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

THE PAST

The room was dark and smelled of bleach. Once a commercial kitchen, it had been many years since it had served food for the restaurant above. A new kitchen had been built on the same floor as Southside, allowing the basement level to be used solely for wet work.

Hugo took shallow breaths as he looked from the man in front of him to the man beside him and back again. Next to him, Samuel Conti, the only father he had ever known, loomed like a shadow. Before him, Richard Brooks was naked, gagged and tied to a chair with thin wires that cut into his skin at the upper-arms, wrists and ankles. Thread-like rivers of blood dripped onto the tiled floor from the wounds.

Richard was White, with light brown hair and a thin moustache. He looked a little older than Samuel, and the eye that wasn’t swollen shut was pale grey, like Hugo’s.

“Take this, son,” Samuel said, placing something cold and metal into Hugo’s hand. He looked down and saw it was an ice pick. Long and silver with a vicious point, it was lighter than Hugo would have expected. He noted numbly that there was still a tiny smear of icing from his birthday cake across his knuckles.

“Ricky Boy,” Samuel said, stepping in front of the bound man and pulling the dirty rag from his mouth. “This is my son, Hugo.”

Richard didn’t look at Hugo, his eyes, wide with fear, remained fixed on Samuel. Without warning, Samuel slapped Richard hard across the face. He cried out as blood mixed with spittle hit the floor at Hugo’s feet. “Introduce yourself. And be nice.”

“Hi, Hugo,” Richard spluttered. His voice was light and friendly, but even Hugo could tell he was scared. His eyes kept flickering back to Samuel. “My name is Ricky. Are you enjoying your birthday? How old are you?”

“Nine,” Hugo mumbled quietly. He was frozen to the spot, afraid and confused. Samuel had promised him a birthday surprise. He had wanted a hover-bike; he hadn’t expected this.

“That’s…That’s nice. I hope…I…” Richard lost his train of thought as Samuel pulled another ice pick from his suit.

“Ricky here is going to help teach you a lesson, Hugo.”

“Have I been bad?” Hugo stepped back and clutched the icepick to his chest.

“Not at all, my boy,” Samuel said, kneeling down so they were eye to eye. “This is a lesson everyone in our family has to learn. My dad taught me, and I’m going to teach you. This is a reward. It means I trust you. I promise, you aren’t in trouble, and it won’t hurt.”

“Okay.” Hugo brightened slightly as Samuel smiled down at him.

“Okay.” Samuel patted Hugo on the shoulder and stood to his full height. “Ricky is helping us today because he failed me. He lied to me, and he tried to take someone who wasn’t his. Who didn’t want to be taken. So, he’s going to be our mark.”

“What’s a mark?”

“Do you know what I do, Hugo?”

Hugo screwed up his face, thinking hard. He wanted to get the answer right. “You are…the king of the city.”

Samuel laughed and nodded. “I am.”

“This is fucked up,” Richard spat. “If you are gonna kill me, just do it. Leave the kid out of it.”

Samuel ignored him. “I kill people, Hugo. We kill people. For money. For power. That’s what you are going to learn today.”

“I don’t know how.” Fear and doubt were creeping back into Hugo’s mind. The situation felt wrong. Richard seemed nice; Hugo didn’t want him to die.

“I’m going to teach you. You see this?” Samuel moved behind Richard and roughly forced his head back exposing his neck. “This is a really big vein. It’s called the jugular. You take your weapon—like this—and you jam it in here—” Samuel pressed the point to Richard’s flesh, just enough to draw blood but not enough to kill him, “—If I were to really do it, he would bleed out in seconds. Do you know what that means?”

“He would die. Lose all his blood.”

“That’s right. Now here.” Samuel moved in front of Richard. He grabbed one of his knees and used it to force the man’s legs apart. He placed the icepick far up his thigh, it made Hugo uncomfortable. “This is the femoral artery. Another big one, and another good option if you want them to die, but it will take a little longer.” Richard cried out as Samuel dragged the icepick down his leg, leaving a deep gash in its wake. “You could go for the heart, but you need to be strong to get through the bone, or accurate to get between the ribs. Go on, give it a try.”

“I don’t want to. I want to go back to the party.” Hugo’s hands were sweating.

“You can go back to the party, but if you want to be part of this family, you have to do this. This is why I took you in. If you can’t kill, you’re no use to me.”

Tears filled Hugo’s eyes and his bottom lip quivered.

“So,” Samuel said forcefully, all fatherly affection gone. “Can you do this? Or should I just toss you back onto the streets where I found you?”

“I-I can do it.” Hugo’s breath came in gasps as he tried to stem the tide of tears.

“That’s my boy. Try for the heart. Let’s see if we need to bulk you up a bit.”

Slowly Hugo moved forward, the icepick held loosely in his hand.

“You don’t have to do this, kid.” Richard tried to pull back from Hugo, but Samuel held him steady.

Tears still streaking silently down his face, Hugo got so close to Richard that their knees touched.

“Ignore him, son. Do this for me. For the family.”

Hugo froze in place. Unable to lift his hand, unable to run.

“Do it, Hugo. Do it or, so help me God, I will toss you back out onto the streets. Do it, Hugo! Prove to me that I can use you. Do it! Do it now! Do it, Hugo!”

Hugo screamed as he raised the icepick and drove it into Richard’s chest. The icepick hit something hard, and Richard grunted in pain, the wind knocked out of him. Hugo tried to push the pick in deeper, but he wasn’t strong enough.

“Oh dear, you’ve hit bone. What are you going to do now?” Samuel stepped back and crossed his arms. “C’mon, Hugo. The clock’s ticking. The police could be at the door. What’re you gonna do? You have to end it. Finish him, Hugo.”

Hugo was panicking, he could barely breathe. There was blood on his hands and all he wanted to do was run. But then Samuel, the only person in the world who protected him and cared about him, would leave him. He would be back on the streets, cold, hungry, and hunted.

A shutter seemed to close inside his mind, shutting out Samuel, shutting out Richard, shutting out everything except the fact he had a job to do. Slowly, he pulled the pick from Richard’s chest, as casually as if he were removing a pen from his pencil case. He stared intently at the jugular pulsing beneath the skin, took careful aim, then drove it into Richard’s neck until the handle stopped him. Then, he dragged it down to widen the wound.

Richard choked and spluttered as blood poured down his chest. It soaked his lap, the floor and then finally Hugo’s sneakers. The little white stars on the side soon became red. He didn’t let go of the pick until Richard stopped moving. When he finally did, Hugo stepped back to look at what he had done.

The man’s head was lolling, and his mouth hung slightly open. His blank eyes stared at nothing. His skin had gotten pale, a fact accentuated by the crimson that covered him.

“Hugo. Hugo?” It was a moment before he realised Samuel was shaking him gently by the shoulder. “You can let go of that now.” Samuel prised the pick from Hugo and tossed it carelessly into one of the large stainless-steel sinks. “You okay, kiddo?”

Hugo nodded, his eyes never leaving Richard.

“You did great. I’m so proud of you. Next time, we’ll try guns.” He tousled Hugo’s hair as if he was being promised a treat. “Go get yourself cleaned up, then go back to the party. Mariam has set up a bounce house for you upstairs. I have some things to do, but I’ll be back soon.” He turned and walked briskly from the room leaving Hugo, covered in blood, staring at the body of Richard Brooks.