Dirty Work: Volume 1

A Leader Of Men - 4

We arrived outside Chorus' club as the nightly entertainment was winding down. As we wandered in there were the odd pockets of individuals, still dancing to the fading remnants of music, and one or two with a large collection of glasses situated either at the bar or in pairs in a corner offside. The main band had retired an hour ago, and Chorus herself wasn't propped up on the bar, legs hung up on her rack, as she usually was during the main height of the night.

'What are we here for?' I asked Markro as we made our way over to the bar. I watched him make a quick scan around the room, and I knew that he didn't want to say anything lest a Red Rose gang-member happened to be lurking in the shadows, by the merest of coincidences or otherwise. He gazed out at the floor, checking the clothes in the jabbing lasers, and spotted nothing to be feared.

'We're here for the man who lives above the club,' Markro said, 'you now this. I told you on the way here.'

'You told me jack shit. On the way here you told me about how you once went out with a barmaid that worked here once before she went off with one of the band members from an old group that used to play here and got herself overdosed and cremated six weeks afterwards. You wouldn't stop going on about how she was your only really true love.'

'Will you keep it down?' Markro hissed as we reached the bar, 'some of us are sensitive.'

I replied by giving him a contemptuous snort that quickly dissolved into a cough. I banged my chest a few times and tried to regain my composure, which is difficult when I smell bullshit.

The guy behind the bar I didn't recognise from my previous visit, but apparently recognised Markro. He was busy wiping out glasses and restocking the shelves and cabinets when we approached, but upon seeing my companion halted his activities to turn his full attention to us. His black hair with blue streaks bounced as he turned towards us in a way that only the vitalised hair of a young man possibly can.

'What can I do for you this time, Markro?' the young man asked. Markro looked around and leaned in close, beckoning the young man to do the same.

'I need to see Spyder. It's urgent,' Markro hissed. The young man blinked, as if taking a moment to register what he was being asked. I myself was puzzled, it must be said. When I had gone up to Chorus' room the last time I was there, I hadn't heard of anyone called Spyder. It wasn't that I thought Markro might be making things up, but I knew then that it was a job of following Markro's lead, and not the other way around. It always was, of course, but now to a greater extent.

'I'll call Chorus down.' The young man went over to a Halo-Core and waved. He put his face close and coughed. 'Sorry to bother you, but Markro's here, along with another guy. He needs your permission to see him.'

'Send him up,' said Chorus from the other end of the transmission, 'he knows where to go. I'm with him now.'

The young man moved his face away and waved the Halo-Core off. He turned to face us again, picking up the cloth and glass he was cleaning as we had approached once again. 'Go straight up.'

'Thank you,' Markro said, bowing ever so slightly. The young man did likewise, his eyes drifting away instantly. We were no more a concern, just another passing traveller on his weary way.

'Come on,' Markro said, tapping me on the shoulder, 'let's go.'

We climbed the stairs, the metal gratings vibrating as the music combined with our footsteps to give it a pleasant ringing noise that serenaded our movements. We ducked behind the large pink neon sign that overlooked the dance-floor and Markro punched a code into the Halo-Core. The door opened and Markro gave a small sigh. 'I was almost scared she'd changed the pass code,' he said, trying to chuckle a little. I could hear the anxiety still in the timbre of his voice however, and see the almost microscopic shaking of his hand. Nerves were kicking in, even now.