Blood Rain: Chapter One

~Introductions I~

Rain fell with reckless abandon as he trudged up the all too slippery street whose sidewalk had become dangerously slick. Wind whipping at already once styled blond hair continued its assault as Dave continued upward. His converse shoes had long since become completely soaked, the aged fabric giving little protection from the harsh elements around him. Crimson eyes flicked upward for a moment to see a plateau in the road some distance above him, though he quickly looked back down as the persistent rain somehow slipped back the reflective surface of his sunglasses.

Dirk had certainly asked a lot of him when he asked Dave to be a part of his already unpleasant audience. Dave frowned a thin line as he stepped onto the flat surface of the crossroads before him, his lower leg muscles already aching from the effort. Dave loathed this rainy city as much as he loathed his brother, and had he been but a year older, he would have stayed within the desert-like comforts of Texas those few years past.

Shaded eyes glanced around as he took into consideration his location. Still ten blocks to go until I’m at his club Dave thought to himself, and took a sharp left continuing on his way. Shirking his shoulders high, Dave moved his soaked collar higher around his neck, trying to break the piercing rain’s assault on his neck, the precipitation having already bled into his t-shirt underneath. Normally, Dirk couldn’t care less whether Dave attended the clubs he performed at, though his elder brother had insisted he come. Not vocally, of course, but through strategically placed ‘smuppets’ and weapons strewn about his apartment. How Dirk had gained entry was beyond him, but Dave had long since learned not to question his ‘ninja ways,’ as Jake had put it. At least I think that’s what he said, English’s accent makes anything he says almost impossible to understand the soaked blond thought to himself.

English and Dirk had known one another for many years, and the two had become intimate a few years past, a fact that still boggled the mind of the younger Strider, who saw Jake English as nothing more than an eerily muscled Englishman with a fancy for replica handguns. However, Dave’s thoughts were abruptly brought to a halt as the driving rain abruptly ceased to batter his person. His hidden eyes snapped around, only to see an umbrella held above his head by a slender hand. Following the hand, he found himself peering at a peculiar young man, no older than he, and what he saw caused a thin frown to once more appear on his face.

The man holding the umbrella had possibly the most ridiculous looking hairstyle - if one could call such a mess a hairstyle – Dave had ever seen. Dark brown, almost black, strands of hair stuck wildly forward and up in all directions. Underneath their maddened locks was a rather forgettable face. The young man’s cheekbones sat a regular height, his jawline neither pointed nor blunt, and his skin was relatively free of blemishes, other than the occasional freckle. Conversely, of note were the young man’s eyes, which were a piercing blue never seen by Dave. They seemed to shine behind a pair of rectangular, black framed glasses even in the dull, grey light of this particular evening.

Without realising it, Dave had stopped walking and was simply staring at the young man before him, who seemed to just look generally confused at Dave. “You know, most people say thank you when someone covers their soaked ass with an umbrella.” As the young man spoke, Dave took note of two rather ridiculous front teeth which protruded - buck teeth, that saying seemed to come to mind. “Mhm. They often do. Though that shit’s kinda ridiculous.” Dave spoke evenly, keeping his tone completely devoid of any emotion. Though his response only seemed to confuse the other further. Dave turned his gaze away from the strange young man, and began walking once more, stepping back into the rain. “W-wait!” The odd young man called after him, jogging up to him and placing his umbrella over Dave once more, stopping the rain with the repetitive patter of rain on the fabric surface of the umbrella above him. “Where’re you going?” He asked, keeping his strides long to keep up with the taller Dave.

Dave let off an inaudible sigh of annoyance, and didn’t look over at him, and continued walking in silence for a moment. If he didn’t tell him, he’d just keep pestering him where, and that sounds just awful to Dave. Though at the same time, if he did tell him where, he’d probably be followed by this annoying guy. Shit, looks like I’m damned no matter what Dave mentally grumbled. Looking over at him, Dave sound those piercing azure orbs studying him. Eugh, can’t this damn kid take a hint? Dave complained silently.

