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

THE LINE

As the weeks turned into months, Hugo knew he was falling deeper and deeper into something with no future, yet he was finding it nearly impossible to pull away from the happiness he and Evan had cultivated together.

The truce between the Contis and the Kellys was strained at best, with several violent incidents breaking out between lower-level members who had come across one another in Tenebrium’s bars, clubs, and brothels. Samuel was preparing for an all-out war, but Hugo was too content to care. Nothing could penetrate his happy bubble.

At night, he would go out and do whatever Samuel required of him, while Evan worked at Rishaan Chowdhury’s clinic. It was like they were building a life together, one Hugo desperately wanted to be real. They never talked about what Hugo’s work entailed, though he could tell it bothered Evan. Neither of them could ignore when Hugo came home bloody or bruised, but they dealt with it in the moment and then locked it away never to be discussed again.

Both men were getting more and more careless about the time Evan spent outside the apartment, going to shows, or out for dinner. They had even been clubbing a few times with Bobby and Gen in tow. It pleased Hugo to find that Evan and Bobby had bonded, they both shared a love of music that resulted in long conversations over the dinner table whenever they came around.

He and Evan were walking a dangerous line and yet Hugo was almost addicted to it?—

the danger was half the fun. He had someone in his life, that was just his and he was theirs, and now that he did, he found his loyalties to the family and his worries about duty and honour slipping away.

“What are you thinking about?” Evan asked, rolling over in bed to kiss Hugo’s temple.

“You.” Hugo turned and pulled him close so Evan’s back was flush to his chest.

“Care to elaborate?” His tone was sleepy and relaxed.

“The last few months have been the best of my life.” Hugo stopped himself before he said any more. He had wanted to end with, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you’, but at some point, and probably soon, he was going to have to find out.

“Mine too.” Evan craned his neck to press his lips to Hugo’s. “I—” he broke off.

“What?” Hugo nuzzled at his neck.

“I…I was wondering if you had any plans today, or if we could do something together.”

“Something like this?” Hugo pulled Evan roughly against him and ran his hand down his side, then over his chest and abs before stopping just above his groin.

“Lower your hand and you’ll be in the right spot.”

“Your wish…”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“So, what do you want to do today?” Evan asked when they finally deigned to get out of bed.

“Have you ever been to Rosecliff?” Hugo’s tone was full of mischief.

“No, I’ve never even heard of it. Is it a restaurant?”

“It’s a club…sort of. It’s very exclusive. How do you feel about getting wet?”

Hugo watched unashamedly as Evan dressed in one of his suits. It was a pale golden brown and even though Hugo was slightly more muscular, it fit him very well. Hugo went with his trademark navy.

“We make quite the pair, huh?” Evan said, gazing unembarrassed into the mirror that reflected them both side by side.

“You are so beautiful,” Hugo said quietly.

Evan flushed but before he could say anything, Hugo gently took his hand and pulled him out of the bedroom.

Hugo couldn’t help but smile as they sat inside a Jonk taxi on the way to Rosecliff. Evan was fidgety and excited, asking question after question that he refused to answer. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and he was enjoying the happy tension.

“What did you mean by ‘wet’?”

Hugo just laughed and shook his head.

“You’re ignoring me now?”

“I’m just enjoying the show.”

“What show?”

“You. Squirming.”

Evan rapped Hugo on the chest with his knuckles, but it was clear he wasn’t really angry. His eyes shone with excitement.

As they neared Rosecliff, Evan let out a gasp and Hugo understood why; it was breathtaking. From the Jonk’s window, they could see the enormous white mansion that was their destination. It had seven floors and several wings, there were balconies and Palladian windows but that wasn’t what made it so spectacular. The entire place was lit by purple lights and through the windows water undulated on every floor in every room.

“It’s flooded!” Evan exclaimed.

“It’s supposed to be. The entire garden space is pools, but every room on every floor is filled with water, too.”

As soon as the Jonk landed Evan jumped out. There were people everywhere, some soaked, some not, all with drinks in hand. Music blared, lights flashed, and little golden flecks rained perpetually from the sky. Everyone was dressed to the nines, in tassels, feathers, waistcoats, spats, and pearls. It was a whole other world hidden in Tenebrium’s Domus District.

Grinning so much his face hurt, Hugo took Evan by the hand and led him to the entrance.

“Do we need tickets or something?”

“It’s members only. If you’re here, you’re supposed to be.”

They climbed the white marble steps under the columned archway to a set of wide-open doors that led into the flooded atrium. It was a large space filled with chandeliers, and rugs under about five feet of water. There was a grand staircase the wound off to the left and right and several open arches that led to other parts of the lower floor.

