I'm strapped into my bed, I've got electrodes in my head
My nerves are really bad, it's the best time I've ever had
Sick boy, G.B.H.

The smell of piss, beer, and nicotine filled the alley way as Arthur trudged on towards the gig. A bottle of beer was clutched by his hand, it was already open. A fag adorned his lips as he continued walking in the night. There were hardly any lights in the alley just loud noises from music as he got closer to the gig. His heavy boots wore him down, but he wore them every day so he was used to them. They were his buddies. The leather was so worn down at the soles and it had a bunch of unimaginable stains that he had no idea were they came from. He wore torn plaid pants that looked faded sometimes he forgot they were originally a dark blue. His studded leather jacket was adorned with hand painted band names he painted there himself. It included the Exploited, UK Subs, the Addicts, Misfits, Lower Class Brats and G.B.H. Sometimes he wished he had more room to add other bands but frankly he didn't give a shit. On the collar he hand stitched a leopard fabric but ended up giving up half way, therefore it was torn off with only half of it sticking on to his jacket. Inside his jacket he had a concealed pocket held a switchblade. You could never be too careful sometimes these gigs ended up nasty, depending on those who were invited. Underneath his jacket he wore a black wife beater which had some small holes from constant rips he got whenever he pitted and a bloke got stuck to him. The hoop belt he wore hung loosely from his waist and clinked the more he continued walking.

The music got louder as he reached the rundown shabby pub. Punks were outside smoking fags and drinking. With his left hand he reached up and grabbed the fag that was already at its end. With one last puff he flicked it away and took a swig of his beer. He actually got closer and a bloke looked familiar to him. It was his older brother Allistor. His dark red hair was styled up in a liberty crown. He wore a torn vest with patches sewed everywhere and a dirty union jack shirt under it. He had on dirty ragged jeans and knew high black boots.

"Oi so you decided to come."

"Sure mate, what else would I fucking be doing"Arthur replied offering some of his beer which Allistor chugged in response.

"I see you still have that bruise that skinhead left you" Allistor said motioning to Arthurs black eye.

Arthur shrugged his shoulder but if he ever saw that bag of shite again he would end up tossing his ass on the floor.

"That wanker got lucky." Arthur said trying to defend his honor.

Thats how it was in the scene. You had to stand up for yourself and your "friends". No one else could do it for you, only yourself. If you didn't stand up then people would see you as a pushover and use you or just end up beating the shit of you.

"Eee you cheeky little monkey, have you gone off your trolley. That sod was bigger than you" he teased Arthur lighting up a fag to smoke.

"Fuck off."

His only answer was a middle finger. Arthur ignored it and just swigged his beer.

"What else is going on?" Arthur asked

"Well music is good. Drinks, girls what else? Oh well there is something."

"What?"

"That twat came back."

TBC

Ok so I wrote this up on my DeviantArt account but I felt like I would get more feedback if I posted up here.

I know I have not posted anything, but I had to! Tell me what you guys think. Just no flames, I bruise easily.