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

FRANK

Hugo didn’t remember calling her, though he didn’t remember much about the night before. It had taken nearly a full bottle of whisky to drown out the clawing pain in his chest and send him into a coma-like slumber. Yet, there she was, standing in front of him; the only friend he had left.

Genevieve.

She, like him, had been pulled off the streets and raised to kill by Samuel, but she, unlike him, wasn’t bound to the man. He had never been able to figure out how she had gained her freedom. He hadn’t cared much before Evan. It interested him now.

“Did I call you?” His vision was blurry at best as he looked up at her.

“No, Bobby did. They said you’d need me.” She glanced around the apartment, worry drawing her eyebrows down.

“That won’t save them.”

“What?”

“Did you know?” Hugo tried to grab at her but missed.

“Hugo, I…” She shook her head.

“You would have warned me. I know you would,” Hugo mumbled drunkenly.

“Come on,” Genevieve said, reaching down to pull him from where he was slumped in front of the couch. She gently led him towards the bedroom.

“No,” he whimpered. “I can’t.”

“You need to lie down.”

“Not in there. Please.” His words were garbled.

“Wait here.”

He nodded and leant against the wall, sure he wouldn’t be able to support himself without it. Hugo watched disinterestedly as she pulled the duvet and pillows from his bed, then disappeared into the bathroom, before returning to lead him inside. It was the only room that wasn’t completed destroyed.

Geneveive had made a bed in the long bathtub, lining it with pillows. She carefully eased him down into it, then sat down on the closed toilet lid.

“What happened here? Where’s Evan?”

Everything he had pushed down or shrugged off while he pretended to be fine came flooding back. Everything he had refused to let himself feel overwhelmed him. The damn broke. The tears Hugo had been holding back for days, burst from him. He curled himself into the foetal position, at the bottom of the cold tub, and sobbed. The loss of Evan hit him anew as grief bared down on him from all sides. He didn’t need to tell her what had happened. Genevieve understood like only she could. Only one thing could have him reacting like this.

“I’m so sorry.” She reached into the tub and stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She offered him no platitudes of hope and he was grateful; there was no easing him. Nothing could heal the chasm inside him or fill the void left by Evan. Blood was the only thing that brought him comfort and even that was fleeting.

Eventually, when he was unable to cry anymore, he sat up to look at her through red-ringed eyes.

“Oh, Hugo,” she said sadly. “How did it happen?”

Slowly, with a grim determination, he told her of the events of five weeks ago to the day. How Samuel had lied when he gave Hugo his freedom. How Bobby had lured Hugo out to keep him out of the way. How Alice had tortured and murdered the man he loved.

“You can’t kill them,” was the first thing Genevieve said. How well she knew him.

“Watch me,” he snarled. “I’m already two down.”

“Tell me you didn’t kill Jeffrey Tallow. Tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

“Jeff sold her the knife. He knew who it was for and didn’t even blink.”

“Who’s the second?”

“Jack drove her here. He didn’t know so I didn’t make him suffer.”

“They will kill you. Samuel will destroy you before you get anywhere near him. Please, Hugo. Evan wouldn’t want this for you. I’ve been where you are?—”

“He’s dead, Gen.” Hugo cut across her sharply. “Because of them. It wasn’t quick and it wasn’t painless. They left him in the trash. Like garbage. There is no punishment that is enough for them.”

“You getting yourself killed won’t bring him back,” she said softly.

“But it will mean I won’t have to feel like this anymore. I can’t stop picturing it. His face…all carved up. His eyes gone. It’s all I see.”

“Hugo…”

“I nearly had it all. I was so fucking close. I nearly had everything. Freedom, a future. I belonged to someone. For just a little while I was someone’s. And now all I have is love for a dead man and hate for those who took him from me.” He was somewhere beyond tears now.

“I’ve been where you are. Killing them won’t make it any better.”

“How do you live with it? How do you live without Hassan? How did you manage to carry on?”

“I did it because I had to, just like you have to.”

“Will you help me kill them all?”

“I refuse to help you commit suicide, because that’s what this is. If you go on this crusade, you’ll die too, and I’ve lost too many people.”

“Then I have no use for you. Go.”

But she didn’t.

