#idk i just felt like going Ham about blind wolf

[kryetara]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓.     𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬.  𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧  𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠  ��𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭,  𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 ;    𝙱𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝚆𝙾𝙻𝙵.       you’ve never set foot inside before,  as it usually emits quite the  intimidating  aura ;  this time the dare is set.  you’re pulled in before you’ve the words to protest.  as soon as you make entry through the narrow,  glossy black and peeling door frame,  you realise it’s not the  glaring bouncers  lurking at the entrance that cause such unrest.  it’s the pair of watchful men that share a couple of old leather sofa’s tucked into the furthest corner of the bar,  both nursing glasses of liquor,  that well up such an  atmosphere.   you can’t exactly make our their expressions,  nor their features ;  but you’re more than aware  they’re watching you.            //            a dissection of the infamous blind wolf bar.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅   is a small bar / nightclub located on postway mews,  ilford.  the street is a one way affair just wide enough for a car or taxi to slip through,  with scratched double yellow lines on the concrete,  doorways to the backs of houses and shops,   litter perpetually dusting up the corners where the road meets brick wall.  there are no spaces for parking,  save for two small slots for the owners,  and the outside of the bar is painted a dark grey,  with usually one or two bouncers posted at the entry.  they have no identification,  and don’t seem to be wearing any official representation of formal training.  at the small hours of the night that break into morning,  there is usually a small crowd gathered outside with plumes of smoke coiling about them,  and the music is played loud enough to mark presence a number of streets away.

once inside the doorway,  you will find that the blind wolf was once a well loved,  well respected,  tucked away club,  but has gone uncared for for a number of years.  the floors,  walls,  ceiling,  almost all the furniture,  is the same shade of dark coal grey that the outside is painted in,  and it has no homely feel to it whatsoever ;  strips of cyan blue neon lighting attached to all the corners of the ceiling.  the bar itself is wide and tall,  and windows to the outside world are layered up so well that even during daylight,�� hardly a scrap of sun breaks through.  the centre of the room is a glittering but tired dance floor,  and set up in the corners are tables,  chairs,  and a number of weathered booths.  in the far right hand side of the room sits a long,  l shaped bar,  again painted charcoal grey,  and lit with cyan neon.  the choice of drinks is fairly extensive,  but nothing is immediately accessible ;  the catwalk of the bar is usually empty,  save for the tall pumps,  as the crowd that frequents the place is the sort of crowd to knock things off and break them.  a strip of glasses line the ceiling,  but are coated visibly with a layer of dust,  ironically shown up by the strip lights above.  behind the centre of the bar is another neon sign,  reading  ‘  𝙷𝙾𝚆𝙻 !  ’.   the room is littered here and there with scratched beer mats,  shards of broken glass, and standing in one place for too long will cause the soles of your shoes to become temporarily stuck to the sticky black tile floor as a result of spilled drinks left uncleaned.  the carpet around the corners isn’t much better ;  again,  dark grey,  but home to unending amounts of stains.

looking to the far left of the room,  you will find two small,  two person black leather sofas,  a low,  glass coffee table,  and a large black leather armchair.  this part of the room is elevated,  one step above the rest,  and has black wooden fencing ;  this section is off limits for the general public,  and is the throne of the club’s owner,   𝙺𝙴𝙻 𝙼𝙴𝙷𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙸,   where he sits with others of the albanian clan mehmeti.  most evenings the spot is home to a simple pair of them,  usually kel and murrat,  but is the hub for them all ;  patrons of the bar must fear when all mehmeti siblings are in the nest,  for their beady eyes are always watching.  many approach this exclusive corner,  many are then led out the back through a doorway beside the bar by one of the family,  many dealings of all forms are to be had here. when the corner is empty,  and no mehmeti is present that night,  the walls can breathe a sigh of relief.  but these times are short lived.

the doorway to the back of the bar is small,  and adjacent is a set of creaking wooden stairs.  ascending one flight and you will find a number of ominous bedrooms ;  one more flight,  and you will come across a white wooden door with a lock.  beyond this door is a small box sized room,  with one tall window,  a desk,  chair,  and most importantly,  a safe.  the space is largely empty of personal effects,  but evidence presents itself that one  𝙸𝚁𝙰 𝙳𝚄𝙽𝙷𝙰𝙼   frequents the room ;  one of his coats draped over the seat,  a green plastic lighter in a small dish by a computer screen.  this room is off limits to all bar the mehmeti’s,  and their money-man.

directly behind the bar through the back doorway sits a larger office,  with a desk,  sofa,  bookshelves,  and many sets of drawers.  there are no windows in this room,  and the door again sports an ominous lock ;  it feels as though it’s removed from the rest of the place,  as though entry will plunge you into a different part of the world ;  it feels just as much an interrogation room as it does a workspace.  it is lit by a hanging bulb in the centre,  and has old,  oak furniture,�� that perhaps give glimpses as to what the place used to look like before the mehmeti’s bought it out ;  perhaps at one stage just a simple local pub.

the blind wolf has an infamous reputation among the locals for being a  ‘rowdy’  place,  unsettling at best ;  often on the radar of police,  who creep past in the small of evenings almost daily,  tipped off once or twice at unsavoury behaviour.  the mehmeti’s are good at covering their tracks,  however,  and as of yet the only one of the family with a criminal record is kutjim,  sentenced to comitting abh a number of years ago.  as a result,  kutjim spends the most amount of time away from the bar,  so as to try to minimize suspicion.  fights break out a startling amount usually in the street outside,  but the walls aren’t strangers to the occasional thrown glass,  punch thrown,  or hair pulled inside ;  almost a spectacle for some of the family ;  harshly punished by kel,  whenever it presents itself.  they can’t afford any attention drawn to them.

on quieter nights,  when the only people who come in are either friends,  family,  or a number of regulars,  it’s not uncommon to find our dunham behind the bar,  serving drinks.  he will on occasion stand in for staff who don’t show up on busier nights,  even after working for hours upstairs ;   perhaps a more solid means of continual distraction.

with every passing day,  ira grows more and more at home in the place.  he starts making small repairs here and there,  and begins to inject some much needed care in the blind wolf ;  beginning to feel more possessive over it as time wears on ;  much to the distaste of some of the mehmeti’s,  kel included.