Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.
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Rain poured from the dark grey sky, soaking through the tattered cloak I was using to blend in. I haulted across the street from a building with flashing neon sign.
"Death's Hangout" I read to myself under my breath.
It was a run down, little building located along an ally in the slums, full of hopless drunks and alchoholics. Hundreds of people moved up and down the alleyways and streets, some homeless pushing grocery carts or dirty thieves carrying car radios. I followed a group of middle-class men into Death's Hangout.
"They're probably here looking for cheap prostatitutes" I declared to myself.
Once inside I was bombarded by loud music, and voices trying to talk over it. It was a bar that the costomers have treated like a night club. I lingered in the doorway and looked around, searching, then I spotted it, a dimley lit doorway to what might of been a poker room at one point.
I walked toward it, weaving my way between busty waitresses, dancing men and wemon, and drunks. Once I made it to the doorway, I quickly forced my way through the last crowd of people stumbling forward. It was suprisingly large, almost a whole other bar. Along the far wall there was a liquor counter with a man cleaning shot glasses behind it. There were pool tables, round tables spread out through the room and booths along the walls.
Male waiters served glasses of alcohol and liqour to the tables, some of them eyed me as I stood in the doorway. Soon they were joined by almost everyonelse in the room. The clients that occupied this room were all men, who were far from the drunken type on the other side of the wall, blowing off some steam after a hard day of work. These men were branded by scars and tattoos.
Business men but not the type that worked in an office. Most of them looked like Criminals, rapists, and murders. I assumed it was dangerous for me to be in here and thats when the full weight of their gazes fell upon me.
A group of men sitting in a booth at the back, shrouded in darkness caught my eye
"bingo" I muttered.
I ducked my head allowing my cloak to hide my face and walked further into the room. I stopped; tossed my hood back, trying to look serious. Their eyes continued to aggressivly stare.
"I'm Rei Kaine and I heard that I can find a hitman here. I need someone to assist me in the death of my father Stirling Kaine and my brother, Max Kaine" I said almost shouting.
The room burst into laughter, I was shocked. My eyes widened as I gazed at the room.
"Wa.....whats so funny!" I demanded.
One bald man replied through his laughter in a thick russian accsent "join tha club aby!"
His friend chimed in "everyone wants Stirling dead, many people here
have been hired to kill him but none have suceeded!"
"Aye sly as a fox that one!"
"I literally have the key to his house!" I snapped frustrated because of their laughter.
"Also his rich little bitch daughter wouldn't be stupid enough to walk into the slums her father created!"
"......Or would she?'' someonelse said, opening a laptop.They compared me to a picture from google. Their eyes locked onto me yet again. "I think she is supid enough to" he declared.
Several of the clients began to stand up out of their seats and approach me. By mistake I backed myself into a corner. I removed the pistole from my boot "stay back!" I demanded.
A hand came down and swatted my gun, it skitted across the floor. Devilish grins spread across their lips. I glanced at the bartender, he looked down at the glass he was drying. The waiters also ignored the scene.
