NOMAD.

“Life, she’s a stubborn bitch eh.

I never fit in with the social norm’, it wasn’t for me. From childhood I was raised on the street, my familia was my neighborhood, my father taught me how to live, and my mother what to love; but nothing lasts long on the street. Sooner or later someone will come to take what’s yours.

People hear us before they see us but their hearts are already looking down on each and every one of my brothers as if we’re the scum of this world. Bikers, criminals and thugs. It’s not how I see my Club, they took me in when I was weak and they built me up so that I was strong enough to protect my own. We may not earn our bread like the office man or the suit wearing average joe but then again, we’re not average. The ninety nine percent of this world are slaves, we are free. We do what we gotta do to survive this world you know. I’m not going to lie to you hermano, we had a choice once but we were born to ride.” – Martelo Carter, Muchani Raiders MC President (2007).


Tequila, the Mexican fire ware without a gleam nor shine to her surface even in such a vivid and colorful club as this. The hand that held the glass above the table ran thick with ink new and old, the darker mostly prison ink from his time in the pen playing the waiting game and riding out the lag with the rest of his fellow animals, the eyes that held the gaze reflecting nothing in what one would assume to be a malicious or criminal stare yet suppose it's what's on the inside of a man that matters the most when others are trying to bleed you.

Martelo Carter was not a small man, nor was he an entirely fit one however he carried his weight in strength and certainly looked intimidating enough geared up in his dark blue jeans, tan working boots, a lightly colored shirt beneath a black leather vest decorated in Gang patches sewed in seam by the man himself. His arms were burly, thick and baring what could only be described as tribal decorations, more ink that had been carved into his skin over some point of his life and each with its own meaning or symbolizing a time he'd not wish to forget. A chain length ran from his belt to the back of his jeans left pocket to which his spare cash and identification was housed within his wallet, just a shy reach below that of the nine millimeter hitched under the back of his pants, covered and concealed by that of his vest, loaded and ready to go; Not by intention yet a worthy precaution.

His former Vice President had already taken his leave before Martelo had the wrong impression, the talk had been done and it'd been met with out of respect by his former brother in arms yet the news was as troubling now as it was some two years back. The Club had fallen away, those that hadn't been killed were taken into custody and what remained of his end in the criminal underworld among Muchani no longer had the weight it had had seven years ago when he'd run things. No more brothers, no more club house, no organization. He'd gone into Prison with everything to lose and come out on the other side a NOMAD, the road his home and his bike his will; nothing more and nothing less.

"Hasta que el diablo nos lleva..." Martelo lifted the glass somewhat as if to make a toast, though it was more an admittance of defeat yet a refusal to submit. The words 'Ride or Die' etched in ink against the underside of his forearm still reflected much in his manner of thinking today. For now the drink would surfice and perhaps tomorrow would bring new opportunity. He would mourn his fallen brethren yet his pride would not allow an early reunion this young into the night and with such little drink in him.

"El diablo no pudo encontrar el culo con las dos manos" Lucius said, moving up behind the man, and taking a seat at the bar. "He is, at best, and incompetent fool, that is, if you wish to even put stock in that sort of thing." He chuckled, as the bartender set a snifter of a dark red liquid before him, flashing him a grin edged with fangs. After taking a sip, he looked again at the man, "My apologies, I did not intend to intrude into your apparent reverie with your glass of, what?" Lucius smelled the air, seeming to almost sample and taste it, "Tequila? You should go have a look at the distillery along the coast, I have been told they make an excellent brand. Some of their barrels have been aging for quite some time."

Taking another sip from his glass, he tapped his fingers on the surface of the bar in a drum pattern. Pale, white, bony fingers beat out a pattern on the counter top. He decided to have some fun with the man, and slightly pulsed his psychic displacement. This had the effect of blurring his edges to the perception of those around him, without making himself completely disappear. "Some rather interesting markings you have there. What is the? Tattoos? Ink? I think thats right." He asked him, taking an actual look at him, examining the interplay of the special inks across the man's skin. There were definitely some, interesting, designs what have you worked onto his exterior.

His head turned half way to acknowledge the presence of the other, his mouth shaping just a little in a sort of skeptical half-smirk, brown eyes dancing quickly to take in the face of the other before turning his gaze back upon the table he were sat at, not far from this newcomer with a curious sense of comfort around Martelo who knew him not. Reaching for the bottle, he poured his glass to a fresh fill before turning back to snap his fingers in Lucius' direction, soon gesturing to one of the empty glasses upon his table for the courtesy of those with more company, such a thing Martelo no longer had no really cared for though Lucius appeared eager to make his acquaintance and in a city such as Muchani, before being incarcerated, few came so eager to speak with him unless they knew of him or wanted something from him. Needless to say he was curious to know this newcomers game.

