THE COLLECTIVE
A DARK STAR STORY - CHAPTER 7 (Can be read in isolation)
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The Dark Star was alive.
The venue once again a metaphor of a flourishing debauched beast as I sit alone and watch him from my vantage point.
I've no idea how the acerbic cunt does it but Logan Hughes, or Andrew Baxter as he now identifies has breathed life back into the venue. Life that the change of name above the glass front doors to the premises cannot be accountable for alone.
The venue once again is a credible threat to what I seek to build, what I have built, at Warehouse 43. The Dark Star was always for the masses, just as it was tonight, but by its very nature it is attracted attention. By my own admission the venue had slipped in stature under the stewardship of Laura Mancini, the face lift she had deliberately undertaken still scars the venue, the sheer lack of neon pink and electric blue lighting that sits unilluminated during a hectic Friday night is testimony to the lack of taste the young Italian had applied.
The young Italian nobody has seen or heard from in over a month now, much to the consternation of her elder brother and to myself given the clear warning I had been issued by Chloe Macready. I had known Logan Hughes was planning to make a move to usurp Laura from the club but I had become distracted, already ruminating that my failure to act had contributed to her now unexplained disappearance.
My network only stretched so far hence one of the many reasons I now sit in the shadows of the raucous humid venue facing the hulk like form of Marlon Pickford. Pickford's stock had risen immeasurably over recent years itself, an ambitious individual who self-servingly ascended the ranks, before usurping control, within 'The Threes' one of the most notorious street gangs that operate organised through to petty crimes, drug dealing and prostitution rings mainly within the confines of the notorious and depressing Hillcliffe Estate.
The man sat before me held a ferocious, well earned, reputation for extreme acts of violence to crush any man or woman that stood in his path.
As we sit there he too watches the venue with a vested interest, the spiders web of his own dealers I know to have laced the venue under Laura's tenure still operate freely. For how long they achieve their ambitions I do not know, to his credit Hughes had always ruthlessly controlled the supply and demand of narcotics within his club.
Already, since the Dark Stars re-emergence I have seen a fall in price of the profitable little blue amphetamine come aphrodisiac blue pills I had heavily invested in. Purity of content seems to have no value in face of cheap alternatives laced with all manner of impurities no doubt. I have been genuinely shocked at the rise in prominence and awareness of the synthetic substance over recent months alone, very much making it a drug of fashion, demand peaking at the loss of revenue in the face of a heavily discounted market.
All this will be of no consequence to Hughes everything around him is set up for his selfish gain. I can only assume the presence of 'The Threes' to be detrimental to Hughes burgeoning relaunched enterprise, I can only assume Pickford will have his own fight with Hughes before too long.
"You've heard nothing then my friend?" I offer as Marlon Pickford takes a swig from the tumbler clutched between his sizeable fingers
His stature cuts a menacing presence, well over six feet tall, muscular and dressed casually only in shades of black, including a black baseball cap with a monotone logo that sits upon his head with its peak pulled down over his ebony features.
"That girl is not in this City..." he finally graces me with a response, "...whatever become of Mancini's Sister... she's either dead or trafficked to a world beyond our control."
Pickford pauses to take another slug of his drink, before offering, "Dead end reached my Ecuadorian friend."
His words fill me with dread, as time has passed I have increasingly tried not to fixate on the likely dark fate that has befallen Laura Mancini. I cannot begin to contemplate if death or a fate worse than death would be the best outcome for the naive young beauty who I had manipulated and taken advantage of myself several months earlier, barely meters away from where we now sit. My stomach twists as I supress the memory of her wanton submission under the influence of the little blue pills she had willingly consumed.
As Pickford drains the last of his drink his eyes no longer meet mine from under the rim of the cap. His eye-line fixates on a curvy blonde in a criminally short black dress sat in the booth that faces ours, I note her seductively heavy look back in his direction, blissfully unawares. or perhaps fully aware. of the menace with which she flirts.
"As we'd feared" I offer sipping from my own Whiskey over a fast dissipating cube of ice as I look towards Artero who sits to my right-hand side.
"Your man that now runs this place again is cold," Marlon offers on his thick West Indian accent as he sucks air through his teeth while he stands and starts to step away from the booth. "...But him's an amateur."
I cannot disagree with the blunt appraisal of Logan Hughes as Marlon Pickford slips away without offering the courtesy of a farewell as he flashes a grin towards the blonde who as if hypnotised grabs a jacket from the seat next to her and slips her tall, curvaceous body from the booth.
My eyes fall back on him though as I spot him once again from a distance as he makes his way through the venue, sticking seemingly to the shadows himself. I feel my ire raise and sneer etch across my face as I observe him approach a young-looking redhead on the edge of the dance floor that is pulsating with writing bodies. I watch him with contempt as his hand slips around her waist. I wonder if she knows the devil she dances before and by what name she knows the vile cunt I know as Logan Hughes.
Hughes reemergence, despite his newly assumed identity had been brazen. For a man tried and found guilty for two counts of murder in his absence his appearance had altered but not so as to make him completely unrecognisable. His hair now shaved short, and the sporting style of a beard barely concealed his identity.
Even being bold enough to even reach out to myself in attempt to reintegrated himself within the realm of 'The Collective.' A concession I had immediately decided I would never make. Although I had humoured him and availed myself alongside of Artero with the exquisite tribute he had provided for us in the confines of the hotel suite he had spared no expense to lay on. I struggle to recall her name now, but her beauty and physical form was not to be turned down and she had provided a memorable enough submission.
Hughes passes from sight briefly as he escorts the lithe redhead away from the dance floor. I am darkly amused as he then draws closer. I do not hide I have no need to hide. If he spots me he does not acknowledge me, nor do I him. Shortly they are joined by two other girls who seem to remain aloof to Hughes as they sit in the booth and are served drinks by one of the venues plethora of beautiful hostesses.
"Should we head back?" Artero offers from my side.
We have no pressing business, Warehouse 43 will not be as energetically busy as the Dark Star, the venue hosts a sedate Friday night of exclusive entertainment for the select members of my own establishment. I take a final sip of my whiskey before catching the attention of a dark haired Chinese hostess.
"Let's observe the wildlife" I state to Artero without turning by head towards him.
My eyes no longer set on Logan Hughes but the delightful little young auburn haired girl to his side with whom he seems infatuated with.
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Her cry echoes throughout the bedroom as the tight walls of her sated cunt clench around me and I feel the last shudder of her vigorously earned climax subside from her lithe body.
On her hands and knees facing the head board of the four poster bed I keep fucking her.
She holds herself up before me, I'd brought her straight to the master bedroom, almost impatiently, on our arrival. The remnants of her clothing strewn across the floor of the room where I had all but torn them from her.
