Monstrous Books > The Monstrous Library

Burn Horizon Burn (complete novel by David S. Partamyan, aka Devinoir)

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Devinoir:
CHAPTER XII: THE OFFER AT THE BROCKEN HEARTZ’ CLUB



He watched himself in the mirror as he was slowly and shakily shaving. His face was paler than ever, his eyes hiding deep inside of black circles. Teal looked far worse than he’d ever imagined he’d look. Even the sharpness of his eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, gray look.
He had to use all the scarce remainders of his willpower to make himself get dressed for yet another gloomy workday.
She was there, he knew it. Alone, with friends - or far worse, which happened most often of all - with Blue. The latter had the habit of humping her every time he got the slightest chance.
With grim humor Teal thought he could rightfully demand a raise.
Then a coughing fit clutched at his insides and tried to stretch them inside out. This was getting usual, as the sleepless nights had become. He put up with that, hoping that these disturbing symptoms promised upcoming death, or illness strong enough to make him forget.
If it were his last day, he thought, the one thing he’d really wish to do was to write White a letter filled with sad humor and tenderness. This was all he was capable of imagining. It’s amazing at times how little we need to be happy.

Teal made his way to “The Broken Heartz’ Club”, to find it unnaturally crowded up. The waitress was barely coping with the customers.
Teal made his way to the bar stand, where Turquoise was discussing something with a man Teal had known ever since he got his job as a bartender - with Gray.
“Oh, Teal, there you are!”, Turquoise’s voice sounded as phony as usual, “So, Gray, would you mind taking up our conversation to my office?”
“As you wish”, muttered Gray.
It was no secret that Gray was planning to buy “The Broken Heartz’ Club” ever since it opened up some years ago. Turquoise’s offers, however, weren’t the ones he’d fondly accept. The negotiations almost became a tradition, a part of the club’s culture. Teal was surprised that Gray hadn’t sent some of his men to get Turquoise more negotiable.
Gray’s plans for the place were quite interesting. The place was going to be named “The Black Bang”, it was going to be a strip joint combined with a shooting range and a casino. How he was going to combine those three he never actually explained. There was a happier time when Teal could laugh, imagining strippers with rifles placing bets at the roulette. All Gray could say about his plans was this was all Black’s idea.
Teal took his place with an almost audible click. He looked around to find neither Blue nor White anywhere to be seen. The barstools in front of him were occupied by low-lives and a few prostitutes. Teal put his mask back on and went about serving the scum of the earth.
And suddenly, he heard a voice - both a familiar one, and one he knew he’d never heard before.
“Hey there, Teal…”
He looked back to see who addressed him, but, although he was sure the person talking to him stood behind him, there was no one. Only the neon lights glowing, and the soft light from under Turquoise’s door at the end of the hallway.
“Don’t turn around, handsome. Act as if you never heard me. But listen, and listen well.”
Teal frowned, completed some old guy’s order - a glass of whiskey, and stared fixedly into emptiness spiked with dust that caught the occasional neon flicker.
“Who I am does not matter at this point. What matters is that I have an offer to make you. A generous offer. One that you will surely accept.”
“Another beer for my little girl here, pal.”
Teal blinked himself into reality and reached to the cooler under the bar stand. The middle-aged bearded man with the young woman stood waiting, occasionally kissing each other.
“What would you do”, the mellow voice inside Teal’s head continued, “if I told you that I can give you White?”
The voice let out a soft laugh.
“No!”, Teal gasped.
“No beer? That’s impossible, dude, I just…” the man at the bar stand started.
“No, no, I wasn’t talking to you…”. Teal got up with a bottle of beer and took the money from the man. His hands were shaking bad.
“So, could we possibly make a deal regarding this lovely little creature? I could arrange everything just now.”
The voice let out another laugh.
Through all the noise and chaos of the crowded bar Teal clearly saw the door open and let White in.
“This is so unfair. You know it, whoever you are…”, Teal uttered breathlessly.
“What I do know is that this creature is the crucifix of all your wishes, the one wish that I may grant… if you dare to ask, that is.”
Teal tried to shut his mind. To no avail. So he helplessly watched White approach the bar stand and take a seat that was abandoned about a moment ago, with the ominous stranger chuckling in the background of his mind.
“Hey, Teal”, she said.
Teal looked at her, petrified. She knows my name, he thought. Of course she does, you’re the bartender of the damned old place, he thought back.
“What can I get you?” he asked in a shaky, loud voice.
“You can get her all for yourself, if you’d like, kid. Totally yours. All day. ALL NIGHT. Just say the word. For a mere compensation, she’ll be yours. Forever, kid, no kidding.”
Something choked him from the inside.
“No.”, he barely mouthed.
“How about one of those small bottles of beer?” she said.
Teal ducked to get one of those.
In the glass door of the cooler he saw his face - broken, pale, and uncharismatic. Darkness surrounded it, and bottles twinkled in it like devilish eyes.
“I’m inevitable, kid. Either that, either me, I mean, or – you know – pills, booze, whores, and a bridge full of fans waiting for your jump. You’re to decide, kid. Live out your dream right now.”
“No. Not this way.”
He quickly got the beer and stood up.
“You need a glass?”, he asked her.
She shook her head. He opened the bottle and passed it to her. Their hands slightly touched. Teal’s heart went racing.
“You can touch her all you want, kid…”
She started drinking, gulp after gulp, she put the beer down, her eyes gave a quick flash of neon as she looked up.
“…hell, you can fark her day and night for all I care, see, she won’t mind…”
She looked down, Teal followed her look and his eyes tangled between her small breasts for a few moments.
“…in fact, she’ll be dying of lust, she’ll want you like that whore down the stand wants a Ben without a blowjob. Just say the word, chief.”
Teal shook his head, he tried not looking at White and failed miserably.
And suddenly, White started crying.
“Why don’t you console her now, you miserable bastard?” the voice gloated in the background.
Teal found himself shaking bad. He stretched his trembling hand to her shoulder, and she looked up - her stare, despite the tears, was clear and questioning. Still, he made himself make a half-assed attempt at caressing her shoulder, and her eyes narrowed up, but instead of waving Teal off she took his hand, looked at it for a few long moments, and started crying even harder.
It felt like the world had stopped. It felt like it, but in fact no one took notice of the muted scene that was taking place between Teal and White. The music was loud and bad as always, old and useless like an aged lover, most patrons were already drunk, the rest were on their way.
Sounding like a TV announcer, the voice said to Teal:
“If you want your beloved lady to kiss you now and be yours forevermore, please say yes. If you want to carry on with the miserable and lonely life you have now, please show no sign at all. Thank you.”
Teal waved off the voice, and leaned over to White. She raised her eyes to meet Teal’s a few inches away from her face. She made an attempt of a guilty smile and it looked miserable. Teal tried to smile as well, but it was a sad attempt.
Then White stomped a few dollars on the bar stand and ran out, weeping like a rain cloud.

