"Hey ponytail, where's your head at?" said a male voice.
Sal blinked, momentarily startled by the colorful lights and the retro music that thrummed throughout the building, making it feel like the floor and walls were pulsing to the beat of the music. He turned his attention to the man addressing him; a slim, middle aged man with brown curly hair and a pair of sunglasses resting on his forehead. He had a young beautiful blonde girl sitting on the arm of his chair and caressing his face, trying hard to hide the disgust on hers as she watched him down what was no doubt his tenth or twentieth shot of whiskey that night.
Bobby McWayne.
Forty year old drug trafficker/mob boss/pimp/owner of the Hells and Hounds club notorious for it's loud music and scandalous, private "services".
Sal's newest friend...
And latest target.
"Nothing Bobs, just a bit out of it tonight is all." said Sal as he poured a cup of water for himself.
"You know what'll fix that?" Bobby said as he poured himself another glass. "A shot of whiskey that's what."
"C'mon Bobs you know I don't drink," Sal said, shaking his head and taking a sip of his water. "You see this, this is nature's booze, and it won't kill you."
"Nonsense, you can drown somebody in water but I ain't never seen a man die from drinking a little whiskey."
"I have." Sal muttered.
Bobby ignored this.
"Besides, I can tell you're nervous about something today, let me guess, you've gotten yourself into some deep shit, haven't you?, it's a woman, isn't it?, you're afraid your girlfriend is going to see you here when you told her you were with your sick grandmother, that's the shit right?"
"Shut up man," Sal said as he took another sip of his water. "I'm not nervous about anything okay?, I guess I'm just eager to get my hands on the new batch coming in tonight, besides when are they going to get here, you promised they'd be here by ten"
"Relax, they'll be here." Bobby said. "In the meantime..." He whispered to the woman on his lap, she giggled in response, and Sal could almost see the despair in her eyes as she rose to her feet and took Bobby by the hand. "We'll be right back."
Sal raised his glass to Bobby and watched him vanish into the throng of swaying bodies and the lights that danced on their skins.
"Bloody fool." Sal muttered as he downed his glass of water.
"Come on now, you know we don't diss on the job." answered a distorted voice in his ear.
Sal sighed.
"What do you want, Richard?"
"You know it's weird if people see an eighteen year old boy talking to himself while drinking a glass of water in a nightclub."
Sal rolled his eyes, picked up his phone and placed it on his ear.
"Which is why you shouldn't be talking to me in the first place," he said. He winked at a stripper as she passed him by, she giggled and twirled her fingers in a wave. "Besides, I don't know why Boulder thinks we need to keep in touch while I'm on the job."
"Maybe because he doesn't want me to wait till I start hearing gunshots before I know it's time to get you out of there."
"That was one time, okay?, and those assholes had it coming, you know I hate it when people talk about my hair."
"Your target calls you "ponytail"." said Richard.
"Which is why killing him is going to be all the more satisfying." Sal said.
He checked the time on his watch. It was nearly midnight. He hoped Lester wasn't staying up late again waiting for him to get home, he would be pissed at himself if he was. What the hell was taking Bobby so long?
"You're too young to take pleasure in killing people, it's not natural."
"Richie, you of all people should know there's nothing natural about me."
"Whatever man," said Richard over the earpiece. "Natural is overrated anyways, there's a reason people are so into science fiction you know."
"You really need to quit that Star Wars Lovers club, Richie, too much epic storytelling will be the death of you."
"Not if this job kills me first."
Sal chuckled, and took another sip of water. He caught a glimpse of yellow hair moving through the crowd, the flash of skin and a familiar face.
The disgusted blonde girl.
"Hey, Richie, weird question, how long do you think it takes for our target to last in the acts of sexual pleasure?"
"Are we talking a full night or a quickie in the bathroom?"
"Quickie."
"Two minutes tops, why?"
Sal felt an itch on his chest and pressed his hand on the spot.
