Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

THE CALL

“I’d like to report a missing person…My friend Evan Carter. I haven’t been able to find him for three days…Yes, I’ve been to his apartment and his job…No, he’s not a drug user…He’s not the kind of guy who hangs out with criminals either. He’s a surgeon. Look, officer, I’m really worried. Can you just file the report? …My name? Sure, it’s—” Hugo ended the call.

“Why did you just do that? You said we had to hide. The cops will come here!”

“Exactly. This is part of the deal.”

“You don’t just get to come in here and upturn my life.”

“I already did.”

Before Hugo could say anymore, his Cicada rang. He had forgotten he’d reactivated it. He held up a hand to ensure quiet.

“Hey, buddy,” Hugo knew he sounded breathy, but he hoped Bobby wouldn’t notice. They did.

“Everything go okay? No one has heard from you in a few days. You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“You know me. Lying low.”

“Is the doctor pushing up daisies?”

“Dead and disposed of,” he spoke the words directly to Evan, a threat to stay quiet.

“Where you at?”

“I’ve been camping down at Ward Eight. Steven and I get on very well.”

“Am I interrupting something?’

“You could say that.”

“I’ll let you boys get back to it, but Sam wants to see you Thursday night. He’s got another job for you.”

“So soon?”

“Murder is money, baby.”

“Tell him I’ll be there.” Hugo hung up. “Fuck.”

“What?” Evan asked.

“I’ve been gone too long. They want me to go in.”

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere, and I didn’t patch you up so you could keep killing.”

“That’s not really up to you. First thing’s first. We need to cover our asses. How I’m going to handle my boss is tomorrow’s problem.”

“Who are you calling?” Evan said immediately suspicious as Hugo raised his hand to his ear.

“Steven, it’s Hugo.”

“Hey, killer,” the man purred in his ear. “What do you desire?”

“Nothing too taxing. If anyone from home office calls, I’ve been with you for the last few days.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“A big tip.” Hugo injected innuendo into every syllable.

“I hope you’re talking credits. Consider it done. When will I see you next?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re lucky.”

“Don’t keep me waiting. I’m very popular, you know.” And the line went dead.

“That’s me covered for a little while, you need to pack a bag and call a Jonk to take us to Eltham. And get me something to wear.”

“Stop. Just stop.” Evan looked faint. “You are in no condition to be moved, and I can’t just leave. People will worry!”

“They won’t worry because they’re gonna think you’re dead. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not doing this.”

“I’m sorry, were you under the impression that I was giving you a choice?”

The journey to Hugo’s apartment was slow and painful. Every sway of the Jonk made him feel nauseous, and every dive through traffic threatened to split the stitches on his chest and stomach. Evan, perhaps to distract himself from his current situation, was an excellent caretaker. They were strangers and yet, Hugo felt sure the man would do just about anything to preserve his life or any other. He was a doctor who took his oath seriously.

Part of being a successful hitman was being able to read people, and with every passing moment, Hugo was surer of his assessment. What a fool, he thought. Nice people always suffered the most.

Hugo’s apartment was in Eltham, near Borden Tower. Bringing Evan there was a risk, but it was their only option. No one would expect him to be harbouring a mark at home.

The glass of his living room window slid aside as the Jonk hovered next to it. Evan helped Hugo as he unsteadily disembarked. The roaring wind that swirled around the ninetieth floor threatened to push him off his feet as the window slowly closed. When the room was finally sealed against the elements, Hugo allowed himself to relax. His home was his castle, he felt safe there.

He allowed Evan to lead him over to the large sofa. It was black suede and could have sat fifteen people easily, though it never had. The apartment itself was tones of grey and black. The floors were a dark sable wood, and the walls were panelled in pitch. It was cold and impersonal, somewhat reflecting its owner.

Evan dropped one of the bags he had brought at Hugo’s feet, then settled himself on the opposite side of the couch far from Hugo.

“I brought your stuff,” Evan said absently. Hugo could tell he was still processing everything that was happening; there was an odd blankness behind his eyes.

Giving him a moment to collect himself, Hugo unzipped the duffel and looked curiously inside. It contained the remnants of his suit, which had been torn to shreds and his most prized possession—his gun.

“I’m surprised you gave this back to me.” Hugo dropped the gun next to him on a cushion.