“Well, lost your chance, bartender. You lost it, kid. Carry on, carry on with loneliness and misery, you’re sticking with them for life as I get it. Say goodbye to any hopes of happiness and love. You’re done.”
Teal collapsed in the chair behind the stand. Seeing his state, the waitress quickly replaced him. Teal closed his eyes and mouthed:
“You wanted my soul, didn’t you? My farking, useless soul. I felt it.”
“Smart kid. But tell me, Teal, why’d you decided to keep it? You don’t need it. No one does, and least of all – you.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll give you a chance to give it up for love. For the last time. Well?”
“Who are you?”
“For you I can be a benefactor… For others, well, for some, I am the villain.”
Teal opened his eyes to the neon lights playing on the ceiling. He looked towards the corridor, the door behind which Gray and Turquoise were arranging yet another bargain.
“My soul’s not for bargain”, he said quietly, and yet with sudden force, “Get lost, lady. Get lost before I start praying.”
“Your choice, kid. You leave me no choice. I tried doing it the good way. Now we’ll do it the hard way. Either way, my dear friend, your soul shall be mine.”
“fark off.”
“Well, if you think life is hard now, just wait and see what I have in store for you. You’ll be dazzled. Bye-bye!”
“Go and fark yourself.”
Teal stood up and asked the waitress to get back to her work. She nodded and ran off. Teal shook his head. He slid a bottle of beer to someone, then he went around to the jukebox, slid a coin and let the blues play.
Bring it on.
Bring it on, I’m ready.
Bring your worst.

Later that day Teal sat down behind his desk with a piece of paper and a red pen.
He had decided to write a letter.
To White.
Anyways, some time passed - and he started writing:

“Dear White,

Who I am is not important, although I’m quite sure it won’t be hard for you to figure out who I am. It doesn’t matter, and I don’t matter, it’s just that I’m one of the many in this mad, foolish world who adore you. I am yet one of the many, yet I doubt if anyone’s feelings towards you are as strong and deep as mine are.
I bear no hope, and still, my love is true. I know you shan’t be mine, not ever, this knowledge pains me, and still I’m here, adoring you, who without as little as a touch had my heart and soul, in a mere blink of an eye.
My life is sad and worthless. I believe it won’t be long till I snap. But still, you’re the best I’ve ever seen in life. All that I’d keep in my life if I had a choice to delete all the years of  pointless existence.
Farewell, my Goddess. I shall write again if that does not vex you.
I hope I see you again. It makes me live, this hope.

With Love,
From a Man Who Doesn’t Matter.”

“Touching”, - Teal heard the now familiar voice, “ Especially the ‘Man Who Doesn’t Matter’ part… Corny to the end, are we? Behind a bleak mask we have a weak soul… one that you don’t need. C’mon, add something like “I offer my soul to the devil in exchange for your love”, burn the letter, and be done with it. C’mon, kid, I’m not even asking for your blood!”
The voice snarled with laughter. Teal lay down on the bed and tried to shut it off. Eventually he succeeded. He slept, and nightmares haunted him.

Devinoir:
CHAPTER XIII: BLACK COMES BACK



The gunshots still echoed in his ears as he drove the man he’d saved to the camp. The man was silent. The silence felt good. Neither of them wanted to talk.
The car Black’d stolen was in poor condition, it occasionally barked with smoke, which reminded Black he’d care for a cigarette right now. He checked to see if there were any in the car, but only found some cash and some foreign documents.
He shrugged.
He left the man a hundred meters away from the camp, gave a few loud honks and drove off.
He was leaving Shade behind. It was better for her this way. He could not go on kidding himself. That kind of life was not for him.