"Tu sabes quien soy?" He spoke up, pouring the second glass before nudging it further across the table, expecting the other to take up his invitation. The manner of waiting patiently for others was something that came as natural to an inmate as riding a motorcycle did for Martelo though not knowing this one, he gestured to the seat across from him with his left hand while his right moved to his back slowly and subtly before pulling the nine from his clothing and placing it down upon the seat between himself and the wall, the table covering the movement while he acted as if he were simply adjusting himself in order to get comfortable.
The given interest in his ink made things a little more interesting; given that most of the life know not to ask about a mans ink as most see this as an act out of disrespect and prying into the life of another, Martelo's gaze lifted a little as he studied the other, now taking in the seemingly pale, one might say almost lifeless features of the other and soon understanding why he would speak so plain of the devil. "You speak Español well for a dead man..." Martelo chuckled dryly under his breath though he wasn't implying this as a threat so much as a fact; in his former line of work, his kind weren't the only risks out on the street at night. "What can I do for you, hombre muerto?"

"No, I dont know who you are, didnt seem particularly relevant to starting a conversation with a stranger in a bar." Lucius replied as he smoothly slid into the the proffered seat across from the man. Observing the man's hand moving to his waistband, causing the edges of his fanged mouth to twitch slightly upward in amusement. He picked up the glass of spirits, and swirled it around the vessel for a moment, watching the play of light through the liquid. The scent told him it was supposed to be a rather potent brew, so, he simple threw it back, downing it easily. There would be the feeling of a burn in his throat, or, would have been, if the alcohol had any affect on him. So, instead of the likely expected shudder, he merely smiled and looked the other man in the eye.

"I have a, shall we say, knack, for learning things, languages, skills, that sort of thing." He said, leaning forward onto the table, his sleeves got pushed up, showing the black, red, and gold, markings on his own skin. The alabaster white coloration of his skin caused them to standout quite well, though he was fairly certain the other man would have no idea as to the meaning of any of his own markings. If he could have read them, he very well may have ran screaming from the room. They were ancient spell markings, words for incantations he had mastered at various points, etched onto his skin more for purposes of reference and reminder than any need to be able to perform them. "Hombre muerto, dead man, not really accurate, but, " He looked at the color of hand, "I can definitely see where your coming from with that." The bartender set another red filled glass down in front of him. "On any time scale you could probably comprehend, I am not dead. As for what you can do for me? I believe that very well may just depend on what your particular, skill set, includes."He grinned again, sipping the blood from the crystaline container.

Mexico's finest seemed a blessing in disguise, in most cases Martelo might have shot this man for being so forward though that'd have been a mistake; for a start he didn't need the bad blood on the street, especially with the 'bleeders' as this one appeared to be. This stranger to him, a man he didn't know didn't care for who he was; apparently introductions didn't matter yet he was offering him work? It was a matter of pride that this Lucius, a name not yet known and spoken to him, was in breach and crossing. "Eh, look Holmes..." the bleeder was a pale one, the slang fit the picture, "I don't know what you think this is Ese. You don't just come in here, not introduce yourself and then start offering a man a job like he's not already breaking bread, you know what I'm saying?". Martelo moved to take the pistol, the nine milometer, soon placing the silver and black Beretta atop the table surface in plain sight for the other to see. "Five minutes and I already don't like you, you ain't got no la consideración; and you don't need to know what I do" Martelo concluded as he looked back to the male with defiance in his eyes, not caring for what the other was though he knew well enough. Lucius was a bleeder, a Vampire or something that resembled much the same and those were the kind that stood above that of human strength yet perhaps this would be something he didn't understand, why Martelo didn't feel threatened in the face of a superior foe, it wasn't fear that drove him to respond but pride and respect for who he was and what he lived for. To die standing on your own feet with your head held high was a better death than one cowering as a lesser man.

"Let me tell you one thing though hombre muerto, I've been locked up with badder looking cats than you...-Whatever game you got going? You better lay your cards out or you can fuck off eh". Hispanic culture, he walked, talked and acted the part yet while he might seem the Thug to most working class, Martelo was a man who honored the life he lived, behind that of his attitude and his sharp tongue, he loved the life, he lived for the thrill. He could never go back to 'obeying the law' and living out the norm'.

"If you're gonna sit here at me table Ese, you best start over eh" He added, suggesting with quite an attitude as he pressed his elbows against the tables edge, leaning in to look across to Lucius, that he ought to reconsider just how he spoke to the man; Martelo didn't appreciate being treated like a nobody, not in his home town.

