Note from Cyberwolf10: To help you visualize what each of the characters looks like, here are some helpful comparisons.
Locke Crowley- Antonio Banderas (Zorro in 'The Mask of Zorro')
Cassandra- Salma Hayek (Carolina in 'Desperado')
Nitrous- Laurence Fishburn (Morphous in 'The Matrix')
Lotus- Aaliyah (Akahsa in 'Queen of the Damned')
Dodge- Kid Rock
Cruise- Marshal Mathers (AKA Eminem, Slim Shady)
Diablo- Marco Leonardi (Johnny Madrid in 'From Dusk till Dawn 3')
THE CROW: HIGHWAY TO HELL
BY
CYBERWOLF10
In a fury of black feathers,
The crows have come for me.
They peck the hate from my soul,
At last, could I be free?"
'Dusk Memories' Devil's Dust
A cold and unforgiving late August night. A Honda Black Wing and its two riders speed down a desolate Mexican dirt road surrounded by five cars, each one bearing down for the kill. Deep blue neon lights glow underneath the leading car, a Subaru Impreza, while its bright headlights cut through the darkness with ease. The intimidating dark purple Subaru rams the couple from the road. Dust flies into the air as the Black Wing's wheels slide from under its frame and the bike throws its riders to the ground. All five cars come to a stop encircling the young couple like a wolf pack waiting for the sign to kill. The Subaru's door opens to reveal the driver, the leader of the racer group, the one they call Nitrous. He is big built with black skin and a fashionably shaven head, looking a bit like Laurence Fishburne in 'The Matrix'. He takes off his tinted sunglasses; he doesn't need them in the darkness of the desert. He kicks sand onto the fallen bodies of the young lovers. The young man holds the girl in his arms and tells her everything will be all right. The other racers are out of their cars and have gathered around the young lovers. They all laugh loudly except for the girl, Lotus, who keeps her cool. She is Nitrous' girl and is also black. She is tall with a well-defined physique, a tight ass and incredible breasts. Her long curly black hair reaches down to her lower back and she is dressed in a tight leather cat suit.
"Look, do what you want with me but please don't hurt my girlfriend." blurts the young man in desperation. "Sorry brother," says Nitrous, "I just can't do that. See; the mean streets of Los Muertos are ours after dark, we told everyone in this sorry ass town that fact weeks ago. But you had to be the lone cowboy and disobey us; well now you've got to die."
"Please," begs the young man again "do not harm my Cassandra. I beg of you." The other drivers laugh but Lotus is intrigued. She walks over to the young girl Cassandra and lifts her face up so she can get a good look. "You would have us spare her life? This piece of Mexican filth?" sneers Lotus. "She is rather pretty though. Her dusky skin and ripe lips." Lotus kisses Cassandra full upon her lips. Cassandra grits her teeth and cries. "Hey," shouts the racer called Cruise, an Eminem lookalike dressed in dark green tracksuit trousers and white sleeveless T-shirt, "don't be greedy chica, we all want a turn; right fellas." Answers are given in the form of a rowdy chorus of yes's. The young man has an intense anger burning inside of him. He wants to fight, wants to protect his Cassandra and chase the monsters from his town. But all this anger burns for nothing, as this young man named Locke is no more powerful than any other man and the odds in this fight are not on his side. Nitrous pulls out a gold plated handgun; it looks like a Colt Desert Eagle. Locke knows his time on this mortal coil has come to an end. He watches helpless as inevitability smacks him in the face, steals his girl and then spits at him just for good measure. Cruise is the first to have his trousers down as they all wait to rape the girl of her fidelity and self-respect. The cold barrel of the gun is pressed against Locke's head and Locke wonders if the metal of the Grim Reaper's scythe is as cold.
The only witness to the atrocities committed is a single crow trying to find safe footing atop a cactus. As he shuffles from foot to foot he watches and listens with purpose. A trigger is pulled and a life is extinguished as the shallow husk that used to be Locke Crowley hits the ground. Crimson life force spills from his head as the exit wound invites the cold desert night air in. A blood rose blossoms in the cold, dark night and nothing is right with the world. As Locke's heart slows, somewhere in the desert are black wings beating in time with Locke's heart.
A month earlier and things were a little different in Los Muertos. There was no racer group terrorizing the streets and Locke was free to cruise on his bike with Cassandra. Their passion for each other warmed them in the cold dark night. They would go out on a Friday night and ride just a little ways into the desert to have a romantic picnic under the stars. Locke would unpack the little wicker basket of goodies while Cassandra laid the blue and white checkered blanket. They would feed each other fruits and sweet meats and then watch the sunset together before Locke would declare to any desert animal that would listen that he loved Cassandra. Cassandra would blush, tell Locke to be hushed and tell him, with no less certainty, that she loved him also. Then the racers came. Nitrous in his Subaru, Lotus in her Nissan Skyline, Dodge in his classic Dodge Viper, Cruise with his customized Mazda RX-8 with the vanity plate 'CRU15E' and Diablo in his car, a Ferrari F430 Spider. They raced through the nighttime streets of Los Muertos and warned anyone who dared challenge their rule that they would kill them… Locke should have known better than try to go up against them. It would be wrong to say that Locke was unintelligent, it was just that education was a rarity in Los Muertos. Locke's education came from the school of life; his mother had taught him to read and Locke soon had read most of the books in the Crowley family's house by the time he became a teenager. He loved mechanics and took a part-time job at Jim's Garage. He learned the trade quickly and now runs the business for Jim, who is now too old for mechanics. Locke had met Cassandra when she moved to the town two years ago. She was 21 at the time and had come to the town to become a schoolteacher. Instantly, a physical attraction was obvious. Cassandra was a rare Mexican beauty, slender with swarthy skin and ebony hair, full lips and bright eyes; many had compared her to the actress Salma Hayek. Locke's physically demanding job had turned out a well-toned body; Locke was a handsome man. He looked like a dark angel with his long dark hair and eyes; in many ways he was similar to Antonio Banderas. Cassandra had never known such a gentle touch as Locke's. Locke had noticed Cassandra about town and they came to date each other, once Locke worked up the nerve to ask her out. They soon found that they had much more in common than anticipated. Locke's love for books was mirrored in Cassandra. They both expressed a love of motorcycles, which is when Locke bought his Black Wing. Locke would act the clown, Cassandra would roll her eyes mockingly and they both would laugh out loud. Cold desert night became all the warmer when they spent them in each other's arms. True love.
