Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respected owners. The original characters and plots are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Therefore, I do not own the Lost Boys.

I'm taking my time with this one so updates may be slow. I apologize and thank you for reading. Reviews are loved!

'Late at night after work before I met David, I'd take my bike down to the beach and just ride. I suppose that's where they first saw me, my back tires spitting sand. The moon would be high and there was nothing between freedom and myself as the ocean air hit my face. I would yell out wildly as I waved one hand through the air. I only thought the night was mine…I write this now because the memory is fading.' -Marko

One human memory that haunts me, maybe because it was so close to my time of change, was the night I decided to work the late shift. At the time there were four of us in a small repair shop right in town. It looked more like a chop shop because there were old, rusty, used and broken down cars in the parking lot and always one or more inside, but most of the time our customers brought us bikes, motorcycles that sort of thing. Sometimes there was an occasional classic Cadillac Eldorado the other guys would drool over, but nothing I was ever impressed with. I liked the bikes, the timeless Triumphs. We didn't see too many of those.

Some people referred to us as the greasers of Santa Carla, even though I had only lived there for about half the year, and when I wasn't working on motors I was drawing. Mostly detailing for the Harley's that came in. A few skulls here and there, maybe some pinstripes for a hot rod or two; it was a weak ambition, hoping that I'd get into some big time decal shop and take over with my designs. What can I say? I'm good with a pencil.

Which is why I took the later shift that day. My friends, Marty and Todd both had dates that night, so Spencer and I took the afternoon work. I figured by six thirty things would have died down, the perfect opportunity for me to sketch out a few ideas I had brewing. By seven we were still working and by eight it was time for a break.

I pulled on my denim jacket while Spencer fished for a smoke from the sleeve of his shirt. He always walked around with them rolled up like that right on his shoulder, and asked me if I wanted one, which I accepted. I wasn't a real smoker like the others unless weed was involved, but sometimes the mood was right. We also found a few stray pennies for a good toss in the ole' tin can while leaning against the back of one of the cars we had been working on. Spencer went first, but missed by a mile. Out of the four of us, he was the odd ball and always the easiest for us to pull pranks on because he never expected it. We could have done ten different things to him in one week and each time he would be surprised. And the guys were always making fun of his hat. It looked more like a sardine can sitting right on top of his head while the bill stuck straight out and tipped up. It gave him all the more personality, and despite the oddities, he was the one I felt I could confide in the most because of his easygoing attitude.

"You going out tomorrow night?" he asked. "I heard there's a big party going on over on Hudson's Bluff."

I tapped the cigarette and readied my coin. "Are you going?"

He drew in a smoke and let it out through puckered lips hoping for an o-ring but instead it came out in a big white hunk of cloud. "Thought about it. Lots of girlies going to be there I heard. And hell, if I don't get laid this century, I really will be the wet end of Santa Carla."

I let a chuckle slip. The guy really didn't have it all together when it came to women. First he would stutter his words and then slobber all over them while groping in all the wrong places. "Charm," I said silencing the laughter. "You have to have charm. Play it cool and pretend like your only half interested, then they'll come crawling all over your dock."

He looked me up and down and flicked his cigarette away in disgust. "Charm? Shit man, I've got more than charm."

Neither of us was really paying attention to our surroundings and the next thing I knew there were two guys walking around in the shop behind us. "Hey," I said, looking back at them, elbowing the air to get Spencer's attention. "Customers." It was odd to have anyone come looking for anything this time of night, but there were occasions when it happened.

I watched them curiously for a second and then realized it was the two guys we had met from the Boardwalk about a week before, strictly by accident or so I thought. The four of us had just happened to have the night off that evening and decided to have a little fun with the games in the arcade. I was busy shooting at a clown's head with a water gun when Spencer tapped me on the shoulder.

"Hey, did you check out those guys' bikes there against the railing?" He knew how much I was into them and always made it a point to tell me when he thought he had run across something worth telling about.

"Huh uh," I mumbled without looking at him. I was too busy concentrating on the dam hole in the clowns face to really care about anything at the moment, and we'd had a good amount of weed smoked by the time the games had actually gotten good.

"No seriously, you should really check them out. Those bad boys must really hall ass across the sand." I had finally made my target and had the balloon going as high as a kite when he absently tugged at my arm again which made the line of water disengage and go the opposite direction.

"Gah, dam it! Spencer, can't this wait?" I turned with a frown to look at him, my hands up in the air and then I noticed them. One was an older version of a Triumph, a real collectible and the other a dirt bike of sorts, rebuilt and somewhat similar to a Harley. I assumed that the owners were standing on the other side against the railing, smoking and watching the crowd down on the beach. "All is forgiven," I told Spencer and mindlessly moved towards them in awe. There were at least a half a dozen people inbetween the guys at the rail and myself, but as soon as those words left my mouth the two of them turned around and locked their gaze on me. It was fucking awkward to say the least. Unless they had been telepathic, I thought at the time, there's no way they could have heard me.