“Timaetus Testified.” Dave said grudgingly. Though this answer only seemed to egg on the infernal game of twenty questions this strange, glasses wearing - dork, Dave decided was an apt name for this young man - dork wanted to play. “No way, I’m going there myself!” The annoying dork chirped eagerly. Dave let out an audible groan, it was after all quite ironic to express your annoyance even if you typically did not express anything, “Of course you are.” Dave said evenly. Though his dismissive answers didn’t seem to dissuade the dork. “I am! My friend tells me this rad” – rad? Who the hell uses the word rad anymore? Dave thought to himself, bewildered at this kid’s lack of social dexterity – “DJ is playing there, Dirk Strider.”

Dave could feel his irritation growing inside of him like a plague on an entirely expendable village of idiots. God, this guy was so irritatingly cheery it made Dave want to just vomit. “Yep, Dirk Strider is playing there.” Dave drawled boredly; he wasn’t about to reveal that Dirk Strider was his intolerable older brother; that would only draw out more questions from this plucky bugger. “I’ve never been to a place like this - a DJ club – before. It’s exciting, I have to say. What do you do? Do you know? You seem like a cool guy, and so-“ Dave had stopped listening some time ago, though his total lack of interest and attention was either too subtle to be noticed or this damnedable guy was too thick to get the hint.

“- So I think – wait, I never introduced myself, did I?” He gave a nervous chuckle, “I’m John. John Egbert. Nice to meet you!” John abruptly let go of his umbrella, sticking out his hand. A hardly surprised Dave caught the umbrella mid fall, and promptly ignored the hand sticking out to be shaken. “You’re also an idiot. Though names seem to help us make judgements,” Dave decided to speak a few more words. How dreadfully ironic of him, it was borderline uncool. Though John just seemed to stare at him, eagerly awaiting something – “It’s Dave.” The blond said simply. Well, he’s not going away, I may as well ensure that he doesn’t return to bother me again. “So Dave, why’re you wearing those sunglasses? It’s rainy and cloudy out.” John chirped. Well, that was an obvious question, Dave gave a slight shrug and spoke again, though was quickly growing bored of answering John’s incessant questioning, “Because I’m just that cool.” Hoping this response would finally shut John up, Dave was once again, let down by his own unrealistic expectations.

John continued trudging through the now pooling street as they reached their destination. “You’re pretty cool, yeah, but the true measure of one’s coolness is factored by their ability to pull pranks” John declares proudly, which causes Dave to raise an eyebrow in belief. Is this kid for real? Eugh, he is the pinnacle of uncool… “That is quite possibly the most uncool thing I have ever heard anyone ever say ever.” Dave announces, a little bit of disbelief escaping into his normally neutral tones. The two turned toward a rather unremarkable row home whose only distinguishing figure was the flashing of colourful lights behind drapes in the windows.

The building itself was three stories tall, and had bay windows stretching roughly a quarter of the house in the same place on each level. Its siding was a dull, faded blue, and the door to the main level was a scuffed and filthy excuse of a white storm door. “You’re just jealous – I’m the master prankster, you know. None have ever bested me since as long as I’ve lived! But it looks like we’re here. I can’t wait! This is gonna be so cool, right Dave?” John said in his typical inquisitive tone. Dave could tell that this was going to be a long night.

A long night, indeed.

~

 Roughly an hour had passed since Dave had entered the all-too-cramped pseudo-home, and thankfully he had freed himself of the annoyingly chipper presence of John. Though, being alone he found was little better. Dirk’s ever sadistic legacy of ruining Dave’s nights out had evidently not ebbed as he found that his brother had put out enough liquor to kill a commune and thanks to it, every whore whose legs weren’t bowed from too much indiscriminate sex with all the random, equally drunk, males.

To Dirk’s credit, when he was at the turntables, he was a legend, though away from them, he was simply a creepy near-thirty year old with a fetish for smuppets and swords. But his fans thought that was ironically cool, a mix that only a Strider would dare use in Dave’s mind, and that was that. The main floor of the row home had been completely opened up, other than a few loadbearing posts scattered evenly through the place. The turntable station had been set up on a folding table right next to the doorway, in front of the window, where Dirk stood, back to the bay window. Before him, the entirety of the main floor moved and writhed with dancing bodies as the bass flooded the narrow area. Dave sat at the poor excuse for a kitchen island, facing away from the enragingly complex and well-constructed beats of his brother’s making.