About a month after Locke's death, in a small cemetery in the center of the town rain begins to fall. Water rarely comes to this part of the world and the ground drinks it up gratefully. A crow flies through the fine spray and lands atop a gravestone, it tilts its head and reads the words
Locke Crowley
1980 – 2005
The crow taps the top of the gravestone twice and then twice again as if knocking at someone's door. A thin, watery trickle wanders from the top of the stone towards the earth. From beneath the dusty coarse sand, a slim hand parts the earth and flexes its fingers. The crow stretches its wings outwards in mock mimicry. Suddenly the earth burying Locke's place of rest erupts out of the way and Locke himself gets to his feet. He is wearing a cheap burial suit that is not even black. His mouth opens and stale breath erupts from his lips uttering just one word:
"Cassandra!"
Locke's senses return to him instantly and he realizes where he is. This is not where he died; this is only where he was buried. He looks around, taking the scene in and then notices the gravestone next to his. Disbelief is the first emotion that comes to him and then a sort of sickness rises as he reads the engraving on the tombstone:
Cassandra Sonoma
1982 – 2005
Rest In Peace
Locke collapses next to the tombstone and hugs it as if it is his Cassandra; he traces the letters of her name with a finger and then winces in pain as he receives a painful flash of memory. Recalling has never hurt so much but Locke immediately knows that this memory is not his, he is in fact seeing the memories of Cassandra.
After Locke died, they raped her again and again, each having their turn except for Nitrous and Lotus, they just watched and did nothing. Once they finished with Cassandra, they tied Locke's feet to the back of Nitrous' Subaru and dragged his corpse through the streets of Los Muertos, honking their horns so people would come and learn just what happens when you fuck with the racer gang. They dumped Locke's body at the small cemetery and left him to rot. They then made off with Cassandra and kept her as a sex slave for weeks before killing her out of boredom. It must have been the town's people that paid for Locke's burial as he had no family in this town and Cassandra couldn't have done it.
Locke's senses return him to the graveyard, where he is helpless and crying in the rain. Paralyzed by the rising anger and the returning feeling of helplessness that always engulfed Locke when he thought about confronting the racer gang, the crow caws out. It was as if Locke could hear the crow's call as a voice that said, "get the fuck up, boy". Though Lock was sure this was in his head, he raises his head to meet the black carrion eater's gaze. Never before had a felt more judged than when that bird looked at him. It seemed to stare into his soul and know everything about him. Locke felt the anger rise to a dangerously new high, it makes his head swim and he lashes out, punching right through his tombstone! The crow takes to the air and the heavy stone cracks and the top half falls to the ground. Locke has never known such power to come from him.
"Why have I returned?" Locke screams to the heavens, but no god is willing to answer. "I don't want this!" he cries out. The bird merely tilts its head to one side and caws out once again. Locke can hear a distant voice calling out to him. It is a sweet voice; it is Cassandra's voice.
"Locke, my love… you have been stolen from Death's icy grasp and returned to the Land of the Living by an ancient force. He comes to those who have had love destroyed and seek revenge. You must seek vengeance for the wrong doings that Nitrous' gang did to us." Cassandra's voice begins to fade. "Then we can be together…always."
Locke turns to the crow, which now takes up residence in a near tree. "Show me the path I must follow to return to Cassandra." The crow leaps from the branches and takes flight into the town. Locke wonders why all this is happening but decides to climb out of his own grave and follow the crow on foot.
Locke loses sight of the black bird very quickly but somehow knows which way to go. His vision becomes blurred and then he can see Jim's garage through the bird's eyes. Locke reasons that this is a vision sent to him by the crow and is where he needs to be next. Locke takes a right at the next street corner and grimly walks to Jim's. He doesn't mind that it's raining, he doesn't even care. All that matters to this ghost among men is that he does what he needs to do to be together with Cassandra once again. Locke soon arrives at Jim's; the first thing he notices is the For Sale sign. He touches the huge double doors and receives another agonizing flash of memory. Jim and his wife crying at Locke's funeral. In that instant Locke knows who paid for his funeral. Jim's wife turns to him, "What will you do with the garage now?" Jim replies with, "I'm too old to train up an apprentice now… I guess I'll have to sell up." The flash ends and Locke comes back to the real world with a thump. A tear rolling down his face… he never realized that he was supporting the old man financially. The doors would be looked, and so Lock had no other choice but to sneak around the back and break in via a small window. The crow flies in after Locke and perches itself atop of his old Black Wing.
"Ok, I'm where you wanted me to be. Now why the hell am I here?" asked Locke of the crow. The only answer that Locke got was when the crow points at a pile of old biker leathers and caws. Locke had to get this right in his head. First he had been brought back from the dead and then given a mission to avenge his and Cassandra's death, now a fucking raven wanted him to change his fucking clothes! Locke felt a bit like a puppet that had been liberated of its strings but somehow was still being controlled by the puppeteer. It felt like a limited freedom. Locke strolls over to the biker leathers and rummages through them until he finds a pair that he likes. They were black, for the most part, but had gray protective covering on them that exaggerated a muscle structure. He strips bare and slips on the leathers, he also finds a black leather biker jacket with spikes on the shoulders and slams it up against a car hood. He looks through the stencils that he had accumulated though out the years of doing custom spray jobs on cars and bikes and finds the one that he was looking for. It is an eagle shaped cutout. Locke soon finds a pair of scissors and goes to work on the cutout. Five minutes later and Locke puts the stencil against the leather jacket and sprays it with blood red spray-paint. Locke pulls the stencil away to reveal the shape of a crude crow outline. Locke smiles.
He puts the jacket on and mocks a little catwalk style turnaround for the crow, "What do you think?" he asks the bird. The crow squawks its approval. Locke then goes to work on his bike, customizing it for the slaughter ahead. The Black Wing would soon no longer be a cruising bike but Death's own steed. Locke goes to work with the blowtorch with a smile on his face.
Nitrous had gathered up his crew in the grounds of an old drive-in movie complex. The intimidating black man rests against the hood of his Subaru Impreza and holds up a black gloved hand. "Two months ago this town was new to us and now we own it. Fear is the key my friends and no mistake." Lotus seductively walks up to Nitrous and wraps herself around him. Nitrous was the only person Lotus would ever be subservient to. Everyone else knew her as a dominant bitch from hell. "What the hell are we still doin' in this town, Boss? We never spent this long in a town before." Asks Cruise of Nitrous. "I've been wondering as to why the cops haven't nailed us for the death of that Mexican kid and his whore. I think that this town is just too unimportant for the cops to waste their effort on. So I've come up with a plan to do a little bank job here." "But Nitrous, Honey, there's no money in this town. Nothing worth stealing anyway." "The amount isn't important Lotus, baby. The fact of the matter is that whatever we steal, we will get away with and that opportunity cannot be missed! Are you all in this with me? I swear we'll blow this shit-hole once we've done over the bank." Everyone agrees to this and Nitrous lays down the plan.
