Authors Notes: This is a one shot fic, second in my "Songs, Stories, and Shawn" series. This story is inspired by the song "Angel With the Scabbed Wings" by Marilyn Manson. I'll be posting these whenever a song hits my muse...and my Shawn meter. So look for more.
This story sontains MATURE THEMES and slight BDSM. If you get cases of the "Yuckies!" hit the back button and save us both alot of trouble.
Reviews are welcome. If you love or hate, feel free to be honest and blunt.
Annnnnnnd, on with the show!
Angel with the Scabbed Wings
October 1997
'What the hell...'
The thought went through the head of the girl as she stood in the shadow of an alleyway. She hears noises, sounds she recognized. She hoped one of them hadn't gotten pinched again, cuz they were late...again. Damn cops. Couldn't get anything right if you handed 'em a map. Shaking her head, she focused on hearing better. And doing a weapons check if things got ugly.
Ceremonial anthem, check, throwing knives, check, length of chain, check, box cutters, check. Gauntlet...definitely check she thought with a smirk.
None compared to her gauntlet. A leather half glove with a high top had been used as a base. She'd welded dragon claw finger armor rings with red jeweled eyes to strips of Celtic engraved metal strips to a center piece made of a thick metal pentagram. The thumb ring was glued onto the leather separately. The claws moved with her joints, and they extended out from her fingers, sharpened to fine points. Altogether, it looked like she had a dragon skeleton hand on black leather. The underside had a flat disk of pure steel for bone breaking slaps. The rest of the glove went up her arm, where strapped to it she had a crude metal spring loaded slingshot. It was triggered by piano wire around the base of her ring and middle finger and shot out lethal headless nails. The whole thing was illegal, but she'd made it herself, and the trench coat she wore hid it most of the time anyway. Her father had taught her metalwork at his side, and she'd used it to make weapons for those who she cared about...or could afford it.
The noises persisted, and she leaned around the corner to see what the fuck was going on. She lowered her sunglasses and with sharp dark green eyes, scanned the parking lot. Three guys, local gang bangers she surmised, were holding down a fourth. The guy wasn't small and he'd tried to fight back, but one had a knife at his throat and the other was brandishing a gun.
'Well, can't leave him like that.' Said her inner voice, even though she was trying to ignore it. Unfortunately, her father also taught her morals. 'There goes my night...fuck.'
She ran up behind a van, quickly loading her wrist shot, and peered carefully over the hood, then with pinpoint accuracy, flipped out her wrist and the hand holding the knife to the victims throat suddenly dropped it, screaming in pain. His buddy pulled out a gun sloppily and began shooting wildly. 'Idiot...damned met cranked morons' she hissed to herself. Rolling over, she grabbed the length of chain off her jeans, and threw it out, catching the guys head with her clawed hand, and sliced his bald head to ribbons, blood spewing everywhere. He went to his knees.
"Didn't your mother tell you it was rude to shoot at people?" She then kicked his nose in, hearing his nose break with the satisfying sound of bones turning to dust.
"Hey bitch!" His friend screamed.
She whipped her head around at the second thug. She smirked and licked her lips. And went for him.
"Bitch...you have no idea." She answered calmly before she kicked the small gun out of his hand, then smacked him with the metal disc under her claw, hearing his jaw break. Grabbing him by the neck, she reached in the back and grabbed her anthem, its fire blades cutting into the guys face, slicing and watching as blood spurted into his eyes. He went blind with it, and fell to his knees. She retrieved a box cutter from the pile in her jacket pocket and sliced his chillies tendons, his shrieks of pain music to her ears.
She turned her burning green eyes at the third guy, and cradling his punctured hand, he ran screaming out into the night. Damn, now he's gonna run for reinforcements. They had to get out of there.
Rolling her neck, she went over and grabbing her chain, clipping it back in place and checked the victim. Stealing a line from Terminator 2, she offered her hand to the man.
"Come with me if you wanna live."
He blinked at her deadly claw, dripping with blood. She snickered and changed hands.
The man was too shocked to move, so she grabbed his arm and yanked him up, brushing off his jacket.
"Who...and what...are you?"
"Me, I'm Smith...and what I am is saving your ass," She leaned around to look at said derriere, "And such a nice ass it is."
The man dropped his mouth open, and noticing he was too shocked to move, she led him to the narrow alleyway. She'd parked her black Hondamatic 400D there, the high backed and chrome plated monster hiding under a tarp. She threw it off, and whipped her head around.
