Timebomb's Story

---

---

Dylan woke up in his messy bedroom, he rubbed his eyes, "Shit." he looked around his room, it looked like a bomb hit it. He walked out, "Sir would you like some dinner?" asked Gordon, one of the few butlers he had, "Dinner? What the hell? How long have I been out?" he rubbed his eyes again and glanced around. "Since last night, you went to that 'Crimson Tavern' place again, you always get in to trouble over there, I had to pick you up from the police department, nearly got yourself in prison, ya did. If you going back there, please, take care of yourself okay? Stay safe, I don't want to pick you up from the police again, ya hear? It's not good for your resume or your reputation, you have a business to run", Dylan started to walk out, "I didn't want to run that stupid corporation anyway, might as well run it yourself", "Do you want some dinner before ya go?". "Nah, I'll get something at the tavern" He got into his limousine, "Take me to the tavern", it took around half an hour to get there, he sat down at a table on his own and got a drink, he waited five minutes and there was already a fight going on outside, there was a beefy, strong man and a silver-haired female. He wanted to help the woman, but yet he didn't want to get in to trouble with the police again so he didn't help, he regretted it later. He saw him heal his wounds, he mumbled "Regenerative Healing?... Guess, i'm not the only one... or I'm just going freaking mental" he guzzled the last of his drink and looked around, not a lot of people were in the place after the brawl. Their were 4 people in a group, the silver-haired female from the fight, two blonde haired males which looked like they worked in the tavern and a blonde haired female. He was getting bored, he wanted to talk with the group but they seemed like friends and he didn't want to interrupt them anyway he wasn't very good at introductions. He was playing with a small explosive ball he created from under the desk, just in case he needed it under extreme circumstances but It didn't seem like anything was happening, "Nothing to do..."

There came a rider, one dressed in black as his custom-made chopper came roaring down the road. The rumbling coming from the extremely long tail pipes of the motorcycle, seemed to echo across the city streets, as puffs of fire and smoke where released in rhythmic intervals. The very emissions coming off the bike shrouded it in smoke, and obviously it looked like this man wasn't doing his part to help climate change. He pulled up to the side of the Tavern and parked his bike whose handlebars were no less small than the tailpipes. He cut of the motor as it died down along with the smoke. From their the designs are more easily seen, as several strange symbols are shown on the bike, many seem Satanic in origin such as pentagrams and the Leviathan Cross. This man didn't seem to be doing much to ward of evil. It seems he blatantly invites it.

He stepped off his bike, the man was dressed in a leather jacket that seemed to have a bull skull and pentagram etched in the back. He readjusted his hat as he took off his sunglasses. Which would seem rather odd to be wearing them at this hour. Still it looks like little bothers this man. Whose long hair is partially placed in a small ponytail while the rest flows on to his shoulders. He had a full beard but appears to keep it trimmed, making him not look like a complete beatnik. He then took out a cigarette and lit as he stood outside for a few puffs. He didn't seem to notice any fights or commotions coming from around the back of the building and instead walked in. He looked at the bar scene and it looked like a normal dive, there were some people that seemed too young to be in a bar. He didn't think he would find kids in here but so long as they don't give him shit he could care less.

He walked passed the tables and situated him self on a bar stool. He called over the barkeep with a Texas twang in his voice, "Hey a Jack Daniels over here hoss." Some bartender passed him a shot of whiskey as the man took to it like a water, downing it as quickly as he got it. He continued to smoke his cigarette as an ashtray was brought to him. "Mighty appreciate it hoss." He spoke as he tapped the butt smoke as ashes fell into the glass tray. He then called for another whiskey as he placed his jacket on the table. He wore a plain black shirt but it looked like he was wearing a chain necklace with a medallion of some odd symbol, down the sides of his arms where these intricate tattoos with some cool patterns. Although most people wouldn't think much about them but to Johnny they help serve a purpose. He seemed to be wearing rings on his fingers most of which screams metal head. In fact his whole body screams metal head except for the obvious cowboy styling. The man's finger nails seemed to be a bit longer than average and seemed to come to a point. It would be an odd sight considering this doesn't look like a man who would be caught dead in a beauty parlor. Another whiskey was given to him as the man took another swig before putting it away. He then sighed. "Long day?" asked the Bartender. "Heh, you could say somethin' like that." He chuckled as he snuffed out his cigarette. Little did they know that this man was being hunted...

---

---

Dylan decided he was bored so he went to his limousine outside and went back to the mansion where he was greeted by a few of his butlers inside the front door, "Can one of you make me some dinner, already?" the chefs made it as quick as they could. It took 10 minutes, he sat and in the dining room and the butlers brought down Zoey, his "adopted daughter", that's how he saw her. He always had a soft spot for the child. "How are you, Zoey? Have a nice day?" he asked before eating some of his food, it was actually a fairly big meal, but it was okay, he was pretty hungry. He had finished after fifteen minutes, "Thomas!" one of his butlers came over, "Yes, sir?". "Take our dishes, will you?" Dylan gave Thomas the plate and he walked into the kitchen. "Do you want to do anything in particular?" Dylan actual liked spending time with the child, despite her constant mood swings and he often tried to be as non asshole-ish as he possibly could around her, it almost always worked.

---

---

---

---

Zoey sat across from Dylan, at the dinner table as they awaited supper, she loved Dylan but she hated how the maids made her dress for dinner, all done up in curls and frills. She liked her tutus, Dylan always bought her favorite things but the maids insisted...at a distance. They were afraid of her, they all were, except Dylan, he was strange like her, only he burned things, she made people see things they didn't want to. When he first brought her here, only he could talk to her, she'd show the maids bad things when she didn't get what she wanted. One of them killed themselves, once.
Whoops.

"How are you, Zoey? Have a nice day" He asked and Zoey looked up a for moment, as she finished a wing. "Mhm." came her reply. She didn't want to talk, she didn't feel like it. She didn't know why, she just didn't. Probably because he was gone most of the day and she was bored. No one ever wanted to play with her.

"Do you want to do anything in particular? He asked and she looked up. "I want to play...no one ever wants to play with me. They are too afraid." She said. Her play always frightened everyone.