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

THE DRUG

As Hugo pushed himself back to consciousness, he saw a sea of orange. It took him a moment to realise that his eyes were still closed. He opened them just a crack, and saw that there was a large, round surgical light directly above him. He knew where he was at once. His one-time safe haven: Rishaan Chowdhury’s Clinic.

Hugo turned his face away and was surprised to see Evan sitting close by. He looked calm and alert, like he had been watching Hugo sleep.

“I’m not dead.” Hugo sat up and was pleased to find that the pain was minimal.

“No, but you tried pretty hard to be.” Evan sat back and seemed to relax.

“Nice to know you’re taking our deal seriously.”

“How do you feel?”

Hugo took a moment to take stock of his injuries. “Surprisingly good.”

“What’s your last name?”

“What?” He looked up in surprise.

“I realised I don’t know it. What’s your last name?”

Hugo smiled slightly as he said, “Ford. It’s Ford.”

“Hugo Ford. That’s a good name.” Evan nodded absently.

Slightly puzzled, Hugo said nothing.

“I saw you before—before Highball I mean. At Trade. I saw you.”

Hugo gave Evan an appraising look, he seemed…off. “Is everything?—”

A muted clatter put an end to the conversation. Both Hugo and Evan’s heads whipped around in the direction of the noise. Hugo threw off the light blanket that was covering him and detached the leads the were monitoring his vitals as a loud shout sounded from the Emergency Room. He felt weak and unsteady on his feet but pressed on.

“What are you doing?” Evan said, a gentle hand urging Hugo back into the bed. He shrugged it off. “You’ve just had major surgery. You only don’t feel it because you’re medicated.”

Hugo stripped off the gown that covered him, Evan watching him incredulously.

“You like what you see, doc?”

“What?” Confusion creased his face.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed. What about our deal?”

Hugo grabbed a pair of scrubs from a nearby cabinet. He pulled on the trousers and discarded the top, as another shout sounded. Hugo moved quickly from the recovery room into the adjoining room, stopping only when he reached the door that led to the ER. There, he listened. His heart thundered in his ears and his vision blurred around the edges, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the next shout.

“Just give me something to take the edge off, man.” The voice was male and desperate.

Hugo gently pushed the door open. The Emergency Room was empty, but for Rishaan and an emaciated White man, with scruffy stubble and a sheen of sweat slicking his forehead. He was holding a gun in one hand and a short knife in the other. He was twitchy and on edge as he pointed the gun at Rishaan, who had raised his hands to shoulder height in surrender.

“Just give me the fucking drugs.”

“I can’t do that,” Rishaan said in a low rumble.

“I will blow your fucking head off.” The way the man’s hand was shaking, Hugo doubted that his aim would be up to snuff, be he wasn’t going to bet the doctor’s life on it.

“You don’t wanna do that,” Hugo said as he stepped slowly out into view.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man whipped around and aimed the gun at Hugo instead. He looked Hugo up and down, taking in his injuries, a glimmer of fear leaking into his desperation. Evan understood why. Even injured, there was air of danger about Hugo. He wore his ability to kill on his sleeve.

“Someone you don’t want to tangle with.” Hugo stepped forward with every word he spoke.

“Get back. I’m warning you.”

Hugo ignored the threat and continued to close the distance.

“Just give me something and I’ll leave. This is a free clinic.”

“The doctor can’t give you any drugs because he swore an oath to help the people of this city, and I know you feel like that’s what you need, but it isn’t.” Hugo was barely three feet from the man now. “If you shoot me, you can’t take it back. Is that a line you really want to cross?”

“I don’t have anything left to lose.” The man looked hopeless as he pressed the gun to the bandages on Hugo’s bare chest.

“Wrong, you still have one more thing.” In a blur of speed, Hugo grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted it, pulling it from the man’s grip. He flipped it deftly in his hand and before the man knew what had happened, Hugo had it aimed between his eyes.

“No, no, please,” the man whimpered.

“Don’t!” Evan shouted from somewhere behind Hugo.

“Leave this to him,” Rishaan implored quietly.

Ignoring them both, Hugo said, “Don’t come back here again, and get yourself some help. This doesn’t have to be your life.”

“I just need something to take the edge off.” He swung the knife at Hugo who easily batted it away. It clattered to the ground and skidded under a row of plastic chairs.

