Creatures of the night. Viktoria Koshkina

leaned on a back, I wondered in thoughts: Where it could get to? But my brain didn’t issue the answer. As if I was under alcoholic intoxication.

      Having calmed down, at last, I paid attention to the clothes. In them I hunted. Ther were a black sweatshirt with a green t-shirt under it, dark blue jeans and black gym shoes with white laces. I looked of course as the street mugger, or still any street punks. I remembered that wiped blood with the hoody, and it is better to remove it. It is good that there is a water supply system and electricity, and the clothes can be washed easily in the washing machine. All other getup quite suited me: there was the same, except the hoody. I looked at a watch, they showed me exactly eight. Passed only two hours since I woke up. In the head right there the idea woke up. Without waiting a second, I began to embody it.

      I went upward. I glanced in the cupboard. I need to replace the hoody. The solid leather windbreaker of black color caught sight (I absolutely forgot about it). I removed it from a hanger and threw through one shoulder. Having closed a cupboard I hurried having taken with myself sunglasses from a table down. Under way putting on a windbreaker with glasses, I left the house.

      The car already waited for me at a porch. Or I didn’t tire out our Lexus in garage when arrived, or Christina took it. All the same, it’s convenient for me.

      Chapter 5

      In ten minutes I drove up to bar where killed the other day as it is already known, Sergey Sokolov. This type had a little daughter. I don’t know the name of the girl, but I hope to find it out soon.

      I parked the car at a roadside, near two high buildings. On the first floor of one of them the institution necessary to me just settles down.

      Having passed couple of steps from the car, I stopped, having seen ahead the drunk company of people. Their behavior guarded me. Leaving Lexus alone with these types, I doom my car to “violation”. I hoped that it isn’t necessary to do, but it was necessary to park the car on the alarm system.

      Having left Lexus under dim light of streetlights, I moved to bar. Over an entrance to an institution, casting on dark asphalt pink shadows, a big neon sign with the name of the bar “Flamingo” blinks. Before doors I was stopped by some drunken type.

      – Hi son, – he told, then inhaled a cigarette.

      What the hell I’m his son?! This word isn’t applicable in my case at all. If he would know that with my real father, and how old is he, the jaw would droop lower.

      – Can I can help you? – I inquired, with severe a look removing points.

      – Have you got any cigarette?

      – It seems to me, it isn’t necessary to you.

      – Don’t pay attention to this, – the stranger grinned. – It now will come to an end.

      In a hand of this man the two-centimetric bull-calf smoked. He made the last inhale and having thrown the cigarette rest under feet, crushed. The stranger was similar to the biker. Clothes and a hairdress eloquently told about it. The leather vest which is put on on a naked torso was unbuttoned, and gave out on display a huge, roundish stomach with the black hair, a path going from a navel. As footwear black berets on a heavy sole serve. The leather bell-bottoms fixed by a wide brown belt on a waist. Yes what to list, all clothes on him were from leather, certainly from artificial, I understood it on a smell (about other smells I will keep silent). On a neck the choker lengthways covered with thorns is tense. On the head of the biker the leather bandana from under which down to shoulders the light brown, greased hair hangs down is dressed.

      – I am glad for you, – I indifferently hemmed and stepped forward. But the importunate interlocutor partitioned off to my way.

      – E-e., hang on. You don’t want to drink? I will adjust a woman for you, – the type wasn’t appeased; he pointed a finger at group of the people standing near an entrance to bar.

      The company consists of not many, five people. For three men two women. They are dressed as well as my annoying interlocutor, in leather, is a match for him. One of women carried the hairdress which is found seldom in the nature – a mohawk, but in this case it isn’t surprising. The lady with an exotic hairdress is dressed in a short leather skirt, on a neck a collar without thorns, the torso covers a red small topic without straps. I got such feeling that she simply pulled on a breast the shortest skirt in her wardrobe. Feet are packed into the stockings in a big grid and put in the varnished boots on a high stud, and on a face the deadly and awful make-up flaunts. Other woman looks more humanly. Long black hair, a directly going to shovels close a half of the face with a modest make-up. Black jeans, tiny sneakers on a small foot, a leather biker jacket under which the blue undershirt closing all maiden zones of bikini and a décolleté hardly disappears – here everything that makes a getup of this quite even the lovely young lady which to call the woman, is the same that to call a donkey a horse. I will give her about seventeen years, no more.

      – Doesn’t interest, – with irritation I waved away. Ask why I talk to him instead of striking on a physiognomy?! I came here not as strong and immortal which can turn a stone and as the ordinary visitor into dust. It is masking.

      – Well wait, – the man protested. – I didn’t even present myself. I am Mitya. And you?

      – You are gay perhaps?

      – What? – the interlocutor dumbfounded by my question, stretched the last letter “a”. His face accepted such ridiculous expression of surprise.

      – Clung to me as the pederast, – I told with the drop of loathing reflected in my face. – You haven’t enough your blockheads?!

      – Not, you that? I am as to the friend… No-no-no…

      Having kept silent, I bypassed a barrier in the form of the annoying punk-biker and went further. He waved on me a hand, having thrown in a trace something like: “Moron”, and went. Before doors to the bar I stopped, having postponed an entrance inside for some seconds. My look fell to the girl with black long hair to shovels that stays in the company of nonconformists who loudly laugh, impudently drink alcohol from bottles and swear various curse words. On her face the unwillingness and even contempt for everything that happens to her now was visible as though something, or someone forces her to go to the wrong way. The little rebel, one and a half meter in height, in a protest to her parents makes mad hellbenders, boozes to fray to “ancestors” nerves. And where this silly found out these morons. The girl stays, pretending that to her it is cheerful and good. She caught my eye, and we silently about ten seconds looked at each other in the face. Having understood that glancing were tightened the little girl hung the head, I entered the bar.

      Having appeared inside, the first that came to mind – punks on the street, and even that not absolutely pleasant type, not the worst subjects on the way for short time of travel to the Flamingo. I felt some strange smell as if one of drunken visitors fell asleep behind the most imperceptible little table, and died, and “aroma” of carrion dominates in the atmosphere now. But the others, persons interested to drink the cheap, diluted beer have a rest here despite everything. Such surprising, officer firmness. And where is the smell, garbage.? The bar counter at a distant wall is surrounded with a chaos of tipsy men on the right. One just barfed on another and a fight burst. The most sober, and on dimensions the huge character with a severe grimace, the height reaching two meters, grabbed with both hands of two robbers, burst foreheads of one about another, dragged up to an exit, kicked with a foot one of doors, and threw “a sweet couple” outside. All others stood still, and, seemingly, are afraid this strapper.

      The space is filled everywhere by the round little tables arranged with small stools. In the center a platform of a square form with a pole round the fat stripper in a blue wig turns. Rare ugliness. I like the women with a natural hair color, with a slim figure