"Something doesn't feel right," he said as he downed the rest of his glass and stood from his seat. "I think I'm going to check it out."
"Now hold on, don't you start acting based on your premonitions again, you know that never ends well."
"It never ends well for the target, I always turn out just fine."
"Yeah, but you leave a trail of blood behind you, remember the Purple Rose job, Boulder doesn't want a repeat of that."
"Then he should have sent someone else," Sal said, he reached for the back of his jeans and skimmed the handle of the knife sticking out under his shirt. "He knows I'm all for the blood."
"Marks—"
Sal took out the earphone and shoved it in his pockets. He would apologize later when Richard picked him up from whatever mess he was about to leave behind.
The Hells and Hounds club was particularly lively tonight so getting passed the dance floor proved difficult. The dancing men and women on the floor were all so close together that it was like trying to move through a living thing, the intoxicating scent of sweat, alcohol and drugs in the air made Sal feel like he was walking through fog, and the constantly blinking lights that changed color every second weren't helping either.
Not to mention the noise of the people's thoughts, the ecstasy, the excitement, the elation that pulsed in their neurons, the static of their unheard voices.
Unheard, that is, to all but Sal.
Alas, he was able to make his way through the throng. There was so much a gentle touch on the waist and a light push on the shoulders could do, a little eye contact and a sultry whisper of "excuse me".
Of course it helped that Sal had that look in his eyes that he knew others could see, that energy others could feel. It was his gift and curse. The danger that he carried with him.
He subtly made his way through the clubbers until he eventually reached the back where two large men stood with folded arms on either side of the closed door, eyes glaring down menacingly at Sal as he approached.
"Turn around." said the bald one with the large arms sticking out of a jean jacket.
"I just want to take a piss, it's a crazy night and all the stalls are.....occupied, if you know what I mean." Sal said.
They looked at each other, then back at him.
"Turn. The fuck. Around." said the other one with frizzy brown hair and a nasty scar on his face. "Now."
Sal scoffed and smiled. That spot on his chest started to itch again.
"Come on fellas, there's no need for the hostility, it'll only take a minute."
The bald one grabbed him the shoulders and glared down at him.
"Don't make me hurt you kid." he snarled, his breath thick with the smell of alcohol.
The itch evolved into a slow burn.
Sal had no time for this.
He held the man's gaze with his eyes, and felt all the other voices fading into the background, only his static becoming clear.
"Frederick, right?" Sal said.
Baldie's eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
"How did you—"
"Trust me I know a lot of things, like how you're in the business of hurting people, especially vulnerable little boys."
The hands that grasped Sal's shoulders so firmly began to tremble.
"Now I know you were drunk that night but surely you can remember how it felt when you crushed your son's skull with that bat?, tell me, how can you continue to drink knowing that it puts you in such a vulnerable and destructive state."
"Hey!" said the brown haired man, pushing Sal away from baldie. "Get the fuck back, you freak."
"Freak, huh?" Sal said as he stumbled, recovered and locked eyes with him.
The clarity came easily this time.
"Interesting word, very contextual, now aside from me what do you think would best describe the word "freak", I for one think that your little Friday night adventures with that little camera on your table and teenage girl's bedroom windows is freak worthy behavior, don't you?"
Brown hair's eyes went wide.
"I guess you wouldn't agree with me, would you, Denis?"
Sal laughed lightly and took a step closer to them. The two stepped back, utterly silent, their bodies emanating nervous energy.
"You will let me pass, and then you will go home and take a shower and go to bed, all with the constant reminder of how pathetic and unworthy you are of the breathe in your lungs, do I make myself clear?"
They nodded, and baldie opened the door.
Outside the air was cool and heavy with the stench of city smells; road, pavement and garbage. The alley the back door led out to was wide enough for a car to drive through, dumpsters and trash cans were lined against the walls with black garbage bags flowing out of them. Beyond, Sal could hear the sound of car horns and rolling tires and even the faint whine of police sirens.