“Leave,” Hugo snarled.

The man grabbed the barrel of the gun, attempting to wrest it from Hugo’s grip, but he was far too weak.

“I will paint the walls with your brains, is that how you want to go out? As junkie scum trying to rob a free clinic?”

“I just can’t take it anymore.” He released the gun, then leant forward so his forehead was pressed against it.

Hugo sighed. “There is a rehab clinic on Verity and third. It’s free. Go there. They’ll know what to do.”

Without another word, the man turned and fled. Hugo watched him out of sight through the window before turning back to Rishaan.

“Thank you, Hugo,” Rishaan said, heaving a relived sigh. “I’m glad to see you on your feet and back on form. Though, I’m not sure Dana will be pleased with you telling people her treatment is free.” Despite his words the doctor looked delighted.

“I’m sure she won’t mind—I’ll make a big donation. You should keep this behind the counter, for protection,” Hugo said, holding out the gun he had taken from the would-be drug thief.

“Healers and guns don’t mix. Please get rid of it when you leave. Until then, get back into bed, my boy. You need rest.”

Heading the doctor’s orders Hugo made his way, gingerly back to the recovery room and laid down on the bed, Evan watching him silently.

“What?” he asked after Evan continued to stare.

“You helped that man.”

“Okay?”

“You could have killed him—easily.”

“So?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I kill for money not for pleasure,” Hugo said, nettled. “He needs help not a bullet. Being troubled isn’t a capital offence. I thought a doctor would understand that.”

“I don’t get you. You said you would have killed me without a second thought, why is he different?”

“If I’d killed that man, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, but that’s not the point. I kill because my father asks it of me. To protect the family, or send a message, to keep myself safe or maybe to get revenge, but never for fun or for sport. I might be a monster, but I haven’t let the darkness swallow me whole. Not yet.”

“Where do you draw the line?” Evan’s voice was barely more than a whisper, like Hugo’s answer was important to him.

“The moment you start to enjoy the kill, you’re a serial killer, not a hitman.”

“Do you enjoy it? Killing?”

Hugo surveyed Evan for a moment, not sure if he wanted to answer. The way Evan was looking at him bothered it more than him should have. “I don’t really feel anything about killing. It’s just something I do.” Hugo hesitated then went on. “I enjoy the hunt. Sometimes.”

“Why? What about it?”

“I didn’t realise the clinic was offering therapy packages.”

“Someone like you killed my uncle. I just want to understand.”

“Someone like me,” Hugo repeated. “It’s a rush. It needs skill and patience. It makes me feel…”

“Powerful?”

“Yes.” Hugo looked away. “I need to rest. I need my strength to see Sam.”

Hugo closed his eyes but sleep never claimed him.

The next afternoon, Hugo and Evan were sitting silently in the back of a Jonk headed for his apartment. Dr Chowdhury had given Evan a small amount of Verve with guidance on how to administer it when the time came. Hugo was stiff and tired, it hurt to breathe, but already he was feeling much stronger. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything physical, standing for long amounts of time made him feel dizzy, but with the help of the Verve he would be well enough to face Samuel. What he would do if Samuel wanted him to perform a hit was another problem entirely.

They both stepped out of the Jonk and into the living area. Hugo stopped as the window closed behind him. The room was almost untouched, except for the pool of blood near the long couch. His blood.

“I’ll clean that up,” Evan said as soon as he saw it.

“Leave it. I’ll get it later. I need to shower.” Hugo turned and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

He gently removed the bandages from his torso and inspected the wounds. Instead of stitches, Rishaan had opted for laser closure, which meant the incisions were already knitted together. They looked like angry, raised red lines and added to his already extensive collection of scars. The new ones, while large, couldn’t compare to the long slashes across his shoulder blades.

“How did you get those scars on your back?” a quiet voice said from the bathroom door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I thought you might need some help.”

Hugo didn’t look at Evan as he said, “I’m fine.”

Evan didn’t move.

“I know you’ve seen it all before, but I would like to shower in private.”

Evan watched him for a moment longer then turned and left.