Genevieve stayed that night and the next, and the next. She acted as a silent sentinel, always watching over him. She brought him food and refused to let him drown his sorrows in alcohol. Hugo did his best to ignore her. Never thanking her or looking at her when she entered the room. He had been lying in the bathtub, cocooned in his own misery for nearly five days, when she walked calmy in and turned the shower on. Icy water blasted him, he spluttered and yelped but could do no more than that before she reached down into the tub and pulled him from it.

“If you go after Sam in this state, you’ll be dead before you even get close. Take a shower. You stink.”

“What did he do to you?” Hugo looked up at her from where she had left him, sprawled on the tiled floor. “Bobby loves Sam, they don’t want me to kill him. But not you. How are you free?”

“I am a killer, not a nursemaid and not a therapist. Get up.”

“He killed the love of my life. What did he do to you?”

“Get up.”

“He killed the love of my life. What did he do to you?”

Hugo grabbed her leg as she turned to walk away and yanked her down. She landed with a pained yell on the hard tile. Hugo clambered on top of her pinning her arms down, water dripping from him onto her body. She struggled but he was heavier and stronger, and while she wouldn’t want to hurt him, he was too far gone to care about hurting her.

“How did you get free? What did he do to you that you were able to leave?”

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Why did you get your freedom, and I didn’t?”

“I’m not free, you stupid motherfucker. I’ll never be free.”

“How did you do it?” She fought him hard and nearly succeeded in bucking him off several times, but he held on. “Tell me!”

“He’s scared of me. Samuel is scared of me.” She managed to wrestle one of her wrists free.

“Why?”

“Because he knows that I know he killed Hassan!”

“What?” Hugo blanched at that.

“He did the same thing to me. I wanted out. Hassan asked me to marry him, and I wanted a normal life. A happy life, with him. So, Samuel had Bobby kill him. I’m not free. I’m where you are right now, I just handle it better. Samuel knows that I know, and he lives in fear of retribution, so he let go of my leash.” She drew a deep shuddering breath.

“I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to. Now get off me and get your shit together.”

Hugo suddenly realised that she had a knife pressed to his back. Where it had come from, he had no idea, but it told him without a shadow of a doubt she had allowed his assault of her so as not to hurt him. If there had been room in his heart for it, he would have felt guilty.

Hugo stood and pulled her with him. “I’ll kill them all with or without your help, but don’t you want revenge?”

“And where will that get me?”

“Free.”

“You mean dead.” Gen grabbed a towel from the rail and dabbed at her damp clothes as Hugo dripped freely onto the floor. “When you make your move on Samuel, call me.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t, I just signed your death warrant.”

Hugo had the slightest limp as he walked along the cobbled streets of the Poor Quarter. It was late and the yellow smog mingled with a chilly mist was making the few people still out on the streets look like ghostly apparitions as he passed. It was the perfect backdrop for a hunt.

He had taken Genevieve’s words to heart—some of them at least. He had to sober up and be smart if he was going to kill everyone on his list. So, it was with practised stealth and a clear mind that he made his way.

Hemmed in by the Industrial District and the massive, looming black gates of the SubLevel, the Poor Quarter was a dismal place. Most buildings were cracked and crumbling, with broken windows and no roofs. It was a far cry from the opulence of the rest of the city. The dangerous nature of many of the skyscrapers meant that most residents of the district had taken to living in crudely fashioned tents or shacks. It was the perfect place for the rich to ignore the suffering they didn’t want to see and for those with something to hide to lay low.

As well as the shanties, the Poor Quarter was home to a vibrant bazaar, and it was in the bazaar that Hugo hoped to find his quarry. Hidden amongst the legitimate hawkers, pedallers and food trucks was a jewellery stand that was a front for an underground cage fighting ring. The owner of that ring was Frank Valasco.

“Frankie,” Hugo called pleasantly as he reached the stall.

“Hugo, Jesus, you don’t look so good.”

Frank was sitting on a three-legged stool with a book next to a tray of watches that were obviously counterfeit. He had a round and ruddy face, with a thick neck that was adorned in golden chains. There was something of the bulldog about his appearance. He was White, and in his forties, with curly dark hair that was showing the first signs of going grey.