Evan didn’t respond and when Hugo looked up, he seemed lost in dark thoughts.

“Hey,” he said, throwing a pillow gently at Evan to get his attention. “You still with me?”

“This can’t be happening,” he muttered, his eyes still downcast and out of focus. “What have I done? This is insane. This can’t be happening.”

“Are you all right?”

“I stepped out of a club at the wrong time and then I died.” Evan gave a strangled little laugh. “I thought I was in control. I was going to hold you captive and force you to tell me what happened to my uncle. Do you understand how ridiculous that is? Me? I’ve never even had a speeding ticket. You reported me missing to the police, because we need people to think I’m dead. I might as well be dead. My life is over.” Finally, the truth was setting in. It was uncomfortable to watch. “So what? I just stay here until you’re better? Until our deal ends? What then? Where am I supposed to go?”

“We can work out the details later.”

“What about my mom? I take care of her. Who is gonna do her shopping and make sure her steps are clear of snow in the winter? What if she falls? What about my friends? What about my job? I’m so close to being fully qualified. This time next year I’m supposed to be an attending! People will mourn me, and I’ll never get to see them again. Breathing or not, you killed Evan Carter.” He covered his face with his hands, breathing in deep, shuddering gasps.

Hugo didn’t know what to say. “You’ll start over. You’ll make a new life. You’ll make new friends. You’ll get a new job in a new hospital, in a new city, and slowly you’ll forget.”

“I won’t. I can’t. This is too fast. Yesterday I was…and now…”

Hugo had no idea how to comfort him. He had no idea how to comfort anyone. The last four days was the most time he had spent in another person’s company that wasn’t for sex.

“I’m sorry,” Hugo said quietly, though he knew it meant little.

“Maybe it would be easier if you just killed me.”

“Do you want me to? I will if that’s your choice.” He meant it. Their eyes met and neither looked away.

“This can’t be real.” Fear and dismay; Hugo saw it in his victims often, but it had never given him a strange twisting sensation in his stomach before. “I feel numb, but it’s not gonna last, is it? I’m gonna feel that loss, aren’t I? I’m going to feel the loss of everything and everyone I have ever loved all at once.”

“It won’t feel like that,” Hugo said carefully. “It hurts now because of the shock. Your life has been flipped. They will grieve you, but you won’t grieve them. It’s more like letting them go. You’ll miss them, but you’ll know they’re out there. You’ll start to miss them less and less and then they’ll just sort of fade away as your life moves on without them. You’ll just grow apart from them. It happens every day.”

“It’s just that fucking simple, is it? Just forget about people I’ve known and loved my whole life.” Anger flared in Evan as if from nowhere. “Could you do it? Just pick up and leave right now?” There was a not-so-subtle challenge in his voice.

“With what I do…I’m always prepared to cut and run. We all are. Anyone I would call family or friend could disappear at any moment. That’s just how it is. Maybe they get taken out, maybe they get sent down. It’s all the same. If you don’t let anyone in, you’ll never feel their loss.”

“You must have family, people you care about?”

Hugo didn’t answer. The less Evan knew, the better.

“You destroyed my life; the least you can do is talk to me.”

Hugo didn’t respond. He just watched Evan as the man tried to stop himself falling apart.

“It’s like there is nothing inside you. Like I’m looking into the void. I saved your life and you took mine. Do you even care?”

“My father left; my mother died,” he said finally, as the silence grew colder and colder. “The boss raised me. I can count the people I care about on one hand.”

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, keeping his eyes closed. “I deal with the mess people like you leave behind every day. Or I used to.” That blank came over him again, but he shook himself as if to dispel it. “I had it rough, but I can’t imagine being raised by the mob. What was that like?”

The question was a little too personal, and it touched something buried deep within Hugo. “What’s the point in all these questions? In a few days you’ll be out of the city, and you’ll never see me again.”

Evan glared at Hugo as if daring him not to answer. He had told Hugo his story and clearly expected some reciprocity.

“It’s complicated. He’s the only father I’ve ever known. He made me the man I am today. He can show overwhelming care and kindness, saint-like generosity, but he can also show brutality. He deals in violence and vengeance. He loves me like a son, but he’d kill me in an instant, if I did anything that endangered the business—the family.”