Locke looks at his handy-work and admires it. The Black Wing has been turned from a run-of-the-mill bike into a thing of beauty. He'd sprayed a black and purple paint job, cleaned up the chrome and put some spray-art on of the two theatrical masques of sorrow and joy. There was a banner underneath the masques that had "It's not death if you refuse it!" written inside of it. Now this was a bike! Locke wanders into the backroom, where he runs – ran - a lot of business from and retrieves the revolver that he had kept in the drawer, although the streets of Los Muertos used to be quiet they weren't anymore; far from it. The gun was a good old-fashioned .45 magnum, a gun that could blow holes through cars. It was only a six shot but Locke planned on making those shots count. Locke loads the bullets into the gun. One for Diablo: a tanned Spaniard pretty boy that likes his cars to be pretty also. One for Dodge: the classic car collector from America, sounded like a Texan. A bullet for Lotus: a bitch that thought Cassandra was "Mexican filth". A slut for power, be it in the form of a car or a man. One for Cruise: a white trash looker who thinks he's god's gift to women. And a bullet for Nitrous: the boss of the racer group with a hard-on for fast, powerful cars. Death will come to them all in time. And a bullet for luck, thought Locke as he slid the final bullet into place.
Locke returns to the room with his bike in and unlocks the main doors. He mounts his bike and kick starts his creation into life. The bike purrs like a lion thinking about the kill. Out rolls the bike onto the Los Muertos dust streets before Locke makes it take off like a rocket into the cold, dark night.
"I want my car with me." whined Cruise like a baby. "My car is customized with a carbon body kit to help it go faster." "Are you saying, Cruise, that your Mazda RX-8 is faster than mySubaru Impreza." "At least I can name other Mazda's other than the RX-8." "Are you suggesting," said Nitrous annoyed, pulling out a gun and pointing it at Cruise, "that I can't name other Subaru's other than the Impreza?" Cruise quickly backs down. "No, no, no. It's not that…" Nitrous' grin breaks into a smile, then he laughs a belly laugh. "Cruise, you chicken-shit!" the rest of the gang joins in with laughter. "The plan requires us to have the fastest car so we can leave the bank, get our other cars and get the fuck out of this one horse town. That and your Mazda's a fucking racing car, you dozy sonovabitch. It's only got two seats! My car's got five." The argument was settled at that. "You know the plan…let's get to it."
Locke was following the crow; it was a little difficult to steer his bike while constantly looking up at the bird but Locke seemed to be doing ok. He had no idea where they were heading to, but as soon as they turn onto Camilla Street he had a fair idea. Fear creates a knot in his stomach and he wonders why the crow would subject him to this. Soon they arrive at Saint Nino primary school. Shadows come from everywhere to make this place into a horror for Locke. This was the school that Cassandra worked at.
A flash of memory takes Locke to another place, another time. Cassandra is smartly dressed and tells Locke that she is nervous about teaching at the school on her first day. Locke kisses her forehead and reassures her that she is a great teacher and that everything will be all right.
Locke is brought back to the here and now with a small shock. "Why is remembering so painful?" he mournfully asks the crow, but there are no answers there. He walks up to the wooden door and gets ready for the most pain he has ever known. He kicks the door through and is attacked by a barrage of memories.
Cassandra had been both dreading and hopeful about her first day as a primary school teacher. She was eager to educate the young minds and dreading that the children wouldn't like her. The first day went well and the children immediately fell in love with her, as Locke knew they would. Later that day, Cassandra and Locke celebrate by having a meal at Miguel's Restaurant. The stars were bright that night as they are most nights in the desert town, but this occasion made them seem brighter. The love between them was so strong that it hurt them to be apart. This was when Locke asked Cassandra to move in with him. She already stayed at his place for most days of the week, but this made it all official.
The memory's strength subsides and Locke is sick to the stomach. He feels like the world is toppling. He falls to his hands and knees and vomits on the floor.
Cassandra appears in front of him with a mop and bucket. Don't worry, she says, everybody gets sick sometimes. Locke reaches out for her but then realizes and his hand passes through her image that he is having another flashback. Cramps visit his stomach and he shouts out. "STOP IT!" Everything had become an atrocity exhibition and Locke's life was the main attraction. "WHY ARE YOU PUNISHING ME?"
Purest mental torture that's what this is, thought Locke. He felt his now familiar friend anger rise once again. He didn't know if his sanity could handle much more of this psychological onslaught. He crawls through the vomit and pitifully wanders down to Cassandra's classroom; room number 104. Tears flow freely down Locke's face. He grits his teeth and manages to get to his feet. The name on the glass says 'Mrs. Loggia', Locke touches the glass and receives another excruciating flash of memory.
A hand lingering on the glass, upon it is the name 'Miss Sonoma'. The owner of the hand sighs. Locke knows the sigh belongs to Cassandra. She enters the classroom where numerous eager, bright young faces await their new teacher. Good morning class, says Cassandra in her soothing voice, my name is Cassandra; but you guys can call me Cassie. Good morning, Cassie declare the children.
Locke is miserable now; all he wanted was to be with Cassandra and to make her happy. He was willing to take part in the crow's mission and take vengeance but this was an unnecessary detour on the road to revenge. Locke can no longer take being away from Cassandra. He shatters the glass with his hand and picks out a shard. He holds the glass to his wrist and with tears streaming down his face, cuts his wrist open. He drops to his knees and hypnotically watches the crimson lifeblood trickle to the floor. The wound magically heals and the blood becomes ash. Locke is confused but drops the shard of glass in fear. He shouts to the heavens. "WHAT AM I?" Locke punches the floor and only now realizes that aside from the flashbacks, he has felt no physical pain. The crow sits atop some kid's wooden desk and pecks at it. Knock, knock…let me in.
Locke mechanically looks around the classroom and sees the bird. He picks up the shard of glass and throws it at the crow. The crow takes off and lands as far away from Locke as the classroom will allow. "What am I… some sort of zombie? A ghost? Why am I here? There is nothing left for me here. What is there left when love has died?" Locke gets to his feet and stumbles to the kid's desk that the crow was perched and violently opens it.
