The lights flickered above the entrance, casting lurid shades of pink and green onto the greasy sidewalk. Tonight, even the rats scuttled faster through the alleys, sensing the peculiar storm brewing within the sordid confines of the Velvet Flamingo. It was the kind of bar that existed only because the rest of the world politely pretended it didn't exist, a dark spot on the map where lost souls went to embrace or escape their madness.
Inside, the bartender, a wiry, jittery character named Frankie who claimed he once stabbed a man in Reno, poured rotgut vodka into cracked glasses with the casual cruelty of an executioner. He did it deliberately, spilling just enough to let you know he didn't respect you. And you liked it.
But tonight was different. Tonight, something vile and electric lingered in the heavy air, mixing with the usual scents of stale beer, cheap cigarettes, and desperation. The rumor of mob ties to this dim-lit dive wasn’t new; shadowy hands touched any club in the city worth visiting. But tonight, whispers of secrets buried beneath the bar flowed through the crowd, secrets worth dying or killing for.
At the far corner, obscured by smoke that drifted lazily in serpent coils from her cigarette, sat Ruby. God help anyone who caught her attention; she was a tempest wrapped in satin, her lipstick a violent shade of red that matched the blood she casually spilled on the way to the top.
Her gaze flicked across the room with predatory hunger, fixating briefly on Marcus, the Velvet’s bouncer, an ox-like brute with eyes as deep and empty as a bottomless pit. Rumor had it he’d snapped a man's spine once over an unpaid tab, but Ruby found that kind of ruthlessness charming.
Marcus stood impassively by the entrance, his massive frame blocking any escape attempt. Tonight, he wore his suit like a second skin, black and sleek, hiding tattoos inked in places only lovers and coroners would ever see. Ruby raised a delicate finger, beckoning him over. Marcus moved toward her like a shadow with purpose.
"Drink?" she purred, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "You don't buy drinks, Ruby," Marcus said flatly. "You buy bodies." Ruby laughed, the sound jagged and rich, like shattering glass wrapped in velvet. "Tonight, sweetheart, I'm buying souls."
Across the bar, a kid barely old enough to shave named Charlie was struggling to light a cigarette, his hands trembling—too innocent, too green to know what he'd wandered into. Ruby watched him hungrily, the corner of her mouth twisting upward. Marcus noticed, and his jaw tightened—a spark of jealousy flared behind his dead eyes.
"Be careful, Ruby," Marcus growled softly. "The last time you got hungry, we had to bleach the floors."
"Relax, darling. I'm feeling charitable tonight," she replied, her smile wide, dangerous, and undeniably inviting. She stood, hips swaying hypnotically as she crossed the floor toward young Charlie, leaving Marcus in her wake, stewing in simmering possessiveness.
Charlie saw her approach, his eyes widening with a mixture of terror and desire—a deadly combination that Ruby had always adored.
"Need a light?" she asked, offering him a flame. He leaned into her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. Close enough for his breath to hitch, his pulse quickening in a rhythm she felt like a drumbeat beneath her fingertips.
The music shifted to something dark and slow, a thick bassline pulsing through the room, vibrating the floor beneath their feet. The crowd began moving in a trance-like rhythm, lost in their private sins and whispered confessions. Ruby traced her finger along Charlie's jawline, sending shivers cascading down his spine.
From the bar, Marcus watched with clenched fists and narrowed eyes. Jealousy coiled around his heart like a serpent. He was a man accustomed to violence, the brutal truth of flesh and bone, but this was something else—something far more dangerous.
Unable to bear it, Marcus shoved away from the bar, pushing his way through sweaty bodies and murmured obscenities. He reached Ruby, gripping her wrist hard enough to bruise.
"Enough," he hissed. "You're mine."
Ruby's eyes flashed, amusement and madness dancing in their depths. She leaned into Marcus, her lips brushing his ear. "I belong to no one," she whispered, her voice a blade. "But you can fight for the privilege."
The room around them fell silent, an electric tension crackling through the air as everyone watched, captivated by the unfolding drama like a grotesque ballet. Marcus and Charlie faced each other, the seasoned killer and the trembling boy.
But Ruby wasn't finished; she stepped between them, caressing Marcus's chest with one hand and tracing the pulse on Charlie's neck with the other.
"Or better yet," she purred, eyes glinting wickedly, "you could both belong to me."
The room erupted into shouts, laughter, and chaos. Bottles shattered, fists flew, and in that instant, the Velvet Flamingo descended into glorious, depraved madness. Ruby laughed, reveling in the whirlwind she'd created.
Marcus lunged toward Charlie, their struggle fierce, yet somehow absurdly beautiful. It was a collision of madness and passion, blood and sweat, creating a masterpiece on the dirty floorboards.
In the chaos, Ruby reclined against the bar, sipping her vodka like a queen surveying her kingdom's ruin. She felt alive in the destruction, the violence, the sweet intoxication of power.
When the fight finally ended, Marcus stood victorious yet bloodied, breathing heavily over Charlie’s limp form. Ruby approached, heels clicking with authority. She brushed Marcus’s bruised cheek tenderly.
"You won," she murmured.
"For you," Marcus replied hoarsely.
Ruby smiled slowly, devilishly. "Prove it."
In the shadows behind the Velvet Flamingo, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, Marcus did precisely that until the lines blurred between pain and pleasure, loyalty and obsession. Ruby’s laughter rang through the night, a siren song echoing into the heart of the darkness, promising both ruin and redemption for anyone bold enough or foolish enough to answer her call.
By dawn, the Velvet Flamingo stood silent once more, littered with the wreckage of desire and destruction. Ruby had vanished, leaving only the lingering scent of cigarettes and sin. Marcus sat alone, bloodied and broken yet utterly satisfied, knowing he would wait eternally for her return.
And somewhere in the city, beneath the flickering lights that resembled dying stars, Ruby smiled, already craving her next thrill, her next conquest. Because for Ruby, love was just another addiction, deliciously dangerous, intoxicatingly insane, and entirely, perfectly hers.
- Documented
