Dirty Work: Volume 1

A Leader Of Men - 3

I waited for Markro to have his briefing by helping make sure the stage was set for the night. I gave it a quick wipe down and a polish to make it shimmer, and then helped out stocking up the bar for the punters before they made their way in. On duty that night were Ashrore, Tiera and Dotseven. We worked in silence. The air held a gloomy mist that hung low like a heavy raincloud, ready and waiting to unleash its belly to the world below. Under the bar we strapped two extra 40 Betas and stocked up the capsules. We weren't taking any chances should a shootout be unleashed when we weren't ready for it.

Dotseven ran through the playlist for that evening, tweaking the sound system to his liking. You'd never have a better music man than Dotseven, I can assure you, and if Chorus was ever short of someone to mix for her over in Region 22, I have no doubt that he would be snapped up faster than a Brykthylosian with a machine gun. The music punched our chests and rattled our ribcages but our mouths stayed shut and our feet didn't tap along as they usually did.

Eventually Markro came out from his meeting with the boss and summoned me into the back room.

'This is suicide,' he said simply.

I tried to think of an immediate, sarcastic reply, but I could find nothing that would help to bring a lighter mood or atmosphere to a place that had lost all the fun and bright gaiety it usually had. The air even felt thick, and whenever I hear someone say that you could cut the tension with a knife, I think of Dirty Work that day.

'Not necessarily,' I try to begin, knowing that Markro wasn't buying it. There were only two of us, and more than likely a whole load of them. Going in would be getting us shot to ribbons.

'I want to say that the boss must have a hell of a lot of faith in us,' Markro said, 'but to be honest I've never seen him like that. Never.'

'Looking out of the window, keeping his Halo-Core locked up, the guards inside...'

'All of that doesn't make this look like an agreeable outcome at all, does it?'

Again I fell silent, having nothing to add to his statements which, unfortunately, all rang true.

'We've got to try though,' I said, trying to instil some confidence in my voice. 'After all, we're the rescue-mission to bring back Flore.'

'It's a fucking suicide-mission is what it is,' Markro sighed, grabbing a drink from the table and taking a swig. 'But, I suppose taking a few assholes down with me would never be a bad thing.'

'Can we get some help for this at all?' I asked him. 'Some of the other guys?'

Markro shook his head glumly. 'Oh I wish. The boss wanted it just to be the two of us. Says that if we have the chance to sneak in and grab her, two of us would be better than a whole crowd.'

'What about three then? Ashrore or someone? Surely three is the best number?'

'If we can get Flore out of the chair, she can be our third,' Markro said, draining the glass and putting it back with a thud. He looked despairingly at it, and I had a brief flash of him looking at me like that, a corpse with blood seeping from a hundred wounds, fallen in battle. I saw him shake his head and mutter under his breath, 'he never was any good, you know.'

'Where even is their area of operations?' I asked.

Markro shrugged. 'Beats me. But I know someone who might be able to find out for us. Let's go.'

I got up slowly, reluctant to leave the chair, knowing I might never come back to it again, might never see it again, or Dirty Work again for that matter. 'Where are we going?'

He smiled. 'To ask the most beautiful woman in the world if we can see the crazy man that lives above her nightclub.'