1.


There is a secret I must tell you, my dear friends. For White is not Blue’s one and only and for the eternity, etc, etc. I mean, she thinks she is, but there is another woman in Blue’s life as well.
Blue didn’t see much of her recently. She was becoming reluctant to meet him, and it was making him desperate. She was fire, she was ice, she was all that felt just nice, and she was pretty much everything Blue ever dreamt of, it’s just that she was also real, and intoxicating like alcohol, like drugs, yet far more addictive.
Meet Green. Green eyes, olive skin, silky, long hair the color of midnight. She had the body of an eastern temptress, she was a dancer, and she spent most of her nights dancing in the Red Cabaret, and what she hated most of all were the sweaty faces of the fat men that paid her to do the schmaltzy stuff. Blue fell in love with her, and he would do every little thing he could to get closer to her than she would let him, closer than just the bodies tangling and breaths becoming one gust of a strangled angel.
She liked reading poetry, especially she liked the kind of poetry that went over the edge and dug into human nature with inappropriate brutality. She was prudent, cold, calculating, but on the other hand she was unpredictable, passionate and irrational.
And those blazing green eyes - she was a snake, with fangs drenched in the noxious poison of lust.
As Gold followed Violet on a lonely dark street, sure that it was Red that he was after, Blue knocked at Green’s door.
No one came.
Blue thought that she’d probably not heard him, and knocked again, a little louder.
Again, he waited. When he was about to knock for the third time, the door opened.
Behind it stood Gray. He had most of his shirt buttons undone, and silver hair stuck out of his chest. A medallion hang from his neck, made of plain steel, with a star etched on it.
“What do you want, pup?”, asked Gray in a husky, dark voice.
Blue mumbled something, tried to get a look inside, but Gray pushed him. Blue staggered and fell. He got up and just stood there, like a little dog left in the menacing streets. All alone. Gray smirked and shut the door.
Blue stood there for a while. He was lost. Tired. He felt beaten up, and, true, the place on his shoulder where Gray had pushed him juddered with irksome, low-key pain.
Soon he heard music from behind the door. It was tango, and it made him miss Red for some reason.
He turned away and walked down the stairs, and when he was out, he took the long walk back home, where White waited for him - naïve and willing…



2.


The car was low on fuel and too beaten up for the long journey up ahead, so he drove himself back to the railroad station. He got a ticket for a train scheduled to leave in about three hours.
It started raining. When the lightning stroke and thunder followed, all of the alarms of the cars parked nearby went off. Black sat on a bench. He had no baggage now, neither did he need to return for his suitcase. Personal belongings mattered very little to him.
Trapped in this life like a bird in a cage, tended to when hurt, caressed if depressed, lost, hollow, and bitter. But this was what he’d chosen – the fall, and that was what he’d have.
He just sat there, his eyes blank, his mind thoughtless, face expressionless – like a statue.
In the three hours that followed he didn’t move a muscle.
He did not notice the building blowing up behind him. The panicking masses screaming with terror, running away from the streets that had now turned into a battlefield.
Gunshots boomed with echo, and chaos tangled gunshots with thunder and blood with rain.
The station was filling up with people who bought tickets and looked back with haunted expressions on their faces. The lights were flickering, and in the background – the splashes of Molotov cocktails, screams and roars and shots, the police speakers booming with senseless heeds to lay down the arms and go home peacefully. No one bought them, though.
The speakers in the station declared high alert. Trains came, and momentarily got filled up with people who did not manage to buy a ticket but who were desperate to leave – anywhere, just so as not to stay here and witness the atrocity of a bloody revolution.
Black just sat on the bench and waited. It was all he could do right now, all he ought to do. The time for meddling was over, his role was played, and played well enough. His ravaged body hid under a bloody, bullet-riddled suit that was more crimson now than black. The body was in pain, it screamed in terror and begged for death. Black did not heed to its pleas.
When his train arrived, he was the first one to board it. When he took his seat, he watched the crowd from the window – with this new stare that was blank and dead. The crowd roared and pushed its way inside, to its dubious salvation. But it was the city that waited for them on the other side of the river of pain. And Noire, of course. And sins, and death, and decay, and self-loathing, and alcohol, and whores… Black realized he missed it all.
Someone knocked at the door of his cabin. Black did not bother to look back. He knew who it was, he nodded in greeting, and his old friend came in and Noire took the seat in front of him. Just where Shade once sat. A million years ago, it seemed.
Finally the train took off. Outside, it was raining, it was dark, the landscape was drowned in black ink. Black slept, and no dreams came.


3.


