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

JEFFREY

Hugo crumpled the tattered list of names in his fist. The paper was bloodstained and tearing, but it didn’t matter; the nine names scribbled upon it were etched into his memory like a brand. More of a symbol, he carried it around wherever he went, and tonight was no different. It was, however, the night he would scratch the first name from it.

He had been following Jeffrey Tallow for three blocks. The man had a sex worker on his arm and a gun in his pocket, but he was far too preoccupied with the former to consider, even for a moment, that he might need the latter. He was Black and slim, with a love of designer suits and gold jewellery. Arrogant as a rule, he was oblivious to the target on his back.

It was the Festival of Love in Tenebrium and as such every building was covered in hearts and flowers. All signs, screens, and neon lights were red and pink, bathing the city in a rosy glow. Like a ghost, Hugo moved between the bodies on the street. They laughed, chattered, kissed and held hands as they went about their business completely unaware of the shark in their midst. He had never felt more apart from them.

Predictably, Jeffrey led his date to Between the Sheets, a nightclub that also offered rooms for more amorous activities than dancing. He nodded to the bouncer, a White man in his late thirties named Bertrand who bore a strong resemblance to a bear. Jeffrey handed him some credit chips before disappearing inside.

“Hugo, my man, you don’t look too good,” Bertrand said as Hugo skipped to the front of the queue. “You okay?”

Hugo was not okay. He wanted to die. He wished he was dead with every fibre of his being. He was drowning in an agonising misery, that he prayed every day would kill him, but it never did. He couldn’t eat, he barely slept and when he did, it was fraught with nightmares. The only reason he hadn’t put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger was the thought of revenge. He said none of this to the doorman, however.

“Long day. That’s all.”

“You aren’t on the job, are you?” Bertrand stiffened.

“You really wanna know?”

Shaking his head, Bertrand stepped aside to allow Hugo entry.

“Didn’t think so.”

The interior of Between the Sheets was a dark fuchsia, all feathers and velvet. There was no dance floor, though there was music. The entire place was filled with pillows and beds, chaise longue and squashy armchairs, all in that same shocking pink. Clubbers lounged on the furniture, some enjoying the music, some enjoying each other, none of them interesting Hugo.

It didn’t take him long to spot Jeffrey leading his date towards the bathrooms. Classy , he thought with contempt; the man dripping in gold was too cheap to pay for a room in a club designed to facilitate sex. Then again, maybe it was a kink. It didn’t matter. Either way, Jeffrey would be dead soon.

They had already started when Hugo entered the bathroom. He could hear grunting and a rhythmic pounding as something, or someone clattered against the stall door.

“Just like that,” Jeffrey purred over and over again. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

Hugo glanced around the room waiting for Jeffrey to finish. In stark contrast to the rest of the venue, the bathroom was all black. The sinks, the tiles, and the floors were all a glossy pitch, while the stalls were painted matte. The placement of the mirrors gave the narrow room the look of a black hole.

As Jeffrey cried out his climax, Hugo leant against the sink, waiting. He rolled his eyes as he heard the man say, “There you go, baby. Buy yourself something special.”

When the stall door opened, Jeffrey’s date gave a little start. “Sorry,” she muttered, but she didn’t seem at all abashed. She looked entirely unruffled. Had he not bore witness to the deed, he would never have guessed what happened in the stall. Everything from her hair to her make-up was pristine. Hugo waited for her to leave before locking the door.

After a few moments, he heard the toilet flush and Jeffrey, still zipping his fly, stepped into view. His eyes had a drowsy, sated quality, that soon changed to alert when he saw Hugo.

“Woah. Hey, buddy. You okay? Were you there the whole time? That’s kinda freaky. Even for you.” Jeffrey crossed to the sink and washed his hands. Hugo moved next to him. “You don’t look so good, Ford.”

Glancing in the mirror, he thought Jeffrey had a point. His skin looked dull. His black hair was unkempt, and his usually bright eyes were surrounded by deep dark circles.

“Did something happen?” Jeffrey was looking at him with concern.

Hugo laughed in a slightly manic sort of way. “Nope. Nothing happened. I’m here about a job.”

“Oh, okay.” Jeffrey seemed to relax slightly. “Are you looking for a specific weapon or…?”

“You sold a knife. Damascus steel, serrated, great for slicing and dicing.”

“Yeah, I know the one. I sold it to Alice. There a problem? You know I don’t do refunds.”

“She used it to torture and gut a man named Evan Carter.”

“Isn’t that kind of what y’all do?”

Without warning, Hugo lunged for Jeffrey. He grabbed him by the lapels and slammed him against the hard tiled wall.

“Hey, hey. If we have a problem here, I’m sure we can work it out.” Jeffrey’s eyes were wide with fear.

“Did you know?” Hugo’s voice shook so much the words were barely recognisable.

“Know what?”

“Who Evan was to me? Did you know about the job? Did you know what it was? Who it was?”

“Listen, man. I just provide the tools; I don’t ask questions. You know that. Plausible deniability and all that shit.”

“Then I’ll make this quick.”

“Come on, man! I don’t know nothing about this Evan guy. Take it up with Alice.”

“She’s on my list.”

Hugo reached into his jacket and pulled out the knife. It was long and vicious looking still coated in the blood of its last victim. He raised it to strike, but Jeffrey grabbed his wrist with one hand placing the other on Hugo’s face and pushing him away. His thumb found Hugo’s eye and dug in. With a roar of pain mixed with fury, Hugo released him and stumbled back, clutching his face. Blood coloured his vision red, but he could still see.

“You know who I am. This is pointless.”

“Fuck you, even the boogeyman ain’t immune to led.” And he pulled his pistol from the waistband of his tailored trousers. Jeffrey fired blindly. The first shot smashed the mirror behind Hugo. He didn’t get a chance to fire a second as Hugo tackled him, spearing him and sending them both careening into the nearest stall. Hugo wrestled the gun from Jeffrey then brought it to bare on its owner. He fired two shots into Jeffrey’s left leg in quick succession. The man cried out in pain, but the music in the club was too loud for anyone to hear him.

Now that the arms dealer was subdued, Hugo threw the gun over his shoulder and retrieved the knife from where he had dropped it in the struggle.

“What do you want from me?” Jeffrey bellowed. Pain was causing sweat to bead on his forehead. “Huh? What the fuck did I do to you?”

“You are the reason people like me are able to do their jobs. You sold her the knife, and she used it to kill him.”

“So? Shit happens. That broad is a psycho, it’s not my fault she offed your honey.”

Hugo surged forwards and plunged the knife into Jeffrey’s chest. All the wind was knocked out of him as he tried to clutch at the blade with steadily weakening fingers. A small trickle of blood escaped his lips as the light faded from his eyes and then he was still.

Hugo gently removed the knife and put it back inside his jacket without cleaning it. He picked up the gun and wiped it down for prints before tossing it into the nearest toilet. Once he was sure he had removed all the evidence that could link the murder to him, he knelt beside Jeffrey and used his index finger to wipe the blood from his mouth.

Hugo pulled the list from his pocket and used the red to strike Jeffrey from it.

One down.