"Get on!"
xBx
Shawn Michaels was having a bad night to say the least. He'd gotten so drunk he'd stumbled into a back alley parking lot instead of the main one on the top floor. Before he knew it, he was being attacked. Three men came out of the shadows demanding money and threatening him with a gun. He fought, using his strength to get in a few good shots, but they were armed, and he found himself on the ground with a knife to his throat.
To say that the great HBK was afraid was putting it lightly.
Then he found the hand holding the knife fall away, and the man scream in pain. He blinked through the pain and looked up. A girl in black was fighting them, going to a bloody war right there in the parking lot. He cringed as he heard crunching bones and screams of pain.
Silence descended. Shawn opened his eyes only to find a bloody claw being offered to him.
"Come with me if you wanna live."
Oh my. This is why Taker has a job.
She was about six foot, but that could've been the boots she wore. He saw steel toed shitkickers covered by baggy and ripped jeans, with two chains, one smaller one that probably really held her wallet, and a long industrial chain. A weapon. She had a Marilyn Manson tee shirt on, he knew the image from a poster Vince once had in his office when they still used Manson for Raws theme. Numerous pendants and chains hung around her neck. He couldn't tell what they were in the low light. A heavy leather trench coat hung to her feet, the collar and sleeve of the left side were covered in ornate Celtic scroll work.
He looked at her face. Narrowed green eyes peeked over wraparound sunglasses, and she smiled her black pierced lips. She also had a ring in her nose and two in her right eyebrow. Her hair was in fat cornrows, strange for a white girl. She looked cold and merciless, but she HAD saved his life. Good to have her on his side. There were people you just knew would kill without a thought. She'd just proved she was one of those people.
He blinked at the lethal claw she offered. He thought he heard a muttered 'oops' before she switched hands, and yanked all 200 pounds of him off the ground. He barely noticed as she brushed him off, introduced herself as Smith, then made a lewd comment about his ass and started dragging him over to an alley.
She uncovered a huge beast of a motorcycle, and jumped on, turning the key and whipping her head around, making her ax shaped earrings swing. "Get on!"
Shawn snapped out of it. Get on...that thing?
"I don't think..."
"Look, the coward that ran is going to get help. You wanna be here when it gets here?"
Fear won out over objection, and he climbed in back of her. The metal latticework with a leather seat attached cradled him against her hot body. He could feel her smirk.
"Hold on. Tight."
He obeyed as he watched her clawed hand roll the bars, and she let go of the brake, shooting them forward in the narrow alley. The bike roared. He wondered how in the hell she was managing to steer the bike with her sunglasses on in the dark. But they shot through the back alleys with very fluid ease, and all the fear that Shawn had been feeling for the past hour bled into something else. Exhilaration.
He saw a large hedge standing in front of them, and she was headed right for it. He was panicking, tugging at her shirt, but she just went faster.
"SMITH!" Shawn screamed. He covered his eyes.
She smiled as the bike went right through the hedge and onto the streets, the tires squealing on tar. She popped a small wheelie and then shot in and out of traffic, running red lights and shooting through back alleyways. Shawns eyes lit up. This was becoming fun. He watched the world speed by them.
Most of the time, he saw very little of the world. Arena, hotel, club, bus, plane. But now, as he rode on the bike of this gothic outlaw, he was seeing everything in adrenaline soaked clarity. Cars, people, the neon signs of buildings and shops. He noticed the warmth of her tummy, broken by a hard metal which he assumed was a pierced navel. Shawn smirked, he'd had one of those recently. Took it out, not too practical during matches, but it had looked cool. Especially since he spent so much time half naked.
The girl drove into an industrial section, along rows of nondescript buildings until she found the one she was looking for. Slowing the bike, she put one foot down, and got off of it. Shawn followed suit, confused, but curious. This had turned into an adventure, and he didn't want to break the spell. He was confused, afraid, filled with excitement. Yeah, he would see this through.
Smith locked the bike away.
'What the hell are you doing bringing him here?'
She rationalized it was for his protection, but a part of her knew it was because she wanted him here. Usually, she only had scum and her boys here. Never such an attractive piece of meat. Smirking, she hid the bike in its alcove and indicated Shawn follow her to a side door, its handle hidden by a slat of wood.
She swung the wood aside, revealing an advanced keypad security system. Pushing her codes in, it beeped loudly, and the door slid open on its hinges, and opening a warehouse.