“Ready?” Hugo gave Evan a roguish wink and descended into the water. It was warm. Not so much that it felt like a bath, but not cold in any way. Evan followed Hugo down, running his hands over the surface of the water.

The interior of Rosecliff was as busy as the exterior. Patrons floated happily as waiters brought drinks on silver trays. Some swam, while others danced; it was like nowhere else in the city, maybe even the colony.

“Where to?” Evan asked.

They wandered around the entire estate taking in beautiful room after beautiful room. They danced for hours and when they had finally tired themselves out, they lounged on a submerged bed somewhere on the third floor. They weren’t alone, but no one paid them any mind.

“Can I ask about Gen?” Evan seemed wary.

“What about her?” Hugo asked curiously.

“The first time I met her, she said she would never forgive Bobby, but they hang out with us, and they seem fine.”

“I don’t know the full story. Bobby had something to do with Hassan’s death. It was an accident, I know that, but neither will talk about it and I didn’t want to push. You should have seen Gen afterward. It was awful. She loved him so much.”

A waiter appeared as if from thin air with a tray of drinks. Hugo reached over and took two glasses of champagne, then handed one to Evan. They clinked them together, then both took a long sip.

“This was amazing. Thank you so much for bringing me here.” Evan was very slightly tipsy and in very good spirits.

“I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“It’s more than fun. I am happier and more fulfilled than I can ever remember being in my life.” He smiled, but Hugo saw his expression shift to one of sorrow as he looked away.

“But?” Hugo prodded gently.

“It’s nothing.” He shook his head as if to clear it.

“Evan…talk to me.”

Evan looked down, chewing his lip. It was several long seconds before he finally spoke. “I don’t want to leave you and if we keep going like we are, I probably never will. But I need to know what happened to my uncle. I need the answers you promised, I’m just afraid once I get them…I won’t have a reason to stay.”

“You could stay because I want you to; because you want you to.” Hugo was getting dangerously close to saying those three little words that would ruin them both. “You are the only person I have ever?—”

Hugo’s Cicada rang in his ear cutting him off.

“Sorry,” he muttered to Evan as he raised a hand to answer the call. “Ford, here.”

“Got you a party pack, triads trying to take some of our turf. Sam wants them lined in chalk.” It was Bobby.

“When?”

“Now, if it’s not too much trouble.” They were only teasing.

“Do I need to come in?”

“Nah, I’ll send you the details.”

“Fine.” Hugo let out a loud sigh.

“You okay, brother?”Their voice was low, concerned.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Evan’s eyes had bored into the side of Hugo’s head throughout the call and when Hugo turned to look at him, he wasn’t surprised to see a glower.

“I have to go,” Hugo muttered apologetically.

“This is the third time this week.”

“Sam is preparing for a war,” Hugo said as if that was all the explanation needed.

“And you’re a good little soldier. How many people have you killed this month?”

“Do you really want to know?” Hugo would deny Evan nothing.

“No, I don’t.” Evan blanched, his bluff called. “Because when you come home, I want to be able to stand being in your arms. I guess we found my line. It’s you.”

Hugo had known this would happen eventually, but it did nothing to quell the tearing sensation in his chest. It was one thing to go out on a job every couple of weeks and come home pristine, but lately, the jobs had been harder and involved higher numbers of victims. Twice in five days, Hugo had come home drenched in blood like something from a horror movie. Evan could only stretch his morality so far.

“You said you were okay with it.”

“No, I said I didn’t have to be because we weren’t going to last.”

The night was cold, mirroring the pit in Hugo’s stomach. A thin mist clung to the cobbles and the few people out on the streets had their scarves wrapped tight and their hats pulled low. He walked briskly, turning his collar up against the sudden chill. It didn’t take Hugo long to find the place he was looking for.

It was a tiny takeaway restaurant, jammed between two equally small establishments that sat on the very edge of the Pleasure Quarter. A neon sign glimmered dimly in red and yellow proclaiming it to be called ‘Kekou’. The bright white lights from the interior gave it an odd sort of glow in the mist.

Hugo stepped inside and sat down in one of the red plastic chairs that faced the counter. There was an older man in a derby hat waiting for his order. Hugo leaned over to him holding his jacket open to reveal his gun.

“Leave,” he grunted.

“Excuse me?” the man said in surprise.

“Beat it or the first bullet I fire goes between your eyes.”

The man scrambled to his feet and ran, bouncing off the door in his haste.

