The chubby man lurched forward, his sodden shoes squeaking in protest as rain pummeled him with relentless ferocity.
Water blinded his eyes, stinging like acid, as a maelstrom of wind hurled him sideways.
He clung to his hat, fingers white-knuckled, as the tempest threatened to strip it from his scalp.
Trash cans careened wildly, clattering against buildings like mad drums, while debris swirled around him like a living thing.
The man stumbled, his breath ragged, as he yanked open the bar's door and tumbled inside.
The wind's deafening roar echoed through the doorway like a beast's fury.
Inside, the dimly lit atmosphere enveloped him, a welcome respite from the chaos outside.
He shook off the excess water, droplets flying in all directions.
On the TV, a poised female news reporter clung to the open door of a helicopter, her long blonde hair whipping wildly in the wind as she spoke with a serious tone.
The helicopter lurched violently, and she grasped the doorframe tightly, her knuckles white.
"We're experiencing extreme turbulence here," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around her.
"The winds are strong enough to carry cars, and we're struggling to maintain our position."
The man's eyes widened as he watched, his own ordeal momentarily forgotten in the face of the reporter's bravery.
A disheveled figure stumbled in, pale and bloody, his brown hair matted, and his chubby face etched with exhaustion.
He panted heavily, drawing brief glances before the patrons returned to their conversations or the news.
The man called Frank, sat at the counter, eyes fixed on the TV, and greeted the bartender with a nod.
"Pretty hectic day today, isn't it?" I said, my voice laced with amusement.
The bartender, Sharon, smiled politely, her unique perfume—a blend of lavender with a hint of booze—wafting towards me.
"You're like the 9th person to come in like that, so the shock's died down and hows the media house treating you," Sharon replied, raising an eyebrow.
I chuckled and ordered my usual, "It's alright so far hey can you give me the Devil's Shot, Sharon."
"That's unusual, Frank, and are you sure?" Sharon asked, her eyebrow arched higher.
I nodded, "Of course, I can, and today of all days is suited for it."
"That'll be 25 bucks, Frank," Sharon said with a smile.
As Sharon squatted to retrieve the Devil's Shot from the cabinet, I couldn't help but sneak a glance from the corner of my eye.
Her long legs and pink lips were a sight to behold, and I felt a familiar flutter in my chest.
I admired the view, my eyes lingering on her curves before snapping back to the TV.
Sharon grabbed the bottle and poured a shot into a glass.
I downed it in one go, feeling the liquid burn as it slid down my throat.
The warmth spread through my chest, and I let out a satisfied sigh.
"Another one, Frank?" Sharon asked, her voice polite but with a hint of amusement.
I grinned, "You know it, Sharon. Keep 'em coming."
Sharon raised an eyebrow but poured me another shot.
As I sipped my drink, I continued to watch the news, my eyes occasionally drifting to Sharon as she worked her magic behind the counter.
She was a gem, and I was lucky to have her serving me.
The contrast between us was stark – I was an average, annoying pervert and drunk, while Sharon was conservative, open-minded, and polite.
But despite our differences, we had a good rapport, and I enjoyed her company.
The night, and the bar grew more crowded, but I was content in my spot, sipping my drinks and enjoying Sharon's company.
The TV continued to blare in the background, but I was focused on the present moment, the drinks, and the bartender.
Sharon's perfume lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of her presence.
I glanced at her, my eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before she looked away, a hint of a smile on her lips.
I chuckled to myself, feeling a sense of familiarity and comfort in this place, with this woman.
The Devil's Shot was working its magic, and I felt my worries slipping away, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling.
I leaned back in my stool, eyes fixed on Sharon as she expertly juggled multiple conversations and drink orders.
She was a pro, and I was just a happy customer, enjoying the ride.
As the night wore on, I'd continue to drink, chat with Sharon, and enjoy the atmosphere of the bar.
The news would fade into the background, replaced by the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses.
And I'd be right at home, with Sharon by my side, serving me drinks and keeping me company.
Frank scanned the room, his eyes lingering on the patrons engrossed in conversations.
"Hey, Sharon, why isn't anyone freaking out?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
Sharon, polishing a glass with a white cloth, raised an eyebrow.
"Why am I not surprised you didn't notice?" she replied with a hint of amusement.
"Our local clan next door is receiving another main heir today," she explained, her voice low.
Frank's eyes widened in surprise.
"Another one?! Isn't this like the 10th one so far?"
Sharon nodded, "Actually, it's the 13th."
Frank whistled softly, shaking his head.
He gestured to Sharon for another Devil's Shot, which she poured without hesitation.
"Of all days to be born," Frank muttered, glancing out the window.
The storm raging outside seemed to be intensifying, with flashes of lightning illuminating the dark sky.
"Have you seen what it's like outside? I almost didn't make it in alive."
Sharon's expression turned serious.
"Maybe it's an omen of the child."
Frank snorted, downing his shot.
"That an omen? It looks like hell is on us."
The storm did seem ominous, but Sharon's words hinted at something more sinister.
The patrons' calm demeanor made sense now – they weren't discussing the storm, which had even the exorcists worried.
Something far more terrifying was unfolding: the Blood Witch was bringing another monster into the world.
According to Sharon, this kid would be a formidable creature, possibly one of the Blood Witch's notorious offspring, known for their supernatural abilities and dark powers.
The room seemed to grow darker, as if the shadows themselves were listening to Frank's conversation with Sharon.
The air was thick with anticipation, and Frank couldn't help but wonder
what kind of monster would be born on a night like this.