The night welcomed Gold in its cold, severe embrace. He made his way through the crowd filling the streets, people who stood by fancy clubs waiting in line to get in, and people crawling out of humble bars with broken faces and vomit on their clothes. Prostitutes stood on the sides of the streets and pimps directed them to cars that stopped by. All of this looked so casual, so normal, so humdrum in a way. You couldn’t call it a sin, it was life, just the dark side of it, dark and ordinary, like death, disease, wars, it was something natural and tragic. Someone laughed, but laughter sounded fake. Someone cried, someone screamed, groups of students on vacation walked around in packs of five or six and sang loudly, laughing and showing every sign of being drunk and careless. These were the rich children of rich fathers, and they were the usual victims for thugs looking for easy prey.
Gold walked, feeling alien and lonely – more than he’d ever felt before. He wondered how he’d lived for so long in a world that was so shallow, so fake, and so meaningless.
“Care for a blowjob? Only 20 bucks… You won’t forget it…” some girl asked him as he was passing by.
He looked at her, bewildered. She was about thirteen or fourteen, and yet her eyes, those sad, dark, huge eyes that looked like the dark side of the moon, they were old, broken, desecrated.
She tried to approach him but he pushed her away, he walked faster, and eventually started running. The city turned into a blur, all those faces disappeared, and all that remained were Gold and his despair.
And then, in the reddish mist of a crowded street, he saw a young woman wearing a silver coat.
The coat he’d given to Red.
He did not see her face. Neither did he need to now. Rage and strange, lethargic determination seized his mind and led him on. He made his way through the filthy river of people, and followed her.
She never looked back.
Gold got the gun and held it under his jacket. He bumped into someone, but did not lose the track. His breath slowed, and all that his eyes saw was the woman in the silver coat. He got closer. And closer.
“I’ll miss you.” he said to her ear, and put the gun against her back, and made the shot.
He never learnt that it was Violet he killed and not Red. He shot himself the next second.
The last man that saw him was an old cop that’d just retired and was making his stroll to a nearby bar. The cop said that the guy looked happy before he shot himself. Satisfied.
The street filled up with cops for a couple of hours. They left, and the corpses hurled into wagons followed them. Violet looked at peace at last.
Meanwhile, gunshots were heard, and screams, and laughter, and senseless music crawling out of nightclubs, where another heartbreak story was surely being born.

Devinoir:
CHAPTER XIV: THE DAMNATION



The bullets didn’t kill him, but they surely left some scars. A year had passed, and still they bled at times.
The year of slow and painful degradation had left its mark on his face, the expression of angst and bitterness that never went away.
Repercussions of the revolution soon ceased. The Chancellor in the city resigned, and gossips filled the city about his son that’d taken a young woman’s life and killed himself. Black never learnt it was Violet that Gold’d killed. I daresay he would not care even if he did learn about his ex-lover’s death.
He passed most of his time with Gray at the “Red Cabaret”, and some of it with Crimson. He just existed, waiting for something - for a storm, for death, for dreams that’d left him. But the Reaper had forgotten all about him, the feelings were gone, replaced by numb and toothless pain deep down the spine, and his sleep was that of a dead man, heavy, dark, with the devil’s grin flashing before his eyes seconds before he woke.
“The revolution they did in that war zone was a piece of s**t, I tell you, Black!” said Gray one night, when they sat in the hall of the “Red Cabaret” and watched Green dance, “You remember the old days, Blackie? When we used to dream of this big revolution of some sorts that’d get us even with the rich kids, get us closer to the real s**t - you remember what we called that crap? Equality, democracy, freedom, for fark’s sake! Freedom… We used to dream about it, we thought it was the real s**t, no, Blackie, we knew what it was, deep down there the knowledge, it was there, I know it, we knew that freedom’s the name for yet another form of socially accepted slavery, but we didn’t give a flying fark right then. And you know what, Blackie? We were delusional, we were practically chained by our freedom, can you dig it?”
“I know what you mean, Gray. We tried to be free. We wanted freedom. What we got in return was a bunch of megalomaniacs craving for power and violence. And a bunch of hippies who’d just love a revolution that would allow them to walk around with their peniss hanging and to fark whoever they see. And you know what I remember Gray? We liked it. Deep down there, as you say it, we didn’t give a fark about freedom, equality… we wanted power, money, but mostly we just craved for anarchy. We never were heroes, Gray. We are no heroes. You think the city won when we brought that motherfarker who calls himself Chancellor now to power? In fact no one did. No one, Gray. He forgot us. He forgot what we fought for. You remember the days of rock’n’roll and beer and those misty rock clubs where we first thought of starting up all this s**t? That’s when it started. The real thing. And it died when that motherfarker joined us. The smart one. The lady. And now his kid is dead, and he’s sick and old and useless. Time changes and the rebel who became a tyrant is now just an old man in a gray cloak.
And he’s all alone.”
“I can honestly say”, Gray said in return, “that I’m frankly disillusioned. There ain’t any freedom in this city, Blackie. No freedom in a society. To be free you have to take off your clothes, cut off your tongue and exile yourself to a life in the jungle. Abandon all thoughts, mate with the monkeys… become an animal again, get back to the nature.”
Black smirked. Gray shrugged, and they drank.

