The air in the old church was hot and heavy, and hit Rabbit like a wet towel to the face as he walked in from the cold evening outside. The pounding of the dark bass bounced off the high ceilings and came back down through the tables like the heart beat of some great monster.
Thum-thump. Thum-thump.
Half clad bodies on stage writhed around under flashing lights that helped hide the ugly of the place. Sweat dripped from skin as dancers worked to sell sex in a rather convincing fashion. Feathers, lace, leather- it was all there on show, twisted around a metal pole, like the snake around the apple tree. Men sat on the edge of their seats, wanting for something more, anxious with anticipation. Women reached out, pulling the men ever closer, while staying just out of reach- inches from some sort of connection. The clothing was coming lose now, making the scene ever appealing, locking attention to the stage and drawing money from wallets-
Rabbit was having none of it though. He knew sex was a commodity to be bought and sold, and he was a poor man, and had nothing worth selling.
No, Rabbit was here only on business today. Money was in tight supply, and being an ex-con made work offers in short supply. He had the D.W.M.U, but most of that was community service still, and the jobs that weren't were all menial labour and didn't pay much. Food in the city was expensive, and even splitting on a one bedroom apartment was weighing too heavily on his pocket book. He has been rejected from every source of legitimate business he had approached for work, and was running out of options when his roommate had approached him with an opportunity.
Meet me at the Holy Sin, 7 o'clock, is all he would say about it- besides that the work might be something he wouldn't want to tell his parole officer about.
Rabbit raised his arms to let the bouncer pat his leather down, and took a moment to look over the crowd of people. His roommate, Grey, wasn't too hard to find; the tall, thick, grey haired man stood out as a rough spot in the sea decent folk- as decent as strip club patrons get, at least. He supposed, as he slid his way to the back for the room towards Grey, he too looked like he didn't belong. The mixture of prison tattoos, full length beard and worn leather jacket gave him the look of a man who might be more comfortable in a truck stop bar in the middle of nowhere- and he would have been, if only he could leave town.
Nods were passed between Grey and Rabbit as the former slid into the back booth to join the grotesque gathering. There were two other men in the booth: one that Rabbit recognized as Half-Soul – his mate from prison, released three years ago- and a fourth man with fiery red hair that he didn't know.
“Hola, me amigo!” Grey barked happily in broken Spanish.
“S'up.” a bottle of beer was slid towards Rabbit as he took off his jacket and settled into the padded bench.
“Is that what language you speak?” Half-Soul croaked across the table. Rabbit leaned his head back on the padded bench and lit up a red seven. “I always thought you were Polish or something.”
“None of the above.” Rabbit reached across the table, towards the redhead, to grab the ash tray he was using and split the difference between them. Half-Soul seemed displeased with his reply, but kept quite, and left the air empty for the unknown fourth to fill, who was watching Rabbit with an amused intensity.
“Y' ears are funny.” The man's voice was higher than he had expected from someone so tall. It came with an uneducated cockney drawl as well, a sound that wasn't too common around these parts. Out of all of them, the redhead had to be the nicest dressed- though his blazer and tie did little to hide the overall roughness of the man. Handsome, but capable. He cleaned up well, for sure, but the tattoos under the rolled up sleeves, and the punk-rock cut to his bright orange hair suggested that this man was a lump of coal someone was trying to pass off as a diamond.
“Nice job.” Rabbit retorted in a firm, but unenthused manner, smoke dripping from his lips, “You always this perceptive?”
“Only when'm paid ta be.” Red ran his tongue over his teeth, sucking them clean with a small, annoying noise before snuffing out his cigarette and shoving the ash tray over to Rabbit. “Name's Ronny- I work for da guy who's gorra be payin' y'.” Rabbit smartened up, and passed a look to Grey who just smirked. “Grey says y' go' some talents we might need.”
“Yes'sir.” Rabbit nodded, straightening up and leaning forward with interest.
“An' wozat you do den, mister Rabbit?”
“Uhh-”
“He's real good with a knife- like” Half-Soul thwapped Rabbit across the back with his prosthetic arm, “Watched him stab one of them picnic knives through a gang leaders hand back in Roel- that was some lunch time show- nailed him down to the fuckin table!”
