A Pimp Name Horus

Slipping on the plain white tee that a mafioso had thrown at you on Belle's command, you emerged with her into the Club.

People danced, a tribal feeling resonating through you as your eyes were drawn to the Stage, where Belle also looked with confusion.

Atop the stage, microphone in hand, was a man of medium height, his gold-laced blazer gleaming in the low light, his DIOR sunglasses reflecting the red and azure lights as a woman spun at the DJ's table, the man's long dreadlocks whipping under his wide low-cap black hat as He spat into the Mic, arising the crowd below into a flurry of dance.

"Miss me with that bullshit"

He cried, the crowd calling in response, their voice booming ("BULSHIT!!")

"You ain't really wild, you a tourist (a tourist)"

His dark eyes turned to you and he brandished a hyena-like smile line with gold.

"I be blackin' out with the purist (the purist)"

He gave you a wink

_"...I made a hundred thou' then I freaked it (I freaked it)
I made 500 thou' then I freaked it (I freaked it)
I bought a '87 for the weekend (the weekend)
...This ain't what you want, this ain't what you want (what you want)
This ain't what you want, this ain't what you want (what you want)"_The Kendrick Lamar song made your chest thump, your feet stomp with the others in reverence of this man who smoothly tossed the mic to the DJ, who continued the bet, his voice and stance 10000 times weaker than the dude who seemed to be almost carried by the crowd towards the dancefloor, his golden form sliding smooth towards the bar, where two very... ill-dressed ladies, in their skin-tight golden bikinis and the tall Egyptian themed headdresses that jutted out from their hairs.

Belle stirred angrily "What....?" She whispered, looking to Diana and Daisy up in the VIP area who also seemed distressed at the presence of this man

You went to move towards him and Belle grabbed your arm tight "Master... don't."

raising an eyebrow, you gently took her hand off of you "That guy. He's something else... I have to meet him."

Belle tried to protest but you had already cut through the crowd towards him. The Man with the dark skin seemed to draw you in with a deep curiosity, him speaking to practically naked ladies beside him. Shaking your head slightly as you got to the bar, you received a deep feeling of unease as you waved Velka for another Drink.

Leaning on the bar and wondering why the fuck you would just walk up to a guy to talk to him, you sipped at your drink.

A Lady, ugly and brown of hair got knocked by the man in gold, and another bumped into a fat necked bitch beside her... and then she bumped into a Pale dude, who knocked right into your side, nearly spilling something on you, the man grimaced, his Drake tattoo shining on his backhand "S-Sorry Mr Drake" He whispered as He scuttled off.

You gave the man a strange look as He scuttled off.

"No good Brudda knocks a man and remains conscious where I'm from, homie."

You turned to the source of the deep voice and slinked back to see the man wearing a gold blazer beside you, flashing his golden grilled teeth that gleamed in the light of the club. the man wore many items of pure gold, necklaces, rings, so much so that you weren't sure how much of it was real, but by the make of his Blazer (His bare chest visible underneath) and his long flared mahogany trousers, paired with the shining midnight boots, gave you an impression of real wealth. He looked no older than 30, but his eyes had deep bags under them, sprinkled with freckles that you couldn't ever recall seeing on a Black man beyond Morgan Freeman.

His jaw was angular and gaunt, with a sharply cut field of black stubble on his face, His eyes where a Piercing green like a crisp dollar bill and his long thin dreads were tied into a neat ponytail under his wide-brimmed hat.

"Ummm..." You said uncertainly.

The Man shrugged "This place is Fine as a Summer wine, My Brudda, I got to say. You own it?"

You chuckled "Me? No... My uh... friend owns it."

His face twisted into a deep grin at your words "I don't suppose this Friend is a fine honey by the name of Isabelle "The Queen Bee" Harlow is it?"

You stared at him Inquisitively, trying to figure out what he was all about, though you found nothing, in either his face, his movements, or his strange accent that seemed Simeltenously to be African, Jamaican and a little African American all at the same time.

"I feel disinclined to say." He grinned at your answer, nodding to himself.

"Well say or not, I believe that we will make fast friends... Mr Drake, we have a lot in common you and I."

Face twisting with confusion, you beheld the dark-skinned man "Enough to name me without knowing me, or me knowing you?"

Removing his broad hat, He bowed deeply and spoke in an official down "Ah, My bad. My name is Fawkes. But you can Call Me A Pimp Named Horus..."

You raised an eyebrow "Nice to meet you Horus, But-"

He grimaced "No that's, a Pimp Named Horus."

You returned his grimace with more confusion "That's what I said, Horus?"

"No... No. it's a Pimp named Horus, like a Tribe called quest you say the whole thang. A Pimp named Horus"

Rubbing your temples, Belle pulled up beside you as You responded: "Can't I call you Horus for short?"

The Man slammed his fist on the bar in annoyance "NO... NIGGA I'M A PIMP NAMED HORUS!?"

Turning to Belle who stared at the Man quizzically you whispered "Belle, who is this person."

The Man's nostrils flared as He growled "NIGGA ARE YOU DEAF? I'M A PIMPED NAMED HORU- You know what, nevermind, Fawkes is cool..."

Unsure of just what to say, your eyes caught the attention to one of the Near-nude women that strutted towards You and this... Fawkes guy.

She was scantily clad, in a gold bikini like her fellow... ladies, though the headdress that she wore displayed a tall hissing snake, her dummy-thicc meaty things glistening in the light, her short-form barely complimenting her unconditionally heavy breasts that stretched out her glistening Bra... she was black as midnight and her crimson coloured eyes scowled angrily at Fawkes and you, sending a shiver down your spine as she puckered her round dark glossed lips.

Fawkes scowled right back with his skinny face "Sheba? The fuck you doin' here bitch, I told ya to stay outside you lips dicked motherfuckah... I'm sorry Mr Drake this is my Bottom-bitch named Sheba, you don't have to say the whole thang but... Bitch? the fuck you doing here?"

Mouth agape at the way this man spoke to the woman, though.. you did suppose that He was... a Pimp... named Horus.

Sheba seemed to freeze for a moment, an entirely innocent coming over her face as she -- "KISS MY ASS YOU LITTLE DICK-FAGGOT MOTHERFUCKAH, IF YOU WAS ANY KINDA REAL MAN, I WOULDN'T BE IN THIS SHIT-HOUSE ANYWAY..."

You froze, but Fawkes took a deep breath, his other... Bitches lowering their heads as she pressed his hands together in prayer "Let us pray the Pimp's prayer: Lawd. Please pray for the black soul of this Bitch, and guide my pimp hand--and MAKE IT STRONG LAWD, so that she might learn a Hoes place. Amen."

His hand raised, rippling with hidden muscle, ready to clap Sheba right in her cheek, but before the blow could land, a hand caught it. Your hand.

Fawke's head turned, to look at your surprised face, you didn't even know why you grabbed him but. Fawkes grinned.

"You got a problem with me punishing my Bottom Bitch, Mr Drake?" He asked lowly.

"Ladies Safety First." You found yourself saying, your face scowling at the man. But Fawkes merely chuckled, chuckled in his low, hyena tone as He showed the ladies away, the group, including Sheba, who obediently turned tail, leave without a single complaint.