Idly sipping at a cheap beer his brother had no doubt blackmailed from someone, Dave pointedly ignored those around him, and was thankfully left alone for his efforts. Girls and women alike came up to him often enough, though a few sarcastic words dispatched them with ease, though however it was a newcomer that brought nothing but ill tidings for Dave. John sauntered up, face flushed with intoxication, and a dumb grin stretching across his equally dumb face, at least in Dave’s opinion. The somewhat inebriated John took a seat on the once empty stool next to the sullen blond and continued grinning at Dave. “C’mon, Dave! Don’t you want to dance or something? Dirk’s really good at this. I don’t know this kind of music, but even I can tell it’s awesome!”

Dave groaned aloud, though such was thankfully lost in the cacophony of noise around them. “That would be terribly uncool, John. And I assure you, this isn’t that great” Dave lied. He knew Dirk’s skills were beyond questioning, but he’d never give the smuppet obsessed freak the satisfaction of knowing that Dave had admitted it to someone. Though Dave’s thoughts were abruptly and rudely interrupted as the music stopped, and the crowd subsequently fell silent as well. The whine of a microphone being plugged into the speaker system sounded and a few people subsequently whined. Dirk’s condescending and bassey voice echoed through the room; “I hear we’ve got a real honour here, ladies and gentlemen! My dear Jake English tells me that we have none other than my little bro Dave Strider in the audience!” Dave spun around on his stool, his eyes practically ablaze with hatred, and his eyebrows were knitted in fury as he met the equally hidden gaze of Dirk, better known to him as Bro.

Dirk flourished a sculpted arm toward Dave, and the younger Strider could practically feel how amused Bro was through those ridiculously shaped shades and equally ridiculous hair. “C’mon, little bro! Come up here and spin something rad for these fine people.” Dirk was interrupted by the all-too-British cheering of Jake English, who stood just off to the side. Jake raised a clenched fist into the air, his brown air pushed back with another as he shouted with his annoyingly earnest heart; “Dave! Dave! Dave! Dave!” And on and on. Worse yet, Jake was joined in by the rest of the pseudo-club. Though it was John that caught Dave’s attention. The dorky brunet just nodded his head eagerly, and spoke, though his words were lost in the commotion.

Thanking himself for the concealing effect of his shades, he slipped off his stool and walked toward Dirk, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of seeing Dave storm out like a petulant child. The crowd parted as he strode through the area left between the two waves of people and took his place behind the tables. As Dirk stepped aside, Dave hissed “I’ll get you for this, Bro.” Though Dirk only smirked condescendingly and said calmly “I’m sure you’ll try.” Dirk sauntered off to the side where Jake gave him two ridiculous thumbs up and Dave sighed. He wasn’t new to performing like this; he just didn’t like to be put on the spot, least of all by his shithead of an older brother.

Eyeing his brother’s playlist on his laptop that he evidently intended to mix, he decided to simply go all out and wow the audience so that they’d be impressed enough to make him leave. With a few taps of the touchpad on Bro’s laptop, he started up the song. Long, narrow fingers placed on the two turntables readily at hand, he took a deep breath, and, as Bro always says, ‘let the sick beats flow.’

~

Dirk folded his strong arms over his chest, a small smirk coming to form on his lips. Jake’s strong hand was placed on his far hip passively, and the two observed Dave expertly mix the song at hand, his audience dancing without reprieve to his ministrations. “Well, he learned from the best, he should be this good, if not better.” Dirk said, a smirk still plastered on his face. Though his cocky words only brought a chuckle from Jake. “You cocky blaggard, be proud of him!” Jake’s chuckling dying down to a snicker as he watched Dave, “He really is good, you know. A shame he takes after your father with that temper of his, hm?” Dirk stiffened at the mention of his father, though relaxed at the calming touch of Jake’s hand at the base of his spine.

Relenting to Jake’s infallible kindness, Dirk nodded. “He does have that bastard’s temper. But he’s a good kid, I suppose. Even if his shades are ridiculous looking.” Dirk’s hidden gaze meandered his crowded pseudo-club to see a peculiar figure sitting at the bar in their kitchen. The young man had dark brown hair and was wearing a simple blue hoodie and faded blue jeans. “Is that him, Jake?” Dirk motioned to the seated John Egbert, who was totally enthralled with Dave’s ministrations. Jake nodded at Dirk’s inquiry and spoke as well, “Yeah. He came in with Dave. Seems nice enough. But doesn’t he…?” Jake trailed off, and Dirk nodded, “Yeah he does, doesn’t he? Weird…”