“No?” Hugo asked with a humourless laugh. He might have sobered up, but his fall from the Jonk and his deep personal misery were taking their toll.

“I heard about your boyfriend. I’m sorry.” It was a formality; his eyes had already gone back to the book he had been reading.

“I’d like to join the ring.”

Frank looked up in surprise. “You wanna fight?”

“That a problem?”

“Eh…no. I guess not. Let’s go somewhere private and discuss terms.” His eyes darted around shiftily.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Frank led Hugo down a tight and dusty snicket between two derelict buildings. It was barely wide enough for them to fit through without squeezing and Hugo was starting to wonder where they were going. All was revealed a moment later, however, when Frank stepped out into a tiny square of land towered and overshadowed on every side.

“Step into my office,” Frank joked. “So, you wanna fight, huh? Fine by me, I could put very nice odds on the boogeyman of Tenebrium City. You want a scrub to ease you in or are you headed for the big leagues right out the gate? I don’t got many guys who would give you much trouble.”

“I’ve got someone in mind.”

“Oh yeah? Is it Sticky Ricky? He’s a big one, but my money’s on you. Or it will be.”

“I was thinking you.”

“What?” Frank still hadn’t realised the danger he was in. “You’re crazy, I don’t fight no more, and you know it. I got a bum knee.”

“You were willing to fight me a few weeks ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you stood guard outside my apartment while the man I loved was tortured to death.”

There it was: the wide-eyed realisation that he was about to die. It was plain on Frank’s face. “I don’t?—”

“You were there in case I came home early. If I hadn’t failed him, if I had got there in time, you would have tried to stop me saving him which makes you complicit in is death.”

“I had no idea what was happening until it started. I was just told to guard the door, I swear.”

Frank was looking wildly around but there was nowhere to run. The only escape was the narrow passage, and he would have to go through Hugo to get there. Hugo relished the

animalistic fear on his face. Frank looked like a rabbit confronted by a tiger.

“So, you were just there?”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded slowly as if unsure.

“Did you hear him scream? Did you hear his bones break and his flesh rip?”

“Yeah, I did, and so fucking what? We’re creatures of the underworld.” Fear was making him belligerent.

“Did he cry? Did he call out for me? Did he beg her to stop?”

“Go fuck yourself, Ford. Like you’ve never killed someone’s honey. Like you’ve never tortured the most important person in someone’s life. You think it’s different because it’s you? You’re like a schoolboy with a crush, it’s pathetic. There was nothing I could do, even if I’d wanted to—which I didn’t. It didn’t even cross my mind. I’d have been insane to try and stop Alice. She’d have gutted me like she did your boy.” Frank spat on the ground.

The hatred, the sorrow, and the rage that had been coiling in Hugo’s gut reared its head like a snake ready to strike.

“Maybe someone will hear your scream and come to your rescue.”

“Killing me won’t bring him back.” Frank raised his fists, taking up a boxing stance. Past his prime and gone to seed, Frank was going to fight for his life. Good, it was no fun when they made it too easy.

Hugo played with Frank at first. Bobbing and weaving, easily slipping the man’s punches, then moving in to retaliate. He would clip Frank with a kidney shot or a gut shot and then dance back. It was the sort of thing that would have got the crowd going in the underground ring.

“Fuck you!” Frank howled as Hugo landed a savage hook against his ribs. “If you’re gonna kill me, just get it over with, you sick fuck.”

“It’s only fun to torture other people, huh?”

“Hugo will come for me.” Frank’s voice was small and scared, but his face split into a cruel grin.

Hugo froze in place. Ice seeming to replace the blood in his veins, the sweat slicking his back running cold.

“What?”

“That’s what he said. Your boy. Over and over between the screams. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me.”

“Shut up!” Hugo roared.

“It’s only fun to torture other people, huh?” Frank mimicked.

Something invisible wrapped around Hugo’s chest, constricting, stopping him from breathing. “Liar.”

“Gods honest. He called for you till his last breath.”

Hugo lunged, pulling the blood encrusted knife from his jacket. Frank was still snickering when the knife slid into him for the first time like he was no more substantial than melted butter. The laugh died in his throat as all the air was pushed from his body. Hugo reared back and stabbed him again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me. Hugo will come for me.