Inside is something Locke could not of predicted. Inside is purest heart-warming innocence. A child's painting of a woman angel flying in the sky with a golden halo. Written on the paper was a little note: 'Goodbye Cassie'. Locke feels his heart melt at this sight and all anger subsides and makes room for sorrow. "My angel" whispers Locke. "I will avenge you." Lock feels the anger inside him rise as he thinks once again about the racer gang. The usual feeding of helplessness replaced by a certainty…they will all die by my hand promises Locke to himself.
He wants them to feel as helpless as they made him – no, the whole town feel and for that he would need them to feel fear. Locke sees through the crow's eyes some masques that the children had been working on for the upcoming Day of the Dead festival. Locke walks over to the crow and looks at it. "I'm sorry, you where just getting me angry enough for me to want to kill them, weren't you?" Golden-orange eyes reveal nothing. Locke proceeds to the masques and rummages through them, not certain what he is looking for. The masques are human faces, painted up like ghosts and monsters. He looks inside the first masque and sees a young boy's name, Carlos Montana. Locke tosses useless masque after useless masque over his shoulder. "No, no, no, no, no…yes!" Locke picks up a white-faced masque and looks inside; the name inside is Cassandra Sonoma. Locke turns the masque around and takes a good look at it. It looks like a mime's face or something. Black encircles the 'lips' and eyeholes and lines cross down the eyes and line each side of the 'lips'. Locke recognizes it as the old theatre masque that represents tragedy. Locke likes the papier-mâché masque and puts it over his face. The crow squawks its approval and Locke finally feels ready to begin the massacre.
Heavy rain meant that the bank job plan had to be postponed till the following day. Nitrous wanted to think more about his plan and so gave everybody permission to do whatever the fuck they wanted. Diablo went to find himself a whore to fuck. Cruise said something about detailing his car and was gone. Dodge rented a room for the night with the intent to watch bad TV all night. Nitrous and Lotus, well they took this rare chance of solitude to get their freak on.
Lotus was tied spread-eagled to the bed with rope and wearing nothing but a pair of tight black leather hot pants. Nitrous stood over her, wearing spike-studded leather trousers and a gimp mask. "Bitch!" he announced as he loomed over her, "I may be your lover in the daylight hours but by night I am your fucking MASTER! You are my plaything and I will do to you what I want. Do you understand?" "Yes master." Breathed Lotus heavily. "Good, first…a little pain I think." Says Nitrous evilly.
He pulls out a black candle and lights it, his cold dark eyes never leaving those of his slave as he positions the candle directly over her heaving breasts, which quivered with fearful anticipation of what would happen next. She squirms as the melting black wax begins to drip steadily, but because of the way she is bound she cannot escape the stabs of burning pain and she cries out loudly. "What was that?" Nitrous sneers, "You scared? You in pain?" He laughs nastily. "Well, you should have thought about that before we started this little game…" His voice trails off and he devours the fear in her eyes greedily.
"Please, master…" Lotus hisses from between clenched teeth. "Please what?" her master sneers. "Please, put an end to your suffering? Oh, but I can't do that. Because your suffering hasn't even started yet." Even as he speaks he applies crocodile clips to her hard nipples, already covered with a layer of hardening black wax. Lotus groans but says nothing. Her feet are untied and pulled up above her head, where they are retied to her wrists. Now her ample ass is sticking right out, ready for any punishment Nitrous might choose to inflict upon it. But for now he is content with just looking, admiring her tightly bound body as it shakes with nervous excitement.
Just when she is wondering whether or not she will actually endure any more pain, Nitrous pulls the hot pants up over his slave's hips, leaving her ass bare and vulnerable. She shudders as his bare hands roam slowly over the smooth dark flesh, teasing it. Then WHACK! Without warning a paddle flies through the air and catches her squarely. A mark blazing proudly across both cheeks of her ass. She howls in agony, but relishes in the delicious afterglow of heat. Nitrous smiles slyly to himself. This bitch is learning now.
The mahogany paddle thrashes her ripe cheeks a second time, before she has even had a chance to contemplate the first blow. It stings like crazy and she is powerless to prevent the tears that spring to her eyes as a result. "Stop fucking crying, you stupid bitch," her master spits angrily. "It's the only way you'll learn who's the boss around here. And just who is the boss around here?" "You are, master," Lotus replies. Nitrous smiles coldly as he considers his position of power. "Yes," he says softly, "that's right. I rule this bed and this fucking town, and don't you or the others ever fucking forget it."
The door to the room shatters and standing in the doorway, backlit and silhouetted is Locke. Nitrous is unprepared for this eventuality and is so stunned by the intruder's brashness that his hand is stuck in a freeze-frame just at it was about to spank Lotus's ass once again. Lotus screams, stricken with an unseen panic. "Who the fuck do you think you are, mother fucker?" asks Nitrous of the gatecrasher. Locke stands there looking like a badass scarecrow from hell and the crow flies into the room and perches atop a closet. Adrenaline courses around Locke's body as he contemplates a suitable answer. "I am Lazarus, back from the dead for one last dance and it's your grave I plan to dance upon." "The fuck it is!" exclaims Nitrous as he lunges across the bed and picks up the shotgun secreted next to the bed. He quickly has it pointed at Locke. "Take that goddamn mask off…I'd like to see the face of the person stupid enough to try to kill me."
Locke lifts the masque up to reveal his face, Nitrous' face goes pale but he never loses composure. "I fucking dusted you, man! You're dead!" "No, Nitrous…" says Locke pulling up his gun, "…You're dead." Nitrous blows a hole through Locke's head with the shotgun. Locke's world grows dark for the second time and his body hits the floor. The crow remains silent and hides away in the shadows between the ceiling and the top of the closet. Nitrous rips off his gimp mask and throws it to the floor then unties Lotus and hauls ass.
Some time later, Locke's hands twitch and begin to move. He gets to his feet before realizing that he only has half vision. He reaches up to feel for his other eye but finds a small fist sized hole in his head. In shock, he feels the back of his head. The wound is clean and goes right through Locke's skull. His first thought is 'how the hell did I survive that?' a caw up by the ceiling is his answer. His second thought is 'why didn't this wound heal' but for this question, the crow has no answer. He finds a wall mirror and nervously looks into it; Locke sees the horror that is his face staring right back at him. He sees the gimp mask in the corner of his eye and hurriedly puts it on, over which he puts the tragedy masque.
Locke doesn't know why this wound doesn't heal, maybe it's too large to heal or maybe he's losing his powers; he doesn't really care. He is grateful that he isn't dead and gets another chance to kill the racer gang. Nitrous and Lotus would be in hiding now, only god knows where and so Locke turns his sights on someone a little more attainable.