Not too far from him he could hear voices.
He moved closer, reaching for the knife at his back and pulling it out slowly.
His feet urged him to move faster, to get this over and done with and go home, but he could hear Boulder's voice in his head, like a meditation mantra.
Assessment first kit, then action.
So he decided to assess.
He hid behind one of the dumpsters and peeked out, ignoring the pungent smell of rotting garbage.
There was no streetlight shining into the alley for Sal to see their faces clearly but he could tell from the silhouettes. The one with his back to Sal was Bobby, a glowing cigarette caught between his lips. He had three large men flanking him, all of them armed with guns, and two duffle bags no doubt filled with cash at his feet.
The person Bobby was facing was about Sal's height, he had no one behind him, only a backpack slung across his shoulders as he stood near a parked car.
"I thought we were meeting inside?" came a male voice. Young, nervous, a teenager. "I don't like this."
"Relax, kiddo," said Bobby, he sounded impatient. "There's been a change of plans, there's someone inside I don't trust to be around when this goes down, so just pass the bag and I'll give you your money and we can go our separate ways."
"I'd prefer if we were in a place where people could see us." said the kid.
Bobby chuckled, and nodded to one of the guys behind him.
He fired the gun in his hand and the hood of the car sparked as the bullet struck it. The boy yelped and flinched backward as Bobby and his crew laughed and pointed fingers at him.
"Toss the bag, kid." Bobby said.
The boy, with shaking arms, slung off the bag and tossed it over.
It landed at Bobby's feet with a thud, and he signaled one of the guys to open it up. Tiny plastic wrappers filled with powder tumbled out of the bag as the zipper came free and Bobby laughed in victory.
"Very good," he said to the boy. "Now run along."
"But what about the money?"
"What about I put a bullet in your fucking head?"
"You don't understand, I can't go back empty handed, I'll die!"
Bobby scoffed with a devilish smirk.
"You're right," he said. He waved his hand and all the guards raised up their guns, the clicks of their safeties going off resounded in the alley. "How about I help you with that?"
Sal had seen enough.
"Yo Bobs!"
Bobby turned around, and all his lackeys turned with him. All the guns were now pointed at Sal.
"What the hell?, you said I'd get in on some of the action." he said. He scratched his head with the knife. "What gives?"
"Cut the crap, kid, I know you work for Boulder, son of a bitch can't fight his own battles, he sends a fucking high school kid to me, and a sissy at that." spat Bobby. "What is it with these assholes and bringing kids into the game huh?"
"Well maybe you're just not that important." said Sal as he started walking forward. The teenager was still there watching them, he had a jock's build, tousled black hair and dark brown eyes. The dumb ass should have started running by now but Sal couldn't do anything to signal him. Work had begun.
"I'm Bobby McWayne kid, I'm the very definition of importance."
"Lot of mouth for someone who's owing a lot of people a lot of money," He looked around, calculating the distance between the walls, the lackeys and himself. "You do know that's why I'm here to kill you, right?, because of the three million you owe Boulder, suffice it to say he is not happy."
"Fuck him, he ain't worth a piece of me."
"Well, that's a shame," Sal said, as he turned the knife over in his hands. "I'll make sure to give him several pieces then."
Bobby laughed and pulled out a gun from his jacket.
"If you're thinking of using that pretty little thing then you're looking for a death wish." he said.
"Try me." Sal said.
Bobby growled and snapped his fingers.
"Light him up boys."
Triggers were pulled, bullets were fired, and Sal smiled as he felt the heat on his chest blaze.
He moved, and though it was a feeling he was familiar with he couldn't help but relish in it.
He felt like a bullet.
He leapt to the wall and bounced off it, kicking the first lackey in the chest and sending him flying so hard into the opposite alley wall that his head cracked open. He didn't wait a minute longer, he grabbed the second one by the head and snapped his neck with a satisfying crunch, and before that one dropped to the floor he punched his hand through the third lackey and brought it out again, leaving a hole in his chest and his forearm coated with blood.
