Techno music blasted across the dance floor, with speeding lights illuminating every corner. One part of Tomas's expansive club was dedicated to the dance floor, while another featured professional female dancers and DJs to amplify the crowd's mood. Separated from the bustling activity, the strip bar was tucked away underground. The club, known as one of the most elite venues, was equipped with security cameras throughout. It attracted various mafia groups, making it a hub for their business dealings. Tonight, following a concluded meeting, drug cartels entertained themselves with women; wine flowed freely, and meth and cocaine were as common as any ordinary dish laid out on the tables.
Meanwhile.
Tomas groaned loudly. The woman was on the table while he pumped her from behind. His sweat trickled down on his forehead as he continues to thrust harder, he was wearing a shirt, and his pants were on the floor.
"Oh my god! Oh, harder please!" Brenda whispered seductively, imitating a pornstar. Pretending she enjoyed it even though she was getting bored. She secretly yawned then she screamed in pleasure as if memorizing a script. "Push it more." Brenda's mind began to travel while Tomas was too preoccupied in pumping her. How can I solve the radical equation? I need to remember, she wondered.
Tomas grinned in pride; his shirt already soaked in sweat. He slapped Brenda's buttocks and continued to thrust.
Yeah, right. Three inches is big enough for you. Brenda's mind mocked in disgust. She hid the snickering by faking a loud moan then her thoughts went back again to her previous contemplation. Oh, I know how to solve it. Start by subtracting one from both sides to isolate the primary term. Then square both sides to remove the binomial from the radical. Substituting 11 for x in the original equation yields. I should try it later.
Loud noises of their banging muscles filled the space, the crushing sounds seemed like an orange, squeezing every bit of the juice. "I'm coming! Take it all!" Tomas shouted in euphoria; he was on the verge of ejaculation. Brenda smirked, one of a kind prostitute, she was intelligent and loved to read. Unfortunately, the clients would never give a damn about intelligence. "Damn it! I-I'm coming!" She maintained the pornstar act by prolonging the words with a breathy voice, gasped for air, and gave out an ecstatic moan to complete the pretension. Then she dozed off. Took a nap, if that was even a word to include in her sexual vocabulary.
Tomas pushed even further. He finally released his semen to the condom. Brenda was still clueless when he removed his manhood.
"Hey, get out." Tomas spanked her behind. She finally woke up from her nap. Brenda hurriedly pulled up her skirt and left the room before he could notice her tired eyes.
Tomas wore his pants, wiped his sweat, and changed his shirt. After that, he went to the mini bar of his office to pour a drink. He returned to his swivel chair to relax for a minute.
A knock on the door was heard.
"Get in!" Tomas shouted while taking a drink. The door opened, and three men entered: Abner, Tulfo, and Mar. Tulfo and Mar took seats on the couch, while Abner, his right-hand man, approached the desk.
Mar diligently wiped his dagger on his jeans. His arm boasted more ink than bare skin, portraying the image of a typical mobster with tattoos adorning his neck, shoulders, and legs. His casual attire did little to conceal his rough demeanor. Tulfo, preoccupied with watching a video on his cellphone, contrasted Mar with his lack of tattoos but a face adorned with piercings. Bald and muscular, he stood at average height. Mar and Tulfo behaved like loyal dogs, ready to bark and bite at their master's command, the ones who execute and cover up the dirty work.
The bouncer approached Tomas at the door. "Boss, someone wants to talk to you. She said it's important."
"Let her in!" Tomas commanded, finishing his whiskey. Abner rose from his seat and headed to the bar.
Tomas's gaze fixed on the woman who entered. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor. A striking woman made her entrance, dressed in a black long-sleeved polo, fitted black pants, and red stilettos. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail, and she sported nerdy glasses while clutching a black briefcase. To those present, she exuded undeniable appeal. "W-what do you w-want?" Tomas stammered, overwhelmed by the beauty before him.
"May I have a seat?" the guest inquired. Their earlier confidence seemed to dissipate upon hearing her voice. It was captivating, a soothing tone with a sweet accent that caught them off guard. To Tomas and his men, her voice carried a unique quality, reminiscent of a phone operator's—sweet, seductive, and slightly raspy, marked by a smooth English accent that left them parched.