And so, the year had passed, and Black sat in the “Red Cabaret” waiting for Gray and whiling away his time with Crimson and Green when Blue came in.
Black watched him curiously. His old friend had changed. Unaware that Black was watching him, Blue looked miserable and broken. Somehow dark, alienated.
He crossed the hall twice before he spotted Black. When he saw Green next to him, and Crimson, who he’d come to fear in the course of the short time they’ve known each other, he stood in hesitance. He even tried to hide, afraid that Green would mock him in front of Black and Crimson, and he was afraid. Scared like hell.
Black smiled. His face creased with lines that were innumerous now, he stood up and approached Blue.
“Can’t stand the smoke in this place, can we go out?” Blue asked.
“Why?”
“Don’t you want to talk to me?”
Black looked at him questioningly. Blue shook his head and asked him to come out again.
“If it’s Red waiting for me outside, Blue – let me warn you, I’m armed. And I’ll shoot you both.”
“No, just please, come out, I can’t stay here…”
So it’s Green, Black thought. He always trusted his insight, so he yelled across the hall for Green to come closer. Blue wanted to walk away but Black held him from his upper elbow.
“Green, I’m going out for a couple of minutes.”, said Black to the burlesque dancer when she approached them, “When Gray shows up, tell him to wait for me, okay?”
“Fine. What’s that piece of s**t in your hand?” Green asked, nodding at Blue.
“Just my old friend. He can’t stand the cigarette smoke…”
“So it’s a guy?”
“That’s my guess”, Black smirked and let go of Blue’s elbow.
Blue walked towards the door, his ears flashing red.
“Did you fark him?” Black asked Green.
“He paid well… The worst lover I’ve ever had, but he paid very well.” she said simply.
Black nodded and followed Blue.
There was a small park filled with hobo nests across the street. Blue waited for Black near the entrance.
There was something even darker in Blue’s face now. The man that was once Black’s apprentice looked like a low-life on the verge of suicide.
He was dressed well. He was shaved. But his eyes were all that mattered.
And they told Black that the city was getting to his old friend.
“So? What is it, Blue?”
They sat down on a bench that still carried the heat of the day. It was starting to rain.
“Did anyone ever call you god, Black?”
“Why?”
“And then said, that you’re more than god?”
“What’s this about?”
The rain hit hard against Black’s broad back covered in his black coat, and Blue’s skinny back, protected only by a white shirt.
“You enjoying the fresh air, kid? You sure you don’t wanna go inside?”
“Yeah… Black, I farked Red tonight. And she called me god. And then she said that I’m more than god.”
“Who?” Black’s face creased again.
“Red. She told me.”
“You… and Red?”
“Black?”
“You… of all the men… of all the miserable motherfarkers…”
“Black… Look at me…”
Blue laid his hand on Black’s shoulder.
A kind of a snarl escaped Black’s lips.
“You take off your arm, or I break it the fark off.”
“Black…”
“Now run. I’ll count to five. For the old times’ sake.”
Blue did not need to be asked twice. When Black got up, he was all alone in the rain.
It was a lie. Black knew it. A lie Blue misused. He wanted to hurt Black the way he’d managed to do a while ago, but it only made him angry.
Blue was a man with no honor. This helped him. Black’s own sense of honor kept him chained at times.
So now… He would just forget all this. The blasts from the past were getting old.
Blue’s broken. He’s craving for the old times to be back. For the old triangular universe, when all that existed was him, Black and Red.
Red. Black. Blue.
It’s over, Blue. It’s over. Only the consequences remain. The devil. Absynthe. And Noire, of course. For Black, at least.
Black was amazed by Blue’s unwillingness to deal with the facts. To admit that some things are in the past. He himself was like that a year ago. But now for Black there was only today. Especially when it came down to the present, it was Blue who had a fancy fiancée and a future to struggle for, and lungs clean of smoke and head clean of nightmares, and past unmarked by the devil, and a life that did not belong to the evil lord.
Black came back into the “Red Cabaret”.
“What’s wrong, Black? You okay?” said Crimson, running up to him.
“Why?” Black asked and did not recognize his own voice.
“You’re very pale, I better…”
“You better calm down, Crimson. I’m not dying. I just need a drink.”
“What happened?”
“I always need a drink…”
“I mean what happened when you went outside with Blue?”
“Did that faggot hit you? That’d be funny.” said Green.
“The bastard said he’d farked Red. Said she called him god.”
Black smirked.
“You know he’s lying, right?” said Green, looking up at him.
“I do. I’m not that dumb.”
“So why do you look like a broken-hearted chipmunk?” asked Green.
“He’s still reliving the past. Thanks, Crimson”, Black took the glass of whiskey from Crimson and emptied it, “And that’s bad. He’s still trying to hit me where it hurts, but it doesn’t work like that no more. Crimson… should I kill him?”
“I… I don’t think so, Black. But I’ll do it if you want me to.”
“I’m not sure. I’m tired of that rat, of this entire mindless charade…”
One of the waitresses came up to Black.
“Monsieur Black, sir…”
“Yes?”
“There is a call waiting for you. A woman, I think.”
Green leered.
“Another woman, Black? Do you count us at least?”
“I try.” answered Black and followed the waitress.
She took him to one of the administration offices. Black picked up the phone, and the waitress walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
He took a deep breath before saying “Yes?” When someone says that a woman has called him, his subconscious gives only one hopeful option on who it is.
“Black?”
But it wasn’t Red.


1.