"What the fuck?!" Bobby yelled as the third lackey dropped to the floor next to him.
Sal smiled and placed the tip of the knife at a shivering Bobby's neck.
"Don't worry", he whispered, "I always save the blade for the target". He pierced the tip of the knife into Bobby's neck and allowed blood to well up and out of the wound. "Who's the sissy now, Bobs?"
"Please," Bobby croaked. "Please, don't kill me, I'm begging you."
"Don't worry, I won't." Sal said. "Just say my name, and all is forgiven."
"What?"
"You heard me," He pushed the knife deeper. "Say. My. Name."
Bobby started to shake and Sal smiled.
"That's what I thought."
He shoved the knife all the way through Bobby's throat until it shot out the back of his neck. Then he pulled it out and let Bobby drop to the ground.
"The name's Salome Markson, make sure the devil knows who sent you when you see him in hell."
He watched Bobby claw at his throat for a while, blood gurgling out of his lips, until eventually he stopped, and the lights went out in his eyes.
Sal pulled out the earphone from his pocket and put it on.
"It's done, Richie, I'm in the alley behind the club."
"For fucksake Sal, you need to stop doing that!" yelled Richard.
"Just shut the fuck up and get me out of here, I need a shower"
He pulled out the earphones without waiting for a reply and shoved it in his pocket.
He looked down at the corpse distastefully, bent down, and closed Bobby's open eyelids, and turned to wait for Richard at the mouth of the alley when he saw that he wasn't alone.
The jock was still there, sitting on the floor and looking up at Sal with big frightened eyes.
"Shit!" Sal swore. "What the fuck are you still doing here man, you need to leave right now."
"Wha....how did you...." He stood up from the floor, hands shaking as he held on to the car door handle. "What are you?"
Sal sighed and wiped the bloody knife on his sleeve before shoving it back through his waistband of his jeans.
"I wish I knew man." Sal said, locking eyes with the jock.
His cooling chest began to burn again.
"I wish I knew."
***
After hours of driving and scolding that Sal didn't care to pay attention to Richard pulled over in front of a large old house, the inside illuminated by purple and blue lights, the only sign of life the silhouette of bodies moving within.
The Joint.
"Go on in, I need to find a place to park." Richard said.
"See you later, Richie." Sal said as he opened the door and stepped out of the car.
Richard only winked at him, and then he drove away.
Sal turned to the house and took a deep breath.
He couldn't believe today officially made it six years he'd been coming here, ever since that first night Boulder had caught sight of him at the foster home.
Even now he could remember how the man's dark eyes had skimmed over him from the hallway, and then settled on him with curiosity. He remembered how his lips had curled with a sincere smile, how he'd come in, walked all the way to Sal's bed where he'd been drawing, bent down and whispered gently into Sal's ear, his voice deep, his breath warm, the smell of city air and tobacco clinging to him;
"Let's get out of here, kit" he'd said.
Sal had been intrigued, and had stared deep into Boulder's mind to know if he could trust him. He'd seen Boulder's intentions for him but it didn't matter. He was wanted, that was what mattered. That day he convinced Boulder to bring Lester with him, and for the first time in three years he left the foster home.
Now he wished he'd considered everything that would come with being wanted by Boulder.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked forward into the house.
There was little difference between the house and the club.
Aside from the lack of music and dancing everything was the same. Bodies lay sprawled across the floor of the foyer, men and women lost in the worlds created by their own ecstasy. The same was the case in the living room, where silhouettes stretched themselves out on the couches or sat with bodies merged on the armchairs. The air was thick with the familiar smell of drugs; cocaine, molly, ecstasy, and the dance of dark blue and deep purple lights made the scene all the more sensual.
He rolled his eyes and made sure not to step on anybody as he made his way to the stairs. Boulder would be faraway from the carnage he unleashed, confined in his own little space, safe from the temptations of his own poison.