The one with the cool blonde, slightly spiked hair, dressed like a rock & roll desperado. He smiled knowingly, and the other, Native American looking, nodded in greeting but kept a straight face. I kept moving forward until Todd knocked right into me. "Marko, my man, you have got to come check this out!" he screeched.

I pushed him backwards more than slightly irritated. "Watch it asshole! You smoke too dam much." Then I gave him a droopy eyed, cocky smile because I was just as high. The problem with that being that my focus at any given point could only remain on one thing, and when that one thing was disrupted all hell broke loose, so I took a breath. "You can see I'm doing something can't you?"

Todd had already brushed off the insult. "You have got to come with us my friend. They have booths…booths surrounded by hot chicks, and if any of us has a chance at getting in their pants, it's you. The innocent faced smart ass!"

I chuckled, flipped him off and turned back to the bikes but they were no longer there and neither were their possessors. "Dam," I mumbled, looking down for a second. My passion for anything with two wheels and handlebars went beyond girls at that point in time, but with the object of my desire missing in action what else was there to do? I smiled and put an arm over Todd's shoulders. "Well then, chicks it is. Lead the way."

About a half hour later the four of us stood at the booths playing darts, each of us with a girl ogling our looks. If we were lucky, we'd all get tail at the end of the night, even though I don't think any of us were looking for something serious at the time. I wanted to make something of myself first if I could, preferably with my designs.

I threw my first dart and hit the backboard. "Come on Marko," one of the girls smiled, leaning in over my shoulders to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Get the bulls eye and I'll let you do what ever you want with me tonight."

"You sure about that," I asked, a little sideways smile in her direction. It's always good to keep them guessing and never let them fully know what's on your mind in the beginning. That way, they're always interested. I cocked an eyebrow as I steadied my hand and focused; second throw was a dead hit. "I'll take the small pink bear for my friend here," I told the guy behind the booth, looking cockeyed at the girl. "You like pink bears don't you?"

"You still have one more hit," the man said in a tone that made it sound like I had no other choice but to play again.

"No thanks, I'll take the bear," I replied with a full grin.

"Are you def boy? You have to throw all three in order to win!"

"What the fuck old man," Todd broke in, stepping slightly in front of us. "The sign says you make the target you win. What the hell does it matter if he has another throw or not? He paid for the darts and he can do what he wants with them. Now give him the dam bear!"

Marty and Spencer stood back dumbfounded. To them a fight over a bear wasn't worth it, especially when they had chicks sucking on their necks.

"Look sunny, this is my booth and what I say goes!" The old geezer was so red with anger that he had beads of sweat running down his face while the hairs inside his nose stuck straight out. Maybe he had had too many punk teenagers rip him off, I wasn't sure, but I knew that if I really wanted to buy this girl a cheap stuffed animal all I had to do was run down the local store and get one, probably for even less than what I paid for the darts to play the game. I was about to tell Todd to back off when the two guys from the arcade appeared from the crowd.

"Well, well, what do we have here? You making trouble again old man?" The blonde one asked.

"I thought I told you two to stay away from me!" he snarled, pointing a bony finger at the two new arrivals. "I'll call security!"

"Are you really going to involve Big Ed in this? You know, it's not very polite to keep a prize from a lady," the native looking one responded. "Especially if he won it fair and square."

I noticed the two of them close in on the man as they talked with their eyes locked on his, a lot like wolves moving in on a kill. A second later they had him backed into the corner of his booth without saying another word, and a few moments later the guy stepped through them with a complete blank stare on his face. "Go ahead and take whatever you want," he told us hoarsely.

I glared at the two strangers with contempt. Who said I needed their help to bully an old man?

The blonde smiled and refrained from laughing like he could read my mind. "The old man is being polite for a change, I suggest you take him up on the offer. Here…" He stepped back and pulled three sparkly, rubber dangly things from the prize area and handed them to me. "A true prize for a true biker."

I folded my arms and refused the gift.

"Hell I'll take them," Spencer said, dashing forward to take the objects out of the guy's hands. The blonde looked slightly irritated by this move but kept his demanding smile and the other laughed.

"Maybe next time," he said and handed the bear to the girl that I was with. She looked up at him with wide dough eyes, gave him a lustful thank you and that's when I knew my one night affair had been blown. Still, something in the eerie way that he moved kept me from throwing a punch.

Seeing them again in our shop on this night was a hard knock to the balls after feeling so foolish and incapable of handling my own affairs. They circled the place and came straight over. The superior blonde inspected the both of us with his icy blue eyes and then smirked.

I swallowed, keeping my cool even though there was something about this guy that made me want to either kill him or get as far away as possible, and not because I mostly despised him. "Can we help you with something?"