Dodge flips from station to station on his tiny color TV. Late night Mexican TV sucked, it was nothing but lame-ass game shows and bad movies. Tonight's entertainment was either Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune or a shabby feature film called Zombie Cheerleaders Attack. Dodge was grateful that his room also had access to some cable channels, but most where porn channels (which he wanted but couldn't afford) and kids channels full of cartoons (which he could afford but didn't want).
After much deliberation and a little help from his eleventh bottle of Budweiser, Dodge decided to go with the cartoons. Hell! Maybe one of the Scooby Doo girls would get their tits out or something. It was the wishful thinking of a drunk. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. "Who the hell is it?" calls out Dodge. On the other-side of the door, Locke quickly thinks of something to say. "Mmmph urrrrgaaa pppiiiii."
Locke had tried to say, 'it's just the pizza guy.' But something was wrong. "What the hell!" he heard Dodge say and then there is the sound of movement towards the door. Lock realizes that the shot to his head must have severed a tendon in his jaw. He couldn't speak correctly! Locke hastily pulls out his magnum and puts the barrel towards the door's spy-hole. "Hey man," came Dodge's voice from the other-side of the door, "what the fuck's wrong with this spy-hole?" Locke pulls the trigger and the bullet goes from point A: the gun, to point C: the wall behind Dodge, via point B: Dodge's brain. Dodge is dead before he hits the floor. Locke kicks the door through and surveys his handy work. He would have liked to have toyed with Dodge before he killed him, but beggar's can't be choosers and when you get the opportunity to kill someone, you have to go for it!
Locke feels a little stronger, almost as strong as he had been before he…. Realization dawned on Locke; he had felt weaker after all those flashes of memories at the school. Somehow, his powers had waned because of, what, over-use? And somehow killing Dodge had brought them back up a little. Locke supposed that this was why the wound in is head had not healed. But wait, Locke thought, they weren't really his powers… they were the crow's. Locke recognizes that the crow was in reality a jet-black hate engine fuelled by oily revenge. Wait, Locke remembered, if my powers are stronger then maybe my head is healed.
Locke takes of the masque and feels around the back of the gimp mask. There is still a hole. "Damnnn it!" exclaimes Locke. Wait a minute, he thought. "Myyyyy nnnnammmme issss Lockkkke." he tries. At least his speech was improving. The tendons that were severed must be reattaching themselves, thought Locke. He puts the masque back on and looks down at Dodge's body. He kicks it and is about to turn and leave the room when the crow caws at him. Oh, yes, the crow, thought Locke, I'd forgotten about him for a moment.
All of a sudden it dawns on Locke that he ought to leave a calling card or a message so that if any of the other racers found Dodge before Locke got to them, then they would fear him all the more. Locke smiles under his masks as he gets an idea.
Cruise had broken into Jim's garage and was giving his car a free paint job. He had found a couple of cans of light reactive paint and had just finished the second coat. It is a dark blue that at certain angles wound turn purple or even green. It suits Cruise just fine although it had taken him hours to do. He rummages through the stencils and finds Locke's crow silhouette. "What crap…" mutters Cruise to himself. He finds a couple of pieces of tribal work that are to his taste and begins to apply them to the car using a base white. "Snazzy…" says Cruise to himself.
Another hour goes past and Cruise has a rest, he sits inside his car thinking of how jealous the others will be when they see his new paint job. He lights a cigar and puffs quietly away while he lets his imagination soar. Outside, in the rain a crow watches him with distaste and intent.
Back in the motel that Dodge was staying at, Del Faeroe bravely knocks at Dodge's door. Del didn't want no trouble, that is why when he heard violent noises coming from his neighbor's room, he waited until they stopped and then thirty minutes more just to be safe. He saw the bullet hole in the door and shudders with fear. "Hello, Mr. Dodge…are you ok?" Del hoped that he wasn't. He knew that Dodge was one of the members of the racer gang that had terrorized the town and anything that Dodge got would be too good for him.
Del bravely opens the door and sees Dodge strewn across the bed with a bullet hole in his head and then sees movement out of the corner of his eye. There is a strange man halfway out of the window. Del tries not to disturb him but the man turns around. Finally, thinks Del as he sees Locke's face, the demons have come for these bastards. Locke does not see Del and jumps out of the window and runs into the shadows.
Del looks around the room and notices a mural on the wall. Someone, possible the demon, had used some of Dodge's blood to paint a picture of a bird… what was it, thought Del, a hawk or something… no… it was a crow. Del made the sign of the cross and left the room, there was no chance in hell that he would be the one to tell the police about this.
Locke thanks the blessed Madonna that he got in and out of the building without anyone seeing him. Suddenly, through the crow's eyes, he sees Cruise inside Jim's garage. Locke flares with anger. How dare they go to his place of work? It wasn't enough that they killed Cassandra and him? It wasn't enough that they terrorized the town? When would they stop? When he got to them.
Locke hops onto his bike and tears away through the night. Murderous with anger.
Cruise gets back to work on his car, making good use of the chrome polishing equipment. "That's it… shine baby shine." mutters Cruise to himself. The polisher doing its work damps the roar of the approaching motorcycle. Locke arrives, pulls up outside and flips the kickstand down. Inside his head, the song 'No Mercy' by Yngwie Malmsteen is played out and Locke happily sings the words in his head.
Now it's so clear, I'm your greatest fear. You have lived a lie, be prepared to die. You must learn oh so well, you shall burn in hell. You might say it's a game, I will show no mercy.
Locke continues to mentally sing the song as he walks up to the double doors and kicks them through. Bloodbath time, thinks Locke. He whips out his gun with unmatched speed and plants a bullet in Cruise's leg. Damn, thinks Locke, that shot was supposed to hit his head.
Cruise holds his thigh and howls in pain. "What the fuck'd you do that for, ya dick? Who the fuck are you?" Locke isn't looking forward to speaking but manages to communicate who he is to Cruise just the same. Lock walks over to Cruise and kicks him to the floor, then takes off his masque and lifts up his gimp mask to show Cruise his damaged face. Locke grins and Cruise loses his lunch, puking violently over himself. Chunks of vegetables in yummy stomach acid flow freely over Cruise's jeans. Locke puts both of his false faces back on.
Cruise spits the bad taste from his mouth when realization hits him like a brick. "We killed you? What the hell! You're dead man!" Locke wraps his hands around Cruise's throat tightly, "I knowww you arrre, buttt whattt ammm Iii?" asks Locke as best as he can. The crow comes in from outside, lands on the car and caws. "Fucking bird," says Cruise only half-conscious, "get the fuck away from my car." Cruise blacks out and Locke has a nasty idea inspired by the crow.