There were half conscious people on the stairs too, all of them giggling and moaning, the base of their noses stained with white powder, empty plastic wrappers scattered on their laps.
He made his way to the second floor and immediately walked to the room he knew Boulder would be. He hoped Boulder was alone, he didn't have the time nor the strength for social interactions.
He pushed open the door, and saw Boulder sitting on his bed, thankfully he was alone.
"I'm back boss," said Sal as he closed the door behind him.
Dark eyes shot up from the pile of cash before them and stared straight at Sal.
Boulder was a black man, and a small man for his age, with the kindest eyes Sal had seen in his entire life. He had those faces that served as a mask of innocence, those faces you'd see and think could do no harm. It took Sal time before he learned masks like that served as powerful weapons. It was a lesson he'd learned from Boulder who ruled the streets in these parts with a kind face and an iron fist. Boulder who was willing to do anything to get anything he wanted.
By any means possible.
"Did things go as planned?" Boulder asked, as he went back to counting the money in front of him. There was an aura about him tonight, a nervousness that was foreign coming from him.
"Bobby's dead, if that's what you're asking." Sal said, walking in further and leaning against the wall. "Him along with the other three protecting him."
"Good," he said. His eyes flicked up from the cash briefly, skimming over Sal, his fingers worked mechanically, by memory not intent, like his mind wasn't here.
"Is anything the matter, boss?" Sal asked.
Boulder stopped, bundled the cash and tossed it in a duffel bag.
"Richard said you went radio silent for a while." he said without looking up.
And there it was, Sal thought.
Boulder was concerned his little protégé was starting to get out of line.
"That was necessary, boss," Sal said, peeling himself from the wall. "Bobby was proving difficult to keep in place so I had to do things my way."
Boulder raised his eyes to meet Sal's.
"That's not how it works and you know that." Boulder growled.
"But as usual it all worked out in the end."
"What about the drugs and the cash?, what'd you do with 'em?"
"They're in Richard's car, what?, you think I'd steal from you?"
"Well you are used to doing things your way, ain't that right, Kit?"
Sal scoffed.
"I can't believe this." He murmured.
"Can't you?, you never do anything the way I tell you to do it."
"If I always did it your way I'd never get the job done in the first place."
"We need to keep your talents secret, Kit."
"I know, which is why I kill everyone who sees me use them."
"Oh really," Boulder shot to his feet and raised four fingers. "There were only four bodies tonight, Bobby and the other three" He took a step forward and locked eyes with Sal. "What about the transporter?"
Sal froze. The jock's terrified face flashed across his mind.
"Just some teenager looking for some extra money." he said.
"Kit" Boulder said, his tone already tense with a potential scolding.
"I'm not gonna kill a kid, boss." Sal said.
"You said you killed everyone who saw you, everyone."
"I took care of it!" Sal said, his voice trembling as it grew louder. "I don't even know where all this is coming from!"
"You lied, Kit, the Joint is built on trust and you fucking lied."
"I didn't lie!" Sal yelled, he felt his mark sear with heat. "Why can't you just trust me!"
Something flashed across Bobby's eyes, definitely shock, a shred of anger, but something else too, something rare and interesting.
Fear.
But it was gone between one minute and the next.
Boulder held his gaze for a while before sighing and turning away from Sal.
Shit.
"I didn't mean to yell, Bo—"
"You can go." Boulder cut in. "I'll call you when I need you again."
Sal stared at Boulder's back for a long time, at the hunched figure of the man he considered a parent but could never call Father, before he turned to leave. That's what he was to Boulder now, just a weapon to pick up and drop back. Still he sighed in relief, anxious to get home.
"Oh, and Happy Birthday kit." Boulder said.
Sal stopped in shock.
"It's tomorrow" he said without looking back.
