Instead of working towards a college degree, partying it up and enjoying a normal life at the age of 22, Simon Bishop spends his days and nights with his childhood friends: a werewolf, a goblin, two elves and a ghoulish Nikola Tesla. Known to some i...
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In an underground club called "Hades Locker", a restroom sink turned on automatically as Simon put out his hands underneath it to rinse his hands and face. He lifted his head to see his own reflection in the mirror in front of him, glaring back at himself with dark hazel eyes. Simon, now 22 years old, seemed wiser and more confident of himself.
His face was more defined and thin, but he still carried a white skin complexion. His light brown hair was much longer, reaching the lower back of his neck. And on his face, a small but deep scar could be seen on his right cheek. The history of his survival was detailed throughout his face, body movements, and mannerisms. For a man of his age, he had been through a lot since the day of the school shooting.
His concentration broke as he heard music blasting from outside of the restroom. Though they had just finished chasing a troll through the streets of Miami, they were now in New York City, thanks to the goblin's ability to teleport.
Simon put on a pair of thin-rimmed glasses sitting near the faucet. He turned around to find the goblin using a urinal and a dark skinned man wearing a leather jacket with no undershirt underneath it. The black male stood with his back on a white stained wall while smoking a cigarette.
"I'm off to find Victoria," Simon announced. "Try not to make a scene."
The black male gave him a sarcastic look, pretended to stroke his male organ and flicked the cigarette to the floor. The goblin finished urinating, zipped up, and quickly turned back to rinse his hands, but slipped next to a sign that read "CAUTION-WET FLOOR". Simon picked him up and asked if he was ok, the little goblin made a cute puppy face, nodded and hugged Simon. Once he placed the little guy down, he continued to walk out, but not before turning back to say:
"And Vargulf, do us all a favor...Don't tell anybody about tonight." He said sarcastically.
Vargulf gave Simon a face and responded with a thick British accent "Won't tell a soul."
A FULL MINUTE LATER...
"WHAM!!!" Vargulf exclaimed as he slammed his hand on the table. "So, there I was, surrounded by three trolls!" Vargulf explained to a crowd of drunken fixated women.
With his three fingers raised, the dirt under his curved fingernails could be seen. His fingers were long and boney, but unusually heavy with thick blue veins running all across his skin. His eyes were wide and his thick eyebrows lowered, meeting at the bridge of the nose. The bristles under his tongue could be seen as he spoke. His lips flapped faster as they tried keeping up with the story spilling out of his mouth.
"I took them all down!" he continued. The goblin sat nearby drinking an apple martini encased in a gummy shaped heart with an eyeball in it. While the heart looked real, it was actually candy. The little goblin rolled his eyes at the far-fetched story.