Once he was alone, Hugo stepped into the large bathtub and turned on the shower. He sat in the bottom of the tub and let the scalding water wash over him. It had been a rough few days. He had come closer to death than he had ever been, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. He felt nothing about the experience. He looked over his fresh scars, the pain of them still present and found that they, and it, didn’t matter to him. He felt nothing and that was exactly his problem. He cared about nothing. He wanted nothing and yet…

Evan’s beautiful face drifted unbidden into his mind. He was attracted to him, that much was clear, but it was more than that. He had given him pause. There was something about Evan Carter.

Finishing his shower and wrapping himself in a towel, Hugo left the bathroom. Evan was standing just outside, his arms folded, leaning against the wall.

“You’re taking this doctor thing a bit too seriously, aren’t you?” Hugo was feeling drained and a little nervous. He would have loved nothing more than to curl up in his bed and sleep, but the night had other, far more dangerous, plans. He had never lied to Samuel in his life. He wasn’t looking forward to the first time. Once he did it, there was no going back.

“I need to talk to you,” Evan said, his face set.

“I need to get dressed.” Hugo nodded in the direction of his bedroom.

The room was much the same as the rest of the apartment, dark and wide, furnished in cold black metals and wood. Evan paused in the door as Hugo made a beeline for his closet.

Entirely unabashed Hugo dropped his towel. Reflected in the long mirror that formed the door to the closet, Hugo saw Evan’s face go slightly pink, but he didn’t look away, even after he realised Hugo was watching him.

“What?” Hugo said when Evan didn’t speak. He rummaged around for underwear and gingerly pulled them on.

“My life is in your hands. I need to know I can trust you. In a few days you’ll be better, what guarantee do I have that you’ll follow through? That you’ll get me my answers?”

“And get you out of town—you seem to keep forgetting that part.”

“How do I know you won’t just kill me?”

Hugo yanked a pair of dark suit trousers from a hanger and slipped them on before turning to face Evan as he zipped his fly. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead. I can’t tell anyone that I failed to kill you, or my father will punish me, and that means death so I have no choice but to help you out of the city and I will get you your answers because I owe you. You saved me, several times now. I don’t take that lightly.” He turned back to the closet in search of a shirt.

“Five days ago, I was a resident whose only problem was sleep deprivation. Now, I’m a ghost. I can’t go home. I can’t go to work. I can’t see my family or my friends. You, a man who terrifies me, are all I have. I feel like I’m disappearing. I have to trust you. I want to, but I don’t know how.”

“I never wanted to kill you. I don’t know why, but from the moment I met you…You don’t trust me, you don’t like me and that’s fine. I am as bad as you think and worse, but I keep my word.”

Hugo grabbed a shirt and pulled it on before sitting on the edge of the bed. He was uncomfortably tired, as if fighting some sort of sleeping drug. He made to button the shirt, but his hands wouldn’t co-ordinate. At once, Evan stepped forward and gently pushed his hands aside, taking over the task.

The proximity was maddening. Hugo wanted this man. He wanted to kiss him and so much more. With their faces so close, it would be so easy to reach up and capture his lips. There was no pain and no blood this time. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that it wasn’t wanted. He might have felt a powerful attraction to Evan, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was not reciprocated.

“I made a mistake,” he said quietly, realising that he wanted this man to trust him, and reasoning truths was the only way to make that happen. “That’s how I got the scars on my back.”

“Your father did that to you?” Evan’s hands momentarily gripped the front of his shirt.

“No.” Hugo laughed humourlessly, pushing the memory away. “One of his enemies.”

“How old were you?” Evan’s expression was so soft, it almost caused Hugo physical pain.

“Twelve,” he said through gritted teeth.

Evan seemed to know that the information was an offering, an olive branch. He nodded almost imperceptibly, then said, “Are you ready?” He pulled a chrome autoinjector from his pocket and held it out to Hugo.

“Do it.”

Hugo closed his eyes tightly. A moment later, he felt a tiny sting then heard a faint click. He opened his eyes slowly; he had expected something more.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m not sure...”

As soon as he said it, a jolt of electricity seemed to shoot through him. He jumped to his feet. “I feel great. Alive. It’s a rush.” And it was. Hugo suddenly felt like he could run the length of the city in seconds or move mountains with his bare hands. He shadow-boxed in the air testing his body. He felt as though he had never been fitter or stronger.

“Be careful. It’s a drug effect, nothing more. You’re still recovering.”

“God, I feel…like I could do anything.”