Word had reached Nitrous of Dodge's death. He stands in the doorway to Dodge's room and admires the ruthlessness of the kill. Lotus creeps up behind him and hangs onto him. "Look at this guy," he says pointing to the blood crow, "a regular DaVinci and no mistake. Good job I dusted his ass."
From behind Nitrous, the voice of Del Faeroe comes piping. "Yes sir, you bastards are gonna pay now…the demons gonna get you all, man! I saw him with my own two eyes." Nitrous turns to the man and pulls his gun out. "What exactly did you see, old man?" Del gulps and answers the intimidating black man nervously. "El demonio, dressed like a man but had a inhuman face. All painted up like some Day of the Dead mask or something… about 12 am."
"Fuck," curses under his breath and turns to Lotus, "that zombie guy came after us came before then? That means I didn't kill him. What the fuck do we do about this one?" "I don't know, you're the boss… you come up with something."
Cruise comes to and realizes that he is upside-down and tied that way. He struggles and hears a metallic denting sound underneath him. He strains his neck and understands that he is tied to his car. The engine comes to life. "Hey, what're you doing in my car, man. Get the fuck outa my car!" Cruise warns Locke. "Letsss go forrr a drivvveee." Manages Locke. Locke turns on the sound system and a blast of music comes out at him. It has a heavy baseline and electronic beat, "Don't touch my shit, man!" cries Cruise. Locke turns off the CD player and tunes in the radio. Soon, he manages to pick up a rock station broadcasting from distant San Antonio. 'Taking Back My Soul' by Arch Enemy is on and Locke turns up the radio. Locke revs the engine, torturing poor Cruise.
"NO, MAN! DON'T DO IT!" shouts Cruise, helpless at Locke's mercy. Tonight is not a night for mercy. The car comes to life and blasts out of the garage, racing through the dust streets of the small town. Locke swerves the car into a wall, scraping all of the paint from the left side of the car. Cruise screams something out but is drown out by the primal roar of the engine. Locke notices a cactus patch up ahead and piles straight into it. Needles stab at Cruise and he cries like a little baby for it all to stop. Above them, the crow watches as the RX-8 smashes through some steel trashcans. An errant tin lit slices a score down Cruise's left arm.
Locke pushes the car harder as they get out into the open, Cruise sighs relief and puts his head down, then sees a barbwire fence up ahead. "OH SHIIIIIIT!" he screams. The barbwire cuts hundreds of tiny but deep gashes all over Cruise's body. Locke takes a sharp corner and smashes the headlamp through the corner of a stone wall, shattering both items. Locke turns the car back towards town. Approaching the car very fast is the wall of a building. The car and Cruise go straight through the flimsy wall and crashes into another. The airbag pops out and saves Locke from a broken neck. The radio slowly dies as the engine give up its last. Locke gets out of the car and walks around to Cruise. Cut and bleeding all over, he looks worse off than the car. The bullet wound in his leg seems to have got infected but Locke doesn't care. Locke turns to the former trailer-trash boy and lifts his head so he can look him in the eye. Realization dawns that Cruise is dead. "Twwo downn." He declares to the landing crow outside. Locke dusts himself off and picks up a piece of metal.
Nitrous visits Diablo at his room. He knocks the door three times. "Yo, Diablo…pull your pants up boy. I got some fucking news." "Piss off. It's my night off, remember?" comes the response from the other-side of the door. Nitrous kicks the door open and walks confidently into the room. Diablo is in mid fuck with two Mexican whores, one screams; Nitrous blows her away. "Woah! What the fuck you do that for?" the other girl is too frightened to speak, she just clings to Diablo's naked body. "Diablo," demands Nitrous, "who is the fucking head of this gang?" "You are." A chastised Diablo says in a monotone. "I can do whatever the fuck I want then, right?" "Right, but what did you want, man? You're edgy as fuck, hommes." "Remember that Mexican we whacked las' month? Well, somehow, he's back and he's pissed off. He's already whacked Dodge and I can't find Cruise. Fucker even had himself a pop at me."
Diablo looks at his boss in disbelief; "You're shitting me, right?" Diablo looks at his boss's face and sees that it is paler than usual…he looks worried. "You're not lying are you? What the fuck do we do, essé? How the fuck you kill a dead man?" "I have no idea, but we're gonna give it a shot! Find Cruise, tell him that we're out of this town by morning."
Locke finishes up his work of art and admires it, "Nott badd ehh?" he says to the crow, his speech somewhat improved. A huge burn scar in the shape of a crow blazes proudly across Cruise's chest. Now that's what I call a custom decal thinks Locke to himself. Locke puts down the piece of metal that he had heated up. A weird thought occurs to Locke, although it was the crow that was the force that brought him back from the dead, it was his frenzying hate that was the inertia that kept him going.
Locke makes a 'follow' gesture to the crow, which flies to his shoulder and perches there. Ghostly echoes of eternity reach out for Locke and he turns his back on them and tells them to piss off; he's not done here.
Diablo always liked the rough-and-tumble way of life that the gang had. They would drive into a town, declare that they own it and pretty soon they would. He had always figured that once they got the top of the food chain that there would be nobody left with the gall to try and take them on. It looked like Diablo was wrong, someone did have the gall to do it and had already taken a shot at Nitrous, taken out Dodge and now Cruise. Rough-and-tumble just called for the big boys to join in thinks Diablo as he stares at Cruise's mangled frame. It had taken Diablo two hours to get on to Cruise's trail. He hadn't told anyone where he was going but a couple of kids had seen his car racing down Blanca Street a couple of hours ago; that had led him here, to Cruise's grave. I'm gonna tear this guy a new asshole, thinks Diablo. He pulls out his gun, a .38 special, and checks the chamber. Hmmm, thinks Diablo, six shots for one guy. What am I going to do with the rest of the bullets?
Locke had been on Diablo's trail for the last two hours. He had heard that he was staying in a motel called El Paradiso but when he got there, there was no Diablo just a load of commotion about a dead hooker in room 212. Locke knew that the cops wouldn't be called, not in this town but asked questions anyway. He walks silently up behind and taps a guy on the shoulder, "Whatt hass gonne onn herre?" Without turning, the guy answers, "One of the racer gang shot a…um 'lady of the night'. He was visiting that Diablo guy, who was staying here." "Helll off a visitingg presentt eh?" asks Locke rhetorically and then walks into the room.
