I stop at a crosswalk on my way to 10th street and pull out my phone to look at the text Alessio sent me this morning that I still haven’t responded to.
ALESSIO: And speaking of doing things again… when can I see you? Maybe we could go out somewhere this time? You know, like a proper date.
A proper date. I know even less about that than I know about morning coffee conversation topics. What does he want? Dinner and a movie? Jesus, I can’t picture myself doing any of that. Not to mention the cashflow issue I’m currently having. I’ve gone back and forth all day on how to respond, and I finally type up a reply.
SPETTRO: The thing is, fucking you at your apartment is free. Cash is pretty tight. If I’m being honest, I’ve been a little bit gun shy about my usual financially lucrative activities.
ALESSIO: You ever consider legit work?
I chuckle under my breath at his question and cross the street, glancing up to avoid walking into anyone as I type out my reply.
SPETTRO: Have you?
ALESSIO: You got me there. Don’t worry about it though. I invited, it’s on me.
SPETTRO: What’d you have in mind?
ALESSIO: Eros. You ever been?
Nowthatis not the suggestion I was expecting, and it’s definitely a hell of a lot more tempting than the idea of dinner and a movie. I turn the corner and see the sign for the bar I’m looking for. Babylon. It’s almost as good as lurking around the clubhouse if I want a surefire place to pick off a Reaper or two without doing much legwork, and I’m in the mood to rid the world of a couple more tonight. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk to type out a response to Alessio.
SPETTRO: No, but I’m up for it. Friday.
I power my phone down after I hit send and shove it into my pocket. I check for my mask and my gun tucked into my waistband and slip into the alley next to the bar to wait.
I had a damn good night’s sleep last night—compared to my usual, anyway—so my energy level is up and I’ve got an ocean of patience tonight. I’ll wait as long as it takes for one of the Reapers to step out for a smoke break or a piss, and then it’s on.
I lurk in the shadows, letting time pass, not thinking about much of anything. There’s something peaceful, almost meditative, about knowing I’ll have fresh blood on my hands soon and that all I have to do is be patient and let them come to me. I idly calculate how many Reapers I’d have to kill each day to wipe out the club by the end of the year. It’s roughly one a day, but that’s only if they stop adding new recruits every damn week.Dammit, I really do need to think bigger if I’m ever going to get this done.
I hear the crunch of footsteps and I perk up, flattening myself against the wall and tugging my mask down over my face. A slender, greasy man steps into the mouth of the alley and lights a cigarette, the glow of the orange ember illuminating his face for a few seconds. He’s a Reaper. I recognize him from the last party I went to.
My heart beats faster, but I hold myself nice and still, taking quiet, shallow breaths as I inch a little closer. I need him to come deeper into the alley, which means I need to make sure he doesn’t notice me hiding in the shadows. He takes a drag from his cigarette and shuffles his feet in a bored sort of rhythm, taking a step deeper into the dark.
That’s right, just another couple of steps.
Here, rapist, rapist, rapist. Pspspsps.
A shadow appears at the mouth of the alley and I shrink back. Is it another Reaper? A random drunk coming out for a smoke at an incredibly inconvenient time?
“Hey,” a gruff voice says, and the Reaper startles, spinning around to face the voice and then immediately reeling back.
Okay, so not a Reaper.
The unmistakable sound of a fist crashing into flesh echoes, followed by a grunt, and the Reaper tries to flee down the alley towards me.
“Where you going? We just want to have a little chat.”
Oh, fuck.
I know that voice.
I hold my breath and quietly slip deeper into the shadows just as Alessio and another man come into view. I recognize the other man. He was at the meeting at Wild. Even if he hadn’t been, the stoic look on his face and the expensive suit would have given him away as one of the Morettis.
What do they want with this Reaper though?
“I didn’t do nothing,” the Reaper says, holding both hands up defensively as the two of them close in on him, boxing him against the wall with nowhere to run.
“Who said you did anything? Maybe we’re just looking to buy some Girl Scout Cookies,” Alessio says in a jovial voice that’s somehow more unnerving than the fact that the other guy hasn’t said a word other than “Hey” so far.