“Not your hand there?” Grey pointed out the piece of metal work the old man had for a right arm.
“Nah, nah.” He wiggled the fingers on the old thing and pointed to it with his good arm, “I lost this thing a long time ago-”
“Halfer was sayin' y' was some sort of assassin.” Ronny's delivery broke through the others' conversations. He had a confidence in his voice to shake a shark from swimming. It was hardly a wonder why someone would hire a man like him for a job like this- he was fucking intimidating.
“Aye.” Rabbit nodded slowly, “Was trainin' to be, at least- back home.”
“And y' go' the feel o' magic about y'.” His hands were folded on the table, his amber eyes gleamed from under his fringe of orange hair.
“Aye...” Rabbit said slowly, watching the man with caution. “I practice... but I'm not allowed to use it... parole an' all.”
“Parole don't let y' kill people either.” Ronny licked his teeth again- it was a grating sound, and the only thing that took away from his over all delivery. “But dun' worry, mate. We ain't gorra tell y' parole bloody all, 'lright?”
A voice giggled in the back of his head, and Rabbit found himself agreeing without any thought to the consequences.
“Right... 'Ere's 'ow it goes...”
The man went on to tell a quick plan to the gathering, keeping the details to a minimum. There was a business in town, a big business, that needed to be shut down. Secrecy was top priority, so instead of sending in trained professionals that could be traced back to Ronny and his boss, they were hiring losers- like Grey and Half-Soul and him- with talent that were willing to risk it all for a couple of thousand bucks a pop. The job was simple. Get into the building, kill the head of the company, place a virus on their computer, get out without being caught.
“That's it?” Rabbit asked with apprehension.
“If you ffink it's bloody-well ffat easy, let me tell y', y' not the first lot to try.” Ronny lit up another cigarette and let the smoke drip from his nose like some angry dragon. “It'sa guarded forty-floor building wiff sensors an' camera's an' shit, an' I need'a talented group of SOBs who're gorra get ffis job done right ffis time!” He was getting annoyed. The change in attitude told Rabbit this man had something at stake with this gig. “Now are you blokes in'et or wot?
The group was hushed for a moment as the weight of the question sunk in. Looks were passed back and forth in silence. Rabbit knew this wasn't something they could walk away from, not with their funds sitting so low. Besides, they were already damned, how much further could they fall?
“ We'll do it, sir.” Grey spoke up for the group with a polite nod. “Five pm Sunday. Meet us here, we'll have had it done.”
“Brilliant.” Ronny sighed, breathing smoke over the group. “ 'Ad me worried fer a second ffere, lads.” He stood up, towering over the table and he gathered his things, and gave Rabbit a firm pat on the shoulder. “Sunday it is, ffen. See y' blokes around.”
The hush fell once more as the redhead left the group. Half-Soul pealed at the label on his damp beer bottle, and Rabbit fiddled with his burning stub of a cigarette. Grey cleared his throat briskly, and gave a growl like laugh. “Why's it feel like we've done sold our soul to the Devil- am I right, fellas?”
“We just did.” Rabbit pushed himself out of the sticky vinyl seat and gathered his things. He was quiet, and refused to look at the other two. “I can't breath in this place. I'll see y' at home.”
“Come on, man.” Grey groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his large, rough hand, “Don't be like that. You're the one who said he needed money- I found you a gig! Thought you'd be happy about it-”
“
I'll see you at home.” He said more firmly, sliding his jacket on over his shoulders and popping the collar. “Half-Soul, good to see y' again, man.”
“Take it easy, chum.” The wrinkled man sighed, giving a half-hearted wave before turning in to start a conversation with Grey.
Thum-thump. Thum-thump.
Girls giggled in the corner as Rabbit passed, cooing and awing over some loose changed scrub in a private booth. Men hollered at the front stage, pleading and begging with the mistresses in the spot light-
This place was getting to him. Too hot, too heavy, too loud. Rabbit pushed his way through the tables towards the door, not paying attention of which way he shoved himself, till he ended up bouncing off something fleshy.
“Sorry, man.” The gruff man grabbed the creature by the shoulders, steadying it before it could fall down-