He stubbed his cigarette out and called for a coffee. The coffee was, of course, lousy and it was by far the safest of all the bistro had to offer. The rain hadn't let up yet; the reflections of yellow street lights danced merrily on the puddles outside. He left the coffee untouched, left some money on the table and walked out. He felt restless, though he did not know why.
The monochromatic neon lights in the distance gleamed silently and eyed him warily. It had been two days since he had been fired from the Tsubaki Corp. A dog lay on the street waiting to die, its front, metallic paws making a scratching sound every time it tried to get up but couldn't. "Dumb fucker!", he thought as he saw the helpless dog. And as he was crossing the street, rage boiled inside him and he kicked the dog with all his strength. The yelping ceased. So did the scratching."There, I helped ease its suffering", he thought to himself as a wicked, asymmetrical grin distorted his otherwise beautiful model IV face.
He reached the other side of the street. For a moment, the light from a street lamp caught his face. There was something very strange about that face - you couldn't say what, but there was something missing - something inherently evil about it.He pulled the brim of his hat lower to cover his face. Perhaps, he feared that someone was watching him. He quickly ducked into an old alley - the darkness swallowed him up easily.
As his eyes got used to the blinding darkness, for a moment, just for a brief moment, he felt eerie, the kind that comes in late night horror movies with spooky music to accompany. The world was dystopic, he decided. It was just the way he liked it. He wouldn't have it any other way, not that he had a choice.
A dark deserted alley wasn't reassuring enough, he decided to walk through to the next street. He was wet from the rain and had not eaten much but those were the least of his worries. The recent turn of events had brought upon him an uneasiness he could not explain.
He thought about the past and as always, whenever he thought about the past, one face stood out. He wasn't sure when he'd met K. But it did not matter now. He was without a job and a man on the run. Darkness was his ally and daylight...a treacherous lover. He decided to remain in the cold embrace of the shadows and wait for a cab. He grinned mirthlessly when he ruminated about it. He had never known a life outside the shadows.
The black car appeared out of the darkness like a silent wraith. A large bulky figure dressed in rough clothes got out. Undoubtedly one of those many thugs for hire that littered the alleys like burnt cigarrette butts, he thought.
"You'd like to believe we lost track of you....Remember this-we lose track of nobody".
“Should I be impressed?”
A match flared and a cigarrette tip stared glowing. In that brief instance, he saw the thug's face. The face was remarkably hideous. Deep down, an appreciation for such deformity filled his soul. Although one could get a primitively beautiful face for a mere 5000 rupees, this streak of wild independence in his enemy held his fascination, as always.
The smoke swirled in and out of the windows of the car.
That angered the fool of that thug and he shoved him. It was a mistake – never show you anger – ever. All the same, it caught him by surprise and he fell back into a particularly large puddle. The door slammed shut, the engine roared and the car turned a corner. He picked himself up slowly his face reflected eeriely in the puddle. That was when he realized that things were anything but well. So it had come down to this at last. Too bad he had been fired from the Tsubaki Corp. At least, employment there would have guaranteed him a bargaining chip. He wished someone would put him out of his misery like the dog he had helped on the street. The tail lights of the fast receding car was the only colour in that grey alley.
The night was quiet again - almost. Another dog yelped somewhere in the distance. The dogs in Calcutta never seemed to sleep.
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