“Black, is that you?”
“Yes, Shade. It’s me.”
“Black, thank god I’ve found you… I’ve been looking for you ever since… Black, why did you leave me?”
Black sighed. He looked around the white walls, the casual furniture, and his gaze fixed upon one of the paintings put against the wall in the far corner.
It looked like a swirl of colors at first. Green, violet, red, blue, white, gold, millions of colors laced together to create the image of sunrise. It was a tentative piece of art, this sunrise. It bore hope even for the black corners that were still waiting for the light to come…
“I had to leave the country, Shade. They started hunting me like a dog. I didn’t want to hide. I just ran.”
“But you left me, Black… You could have…”
“Shade… what’s past is past. Whether you forgive me or not doesn’t matter. I’ve done what I’ve done. I can’t change that, and I’m not going to apologize, or ponder over the wretched ‘what if-s’. This is life. Take it or leave it.”
“Black… I’ve been looking for you ever since I… found that I was pregnant.”
Black closed his eyes.
“You have a daughter now, Black. She has your eyes. And when she smiles… Black, you should see her smile…”
“Are you in the city right now?”
“We came back the night after the riot. One more day and I’d be trapped there. The rebels helped. They… seemed to respect you a lot… worship you, in fact. They say you single-handedly rescued their leader from that terrible place we went to… where the prisoners were…”
“It doesn’t matter. I just did what I had to do. Tell me your address. I’m coming.”
After putting down Shade’s address Black hung the phone and stood for a while with his face blank and his eyes closed.
Noire came in without a noise. He put his hand on Black’s shoulder and said:
“Will you let me?”
Black did not say anything for quite a long time. Then, finally, he gave the slightest nod.
Noire sneered and went out.
Black fell against the wall and closed his eyes.

He fell, and he fell rough. When he looked in the mirror he just saw an old child whose hair was more gray now than black, whose face was creased with lines, and whose dark, voidlike eyes had just become tired, dark-brown eyes with a map of lines stretching from their corners.
He was on the verge of death, he knew it. The body rattled with bullets even now, when a good bunch of them were removed, there was still about a dozen that will sit there till he dies. His hands constantly shook, and his lungs would shoot blood through his cough every time they got a chance. No, he would not last long.
And neither did he want to bring a child into this city.
Especially a girl.
Especially with his eyes.


2.


When he opened his eyes, he stood over a bloody mess with a gun in his hand. The bloody mess lay in a crib, with a few blood-splattered toys lying beside it.
The bloody mess was his daughter. Shade lay a few feet away. She had her back against the wall, and by the bloody track you could tell she slid all her way down to the floor.
The gun was still smoking.
Shells twinkled in the sunset breaking through the window.
Shade tried to move, to say something.
Black pulled the trigger, and she lay still.
Forever now.
He walked down the stairs, hiding the gun back into his coat on the way. If he had a soul now, it would hurt. He might even cry.
He just walked out, squinting as the dying sun slapped him across the face.
He lit a cigarette and watched the sun fall back into the night’s cold embrace.
He took a gulp of smoke, and he was satisfied to feel pain deep down his rotten lungs.

Devinoir:
CHAPTER XV: BLUE’S PAYBACK



He got back home and knocked the door open. Blue was shaking bad.
White approached him, she wanted to say something, but Blue pushed her away and walked straight past.
You see, there was something eating Blue from the inside. A voice that told him terrible things. A voice that always used the word ‘never’. A voice that told him of the letters.
He turned over the table, the couch, the bed. He opened the closet and started rummaging through it.
“Where?” he panted, “Where?”
White ran up to him, she tried to calm him down, but he pushed her away again.
“What do you want, Blue?”
“The letters… the letters you lady!”
“Blue… What letters are you talking about? Blue, please calm down, honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I know you’re hiding them here somewhere… Give them to me, lady, before it’s too late.”
“Blue…”
“Don’t you lie to me”, Blue said, turning his pain-creased face to White, “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
White started crying. Blue hit her hard, and she fell to the floor. He hit her again, and shook the blood of his fist.
White was wailing now. She lay on the floor, her dark hair sprawled behind her, her arms spread, her nose bleeding.
She fell silent in a couple of minutes. Blue sat on the floor next to her.
“You betrayed me, White… You betrayed me. You stabbed me in the back. Just like Black. You’re no better.”
“You hit me, Blue”, White said in an unusually quiet voice, “I think you broke my nose. You hit me, motherfarker…”
“White…”
“I didn’t believe your friends when they said you’re a faggot. I didn’t care what they thought. I didn’t care what Black thought. Or said. I loved you, Blue.”
“White!..”
“Your motherfarking letters are in my purse. I didn’t care about them, Blue. I didn’t want to upset you. They were just… letters. From a lonely, depressed man who never loved anyone before he met me. I don’t even know who he is. I don’t care. But he loves me, Blue. He loves me, and he would never hit me.”
Blue was silent. Then he got up and picked up White’s purse. After rummaging in it for a few moments, he found a small red envelope. It was stuffed with letters. Blue caught a faint smell of rose petals.
“How did you get them? There is no address here. Nothing.”
“The waitress at “The Brocken Heartz’ Club” passed them to me. Now go away, Blue. Go away.”
White got up and went to the window. Blue watched her small dark silhouette against the big white square of the window for a few moments, and rushed out.
He was crumbling. There was no Green for him now, no Red, no one. Just White and White was growing distant, cold, and he could do nothing about it. And now the letters…


1.


