8B2

Chapter 5

I lifted the gun to the ceiling, shot twice before jumping off the counter and striding to the shattered door. My makeup was melting down my face, the fresh dye of my hair running over my features and staining the dress and jacket.
I stepped into the night, the alarms and sprinklers running, the little white machine still in between my fingers. I needed somewhere to hide, now they would know I was a criminal.

I would be wanted. I laughed, dropping the empty gun. I had no use for it anymore. I laughed again striding down the streets, inhaling the vapor through my mouth and out my nose.

I would go to one of Kellea's hangouts, where she stayed while I worked and found customers. It was underground, hidden from the cops. I found the alleyway, tucked between two apartment buildings. It was closer to Aforica's center and the green graffiti that was sprayed on the walls told me I was in the right place.

I dropped the stick, it had run out, and strode down the metal staircase, my boots clanking. There was a walkway down here, one that may have been used by the government but was long abandoned to criminals and people who needed a place to hide. I found a door, pushed it open and found myself in the club.

I was never allowed inside, Kellea told me to wait outside when I was done working or find another client. But never go inside.
It smelt like alcohol and bodies, people kissing and sweating. Music played so loud my brain was rattling in my ears. There were lots of hidden places like this.

When people aren't smart enough they can't get jobs. But the government still expects us to work, even though the world has no place for people like us. So we do work. In all sorts of different ways and places.

The floor was platinum silver and strips of blue and purple glowing light stretched overhead. There was a bar in the back and on the side of the wall to my left. The center of the club was a few steps below the rest of the floor, just beneath a huge glowing white block. There were women dancing on platforms with hardly any clothing, artwork of similarly dressed women decorated the wall in various lewd poses.

I smirked, dye still dripping down my head, leaving puddles in my wake. I pushed past a woman in a tube top and jeans singing to whatever song was playing. She held a drink above her head, voice terribly off key. I pushed through a man kissing a woman far too drunk to comply, nauseous for her, the strap of her dress falling off. We were all here for the same thing. To forget what we are. I slithered past three men calling to one of the dancers on her platform.

"Beautiful ass darling," one of them shouted. "Come down and lemme touch it."

I passed a man handing a woman a bag of something gray while she slid him a paper with a banking code on it.

I looked back into the lowered pit, where a man and woman lounged on the sofa . Both watched me with clear eyes. I ignored them while the lights of the place flickered into what I thought was red and the same blue.

I just wanted to get to the bar for something to distract me. I slid past a couple dancing together, clearly drunk and took a seat in the corner at the far end. I ordered something quick, my mind blurring from the bright colors I couldn't really see. A dark man slid into a seat beside me and put the money for my drink down.

He was tall and broad, missing a front tooth. His eyes were small and he looked like he was on a permanent high, his suit far too tight in all the wrong places.

"How are you this evening sweetie?"

"Fuck off," I said, sipping the drink that was placed before me.

He leaned closer, running a hand down the arm of my jacket, fingers closing on my forearm. "You looking for anyone tonight?"

Another man appeared beside him. "Jack, you ain't fucking her unless you pay. That's Kel's bitch."