My lack of interest must have shown because he didn't say anything. Instead, he looked back at his friend, who this time around held a dark scowl, and wore a black shirt and leather jacket. In fact that's probably one of the only times I ever saw him with a shirt on. His impertinent stare made me think he would leap and scalp us at any second but when he spoke the words came out friendly. "I need a new set of brakes. You know some of them seem to last forever but these babies are fried."

I looked over at Spencer, who for some reason was shaking in his shoes and his newly produced cigarette dangled from his bottom lip. Then it finally dawned on me what was different about these guys. They acted more like predators than patrons. "We don't have any in, but I can place an order. Should be in by the end of the week. If you wana come into the office I can fill out the paper work." I dropped my cigarette and put it out with the toe of my ked without looking away from them and then turned to lead them into the main part of the building.

"I'll just need the make and year of your bike," I told him, sliding the papers across the counter of the desk with a pen so he could fill them out.

"You like skulls Marko?" The blonde one asked. I could understand why Spencer waited outside. Forget the penetrating stare, this guys words alone were overbearing and his question caught me off guard.

"Excuse me?" I asked, rubbing my earlobe unsurely. None of us bothered to wear our nametags when the owner wasn't around, so I wondered how he new my name, but I had to think back for a minute to make sure I hadn't introduced myself.

He didn't repeat the question, just held up a piece of sketch paper that was sitting at the

end of the table across the room; one that I was working on. It had several different designs on it; all of skulls and at the bottom was my signature. I tried to conceal a light breath of relief. "Ya, they symbolize more than just death. Some cultures believe they mean rebirth."

"In more ways than one," he replied smoothly, joining his friend behind the counter. I stood my ground, forcing myself to look at them not really knowing why I felt the need to do this, so far they had been polite and knew exactly what they wanted just like any other customer, but there was something about them that said beware.

"You have a bike?" he asked.

"Ya. But she's out of commission at the moment. Just needs a few more parts put into place."

"I could help you with that," the other guy said.

I shook my head and turned back to the papers, mostly to get my head out of the fuzz I felt it in. When these guys talked, it was resonant almost hypnotic. I had to laugh at that, a little inside joke to myself. Knowing Spencer, he had probably slipped me something to smoke that had been laced. There was no other explanation. Human voices weren't capable of that sort of thing.

"Is there something funny about that?"

"What?" I looked up, quickly remembering he had just made me an offer. "No, sorry. We have to take payment up front for all parts and services. Thanks for offering."

Just as soon as I had said that, the guy produced a handful of bills and set them on the counter in the exact amount the parts would cost him. Now I was beginning to doubt myself because I knew I hadn't given him the price.

"No hard feelings huh?" the blonde whispered, before they both turned to exit the store. "You know where Hudson's Bluff is? There's a big party out there tomorrow night. You should come. We can talk shop and see about fixing that bike of yours."

I watched them leave with a straight face. Was it just coincidence that they knew about the party or had they heard us talking as they approached? Then again if it were as big a party as the boys let on, most of the town would have known about it. Even still, a strange anger began to boil in me as they walked past my friend causing him to cower against the trunk of the car, so I ran out to him.

"Hey, were those cigs laced?"

Spencer seemed lost. He scooted away as the domineering guy stopped and turned back in our direction. "Your friend can't handle his weed."

I stood my ground again, even though this guy was a good foot or so taller than me, and I looked him right in the eyes. "Just cigarettes, that's all we have. Did I…you forget something?"

"Just wanted to make sure everything was ok, and I forgot to introduce myself. Name's David." He offered me a hand and I shook it.

"Marko, as you guessed."

He nodded. "That's Dwayne. We'll see you at the party? Dwayne is an expert when it comes to putting bikes together. You wouldn't want to miss an opportunity like that."

"We'll see. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Again, thanks for the offer." He nodded again with a smile and headed out.

"Son of a bitch," I cursed, catching a breath and went to see if Spencer had come out of his panicked state yet. To my surprise, he stood at the hood of the car inspecting the motor like nothing had happened. "What the hell were we smoking?"

The right corner of his mouth turned up into a smile. "What are you talking about? They're just cigarettes man."

"Bullshit. You were standing out there almost crying like a baby. Hell I thought you might have pissed your pants."

"Ok Marko, ha ha. Don't even think you can play with me without the other guys around ok. It's not funny. You know I've been under this hood for the last three hours straight, so can we just get this done?"

"We just took a break," I argued as calmly as I could. "You don't remember the two customers we just had? The guys from the Boardwalk, one bleach blonde, one dark?"

He laughed sarcastically. "I think you're the one who's been smoking something."

I was pissed. I had to turn and walk away or I'd lose my cool, so I went back into the office and picked up the drawing. One of the skulls matched one of the patches on my jacket. I had three total, but my plan was to collect more in time and have them all sown on. Then I looked at my signature. It was one I had done in a hurry and the name was scribbled, unreadable. What the hell was going on?