Locke sees the whore strewn across the bed with a bullet hole in her temple and there is a bloody smudge on the wall, it looks like it has been cleaned with water. Locke walks up to this smudge and puts his hand to it, a flash, some pain… and a warning. Locke sees Nitrous writing a message on the wall, it reads: 'Find me at the devil's door, Nitrous'. What the fuck does that mean? Asks Locke of himself, snapping back to reality. Not knowing what to do next, Locke asks: "Didd anyonne seee whatt happenedd herre?" a girl pipes up, "I did." Locke rushes over to her and without saying a thing places his thumbs gently against her eyes. Pain seeps into Locke's skull as he sees Nitrous ordering Diablo to find Cruise. Reality greets Locke with a smack in the face and the girl shouting "What the fuck was that?" For the first time, the people in the room notice Locke and his outlandish garb. "What're you doing to her, boy?" Locke surveys the scene; he doesn't want a confrontation with these guys.
He shoves passed the first few guys and is tackled by a large Mexican dude. "I said, what the fuck you doing, boy?" Locke, in desperation, pulls out his gun and points it at the guy. "Woah, woah, woah- there's no reason to get hasty." "Gett offf mee." Says Locke as coldly as he can. The Mexican obliges and removes himself from above Locke. Locke gets to his feet and rushes out of the building as quickly as two corpse's legs can muster. He hops onto his bike and is away, he has to finish up quickly before the town is after him as well.
Diablo finishes burying Cruise under a pile of stones and makes the sign of the cross before kissing the golden crucifix around his neck. "Rest in peace my brother in arms. Ride the road to hell." Speaks Diablo softly to the grave. From behind him a voice chirps out of the darkness, "Aww is'ntt thatt sweett?" Diablo spins around and comes face to face with Locke. "Boo!"
Diablo falls backwards out of fright and pulls out his gun, firing at Locke several times. The bullets hit Locke and sink into his cadaver of a body. "Youu knoww Diabloo, I lamentt the losss of painn, painn teachess youu thatt youu arre alivve...alloww me to givve you a lessonn." Fed up of letting his body catch bullets, Locke actually dodges one! Sidestepping the bullet, he is at Diablo's throat with a vice-like grip in his hand. Locke pulls out his gun and fires a bullet into Diablo's shoulder. Diablo bawls with pain, "Ain'tt learningg funn?" asks Locke. Diablo answers by spitting at Locke. Locke backhandedly slaps Diablo and picks him up by his neck, there is a crunching/clicking noise and Locke realizes that his jaw has finally healed. Locke experimentally moves his jaw this way and that, trying to get used to the smooth movement once again. "Lesson 2," says Locke menacingly, "physical pain can be a warning to your body that it is in danger. For example, if I were to grab your arm like this…" Locke grabs Diablo's arm and places it elbow down on his leg. "…And push down like this…you would feel pain."
Locke pushes down on the arm and Diablo indeed feels a great deal of pain. "This is your body telling you that your arm is about to be broken." Locke forces the elbow backward and the arm snaps with a crunching sound. Bone slices through skin and blood pours from the wound. "Before we get to lesson 3, can anyone in the class tell me where the devil's door is?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah… it used to be a bar, just on the outskirts of town…near the drive-in. It's our hideout now." "Good boy, now lesson 3, mental pain…" says Locke, clearly loving this." He thrusts one hand upon Diablo's face and forces every excruciating flash that he has experienced so far forces itself into Diablo's tiny mind. Diablo's eyes roll backward in his head and blood starts trickling from his nose. Locke looks like he is about to pass out but holds on to consciousness because he knows that Diablo is experiencing much worse. Diablo chokes on the blood now flowing freely from his nostrils and gurgles inanely. Locke lets Diablo fall to his knees; his eyes are scary looking, as if he is staring at something far off. A final shallow gasp of breath and he dies rather unspectacularly. Locke mock kisses him on the forehead and lets his body fall backwards to the floor. Locke pulls an ankle knife from his boot and goes to work on his work of art. This is becoming a habit, thinks Locke as he cuts out a vague crow shape in Diablo's skin. He dips his hands behind the newly cut flap of flesh and pulls it away from the body, sticky blood drips from the underside. What is left is a muscle red cutout of a crow. Locke is satisfied. Now to try his luck at Nitrous once again.
Nitrous is trembling with fear, his skin has turned pale with anxiety and his hands are shaking. Lotus spits on the floor just in front of him. "Look at you, man." Says Lotus angrily; "this Mexican douche bag actually has you shaking. You, Nitrous, the biggest baddest motherfucker in the entire world." "Well," retorts Nitrous, "the fucking Mexican isn't from this world. He's an actual walking talking spirit of motherfucking vengeance. You hear stories man, on the streets of L. A., where I grew up, there was talk of another like this creep but I thought it was just urban legend. We haven't got a prayer in hell."
Lotus slaps the hysterical Nitrous, and he half returns to his senses. She looks around the room; there is a case of 9mm Beretta's and a couple of M16's leaning against the wall. "Look at this shit, we have enough guns to arm a militia and enough bullets to blow away any old urban legend." "Yeah, yeah…maybe your right, babe. I've got to treat this spook guy the same as any other enemy. We have to exploit his weaknesses…" "But?" "But he doesn't have any!" Nitrous flies back into dismay, Lotus soon joins him as the garage shutters is knocked three times. "D...D...Diablo…issat you, man?" asks Nitrous of the unseen caller, nervously picking up one of the Beretta's and aiming it at the shutters. A combat knife sinks through the steel shutters and quickly retracts and Nitrous and Lotus both open fire at the spot where it had been. In another place, not a foot from the last the knife stabs the shutters again. Once more the two crooks inside open fire, trying in vain to hit whoever is on the other side of the metal shutters.
This fruitless game of shoot the stabber carries on for five minutes before it suddenly stops when in horror Nitrous drops his gun. Lotus stops firing at the shutters and turns to Nitrous. "What the hell! Keep firing you fool!" "The Crow." Is all Nitrous says collapsing to his knees and pointing at the shape of a crow made out of bullet holes on the shutters. A maniacal laughter echoes from the other side of the shutters and nervously Nitrous joins in, he throws his machine gun to the floor and picks up one of the M16's. He laughs loud and wildly as he presses the trigger and shoots at the shutters franticly. Hundreds of bullet holes appear in the door and when Nitrous runs out bullets, he drops the guns and runs through a side door into the bar. Lotus shakes her head and then shouts out to Nitrous, "Keep it together, don't loose your cool now." A bullet to the head finishes both her and the sentence off, the finial full stop. Locke lifts the shutters up like the curtains at the beginning of a theatrical show and takes an imaginary bow.
