The Lord of Misrule

51 -- Brant's Vices

An idling muscle car sat in the alley when Lusk re-emerged into low-churning bushes. The Brant's were early.

"Shit."

Left Teeth where he was and slid down the hill before sprinting across the road. Jogged along the sidewalk and stopped at the alleyway.

Two men in brown ski masks were inside the car—windows down. A single streak of light spilled down from a lamppost. Lusk called out the watchword to them and then stepped into plain view with the Uzi pointed at the ground.

Both men nodded and exited the car. Each carried a little snub-nosed revolver and wore identical jogging suits. Both still had their medallions from their botched previous operation.

"Roger?" said Nathan.

"It's Bogdan."

Both men stared in silence before, "Roger said you weren't going to make it..."

"I turned it around on him."

"How so?" shot Sonny. Nathan glared at him.

"He's dead," said Bogdan, "I killed him. I trust that doesn't affect your dinner plans? And let me ask you something—did he come to either of you boys making wild allegations about something stupid like a finger bone?"

He hadn't. Lusk nodded. They might've been lying but the answer pleased him none the less.

"He was trying to pull something on me with that," said Lusk, "I think, anyway. He's dead now. And hey, I hate to do this to you lads—but give me five fucking minutes. I gotta take care of something. Stay stuck to the shadows here and I'll be back in ten at most and we can progress."

They agreed with some reserve, and Bogdan turned from them. Before he could cross the street his name was called.

Lusk turned carefully—hoping a shot didn't come—instead Nathan Brant held up a fun-sized vial of white powered.

"Want a hit?"

"You and your fucking coke," murmured Bogdan. "I thought you were clean."

"Special occasion." He said this dreamily before pulling out two more vials.

Sonny snatched one—his hands were shaking—he sure as shit wasn't clean. Even Nathan was starting to get a tremor when Bogdan took the proffered vial. Sonny's was gone before Lusk finished examining the contents of his. Then he tore the stocking mask down from one eye to his nose, uncapped, and snorted.

Held back a cough, let it slide, and then, "You're a fucking wizard," before continuing back to the museum as the powder began to take hold.

Dragged Teeth from his serene and idle repose up through the bushes to the museum. All the windows on the first three floors were dark and they wrapped around the side by trotting silently along a flower bed. Figured he'd leave Teeth parked on the far side of the parking lot among trees where he ought to see the lights go out.

He was about to step out and lead him to such a spot when a car shot up the road with a flash of headlights and pulled into the parking lot. Lusk dropped to his belly and Teeth followed automatically.

This car tried to slam to a halt with the others, but instead scraped hard into a blue Kia as he came in. Set the Kia rocking, but no alarm. It was then a small man sprang from out to stare at the damage, hands on head. He was wearing a bright silk sport coat over dress pant.