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Simon was in a dive bar. The place had glasses that were questionable if they were washed two days ago, let alone earlier today. People may have skirted away from the dingy, nearly windowless place was cascaded from various overhead lights. Smoke lingered from all sorts of sources, the clanking of pool balls hitting each other was in the distance.

One of the few reasons Simon was here was because of the stage. He had to do this. Grief came to people, and vampires alike, and it had different forms. On different days Simon lost himself with a bottle of booze, in a forest and by a nameless cross buried deep within them. Other times he'd train until it felt like his knuckles were going to bleed.

Tonight it was the stage. Dressed in a pair of black jeans, a black t-shirt that had a print in white where it looked like a militarized jolly roger. The skull kind of looked like a helmet. Instead of crossbones it was two AK-47s forming an 'X.' Bullets and military rank. The top of it said "Bullet Club." He had no clue where it was from, it just looked cool and Simon happened to see it when passing by in a shop window. A few moments later he had it in hand. The man had been too lazy to do a google search for it. Having a design like that was enough for him to like it.

Moving to the small stage he plugged in his black electric guitar. Well, it wasn't all black it had a face that went from grey to black. Plugging it into a few amps that were around he began to tune and test the speakers. People were looking in his direction. Simon's fingers fiddled and tested, eventually he nodded from the sound and the volume.

Breathing in and out, Simon prepped himself for one of the hardest sets he was ever going to play. His breathe caused a little feedback through the speakers thanks to the microphone. People were getting ready to boo and throw things at him. Composing himself he pulled up his courage and spoke, "This is Motorhead and it's f*cking rock n' roll."

Whether the crowd loved it or hated it, Simon didn't care. He promptly went to the volume, which was perfect, and turned it up louder. Lemmy always made it louder because everyone should have been deaf like him. Simon wasn't going to half-*** this performance.

Guitar riffs played loudly and Simon began:

"If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man
You win some, lose some, it's all the same to meeeeeee
The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say
I don't share your greed, the only card I need is
The ace of spades! the ace of spades!

Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil
Going with the flow, it's all a game to mmmeeeee
Seven or Eleven, snake eyes watching yoouuuu
Double up or quit, double stake or split
The ace of spades! the ace of spades!"

As the song went on Simon became a slave to the riffs that came from his guitar. The man just kept on singing and playing. To be honest, the song was old hat to him, but this was different. Tonight felt like the first night he ever played it even though this was the umpteenth time. This was Simon grieving. Lemmy was one of the humans when passed, he wondered why the vampires, the devil or anyone else didn't do anything to keep this unique soul on the mortal plane longer.

"You know I'm born to looose and gambling's for foollls
But that's the way I like it, baby
I don't wanna live for ever
And don't forget the jokerrrrr"

By this time he was becoming a further slave to the song. This was how his performances worked save for one. That one he was extremely nervous about. Each song, the audience was minimal, but extremely important. It was hard to be a slave that night.

"Pushing up the ante, I know you got to see me
Read 'em and weep, the dead man's hand again
I see it in your eyes, take one look and die
The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be
The ace of spades! Rhe ace of spades!"

After the final note he breathed out hard. Everything was a blur for him. Honestly, Simon was spending all of his energy to make sure he didn't cry. Deep down this performance hurt, but the song had to go on.

People were cheering, they were impressed. It wasn't a mad rush, but enough patrons started to give Simon attention to the point he amassed a small audience. From there he began another song.

"There's only one," he said and then went with a newer song. However, the song was dreadfully appropriate. Guitar notes came in heavy.

"Behold the king, The King of Kings!
On your knees dog!
All hail!
Bow down to the
bow down to the king!
Bow down to the
Bow down to the king!

The king grinned red, as he walked place. Where the traitor lost both, his name and his face. Through the the hall sof the cooridors, stinking in blood. He tasted his grin and it tasted good. The King took his head, left him broken and dead.

Bow down to the
bow down to the king!
Bow down to the
Bow down to the king!

The king left none living, none able to tell. The king took their heads, and he sent them to hell. Their screams echo loud in the place of their death. Ripped opened they die, and with their final breathe...They hailed to the king! King of kings!

Bow down to the
bow down to the king!
Bow down to the
Bow down to the king!
Bow down to the
Bow down to the king!!"

Simon was a slave to the notes his guitar spat out. Breathing hard he was focused on saying a few "Bow Downs!" before the final stanzas came.

"Into the dirt! His will be done. Now, feel your fear, there can only be one.