The large room had a high ceiling, with two fans and in the corner, an entire shop. Tools lined the wall, with tanks, a blowtorch, and a welding torch. Its centerpiece was a large metal forge and hammer. The rest of the place was sparse. It had a fridge, a card table. Along one wall was a TV, several chairs and bean bags. A Microwave and a toaster sat on a greasy counter.
"Do you...live here?" Shawn asked her.
"When I do sleep, yeah, it's here," She answered. "I've gotta go clean up. Don't...touch anything...wouldn't want anything happening to that body...Vince would be mighty upset."
Then she winked and went over to the other corner of the place. It had a entirely boxed off cubical, like a large barn inside the walls. He watched as she pressed another keypad, and opened the wide door on it. It slid open, and a white light emanated from it.
He was taken aback. She knew who he was the whole time.
"Didn't think I knew who you were? Oh no baby, I know. I love to watch you grind." Shawn gaped. She was blunt.
Snapping out of it, he wandered around, not touching anything as asked. He finally came to the back wall.
"Holy..." Shawn had seen weapons before. After all, he grew up in Texas, but this was different than his fathers rifles.
The entire wall was filled with swords, knives, throwing stars, and a box filled with razor blades. There had to be at least a hundred swords and knives. All different, made differently, decorated different. A wall of death. There was even a box marked shot. Inside, he pulled out several headless nails. Ammo for the gauntlet. My god.
Shawn backed away from the wall, so far that he accidentally swayed too close to the open door of the cubicle. He almost gasped, but didn't want to give himself away.
The small space was a different world. A large wrought iron bed was set into the corner. It was huge, and obviously handmade. The iron was molded into vines and leaves, intersecting at the top, where white billowing chiffon was wound into the vines, then hung in curtains around it. The whole thing sat on a three step dais. There was a matching chandelier hanging down, with white flowers in ivory holding the lights. Her white dresser stood in the other corner. The only thing on the walls was a metalwork tree of life hanging, backlit in flaming orange and several iron sconces with white candles in them. The walls were white with a black rug, lush and thick. It was a room of art and luxury, hidden inside a dingy outside. Very clever.
The girl in question was coming out of a side room, naked from the waist up. He could only see her from behind, but that was enough. Her skin was tan despite the nightlife, and she was tattooed in ways he certainly could never dream of.
Her back was dominated by a complex woman on a metal cross. Her face was made up with lines and her eyes closed. She had six arms. The first were throw up, and had a crystal ball in one hand, and a pyramid in the other. The second set had a hammer and a chisel in them, followed by the last set. They were crossed near her waist, with two sharp and long knives in them. There was one strap of leather across her pale breasts, and the rest of her was shoved into a metal caccoon, a crown of thorns on her bald head, where fire shot out all the way to her neck. One of her arms had a dragon wrapped around it, but the other...the other side. He watched as she flexed the fingers of her right hand, and they were tattooed all the way up her arm, line after line of strange writing. It covered her shoulder where it stopped, running in different lengths down part of her back. Tribal markings covered the bottom of her back, another set of writings he didn't understand either.
She rolled her head.
"You getting a good enough look back there Shawn?"
He gasped.
"You've known I was there all along?"
"Yeah, figured you were taking a good look at my ink," She turned, and was not at all abashed as she showed her front. Her collarbones, splashed with tribal markings, and a pentagram in the middle. Then there was the sword over her heart, ornate and on fire, flames licking her breasts, tipped with pink nipples, then across her ribs, and down to her navel, where a black sun surrounded the twinkling metal bar.
Thats when he noticed it. Thorny, leaved branches were tattooed out from her eyebrow and around her eye where black blood teardrops dripped from a where the thorns met her skin.
"Whoa..." Shawn breathed. She was beautiful. A living, breathing work of art.
"You see something you like?"
"I...I...I've just never seen someone...you're beautiful." Smith raised her eyebrows.
"C'mere." She ordered. There was something about her voice that brooked no argument. She was in charge, she had the power here.
Shawn found himself face to face with her. Looking into blazing green eyes. She got close, running her hands up his chest and flicking her lounge over his earlobe.
"You couldn't handle me. You wouldn't last two minutes." She laughed softly.