"Fuck that," Boulder said with a light chuckle. "I don't mean the day you were born, I mean today, the day I brought you here, your real home." He laughed. "Six years, huh? damn, we've come a long way haven't we Kit?"
Sal found himself smiling as he continued to walk out of the room.
"Yeah, yeah we have" he said to Boulder.
That's the only thing keeping me from hating you completely.
***
Sal couldn't get a late Uber so he walked home. Luckily the house he shared with his best friend wasn't too far from the Joint, and it was that time of night that was too late for anyone to be up and too early for anyone to get up so the streets were quiet and deserted. Soon after he was standing in front of his house.
The lights were on inside and he could hear muffled voices so he figured Lester had someone over and they were having a very…. eventful evening.
He was wrong though.
He walked in he and saw that the sounds were coming from the TV.
The muffled voices he'd been hearing were from the two leads who had apparently declared undying love for each other and were about to get very busy on screen.
Sal scoffed and searched for Lester. He smiled as he saw two long legs stuck out at one end of the couch and he knew instantly that Lester had fallen asleep.
He picked up the remote and turned the TV off just as clothes started flying in the movie, then he stared at Lester, his roommate and best friend, lying there with his hazel hair over his face, his mouth open and his chest rising and falling as he snored gently.
"Noisy motherfucker." he muttered as he grabbed a blanket and draped it over him knowing fully well that Lester would probably kick it off later in the night.
He sighed and walked up the stairs to his bedroom.
Sal, as he walked in, was reminded that his room was probably the blandest thing that ever happened to the 21st century and he loved it that way. The walls were plain white, not a picture or drawing in place, and the only furniture he had beside his bed was a desk at one end of the room littered with notebooks.
His closet was filled with clothes and shoes, most of them in his preferred colors of blacks, whites and greys, the others Lester had insisted on because he wanted Sal to have a color combination for every holiday he could think of.
Sal smiled at the thought and went to take a shower.
As cold water ran down his body, washing away all the blood stains he'd gotten on his face and hands, he felt all the stress and mixed emotions of the day wash away as well and he imagined it all going down the drain.
If only it were that easy.
He was too tired to grab a towel when he stepped out of the shower so he walked into the room completely naked. Without meaning to he got a glimpse of himself as he passed the mirror, and despite himself he stopped.
He didn't exactly know what it was, maybe he just wanted to see what others had seen tonight, maybe he wanted to stare at the last sight of the men he'd slaughtered that night, or the last face that jock had seen before Sal knocked him out and took away his memories.
He took a step back, and there he was.
Tall and dark skinned, with lean hard muscles that had taken years of intensive training under Boulder's wing to form.
There was his face, oddly feminine in the right places so he looked beautiful like his mother, chiseled and defined in others so he had the appropriate semblance of a man.
There was his hair, wet and long and shining silver like moonlight.
There were his eyes, two light blue eyes that, according to Lester, sparkled like jewels. Sal couldn't see them sparkling now though.
And lower, on his left chest, was his birthmark, but it was unlike any birthmark Sal had seen before. It looked like writing but felt like skin whenever Sal touched it. It was the image of a blazing sun surrounded by three stars.
It was the thing that burned whenever Sal used his abilities.
He'd asked questions about why he looked the way he did, why he could do the things he could, but no one could answer him. Not even his parents.
For a long time, he'd hated himself for the way he looked, and that hate had run so deep he'd contemplated carving out his eyes and shaving off his hair, he'd almost gone through with it too.
It'd taken Lester's brotherly affection, and Boulder's adopting him, for Sal to realize that there was no changing the way he was, there was no erasing the things that had been done to him. He was always going to be the boy abandoned by his parents because he was someone no one could understand.
And yet, in moments like this when he stood in front of a reflective surface, on days like today when he'd saved a life instead of destroying one, he couldn't help but wonder....
What if he was more?
He definitely wanted to be more, he just didn't know how to be, but he knew one thing.
He would try if given the chance.
Just.
One.
Chance.