"Badder looking cats, well, I assure you, Ese," he said, using the man's term, "That looks can certainly be deceiving." Lucius looked at him, pondering for a moment. "But, straight to the point, I like that in a person, so, as you say, lay out my cards." He reached a pale hand into a pocket in his cloak, and set a stack of bills on the table. "Yes, those are perfectly legal tender, and no, they arent traceable. As I said, I have ways of learning things quickly." Pushing the stack towards Matt. "Now, as for what I want from you? From your actions and mannerisms so far, you seem a man who can get things done, with a disregard for legal consequences. Now, I, have issues working during the day, so, I would need someone who can be out, working, with blood shed if need be, while the sun is up. So, with that money, your either way, I do need to know what you can do. There is more where that comes from."

Leaning back, Lucius rested against the chair. "So, since you said you were in prison, and the, instrument, setting beside you there." He nodded towards the gun Martelo had placed on the table, "I am going to, guess, that you have no issues with killing. That is one required skill, in addition to cutting through the fluff of an issue. Those things, along with the fact you are actually making a threat to someone you know could kill you, makes me think that you would be a perfect man to, not be a minion or thrall, those all lack the necessary intelligence and critical thinking. No, an employee would be a much better term. The money in the, less reputed enterprises in this city would be yours, all I want is the fear of those who walk the streets. I, am an evil man, but, I treat my people well, so, if you want more of that," He nodded towards the stack of money, "Perhaps we can come to an agreement?"

Lowering his head somewhat in quiet recoil, his brows rose in thoughtful silence as his hands brought the nine to his center, his left hand sliding the chamber back to expel the round that had been ready to fire, instead it ejected out into his palm to which he soon placed the shell, bullet-head and all to sit upright upon the surface of the table between him and the other. "I can earn, that's without saying Ese..." His gaze slowly rose to look across to Lucius with something of a cold and stoic eye, "Nothing is stopping me from looking to use this pistola to put one in your head for using my peoples tongue so freely, no one but my own calls me Ese, you feel me engañar". Martelo offered a curiously confident smile as he brought the Beretta to wave towards the other, freely shown in open view to those around them, some of whom noticed, let loose gasps of fright and quickly made their way elsewhere from the pair yet his eyes never left that of the Vampires.

"You want my resume, hombre? I rode with the baddest cats on these streets years back. Ours was a Club that used to have honor, used to have cojones, we didn't fuck with no one that weren't ready to die fuckin' with us and nothings changed. I don't have a problem going one on one with you or any other puto around here. If you've got cash, I can break bread but I ain't no office man, fuck that, what you get with me is what you're looking at and don't be mistaking me for some fool whose afraid to look you in the eye. You came to me, I'll hear you out but if you push me, I'll walk away and I don't mind going this bloody. You're right about one thing, I ain't got no issue killing a man, living or dead Ese...".

"Aint no office man," Lucius repeated the man's own words, "Good, I dont want an office man. If i had wanted one of those, I would have gone to some big corporation and taken, not hired, one of those greasy vermin. No, I came to this bar looking for someone like you. Whether they had been of your heritage or any other, anyone who was willing to get their hands dirty would have been accepted. But you, you have a fire to you, one that could be enhanced should you desire, but, a useful fire nonetheless." He nodded as the fanged bar man sat another glass of the red liquid down in front of him. "So, what I need, is someone to handle operations during the day, at times when I am, less able, to do them myself. And, any other ventures you can think of, I am more than willing to listen to them, and, very well may back them."

Picking up the bullet, Lucius examined it, "You'd have to be a hell of a shot to put me down with one of these though, and, it doesnt seem to have any of the traditional things thought to stop the undead. So, either a well placed shot,or, a large enough magazine to put me down through volume." He mused, setting the shell back onto the table. "So, do we have a deal, senior?"

"Brother..." Martello used good old english to make the lack of hostility clear for the other, yet backed down nothing in the way of the tone that he offered, "Should the pistola empty, my hands will still be ready..." He smirked rather sinisterly as he looked across the table, something almost playful yet dangerous at the same time sparkling in the corner of his eye as he looked to Lucius with confidence still. It was arguably a suicidal confidence in the shadow of the immortal yet he was not a man that bent the knee easily and few had the leverage over Martelo that would give him cause to submit to anyone. "So I suppose you have something in mind, perhaps a target to give me as opposed to coming here offering so much with nothing in the way of a fucking clue, Ese..." He rolled his hands as if to encourage the other to release the rest of the discussion from whatever deviant mind he held.

"I have to admit...-Your offer's got me intrigued" he continued, leaning back further into his seat and taking something of a less aggressive posture, his eyes glancing off to the left as he stared further into the small establishment, thinking in almost exaggerated contemplation, speaking still "My options are a little on the lacking side, I'm the president of a club now dead and I'm sure there are others out there that will want to do me wrong, it's harder to break bread and yet you offer a good backing ground...Shit, you might be my fuckin' baker, if all that you say plays out on the straight 'n' narrow...-by your count at-least".