The boss smiled and extended his hand towards a chair, inviting the guest to sit.
Seated across from Tomas, the guest introduced herself without delay. "I'm Margo Sinclair, and I'm here to buy one of your merchandise," she stated succinctly, getting straight to the point. "What do you want to buy?" Tomas inquired, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing, while his men listened intently. "My client wants to buy one of your girls," Margo revealed, satisfying their curiosity.
Tomas studied her intently, his gaze delving into her green eyes. A sense of greed began to overtake him, the prospect exciting him. "Who is your client?" he pressed.
Margo placed the briefcase on the table and gently pushed it forward. "The client's identity doesn't matter. Name your price. I will pay," she declared with a cold, yet somewhat mild, tone that carried an imposing air.
Tomas unlocked the briefcase to find a pile of cash neatly stacked inside. "How much is this?" he asked, brushing the surface, the crisp texture of the peso bills palpable under his palm.
"Fifty million pesos," she stated in a tone devoid of emotion. Her green eyes remained impassive as she crossed her arms and legs, her posture exuding indifference.
Tomas managed to conceal his surprise, feigning a cough. His left hand clenched into a fist as he idly twisted the ring on his finger. Meanwhile, Abner retreated to the mini-bar to pour himself a glass of whiskey, the tension thick in the air. "Suppose I agree," Tomas finally said with a nonchalant shrug. "Which one do you wish to buy?" He absentmindedly caressed the skull adorning his ring.
"Aveline."
"Who?" Tomas paused, stroking his beard as he tried to place the name.
"Boss, the one you tried to kill!" Abner interjected, leaning against the counter with a glass of whiskey in hand.
Tomas cackled. "Oh, I remember!" He then turned his full attention to Margo. "Why don't you suggest your client pick another girl? I don't sell defective goods," he said, his fingers excitedly drumming on the table. "Aveline is young; she'll generate more profit for my business. I can't simply let her go. If you catch my drift." He leaned back in his chair, rocking it effortlessly from side to side.
"How much do you need?" Margo inquired, her tone remaining unaffected by his insinuation.
Tomas burst into a loud, harsh cackle, then slammed his fist on the table, though Margo remained unperturbed. His minions, like faithful dogs, joined in the laughter. Tomas quickly regained his composure, shook his head, and narrowed his eyes. "You foreigners are very amusing. Ha! What do you think we are? Your slaves?" He sneered as he lit a cigarette. "You think you can just waltz in here and dictate terms to me?" He arrogantly pointed his finger at Margo while puffing smoke, leaned back in his chair, and rested his feet on the desk. "I don't get it. Why does your client want to buy one of my girls when you're far more beautiful than any of them here?" He formed the shape of a woman with his hands, his grin malicious. "Your client must be foolish. You should work for me instead. I could make you famous," he suggested, licking his lips and rubbing his chin.
Margo observed him with an impassive expression. "You'll enjoy working with me," Tomas leaned forward, blowing a cloud of smoke towards her face. Margo didn't flinch or even blink in the face of his rudeness. "You don't need to understand the reasons. Just accept the money," she commanded, her green eyes piercing into his soul.
Her declaration severely dented Tomas's ego. Margo's lack of intimidation by his presence diminished his self-confidence. The stark defiance of the green-eyed woman inflicted further damage to his pride. He scratched his beard, his eyes alight with animosity. "Just because you're backed by a wealthy client doesn't give you the right to be arrogant! You don't get to dictate terms to me!!" Tomas snarled. "You're on my turf! Here, you follow my rules! In my eyes, you're nothing but trash!" His voice escalated, his anger palpable as he gestured aggressively towards her.
Tomas attempted to instill fear with his menacing tone, but Margo remained utterly unfazed by his tirade. Not a single emotion flickered across her face at his words. Behind her mask of indifference, she already planned his death in the same manner of doing her laundry or making a list of her schedules for the weekend. His existence seemed a despicable cockroach to her eyes, too easy to crush.