She was mocking him. With eyes made for hunting and hard as steel, she ran her hands down and dug her strong fingers into the soft, sensitive flesh over his hipbones, violently making her point as he winced and squirmed. It hurt, alot. Shot fire into his groin, and he winced, knowing her thumbs were going to make dark bruises.
"Stop it!" He yelped. She let go.
"See." Smith laughed again as she turned to a wall, sliding open a partition where her private armory was. Shawn flipped back his long honey brown hair and said the words that sealed his fate for all eternity.
"Anything you've got, I can handle."
Smith whipped her head around.
"Are you sure of that?" She gave him one last chance to back off, then she was taking him. She'd seen enough on TV of his bravado. His cocky attitude, sex exuding from his body and person as he teased and posed. Inside him was a fire that almost rivaled her own, a light to her dark power. If he wanted to play with her, she'd test every limit he had and then some.
"Y..Y...yeah..." Shawn spluttered.
"One last chance prettyboy."
Shawn knew this was ludicrous. Some women you just didn't mess with, some that held the ability within them to take a man and reduce them to nothing with a few well made gestures. This wasn't Sunny or Sable. This was a warrior, from the real world, forged with pure steel. He backed away from her slowly, but she stalked him into one of the iron bedposts.
"Take off all your clothes, lay on your back on the bed, and put your arms up over your head. But before you do that, pull as much of your hair as possible free. I like it and want to see it. And from this moment on, you'll give yourself to me with no reservations or questions. You are not to move unless I tell you to, and are not to touch me unless I tell you to. Are we clear?"
Shawn took a moment of indecision before he dropped his navy blue blazer on the floor, and pulled off his white shirt. He was just unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants when he noticed she'd also gotten naked.
Her legs were as tattooed as the rest of her. An entire jungle complete with waterfall and animals dominated her left leg, while the other sported tribal designs, and barbed wire wrapped around it, where initials in old English were listed on each barb. People she'd lost. God, she was so unique. He looked into those burning eyes again, and snapped out of his trance. He was totally naked now, in soul as much as in body.
"You're about to take a journey you never thought possible." She promised.
Smith slithered up behind him, and buried her face in his hair, then pushed it aside to breathe in the side of his throat. He heard her contented growl as she inhaled his scent, and almost reached back to try and reciprocate. It was foreign to him to do absolutely nothing when sexual proceedings were taking place. He balled his fists at his side, and bit his lip. He felt a wet streak as she licked down his spine, and fell to her knees behind him.
"God, you have a lovely ass." He blushed. He had no idea why, people told him that all the time, and he was inclined to agree, but the way she said things made him feel like some virgin bride.
She set about licking over the "HBK" above the heart tattoo on his hip, and at this point, he was hard and wanted to take part. It was becoming harder and harder to just stand there. He wanted to put her on her ivory bed and spend hours showing her why they called him The Showstoppa, but he had a feeling she wasn't into that. Especially when felt her bite his ass. She had grabbed him by the hips again and bit into his ass, sucking at the flesh. He cried out. He felt her breath between his cheeks a second before she licked under his balls. He cried out louder.
No, this woman was out to dominate, and he'd already agreed to her terms. He'd been pursued, captured, and hypnotized.
"Get on the bed." Smith ordered.
Shawn obeyed, putting his arms above his head and pulling his hair out from under him. She smirked wickedly, then pounced. standing over him, she grabbed his hands and before he knew it, they were locked in restraints. She did the same to his ankles, and at this point, Shawn panicked a little. What would she do. If he crawled back in with marks all over him, Vince would kill him.
"Don't fret baby, I won't mark you up. As tempting as that is...look at all this soft flesh. But I like you employed."
She smiled, and spread herself over him, burying her hand in his hair, and using it to yank his head to one side, then she buried her face in his neck, threading her fingers through the golden brown silk, and he could feel her getting excited where her cunt met his thigh. He smirked.
"If you let me go, I can get you off." Smith smirked again.
"Oh you will...but on my time."
She dragged herself down his body, licking and sucking his nipples. They got hard and he moaned. Okay, this is good. He closed his eyes.
Smith smiled. She had him just where she wanted him. She got off the bed, and went to her closet. There she withdrew a box. She brought it to the nightstand. Inside lay a box with dials and switches, then several wires, loops, tiny metal rods, and sticky pads. The side said "Tens Unit."
