Harem Scare ‘em

Placards and signs were banged on the windows of the car as it passed.

‘Down with Monsieur Bleu,’ yelled a protester, before being fatally restrained by a BSD guard.

‘Madame Pink Lives,’ yelled another.

Panix seemed cheerful, humming to himself. Donnie turned aside with disgust; Only Colin could hum out of key.

They arrived at the party and Donnie made sure he walked down the red carpet alone. He spun on a heel and grinned at the snapping paparazzi as they called his name.

Fame was okay, he supposed.

His balloon was shot down in an inferno as Panix called out for him. Donnie’s pained expression would definitely make the home page of the news sites.

Just beyond the flashing lights he made-out a group of black-clad individuals watching him intently, their pale white features a stark contrast against their clothing. One lit a cigarette with a flourish and a silvery Zippo lighter.

Before Donnie could call out to them, wave or perhaps even stamp over to have a word, Panix caught his elbow and steered him into the party.

‘Sorry folks,’ Donnie called, waving over a shoulder. ‘Duty calls!’