"I'm in a good mood today; I'll let you off easy." Tomas stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray and pushed the briefcase toward her. "I'm not selling Aveline. Fifty million? I can make that in a month," he claimed with exaggerated confidence.
"Is that your final decision? You won't take the money?" Margo asked, her tone steady. She wasn't surprised; it would have been more shocking had Tomas accepted her offer.
Nonchalantly, Margo ran her hand through her hair and inspected her nails, as if engaging in such behavior was entirely ordinary in front of him.
Tomas, visibly irritated, clenched his teeth. "No! I won't take it!" he declared, sliding the briefcase back toward her.
"Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's needs, but not every man's greed. Can't you just take the money?" Margo responded, her eyebrow raised, unfazed. "It's ironic, isn't it? People like you usually offer me money, and now when I'm the one offering, you refuse," she remarked, crossing her legs and fixing her gaze on him. Noticing the disarray on the table, Margo began to arrange the skull-headed crystal figurines in a row, all facing him.
Tomas and his men looked puzzled by her actions. Suddenly, Tomas changed his stance, resting his hands on the table. "One month," he said, holding up a finger. "You can have her for one month, for fifty million." He gave a half shrug and chuckled. "I'm feeling generous today. Let's consider it an offer." He extended his hand for a handshake, but Margo simply looked at him.
"My word is final. I came here to make a purchase, not to negotiate. This offer will not last forever. Take the money and let Aveline go, or face the consequences. I don't accept refusal," Margo stated, adjusting the button on her sleeve, indifferent to Tomas's change of heart. "I have no time to waste."
Tomas gritted his teeth in frustration. "Are you threatening me? Don't test my patience, Miss. You'll regret it."
Margo stood, clutching the briefcase. "You've made your choice." Tomas, however, interrupted by seizing the other end of the briefcase. "You don't get to decide. If you don't want to get hurt, leave the money and get out of here!" He shot a murderous glance at her, meeting her cold green eyes with his fierce gaze.
Mar and Tulfo slowly rose from their seats. Tulfo snickered, allowing his gaze to sweep over Margo's form. He then stuck out his tongue, licking his lips in a lewd gesture.
The men erupted into laughter.
Tomas issued a warning with a smile, winning the game through cheating, disregarding the rules and resorting to force and intimidation for the money. Margo casually approached the exit, opened the door, and then closed it behind her. She scanned the room as if searching for something. Blinking, her gaze landed on a nail protruding from the wall. With another swift glance, she observed a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. Then, her eyes caught sight of Mar's dagger.
"What are you waiting for? Get out of here!" Tomas commanded, waving his hand dismissively and clicking his tongue in irritation. "Or do you want to work here?"
The men chuckled at his taunt.
Tulfo advanced towards Margo like a laughing hyena walking to his prey, she smirked at him then she removed her glasses. Tulfo was getting nearer; she deliberately broke her eyeglasses in two pieces.
In a lightning speed...
"Ugh!"
She jabbed Tulfo's throat with the frame; his eyes widened. Margo grabbed his face and then shoved the back of his neck onto the nail on the wall. It hit a nerve; his body trembled before he lost his life. "What the—" Mar shouted in horror, while Tomas was caught by surprise.
Mar lunged with his dagger, but Margo was swift to evade the attack. Holding the remaining piece of the frame, she buried it in his left eye. In the blink of an eye, she snatched the knife and slit his throat as effortlessly as swiping a credit card through a machine. Abner was stunned for a moment, regaining his composure as he attempted to grab a gun. But Margo rushed to the fire kit, broke the glass, and pulled out an ax...
The ax flew through the air like a boomerang.
The blade landed on Abner's forehead, getting stuck in the middle with blood spewing like a fountain.
Margo approached Tomas, who was too overwhelmed to move. "You should have taken my word, but don't worry, I won't break your bones. I have other plans for you." Using one of his crystal skulls, she struck him in the neck. Hitting a vital nerve, she rendered him unconscious.