"Now you'll find out why you should never challenge someone creative at the art of flesh." He was about to really protest when she took a hold of his cock roughly. He was hard, so that wasn't a problem as she shoved a metal loop around the base of his cock, and he felt a strip of something smooth against the main vein. He yelped as she fitted another metal loop around the underside of the head. Then she looked up at him, and without warning, shoved a tiny metal rod up his ass. He cried out and looked down, mortified that she would put something in such a private place...and that she would discover his secret.
"Not a virgin are you?" She laughed. "Lemme guess...must be Triple H."
Shawn didn't see any point in lying at this point, so he nodded.
"Makes it easier for me." She shrugged. He cocked his head, she wasn't at all shocked or affected.
She then set about putting sticky pads on his wrists, the insides of his ankles, and on his hipbones. She then hooked up wires to each of the leads, and plugged them into the box. Then Shawn Michaels became aware of himself and his body more than ever.
Leaning over, she kissed him as she turned on the box. Electric pulses went into the nerves at his wrists and ankles, sending waves of pleasurable ache through every nerve in his arms and legs. Then the waves went faster. He moaned loudly.
"Oohhhh yeah...yeah...Ooohhhhhhhyeah..." He whimpered, blue eyes snapped open, head thrown back.
Smith flipped another switch, and the cock rings began to electrify. They sent pleasure screaming through the entire shaft and pre-cum dripped from the head. The she turned up the knob on both and watched Shawn suffer in the best way. He was crying and writhing, his powerful hairy chest tense, the strong muscles of his arms corded like the ones in his thighs.
"SMITH! Oh baby...YEAH...oh YES...yes...more..MORE...Ahhhhh yeah...baby...fuck me...please...I can't...hold it much longer." He couldn't either. His body was on the verge of imploding and exploding all at once. He felt the pulses in his cock cease and groaned in painful disappointment.
"Why did you stop?"
"To do this." She attached pads to her wrists and to the spot right under her bellyring, then plugged in that wire. She straddled him, and took him into her cunt. The wetness surrounded him fast and he almost fainted at how good it felt. Then she reached over to the box, and flipped three switches, returning the pulses to his cock, and now to the rod, pounding against his prostate. He clawed at air as she rode him, screaming out.
"Yeah baby...can you feel that? Life, energy, taking over every nerve." Shawn couldn't agree more.
She reached over and turned all four knobs all the way up.
Now they were joined in the same suffering. Electricity crackled in every part of them. Where she rode him, the places where pleasure lived for both of them pulsated and writhed like living things inside of them. Shawn felt his body from the inside out. He'd felt pain, pleasure, and everything in between before, but never like this. He was aware of every nerve, every muscle as it moved and twitched.
"Fuck yes bitch...god, you're SUCH a hot bitch!" Smith yelled.
At that point, Shawn couldn't deny it. He was her bitch, her submissive, enjoying the sensations only she was providing and only she could bring out.
Smith reached up, and undid his hands. They wouldn't need to be restrained anymore. She had control. He immediately gripped her hips to urge her faster. She complied.
"YES...I'm yours...anything...any fucking thing...FUCK...I'm...I'm..." Shawn could feel his orgasm approaching, but wasn't sure what it would do. He was already in a state of constant pleasure.
"Let it go Shawn." Smith ordered. She leaned down, and bit into his smooth skinned neck.
That was it.
Shawn shook, jerked, squirmed as he screamed loudly and fully at the ceiling, sightlessly reaching his peak and sobbing. he felt it everywhere. This wasn't any orgasm, this was in every cell, every square inch of his body. Lights shot out from behind his eyes, numbed his lips, curled his toes, making him shake, fairly vibrating his orgasm. Semen shot out inside her, painfully exiting his oversensitive body.
"AAAAAHHHHHH!!" Shawn let out one final scream before he promptly overloaded and fainted.
Smith laughed out her triumph over the great HBK before her own orgasm overtook her. She scratched his ass and exploded, braying to the sky. She let her chin fall to her chest before pulling the plug on the machine. The pulses faded, and all that was left was one WWF star passed out, and one smirking street warrior very pleased with herself.
'They all think they know...in the end, they don't have one red clue.'
xBx
Shawn came awake a few hours later. He was puzzled as to where he was until pleasurable aftershocks wracked his body. He snuggled into the sheets as he remembered. Oh yeah...
Smith was gone. But he could hear noises that sounded like heavy metal and grinding. He pulled the sheet up and tried to stand. Oh, a little unsteady there. He laughed. Whoa, that had been...well, he had no words for it. She'd taken his soul in those moments. It was the rush of the ring and the sharp pleasure of the bedroom. She had a gift. Art of the flesh. Whoa...no shit.
