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The images on the screen continue to flash by me, changing from video to video, various different music videos commingling with each other, never quite the same as the music over the speaker continues to pound into my ear, each beat resonating within my frame. I don’t even pay it any attention, my gaze in front of me as I move through the crowd. Everyone is wearing little-to-nothing and twirling glowsticks every which way. Some have pacifiers in their mouths while others are taking hits of nitrous. A few are grinding with some of the others, rolling on their drug of choice and getting frisky in the flashing lights of the dance floor.

I slide past a couple of guys and girls making out with each other indiscriminately, as if they don’t even care about decency. Guy with girl, girl with girl, guy with guy, swap it up. That’s their scene, not mine. I’ve other things to do. I cross paths with a rather slim, tall black guy with spiked green hair, grinning at me. He’s a neon-orange mesh shirt and some tight leather pants, obviously displaying his pride between his legs. I quietly excuse myself past him, ignoring his catty call to take me out back. Past him I head towards the back office, the music getting louder and louder as I continue my walk. On another night, I’d probably join in and cut loose, but I can’t tonight.

Passing through the hordes, I finally come face-to-face with the back office door. I look to my left and then to my right, with a glance thrown back behind to make sure no one’s watching me. I jiggle the handle a bit until the door comes open, muttering about the shoddy workmanship on the door itself. Not that the whole building’s that much better. The music starts to fade as I push in through to the office and goes to a dull background noise after slamming the door shut. I peer over at the desk, watching a pretty young blonde service the club owner in a rather public manner. I clear my throat to let them know I’m in.

The girl hops up and wipes her mouth off, looking embarrassed. The owner simply grunts and waves her to go off.

“The fuck you gotta come in here for? Couldn’t it wait another five minutes?” he growls.

I don’t say anything, shrugging in response as I take a seat next to the desk. He dismisses the blonde and she clumsily walks away, putting a pacifier in her mouth before heading out. She waves to the owner, but gives me a dirty look before closing the door behind her. I’m just happy she didn’t linger there to leave the music to continue its obnoxious pounding to further delay my business. The owner grins slyly after she’s gone and turns his attention to me.

“I normally would cut someone’s balls off if they interrupted me, but I know she’ll be coming back.” he remarks sleazily.

“Business comes first.” I mutter.

“Business? What fuckin’ business do you have with me? I told you I don’t got no more jobs. Why can’t you just cut loose and bang one of those drugged out queers out there?”

“You know what business I’m talking about. You screwed me on the last job.” I coolly reply.

“What? I did no such goddamn thing. Quit fucking with my dick and get out of here. You’re way too fucking serious tonight.”

“I’ll tell it to you like this. You still owe me and I’ve been offered a better paying job by Vincent over at La Risto.”

“Vincent? You trying to intimidate me now, kid? You’re fucking garbage is what you are.”

I could tell he was losing his cool now. Vincent was always stealing his workers and he knew as long as he kept acting like the slimeball he was, he’d never keep any of us. So that put him in a rock and a hard place.

“Yes, Vincent. He offered me a job and I took it.”

“You’re lying. That fucking wop wouldn’t waste his time on you.”

“I don’t have a lot of time for this, Mike. You have something that belongs to him and he wants it back. All you have to do is give it back or hand over ownership of the club to him.”

“I don’t have a goddamn thing of his! Now get the fuck out before I have you thrown the fuck out, you two-timing queer fuck!”

I knew I wouldn’t have a choice here. It was time to take action.

“I told him you’d say that.” I responded, standing up with a sigh, “So he told me that there was only one alternative.”

Mike looked at me funny, as if he knew what I meant. He sat there for a few seconds, shaking his head.

“I’m not giving my club up and what he said about having something of his, it’s bullshit. So get the fuck out.” Mike said, trying to keep his voice low to where I wouldn’t be able to hear it.

I knew then I didn’t have a choice. I would have to move fast so he wouldn’t have time to call his goons in. I made my move as he tried to make his. It didn’t last very long. I hop over the desk and grab a pencil off of his desk, stabbing him right in the throat with it before he can even react. He had a surprised look on his face, glaring up at me with a gurgling noise as I twisted the pencil a little before ripping it out to stab him a few more times in the neck. I wanted to shoot him, really, but I knew that would have given him just enough time to get the goons in and I wasn’t in the mood for a fire fight.

Taking a step back, I look dead into Mike’s eyes as he takes his last few breaths. I intentionally stabbed him so that it wouldn’t kill him, but make him suffer just enough before I made my final move. It was a pity, really. I liked working for Mike, despite how homophobic and disgusting he could be. I’ll miss the free drugs the most, but every man has a price, doesn’t he?

“Well, Mike, this was the alternative. Sorry it had to be this way.” I say nonchalantly, placing my hands on his head so he could look into my eyes for that much longer.

I don’t waste too much time and snap his neck, that crunching and snapping sound making my stomach turn just a little. It seems no matter how many times I do that, it still makes me feel nauseous. I guess it’s the sound or something. I’d much rather shoot someone than hear that disgusting noise. I take a step back and take off my gloves, folding them inside out and putting them in a small baggie that I slip inside my jacket. Gotta be as neat as can be to keep fingerprints off his stuff and his body.

I look around the room for the item he’d stolen from Vincent and grab it, stuffing it somewhere else where it won’t be quite as noticeable on the way out. So just as silently as I had come in, I slip on out, taking the office key with me and locking the door behind so no one will come in for some time. I make sure to zip in and out of the clumps of people, letting them content themselves to their lustful, drug-induced dancing and activities. As I finally get out of the club, I look behind with a smile, a sense of accomplishment washing over me like a warmth I haven’t felt in some time. I simply go to the car, get in, and drive off to deliver Vincent’s item, not a single worry in the back of my mind.