Abner was still alive with an ax buried in his head. Margo pushed him over the counter, pulled out the weapon, and then jabbed it into his chest. The crushing sound resonated as she continued stabbing his body; it was as though she was cutting meat in a butcher shop. The internal organs spilled out like gelatin; intestines fell to the floor, arteries ripped into pieces; blood splattered on the wall, sprinkling like rain on white marble. Still holding the bloody ax, Margo snuck up to the door and chopped the bouncer's neck. She dragged him inside, then went to Tomas and hid his body under the table.
Without wasting time, she washed her hands and cleaned the ax. Margo stepped outside, holding the weapon. It was dark and noisy, too much for anyone to notice she was carrying a hatchet. Margo visited the control room, kicked the door in, and the flying ax struck someone in the chest. She yanked it free to hit his face, shattering the skull. While blood flowed endlessly on the floor, Margo took control of the security cameras. She erased the videos, turned off the alarm, and took a gun from the lifeless security guard.
Carrying a new weapon in her hand, she wandered onto the dance floor. People were crazily dancing to the loud tunes; they were all sweaty and unsuspecting of the danger. "Party's over," Margo whispered, then fired the gun at the ceiling. The people were oblivious; they thought the noise was part of the show. Margo shot the speakers, which broke the DJ's equipment in half. Smoke soared from the table, provoking the electrical wires to spark from the stage. "One...two...three," she muttered again. A commotion overturned the music; the crowd ran all over the place, resulting in a riot. Margo returned to the office, firing more bullets into the ceiling to attract attention.
Like she loved to do, she ventured with leisure inside the office. Margo explored the gun collections displayed on the walls, picked something she preferred, as though taking an item from a grocery shelf. She chose a shotgun and powerful Uzis, then placed them on the table. Next, she went to the mini-bar to pour herself a drink.
The firing of the gun finally got the mafia's attention.
"Where is it?" one of Tomas's associates asked while he grabbed the gun.
"It's in the office!"
A group of men grabbed their weapons; they hurried in one direction...
Margo was peacefully relaxed in the swivel chair, swallowing the scotch while holding the shotgun as she watched the bullet on the table. The stereo played a song by Nancy Sinatra, the voice deep, depicting an apocalyptic madness to the tune of piano and bass guitar.
"🎶Bang, bang. He shot me down Bang bang. I hit the ground. Bang bang. That awful sound Bang bang. My baby shot me down."🎶
Footsteps were coming.
The surface of the table vibrated, shaking the bullet. Margo turned the chair to face the wall. She tightened her grip on the shotgun, leaned the long barrel against her face, and closed her eyes as she waited for them all.
The footsteps grew nearer.
A few meters away.
Closer.
They slammed the door open.
Dead bodies welcomed their arrival. Tulfo's head was hung on a nail; Mar was lying on a couch with eyeglasses stuck in his socket, while Abner's organs were scattered all over the place. Forty pairs of eyes shuddered at the sight; they walked towards the table, watching the swivel chair move gently. The voice from the song accompanied them with a mellow tune.
🎶"Bang bang, I shot you down. Bang bang, you hit the ground."🎶
A spine-tingling sensation coursed through their veins as they swallowed in fear, carefully nearing the target. These men waited for the chair to turn, but it only moved from side to side. Despite their fear, they all pointed their guns at Margo.
Until one of them dared to step closer, his foot accidentally hit the table, causing the cartridge to drop. The sound of the rolling bullet on the floor was palpable; it resonated across the ground then stopped.
Slowly, the chair began to turn, creaking, while the lights flickered from the ceiling. Margo finally saw their faces and smirked to say, "Hello."
🎶"Bang, bang, that awful sound."🎶
She shot the man in the head; his skull blasted apart from the strong impact, his brains scattered throughout and splattered on their faces. The body began to fall, like dominoes. Margo dropped the shotgun and reached for the Uzis to spray them with speeding bullets. They soared through the air, loud like thunder and powerful like a storm. The bullets ripped their skins, tore their arteries apart, and ravaged them with propelled ammunition from Margo.