He ventured out into the main room. She was over by her forge. She was wearing goggles, a dirty tank top, gloves, and her entire body was covered in sweat. Music blared and sparks flew as she hammered a sword into place. Sleek muscles moved and rippled as she hit her mark over and over again, Like a...oh...BlackSMITH. He chuckled. It made perfect sense.
The sword hissed as she put it into the water. A fire blazed behind her. It would've looked great on a titantron. But this was different, this was real. She was really doing it. He stood, mesmerized by her hammering and movements. If she loved to watch him grind, then he decided he liked to watch her forge.
Smith looked up, and turned the fire out. She rose her goggles.
"You're awake. Good. We gotta get you back." She pulled out a cigarette out of the drawer, and lit it with a blowtorch.
Shawn hesitated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to never see her again. Smith looked at the pensive gaze in his blue green eyes. God, he could pout like noones business.
"Shawn...we can't. I can't leave the area, and you can't stay here."
"Were gonna be in the New England area for a few weeks. I just ask for those."
"You'll always be my submissive...I won't treat you as anything but in the time were together."
"God, I hope not."
Smith smirked, hell, why not? A new pet for a few weeks. And he was such a good one. She crooked her finger, and he came to her. She grabbed his head and watched as the white sheet fell to the ground. It took everything she had not to start laughing. One of the most masculine and flamboyant WWF superstar was now her toy. Never let it be said that being Devon "The Blacksmith" St. James was a bad thing. The cops might disagree, but she really didn't give a shit. She licked her way down Shawns neck and chuckled to herself. It was a damn good day.
Three Weeks Later
"Gotta go...she's waiting." Shawn told Hunter and Chyna, who thought he was nuts to date Smith.
Vince had nearly thrown a fit when Shawn had let it slip that the whole time he was gone he was with a woman who had a record. Turned out, The Blacksmith was a alleged arms dealer, but the cops couldn't pin anything on her. But Shawn wouldn't relent, saying that until she was actually arrested, she was just a woman...one who'd saved his valuable ass. Of course, the first meeting of the minds between the two hadn't gone well, not with Smiths fierce tone and weapons she carried. Hell, she scared Chyna.
Finally they all just gave up, not knowing what this girl had over him, but he was happy. And a happy Shawn made for a better work environment. They all had to admit, Shawn was a little easier to deal with. Something about Smith always made him different. He melted into her. Hunter had even witnessed them once in Shawns lockeroom, leaning against Smith, with her threading her deadly claws through his hair, his eyes closed. He was fairly purring. She almost had taken a protective stance, whispering in his ear, making him smile.
Shawn, Hunter and Chyna all walked to the back door, opening it and into the parking lot. The dimly lit place reminded Shawn of were he had met Smith in the first place.
A bright light went on, catching all of their attentions. It was the lights of Smiths bike. She was leaning against the beast with her trench coat draped over the seat behind her. Her black tank top clung to her toned curves, and lay over her baggy jeans. A small knife was strapped to her arm, her gauntlet in full view. She flipped open a Zippo and lit a smoke, crossing her legs at the ankle, the perfect look of a calmed predator.
She lowered her sunglasses, and her sharp green eyes peered over.
"You done bitch?"
Shawn actually melted. When she called him that, he knew he was in for a wild night. He turned to the shocked faces of his fellow degenerates and laughed, snapping his gum cockily as he turned to Smith.
"Yup."
"Good. Get on. I'm tired of this shitty place."
Shawn nodded. Smith threw the cigarette down and stomped it out with her shitkicker, before whipping on her trench coat, and climbing on the bike. Her clawed hand revved the engine, and she smirked with her black lips at the others as Shawn climbed on behind her. She actually winked at them before shoving her glasses back up, and squealing the tires on the blacktop, roaring the bikes considerable engine, popping a small wheelie and shooting out the small parking lot wall, landing on the streets beyond.
The future was like a black highway a night, neither knew where life would take them, but for that moment, for these reckless moments, Shawn felt like he was flying...on wings. Dark, scabbed wings.
"He is the angel with the scabbed wings, is what he is, he does what he pleases the things that he has you'll never want to see, what you're never gonna be now."
Angel With the Scabbed Wings - Marilyn Manson (Anti-Christ Superstar) 1996