Bow down!
Bow down!
Bow down!
Bow down!
Bow down to the,
Bow down,
Bown down to the king!
Bow down,
Bow down
Bow down,
Bow down,

The king is here! Now, feel your fear. The King of kings! All hail! All hail! All hail the king, On your knees, on your knees for the king, king of kings. There's only one!"

At the end Simon pointed up to the sky even though Lenny was an atheist, he hoped that someone would have taken mercy on his soul. It was hard to be an atheist when you, yourself, were a vampire. Then without warning Simon started to smash his guitar. Feedback and distortion filled the bar, but people were cheering for the man with the long brown hair.

By the end Simon had gathered up his guitar. Invites to the bar were declined. Eventually he said, "I want to find my old lady, climb on top of her. Another time." Most took that as a valid excuse to be let go. He wanted that, but there were some other stops first so the excuse was more of a smokescreen than truth.

Honestly, Simon was cool with destroying his own guitar. He got it after a bad night. Lately, it was hard to be too sad about thing. Yeah, stuff hurt but it was just hurting less. Maybe some old wounds were healing.

Notes blared from Simon’s Iphone that was plugged into a nice docking station. As one particular song came on he stood up and swayed with the music. Each step he took through the place caused his bare feet to pad against the ground.

Mouthing the words he began to “Sing” the song:

“I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of you, that I almost believe that they’re real. I’ve been living so long with my pictures of you, that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel.”

Guitars and drums kicked on, Simon ran his hands through his short hair. He temporarily forgot the long locks were in a nearby waste basket bound to turn into smok at any moment if they haven’t already. Words continued to be mouthed:

“Remembering you, standing quiet in the rain, as I ran to your heart to be near. And we kissed as the sky fell in. Holding you close, how I always held close in your fear. Remembering you, running soft through the night. You wre bigger and brighter and white than snow. And screamed at make-believe, screamed at the sky. And you finally found the courage to let it all go.”

Only one person was on his mind. Usually when he went so long without seeing someone Simon became mister self-destructive. Either the one person on his mind tamed him considerably or he was getting milder at his older age. Maybe it was a little of both.

“Remembering you, fallen into my arms. Crying for the death of you heart. You were stone white, so delicate, lost in the cold. You were always so lost in the dark. Remember you, how you used to be, slow drowned. You were angles, so much more than anything. Hold for the last time then slip away quietly. Open my eyes, but I never see anything”

Robert Smith kept singing along and Simon mimicked as he moved through the room. If anyone walked in they would have thought the man became some sort of angsty teen. In reality he just really missed someone. The last line on the latest stanza drove home. He hated waking up to an empty bed.
The next part Simon couldn’t help, but sing along with Mr. Smith:

“If I only I’d of the right words, I could have held onto your heart. If only I’d thought of the right words, I wouldn’t be breaking apart. All my pictures of you. Looking so long at these pictures of you, but I’d never hold onto your heart. Looking so long for the words to be true, but always just breaking apart, my pictures of you.”

The failed engagement ran through his mind. Well, it wasn’t failed. They mutually agreed to just keep dating each other. Renee didn’t want to rush. She wanted them to work. Simon agreed, but there was still a level that stung pretty deeply despite logic telling him all of her points were completely valid.

As the engagement ran through his mind, the words by Smith kept playing, and he just sat down near the docking station.

“There was nothing in the world, that I ever wanted more, than to eel you deep in my heart. There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more, than to never feel the breaking apart, all my pictures of you.”

Smith’s voice started to become faded and Simon felt the wetness of tears form around his eyes. They did not trail long before becoming smoke and fading away. Blood of a Shadow did that.

Sighing he looked down. The engagement was delayed because of her family being absent to the wedding. Simon was unsure of the whereabouts of his own. It was getting so bad with his family and their apparent impression of the magician David Copperfield.

Thinking of his family he just started to speak, “Well Mom. I finally did it. I met a girl that gets me. That has enough pull to not become a self-destructive *** about things. Yeah, the engagement was all weird. I understand why it was done. Renee led the charge with the delay. I don’t blame her. She wanted her family to be there and see her as a princess. You won’t believe me, probably. You’ll probably think I did something stupid. This is worse. At least when I do stupid things, I know why people are pissed off. I know why things crumble. I know why they break. This,” Simon’s voice trailed a little. “I didn’t do anything and I feel like I did. I guess I’m used to so many things blowing up on me that I’m just not used to things going awry and me not being the catalyst.” A heavy sigh left his lips.

“I really need one of you two right now. A hug. The other I need more because, she can just tell me I didn’t screw up something. It’s just getting either of you to appear from your mountain of paperwork.”


((OOC: "Pictures of You," song and lyrics by The Cure and respective members of it upon creation))