Martelo nodded slowly in apprehensive acceptance of Lucius offer, speaking carefully there-after, "I'll agree to your terms though you'll need to offer a bit more detail, what exactly will I need to do, you want me to kill, I ain't got no issue with this holmes but I'll need a face to put the bullet in and I'll need the payment in advance..." He paused, his head lifting in a half nod as he acknoweldged the other in a moment of mutual respect, "Don't stress brother, I keep my word, you pay me it'll get done...".

Lucius smiled at Matt's words. "Steady hands, those are important, but, steady hands are diminished when you can't see your opponent." Vanishing as he said these words, pressing out his psychic displacement completely around himself. He manifested his presence in the seat next to. "Makes it even more difficult with an incorporeal adversary. Though, this is something we can actually work on compensating for." Lucius reappeared in his seat, which he had never actually moved from. "You are right, i could be your 'baker' if i understand the term correctly. As for this, club of yours, if you were to find a few individuals that you deem worthy to join you, then, we may be able to provide for them as well. That, however, I will leave to your prerogative.


"And you are right, I did come to you with a target, a rather high profile target to really test your gumption," He paused for a moment, considering his next words. "This is something I could do for myself, but, if you can do it, your own worth to me will be proven. I want you, to bring the head of the local police force before me, alive. If you have to rough him up a little in the process, thats not a problem, just, nothing permanent." Leaning back, Lucius took another sip of his drink, looking across the table at the other man, waiting upon his answer.

A short chuckle escaped the human male, his eyes flicking up briefly to that of Lucius once he'd resumed his seat and mentioned the nature of the objective, the task he wanted done. "For a Vampire, a blood sucker, this means nada.." He remarked quietly under his breath, reaching for his leather vest and burying a hand beneath it searching for his packet of cigarettes. "I on the other hand have a bit more trouble covering for this sort of heat, the kind of blow-back you're talking about...-I just got out of the pen, I'm not looking to go back in eh holmes...-Something like this, it's gonna take a fair bit of coin to cover the risks...".

Had the MC still had his back then this would've been a straight 'no'. These Immortals, the bleeders didn't recognize the weight of the so called law in the human driven world. Most who could walk on two feet, couldn't scale a building in seconds or take several shots to the chest and still manage to walk away somehow. "I'll need some down time afterwards too, they'll be looking for me and this cop you want a word with? He's going to know my voice. This City's big enough but you know that the worlds to small to hide that kind of attention for long...".

There was another side to all of it, Martelo was carrying all that he had left in the world. The roof over his head was the current establishment he was now hold up in talking to the dead man while the money he had remaining was being quickly burned away by the drinks he'd been ordering. "I've got no solid ground to stand on and my contacts I used to have, shit they all split now Ese...-Loyalty in my line of work only hangs around as long as you're willing to pay for it...". He moved to lean to the right a little, glancing out the window nearby before turning back to look to that of Lucius, his left hand reaching for the pistol while he brought his lit smoke to his lips, taking in a drag and opening his lungs to the cancerous toxins that he admittedly enjoyed taking in; addiction or not. "Like I said, it's not just a matter of getting loose at the lips and sending me off you know. I don't work like some two-bit gangster, this sort of shit earns a man real time. I need some assurances...".

"Fair enough, then, perhaps, an easier task, would be simply bringing me fresh, shall we say, food? The more terrorized they are when they see me, the better." Lucius licked his lips at these words. "And, perhaps, this, could give you a touch of assistance in getting into places?" He sat a bracelet on the table, it was covered in various runes, each glowing slightly. "That was, as you might say, a pain in the ass, to make. It wont make you as completely hidden as I can make myself, but, it will, blur, peoples perception of you enough that as long as they dont get a firm sight on you, and you keep moving, they will shrug you off as simply seeing things. This should make it easier, if you want to use it."

"Any how, if my plans come to fruition, the laws of the human world will cease to matter, as I will be the one making the rules." He smiled at Matt, fangs fully barred this time. The undead bartender came back over, and Lucius slipped him a hundred dollar note, nodding towards the human male, clearing out any tab he currently had accumulated, and putting the remainder towards any other drinks he would order that night. Another note, this one a value of fifty, was slipped into the keeps hand as well, reserving one of the rooms upstairs for Matt, if he decided to stay here. Turning back to him, Lucius explained, "You now have a room upstairs for the night, if you decide to make use of it. As well as you tab, I would imagine, for the rest of the night. Unless, i will give you, you manage to surprise me with the amount of alcohol you can imbibe from this point."