever since it was discovered by the authorities, it was abandoned...until one man came along and transformed it into the hottest night club in Soho.
Tonight, the man sat on a steel bench beside the DJ's place. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he surveyed the dance floor with amusement. He appeared to be in his late twenties and could be mistaken for a Prada model; his face had a clean cut beauty. His pool of dark eyes resembled that of a wolf: beautiful, yet cunning, and looking into them would tell a million stories. His cheekbones were high and brilliantly defined, and his nose was sharp. He was a perfect example of a good looking man; and yet, he was not.
He sat on the steel bench, and he felt sweetly detached from the scene in front of him. It was like looking through a camera where you got the perfect view from all different angles. It satisfied him fine.
"Hey, Frost," the DJ suddenly hissed at him. He tore his gaze from the dance floor and glanced up irritably.
"What?" he snapped. He hated it when somebody distracted him from observing his...customers.
"What time tonight?"
Frost let that sink in. He did not reply immediately; instead, he waited a while before answering, "When I'm hungry."
"It has to be soon, man. The morning is approaching."
Frost shook his head. "Too many people," he said flatly. With that, he went back to his last activity, thus signalling the end of the conversation.
This night was not the only night that the club had a full house. Every single night since its opening, the place was packed to the brim, until it seemed necessary for some to dance on the graffiti-covered walls. The club was not particularly outstanding or fancy, and yet those people lapped it all up like hungry dogs. But Frost did not complain; he had no reason to.
This club survived on its notoriety, its word-of-mouth. Because every morning, the place made the headlines. It has been doing so for the past few years, and the media never failed to let him down. He fed on this business, fed on the crowd. These people were looking for danger and excitement, and he gave it to them every single night without fail.
The crowd was finally beginning to thin out. He checked his watch, and realised that it was almost 3 a.m. Well, well. Time to let the wolf out.
He could feel the DJ's eyes on him, and many others among the dancers, awaiting his command. Anticipating the highlight of the night. He could almost feel their anxiety for one small gesture that would liberate their needs. He lifted one hand and gave the thumbs up sign.
The music changed abruptly. Instead of the techno rubbish that the DJ was playing, dark and morbid orchestral music filled the room. The remaining dancers stopped dancing and they looked at each other in confusion.
For a while, nothing happened. Then, red liquid began to pour from the ceiling, drenching the people blood red. Screams preceded the low rumble that broke out on the dance floor when the people finally realised that the red liquid was blood...and that some of the people that surrounded them were not human beings after all.
Frost stayed on the sidelines and continued to watch. The humans' eyes were wide with fear, and their screams were loud enough to be heard in the next state. Blood-curling screams of torture and agony. Screams that delighted Frost. The dance floor transformed into a gigantic wounded python that wriggled and slithered and squirmed with pain as it tried to hang on to dear life.
Frost waited a while, and when he felt it was appropriate, he held up a hand. That was only the preamble.
The music stopped as abruptly as it began. He stood up and took over the DJ at his place. And when he did, his features changed.
His looks were no longer clean cut and handsome; his face was morphing into a grotesque carving of a gargoyle. Sharp, razor-like teeth protruded from his lips and they stood out like ivory among the darkness of the room when he bared his teeth. Sickly yellow slits had replaced his brilliant dark eyes, and they resembled those of serpents that threatened to swallow a person alive. His nose was lodged directly in between the tightness of the skin around his snake-like eyes, and his face had aged a few centuries just by that simple transformation.
He snarled at the crowd, taking pleasure in their terrified expressions. He grabbed the microphone from the table, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your host talking. I hope you're having the time of your life tonight, and fortunately, this is only the beginning."
He paused dramatically and waited for his words and their implications to sink into the humans. A scream suddenly broke the brief silence as one of them became a victim of immortality.
Frost shot a disapproving look at the offender but decided not to push it. He continued light heartedly, "I thank you all for coming. It is because of you this club is surviving so well. So, let me say this once...and for all. Welcome to the Vampire's Den."