🎶"Bang bang, my baby shot me down."🎶
A bullet met every person who came through the door. Margo emptied the Uzis; she tossed them aside as she picked up the shotgun. Another man came running towards the door; a shot to the chest hurled him backward like a bouncing ball. She fired again, moving in rhythm with the music, obliterating their minds with her arsenal. The shotgun punched more holes into their bodies. Margo sat on the table, sipping her wine, her finger expertly pulling the trigger to add another body to the count.
🎶"Bang bang, I shot you down. Bang bang, you hit the ground."🎶
The loud gunfire melded into a melody, a tune of death. Fate, indeed, seemed to wield a cruel and dark sense of humor.
🎶"Bang bang, my baby shot them down."🎶
++++
"What do you mean? We don't understand?" Mildred asked the doctor, her confusion surpassing even Aveline's.
"I apologize for skipping some details. You can transfer to another room, and you don't have to worry about your bills. A charity event has selected you to cover everything. It's all settled," Doctor Mendes explained to Mildred, Aveline, and Brenda.
"Is it real?" Aveline asked for confirmation.
The doctor nodded. "Yes."
"Don't overthink it, Aveline. It's a miracle, can't you see?" Brenda quipped, sitting on the bed.
Joy erupted among them; Mildred couldn't contain her happiness and embraced Aveline. Aveline brushed off the doubts in her mind. Luck was rare in her life. She chose to accept this gift with open arms. "Thank you, Dr. Mendes. We're all grateful for your kindness," she remarked, a slight redness tinting her cheeks.
All three were amazed upon entering the private suite. It boasted a living room, kitchen, and dining area, comparable to a scene straight out of a magazine, as their eyes roamed in wonder.
"Brenda, if I ever get sick, don't you dare take me to another hospital. I want to be here," Mildred declared excitedly as she slumped onto the bed. They lay there, staring at the ceiling, reveling in the comfort of the soft mattress, allowing their minds to wander to the possibilities of the future. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm so happy. I've never felt this good before," Brenda interjected, cutting through their daydreams.
"Girls, I have something to tell you," Aveline sighed.
"What is it?" Brenda asked, hugging a pillow and watching the chandeliers.
"Are you pregnant?" Mildred jokingly guessed.
"I'm in love with a girl," Aveline confessed. Mildred's face contorted in surprise, while Brenda remained passive.
"I'm sorry, Aveline. I can only see you as a friend. You're like my sister," Mildred laughed.
Aveline chuckled. "I truly love her. But we're not meant to be," she said sadly.
For a minute, the room was engulfed in silence.
Brenda smiled. "You should change your name," she glanced at Aveline and gave a wink.
"Huh?" Aveline wondered.
"Avelino sounds manly," Brenda cackled.
Mildred rolled her eyes. "Your jokes are always lame, Brenda!" She hit her in the face with a pillow.
"Fuck off, bitch!" Brenda snarled.
They all laughed and started a pillow fight. The sound of the buzzer at the door made them stop. A hospital employee carried a tray and presented it to Mildred. "Courtesy of the hospital," the man smiled and left.
"Hey, Aveline, they brought snacks!" Mildred excitedly yelled, standing at the doorway and carrying the tray.
"Wow! Let me see!" Brenda followed Mildred. Mildred removed the plastic cover. "Wow! There's a lot of food." The dishes were laid out elegantly on the plate: pasta, cake, peanut butter, fried chicken, and plenty of fruits. While Mildred prepared the food, she took all the plastic covers, including a small piece of paper, and threw them into the trash bin.
Unfortunately, one of the papers contained a message:
I don't know what kind of food you like, so I bought plenty. -M. Sinclair.
Aveline watched her friends with a smile fixed on her lips. She was happy; it made her feel like she was celebrating a new life or a glorious beginning.
++++
"Dr. Mendes, there's a call for you."
Dr. Mendes accepted the phone from the nurse. "Hello, yes, all her needs are being met," she responded to the caller. "It's alright. I will personally check all of her medications. She is recovering," Dr. Mendes affirmed, nodding in approval. "We will take care of her."
"Goodbye... Miss Sinclair." The doctor ended the call.
++++