I was just standing near the bar, sipping my scotch out of the tin that used to housed fried beans. Behind me was the crazy, twisted dance of soulless and almost consciousness-less bodies, that filled the dance floor in one sweat-smelling orgy. Ptum-ptum-tun. Ptum-ptum-tun. Monotone, rhythmical beat pierced to the bones, making the dancers flail their appendages even more furiously. Pulse of the bass put the crowd into some kind of a euphoric trance. Helped by a near-lethal dose of drugs, of course.
All you could see on faces was limitless happiness. Well, LSD does that to people. Or just being really, really drunk. Take your pick. This party actually was a religious gathering for one of the countless cults that spawned lately. It was some kind of a ritual and all guests had this coal-lined tattoo of eagles wing on their cheek.
Well, if we now know what it was and what happened, why the hell was I here? Why am I standing here, in the middle of an overdosed bee swarm and drinking my share? Well, this job had more question marks than it had answers. To be honest, I had no idea what I was looking for among this leather-clad bacchanalia, and I certainly did not know my contact. But, money was oozing with the smell of money. And smell of money is definitely up there with honey and petrol in the category of my favourite smells. So I was waiting, just like a good boy.
Figure strolled out on the balcony that was hanging over the raging crowd. Having looked over everything that happened beneath its feet, it stopped on me. I felt a slight chill down my spine, but only for a second. And then flames burst out and, following the example, crowd exploded. It was a cacophony of voices, but you could make out something similar to one word being shouted. Hanu.
Haven't heard. Haven't met. Don't care. Figure on the balcony raised its hands. I put my scotch aside and sat still.
- HANU!
Crowd detonated once more. Behind the leader, and it was a leader, no doubt about it, another figure appeared. Much more slender, exquisite. Woman. I bet it was a woman. This second figure raised its hand. In hand was some kind of a device. When the first figure grabbed it with both hands and thrust over its head, then, in the light of pyres, I understood. This device was looking conspicuously like detonator. I might be wrong, though...
BOOM! Explosion shook the air.
- What the freaking hell?! - I spewed out the remainders of the scotch.
BOOM! Second explosion made the balcony go up in flames.
- Fuck! Shit, shit, shit! I'm outta here, fuck this crap. - screams filled the building. And it started. The crowd that filled the building with drugged up people to the brim started moving. Gunshots, shouts. More. And more yet.
I grabbed my hat and rushed to the exit. Sons of bitches, were the hell was the exit? The one I came in through demonstrated, that you can't really put the basketball through a hose. BOOM. Third explosion was dangerously close, my ears almost ruptured. And, what's infinitely worse, piece of somebody's pancreas smeared blood all over my coat. Fuck. It was then that I felt a hand, that unceremoniously pulled me from the crowd. I tried to turn around, but among the slight contusion, dimmed lights and shadows from flames overtaking the building I could only make out the eagles feather rising from the hair. BOOM. This time, I was simply thrown to the wall and cowered in peoples blood and innards. It just keeps getting better.
Me and my unknown guide made our way from the exit, while arena was burning like it was Hell, Jr., and 'HANU!' was ringing farther and farther away. Then walking stopped, but run only started. We ran through maze-like corridors, and then, all of a sudden, 'upright and running' changed to 'flying out of the goddamn window'. All I heard in my three to five seconds of free flight was one more explosion, but it was now far away. I was outside and looking at the clouds of smoke rising above the roofs.
- Just what the hell was that... - I couldn't hold it in.
Hands, acting by themselves, went into pocket. Searching for a cig. But what they found was a tight money roll. Interesting. So, it should mean that I did my job, I guess. Oh well, case closed, money's in the pocket, and I couldn't care less with whatever happened to the narcofanatics.
- Go get some sleep, Scheutz.
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