Behind the counter, the server looked surprised. They were tall and Chinese, with very short hair. They couldn’t be more than twenty. That didn’t stop Hugo raising his gun.

“Where’s Chow?”

They shook their head slowly, a hand reaching for something under the counter. Hugo pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter splattered across the stainless steel as they dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

Hugo jumped the counter and leaned down to check for signs of life. There were none.

Slowly, he crept to the small door that led to what must have been the kitchen. He opened it gently and stepped inside, gun raised. The room was all stainless steel. It was blisteringly hot and filled with steam and the sizzling sounds of cooking food. It smelled delicious.

The many chefs working away didn’t notice him at first. It wasn’t until he tapped the nearest one on the shoulder with his gun that he got a reaction. Every single person in the room dropped what they were holding and raised their hands in surrender. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time they had been threatened by a hostile entity.

“Where is Chow?” Hugo demanded blandly.

The chef nearest to him nodded to a descending set of stairs, revealed by an open hatch near one of the large walk-in freezers.

“If you’re fucking with me, I will come back here and kill every single one of you and your families.”

“He’s there, I swear!”

Keeping his gun held aloft he walked to the open hatch and peered inside, still aiming at the kitchen in general. The interior was dark, a rough set of metal stairs leading down.

“I’m going to ask again,” Hugo said, pressing the barrel of his gun to the head of the nearest chef. She was older, perhaps in her sixties, with her long hair twisted under a blue net, small and Chinese. She looked back at him defiantly, though her eyes filled with tears. “Where is Chow?”

“We’ve already told you. The lights have a motion sensor. Take the stairs, follow the passage to the end and you’ll find his office.”

“Not a very loyal bunch, are you?”

“He doesn’t pay enough for loyalty.” She spat on the floor at Hugo’s feet. He smiled; he liked this woman.

He nodded, lowering the gun. “I’ll need to order from this place sometime. The food looks great.” And with that he descended the staircase.

It was tighter than it had appeared from above, and he wouldn't want to get into a fight there. But the older woman had been true to her word; when he got to the bottom of the stairs a dim bulb buzzed into life. The passage was bricked with a dusty dirt covered floor, clearly a tunnel that was used to transport bootlegged liquor and hide any other contraband that the takeaway might be secreting away. It wasn’t a long passage, however; it took Hugo seconds to reach the ragged wooden door at the end.

He pressed his ear to the portal and heard two voices. Using the element of surprise to full effect, he kicked the door down and shot the first man he saw, then brought his gun to bear on Chow.

The room was a dank store with rotting wooden shelves, filled with booze and drugs in equal measure. The lights were clinical, and Hugo had to fight not to squint.

“What if I promise not to meddle on your turf again, any chance you’ll leave?” Chow was younger than Hugo had expected. He was Chinese, barely twenty-five, with short dark hair slicked back and the word ‘Brotherhood’ tattooed on the side of his face in Mandarin.

“If wishes were credits…”

Chow sniggered slightly, then looked at his fallen companion. “He was a good man. Loyal.”

“I’ve killed a lot of good men.”

“So I’ve heard. You’re Hugo Ford, right? I know your rep, but is there any chance we can deal with this civilly? I got a lot more than my life to lose.”

“That’s not how this works. You fuck with us we fuck back.”

“Just when I thought I was on the rise.”

“You were.” Hugo bobbed his head indifferently. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

Chow nodded at that. “Can I call my wife one last time?” He had remained remarkably calm throughout, which earned him Hugo’s respect, but nothing could grant him a reprieve.

“Only if you want to traumatise her.”

“What are my chances in a fight with you?”

“Not good.” Before Chow had even registered what was happening, Hugo fired two shots. Both landed perfectly centre mass. Chow let out a surprised little ‘ oh’ before slumping against one of the laden shelves and falling to the ground.

Hugo grabbed a couple of the liquor bottles then returned to the kitchen. The chefs were understandably subdued and twitchy. Fear did that to people.

“Leave unless you want to die a horrible fiery death,” Hugo said, uncorking one of the bottles and splashing it on one of the long countertops. “Go. Run!” he yelled as the chefs stood shocked. The shout had done it, they all cleared quickly through the back door leaving Hugo to his task.

He turned up the burners and doused as much of the kitchen as he could in alcohol, before lighting a rag and throwing it into a flammable pool. The flames caught immediately and began to spread at an alarming rate. Satisfied, he followed the chefs out of the back door.

Perhaps had he not been so preoccupied with Evan’s words Hugo might have had some thoughts about what he had just done. As it stood, he was desperate to return to his lover and ensure he was still his.