"Thank you, thank you." he says to his audience, the crow. "And now for my next trick, I shall make Nitrous' life disappear." He walks into the garage and picks up one of the spare M16's. "I shall do it with the aid of my 'magic wand'." Locke calmly walks into the bar area of the Devil's Door and scans the room for Nitrous. The crow caws and through it's eyes Locke can see Nitrous aiming a gun at him. A loud bang and the bird falls to the floor. "NO!" shouts Locke as he sees through his own eyes that the bird is bleeding. A second bullet catches Locke in the shoulder and actually hurts him! Oh crap, thinks Locke, I'm vulnerable once again. Without the bird's powers I am just normal.
Locke dives behind a table and tips it over to act as a shield. I am helpless once again, thinks Locke. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness floods over him. "What's the matter bogeyman? You scared?" calls out Nitrous, "Yeah, that's it, yeah, you're scared of me!" Nitrous opens fire with another barrage of gunfire. Bullets fly through the sir and some even hit Locke through the upturned table. Realization dawns on Locke that although he is feeling the pain of the bullets entering him, it is nothing compared to the pain of loosing Cassandra. Cassandra, Locke thinks of her and remembers that it was these bastards who took her from him.
He was sent back with a purpose, to avenge Cassandra's death and all that was standing between him and reuniting him with his lost love was Nitrous. Just Nitrous. Locke's anger grew. Was he going to let one fucking person, one shit of a fucking person stop him now? No fucking way! Locke gets to his feet and is greeted by a barrage of bullets, they mostly hit him in the chest and he spews blood under his gimp mask, the stench of blood chokes him and he rips both masks off. Locke takes a step forward and a volley of gunfire damages his right arm, Locke throws the gun into his left hand and opens fire. He is not used to using his left hand and misses Nitrous outright. Locke smiles a creepy smile and Nitrous sees it. The once confidant black man fires more bullets at Locke some hit him in the head. Locke stops a moment and looks like he is going to fall over dead when momentum carries him forward one step at a time. Locke bursts out laughing, his face covered in blood now, he opens fire at Nitrous. A lucky shot whacks Nitrous in the stomach. Nitrous spits blood and looks at his wound, damn, he thinks, that's it. If I don't get out of here I'm dead. Oh well, I'll take this bastard with me.
Nitrous fires at Locke and manages to hit him in the left leg. Locke screams out with pain and drags his leg forward. Not gonna stop, never stop, he thinks. I'll get him! Locke returns fire and misses Nitrous, crap he thinks, my limp leg must be throwing me off. Bullets fly from both ends of the rooms, occasionally on target. Locke is riddled with bullet holes but manages to keep going out of sheer determination to be with Cassandra once again. Nitrous stops firing and throws his gun down, pulling out his gold plated Colt. He fires once at Locke's working hand and nails it! Locke drops his gun but continues onwards. Another shot hits Locke in the right knee and screaming, he falls into a crawl. Ever closer to Nitrous, he grabs him by the trousers. Nitrous shoots him once in the shoulder and once in the eye. Locke keeps coming. He pulls himself up by Nitrous' shirt and grabs the gun from his hand. He places the gun against the bullet wound in his stomach; Nitrous grits his teeth and excepts what is coming. "Come on, you fuck. DO IT!" Locke pulls himself up to Nitrous' ear and whispers, "A life for a life" and pulls the trigger. Nitrous is blown back by the shot and falls to the floor dead. Locke collapses on the floor, he feels like shit run over. Locke finally lets eternity pull him into the darkness.
Cassandra is waiting there for him, no words are needed. Locke is whole again. She knows what he has been through. Their love will keep them warm through those cold dark nights. There is no more cold, but the love is still strong, still warming.
THE END
Note from Cyberwolf10:
First I'd like to give a big shout out to my readers and thank you all for taking the time to read this crow fanfic. This is the second of my crow stories, (the first being The Crow: Call of the Wild) with more to follow. Secondly I would like to thank my girlfriend, Ebony Rose, for pitching in with that little sex scene between Lotus and Nitrous; thank you babe, I'm no good at writing such filth. Thirdly, if this story were a film then the following would be the soundtrack. It's what I was listening to while I wrote the story. Enjoy!
Soundtrack-
LACUNA COIL- 'When a dead man walks' from the album Unleashed Memories. This would make a great opening number. As haunting a song as you'll find anywhere else.
SYSTEM OF A DOWN- 'Mr. Jack' from the album Steal This Album. This is my favorite song from my favorite S. O. A. D album. Highly underrated. A good following song to Lacuna Coil.
NIGHTWISH- 'Romanticide' from the album Once. As Locke walks through the rain with anger and crow in tow, this song would play.
TITO & TARANTULA- 'Back to the house that love built' from the album Desperado O. S. T. If the characters had their own personal songs then this would be Cassandra's. Desperado was a major influence on this tale.
DORO- 'Undying' from the album Fight. A great little love song, as good as if not better than 'It can't rain all the time'.
SLASH'S SNAKEPIT- 'Serial killer' from the album Ain't Life Grand. This would be Nitrous' song, a scary song for a scary man. Imagine it playing in those first scenes with the cars and the bike.
SNAKE RIVER CONSPIRACY- 'Somebody hates you' from the album Sonic Jihad. Can you just see Locke killing to this song can't you? Imagine that grim expressionless masque covered in blood. Chilling!
CRADLE OF FILTH- 'Nymphetamine fix' from the album Nymphetamine. Lotus' song; Imagine it playing while Nitrous dominates her.
MEGADETH- 'Peace sells' I don't know what album this is from but can be found on Vice City O. S. T volume 1: V-rock. Poor Dodge, he didn't get a very big part did he? Actually one of the first bad guys I thought up. This is his song.
SHOTGUN MESSIAH- 'Violent new breed' from the album Violent New Breed. Cruise's song, would on in the garage while he worked on his car.
ARCH ENEMY- 'Taking back my soul' from the album Doomsday Machine. A good song for reckless driving (not that I do such things). I can just imagine Locke tearing up that RX-8 to this song.
TITO & TARANTULA- 'Angry cockroaches (cucarachas enojadas)' from the album From Dusk Till Dawn O. S. T. I haven't heard one bad song by these guys. This song would be great as Diablo is banging his whores. Diablo's song.
YNGWIE MALMSTEEN- 'No Mercy' from the album Fire & Ice. An old song but it suits the mood and Locke liked it.
CHILDREN OF BODOM- 'Angels don't kill' from the album Hate Crew Deathroll. Musically great, could be good as the credits go up.