He pushed the door and entered “The Broken Heartz’ Club”.
He was filled with anguish and a good deal of beer.
He looked around – the bar was full at this time of day, but he managed to push through the crowd to get to the waitress.
He squeezed her arm and told her something, but his words could not be heard through the noise. She shook her head, and led him off to a quieter corner where he repeated his question:
“You were the one to bring White the letters, right? Who gave them to you?”
“I don’t think that’s your problem, kid”, she said, “If that’s all you wanted to say, then, well, that information’s classified. Bye...”
Blue stood silent for a few seconds, and then repeated his question.
“Don’t you understand, kid? Go talk to Teal if you’re so worried. It’s not my problem, you know. He handed me those things and told me to pass them to that girl. So lay off, will you?”
Blue looked at Teal. They looked alike now, Blue and Teal. Something bonded them. And suddenly Blue realized what it was.
He forgot about the waitress, forgot about the crowd.
There was only him and Teal in the club.
And he approached Teal with his hands clenched into fists, walking slowly and deliberately.
He looked up into the bartender’s eyes.
“You?” he simply asked.
Teal watched him, eyes squinted, face pale and sullen. And then, he nodded.
They watched each other for some time.
Then Blue slowly came up to him and let a hiss escape his lips.
“Let’s go outside and talk.”
“You don’t wanna talk. I can see that.” Teal said calmly. “You wanna fight me, kid. You wanna beat me up, to be honest. That’s fine. I deserve it. Let’s go.”


2.


They went outside, and it was already raining there. The rain whipped at their faces, but they took no notice.
They walked down the empty street, illuminated by the dim lanterns that flickered in the rain. They reached a secluded alley and stopped.
“Do you want to say something? To apologize?” Blue asked in a low, toneless voice.
Teal shook his head, still watching Blue with that cold, determined stare.
Blue hit him hard. He hit him again, in the face, and felt Teal’s nose crunch against his fist.
“You happy now?” the old voice recurred in Teal’s head.
Teal fell to the ground, but quickly got up. The same determination was there in his eyes.
“Fight, you lady!” Blue howled, and kicked him in the stomach, and when Teal doubled over, he kicked him in the face.
Teal fell to the ground again.
He watched the indigo blue sky. Fireflies twinkled in his eyes – it must be the light from the lantern, blurred by the rain.
And when he blinked, it was all white for a moment. Blessedly white.
Teal lay there on the ground of the ragged alley, and Blue kicked him again and again, calling him a coward, hysterically demanding him to get up and fight back.
Why? Teal thought. Why get up? Why fight? I have nothing, and he has all I ever wished for. Surrender’s sweet… at least the aftermath will be.
Some time passed, and Blue sat by his side, on the blood-stained stones of the alley, and sobbed for quite a while.
Teal was looking at the sky, and it seemed to be descending towards him. Now that it seemed so close, it was farther than ever.
Some more time passed, and Blue left – still shaking with silent sobs. Teal watched him go and pitied him – Blue was the man that had all that Teal ever wanted, but still – he was not a happy man.
Some people are not made for love. They waste it like cigarettes, and when they want a new pack – the best pack, the ultimate pack… They have no money left to buy it, and even begging won’t help.
Give up while you can.
Surrender.
“You have been humiliated by a whelp. Pathetic. But it’s not too late. Not really. You have one last chance. Just say yes. And all of this will be over. You’ll be a happy man… You still wanna know what it’s like? To be happy?”
Teal got up – slowly, carefully. He shook the dirt off his jacket, his pants.
“Well?”
Teal smirked.
“Is that a yes?”
“Nah… Just laughing at you. I won’t say yes. But I’ll be there shortly, and we’ll talk. I promise. Of all the happiness in the world, and not a tiny motherfarking bit of it that you can grant… But I don’t care about that. I’ll come there, where you nest, I’ll come there, and we’ll talk.”
The voice laughed. Teal stood there, a lonely dark silhouette in the rain, his fists clenched, his face bleeding, with a sudden realization that he’s got nothing to lose, and he’s free, and he’s supreme, he stands alone, but high, so very high…