“Like not killing me?”

Hugo gave him a half smile that told Evan all he needed to know.

“You saved my life, I’m saving yours. I don’t like having debts.”

“It’s too late to change my mind, isn’t it?”

“You’ve made your deal with the devil now. Once your soul is gone, it’s gone.”

“What if I tried to run?”

“I would stop you. You’re supposed to be dead, and if anyone finds out you aren’t, it would mean big trouble for us both. I’ll get you your answers, and I’ll get you out of the city, set you up somewhere new, but until then you’re on lockdown.”

“So, I’m your doctor and your prisoner?”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Hugo shrugged.

They lapsed into silence. Through half closed eyes, Hugo watched as Evan seemed to master himself. He wiped his eyes and looked around the room, before resting his gaze on Hugo. Hugo looked expectantly back. Even tired and puffy eyed, Evan was beautiful.

“How long have you been…?”

“A button man?”

Evan nodded awkwardly.

“Always.”

“Did you want to be…one?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“If I’m supposed to trust you, I have to get to know you.”

There was something to that, Hugo supposed.

“Yes. It was always my dearest ambition. During career week, my high school even got me an internship at a mob headquarters.”

Evan glared at him.

“It’s not really something you choose. I was brought up to be this.”

“That’s awful. What would you be if you could be anything else?”

“I’ve never really thought about it. I can’t be anything else.” The look on Evan’s face was close to pity. “Did you always want to be a doctor?”

“I always wanted to help people. I’m sure you can relate.”

Hugo laughed before growing serious. “Why do you want to help people? This city is broken. We can do just about everything and yet there has never been more poverty. We could solve hunger, disease, suffering, but we don’t because the city thrives on the weak.”

“That’s why,” he said with obvious passion. “I want to make it better, I want to make a difference, just not sure how yet.”

Hugo had never contemplated making a difference, he had never contemplated doing anything that wasn’t for the family. “I’m getting tired,” he muttered, and it was true; he was.

Evan stretched out on the couch and shut his eyes, before turning his back to Hugo. Hugo watched him for a few moments before he too shut his eyes.

A strange, muted buzzing brought him back to himself and he slowly opened his eyes. Evan was sitting on the edge of his seat. He had a book open in his lap, but he wasn’t reading it, he was staring wide-eyed at Hugo.

“Don’t you dare,” Hugo warned as he realised that the buzz was a call coming into Evan’s Cicada.

“It’s my mom. The police will have called her.”

“You answer that and we’re both as good as dead.”

“She won’t tell anyone.”

Hugo saw as if in slow motion as Evan raised his hand to his ear. Hugo’s injuries be damned, he bolted off the couch and threw himself at Evan, but Evan was ready. He stood to meet Hugo and lashed out, punching him in the stomach. The impact was excruciating but Hugo pushed the pain away as he wrestled Evan back down onto the couch. Hugo ended up on top of the man, half-straddling him. He grabbed both of Evan’s hands and held them above his head against the soft fabric of the couch.

“Let it ring out,” he snarled. His mouth tasted of copper.

Evan struggled against him, but Hugo’s grip remained like iron. They glared at each other as the buzzing continued. “You’re bleeding. I can feel it.”

Hugo could feel it, too. Warmth was spreading at a worrying rate across his abdomen. The blood dripped from him onto Evan, but still neither moved.

“Let it ring out, or I will kill you here and now.”

Their faces mere inches apart, Hugo was seized by the mad desire to kiss the man.

As quickly as it had come, the feeling of desire was eclipsed by one of nausea. He felt his grip slacken on Evan’s wrists and saw the gasp as Evan looked down and realised just how much blood Hugo was losing.

The call forgotten, Evan extracted himself from Hugo and eased him back onto the floor. “I can’t fix this. Not here. You need to go to a medcentre.”

“No,” Hugo mumbled breathily. “Payment cards go straight to Sam.”

“He’d rather you dead than a failure?”

“Yes.” The word was strangled as it mingled with a grunt of pain.

“You are going to die without proper care.” Evan clamped his hands over the wound on Hugo’s stomach and pushed down hard. Hugo cried out, but Evan didn’t flinch. “You must have someone who can help?”

“Chowdhury. Take me to Rishaan Chowdhury’s clinic.”