Devinoir:
CHAPTER XVI: THE LAST NIGHT AT THE RED CABARET



Crimson walked into the men’s room and closed the door behind him.
He shook his head and tossed away his cigarette. He walked up to the urinals and took a leak. He then approached the sink to wash his hands, and looked up into the mirror, into the eyes of the man he had become.
He’d seen Yellow the other night. He didn’t tell anyone about it, not even Black. Yellow didn’t recognize him at first. He’d aged quite a bit, but not the way the time ages you, but the way life does. Then he did recognize. He tried to be friendly, Yellow did. But still, deep in those dark eyes he could see the old hatred. They drank together. Crimson was careful not to lose control, and he was still sober enough when he saw Yellow coming at him with a knife.
It all happened in “The Western Sunrise Bar”. Crimson held Yellow back. When his old friend tried to stab him, Crimson grabbed his arm and jerked it, trying to make him drop the knife. The next thing he saw was Yellow, twitching on the dirty floor of the bar, a knife pointing accusingly out of his stomach.
The city doesn’t forgive. This is where your past walks right beside you, and even if you think you’ve escaped – you haven’t, because your ghosts will catch up with you sooner or later.
He looked up to find the bar completely empty. Even the bartender was gone; he could hear the wind outside, the fierce, cold wind.
And now he looked into the eyes of the man he had become.
Did he need that? What was the reason for all this? For him coming to the city, standing on the verge of suicide only to be rescued by Black, if that was truly a rescue?
He was beginning to doubt that.
Was it Shade that made him go through all of this? But did he really love her then, and did it matter now, matter enough to influence his life the way it did for oh so long?
Why couldn’t he get over her? Why couldn’t Yellow get over her? Why couldn’t Black get over Red?
It was the city. It was its dark, menacing presence, as if an idol to the gods of no hope, those made of paper and steel.
They smile at you, they tell you – there is no hope. There never was.
Crimson got out of the men’s room. He walked up to the table where Green sat with Gray and Purple. Gray was extremely upbeat that day – he’d managed to get a deal on “The Broken Heartz’ Club”.
“I think deep down there – in his heart, I mean – Turquoise’s gay. I mean – his bartender kills himself, and the next day he takes me up on my offer, and, I must say, not the most generous one that I have made. I mean – it’s just a bartender, you know.”
“Wouldn’t you close the Cabaret if I died?” asked Green with a chuckle.
Gray laughed and shook his head.
“What about Purple? Wouldn’t you close it if a car hit him and spread his brains all over the highway?” she persisted.
“Listen, Green, I’d be very sad and all, but closing up the place…”
“And… what if Black?”
Gray sobered up.
“If Blackie – god forbid – died, I’d follow him. Just cause he’s the last man in this city, the last of the dying race of ragged rebels. We’re extinct now.” Gray sighed and shook his head. He looked back, as if hoping to see Black there, but there was no one. Too early, perhaps?
“I haven’t seen Black in quite a while”, Purple said. “He okay?”
Green laughed.
“He’s never okay. That’s his charm.”
Purple got up to greet Red who just came in.
He approached her, took her hand and kissed it, looking expectantly into her eyes. She smiled and squeezed his hand a tiny bit.
He then led her to the table, he introduced her to everyone. Crimson watched her curiously, and when he heard her name, he sniggered.
The infamous Red was just another woman.
“Purple, can I talk to you for a second?” he said.
They got up and walked down the hall. They stopped near the dancing stage. Crimson leaned on it. Purple watched him.
“Red, eh? Any guesses who she is? If not, I’ll mock you to your grave, Purple.” he said.
“Who? Red? Who is she?”
“Black’s former lover. The one he couldn’t get over.”
“It’s Red? He never said it was Red… Holy s**t, what should I do? He can come in any second… He’ll kill me, god, he’ll kill me…”
“Calm the fark down, Purple. Did you sleep with her? How long are you two going out, if you are, that is?”
“We… we aren’t going out. Not yet… And I guess we never won’t be… Oh my god what should I do?”
“I don’t know. Just wanted to tell you.”
“I guess I’ll just go”, Purple said, “I’ll just tell her I have some stuff to do and I’ll be back, and go. I won’t be back today, that’s for sure.”
“Very knightly of you…”
Crimson watched Purple rush off.
Why were they afraid of Black? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something that sent a chill down his spine when he thought of his mentor.
He approached the bar. He asked for a drink. They poured him whiskey. He hated whiskey. He asked for a beer instead.
He leaned on the bar and drank, watching Red. She was quite good-looking, but not the kind of beauty you’d imagine from Black’s stories.
Just another leaf, blown by the wind, and into the gutters of the city. A lost, lonely soul.
Soon he found himself mesmerized by her. He couldn’t look away from her. His gaze got tangled in her curls.
He ordered vodka. He gulped it down, exhaled, and asked for another.
Perhaps Black was right.
Red was tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of lying.
She knew who Purple was as soon as she learnt his name.  She wanted to see Noire, for one last time. Even if he rejected her, she’d know she’d asked, she’d know she’d tried…
She waited for him to come.
But he never came.
She waited for some time and left.
She stood in front of the entrance, embroidered in red neon. Her curls twirled in the wind, it whipped against her coat. But still, even when it started to rain, she could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks.
They all used her. They didn’t care who she was or who she wanted to be, who she tried to be. For them, she was just a quick prelude to a fark. It came to her, just as the knowledge that she’d never see Noire again, never hear his voice, never feel his touch, never tell him that she’d loved him…
She walked down the street, and into an alley, barely illuminated by a few lanterns. It was Noire that loved her no matter what. Only him. But love was too strong a word for people like them, for people of the night and the city. Love is for those who can withstand the light it brings, the light that illuminates all the dark and gloomy corners of your soul. They couldn’t. Red mocked it. And Noire, it destroyed him.
And now it was the end of the line.
What was the point of living now? All she can ever be is a mistress of some fat and old bigwig, trapped in four walls and getting old and losing all she ever had – her charm, her looks, her raw, pagan allure… to what? To a life she’ll hate every second she lives it?
A whiff of breeze brought the smell of the river with it. She was standing on the bridge that connected the splendid downtown with the not so splendid outskirts. She’d never been here before. From here you could see the sky – so clear, so dark, so soothing… the wind roared and the bridge groaned, but it seemed to be routine for them.
She looked down at the water rushing underneath. It seemed to her it was the sky itself, the stars twinkling in the waves, drowning and clashing against each other.
She let out a short scream when she fell.
The water took her in its cold embrace. It pulled her down, asking her to stay.
She struggled for a few seconds, and then was still.
Forever now.

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