Chapter 2
I'm trying to get through to my friend. She wants to be beautiful and superficial 'cos she's fucked up inside. But she doesn't seem to take the hint that I ONLY LOVED HER BECAUSE OF THAT! Gosh. Has she even looked in a fucking mirror? She's gorgeous. Now someone shake some sense into that damn girl –firm nod-
--
Spectre glanced up at the man passing him by, woken from his hazy thoughts. He looked back down at the table and waited for the man to leave but he didn't. He wanted Spectre, he'd been looking all night for him in search of a cruel-minded justice. The man stuffed his sweaty hands in his pockets; he was shaking steadily and gave the bar a good look over before he turned back again. "You're Spectre," he lowered his voice to a coarse whisper.
Spectre gazed up at the man with his dark misleading sunglasses and he never took his eyes off him. He gave a small nod and the man dashed down into the seat opposite him, shoving himself into the wall and still on the look-out for anyone who'd noticed him. It made Spectre give a scoff at the man who took off the hood from his head. "I thought I'd find you here. I talked to some dodgy mates, tried to get some answers but err… nothing is ever that clear around here, you know what I'm saying?" He had a slight Liverpool accent to his voice and he finally looked at Spectre directly and without distraction.
This man had very short curly red hair, abnormally large ears and his face was a little blotchy and with dozens of freckles. But this man looked no older than 25, he looked like he had no idea what he was doing and like he would regret what he was planning for the rest of his supposedly difficult life as soon as he stepped outside that door. Spectre stared into his dark sea-green eyes with mild amusement as he leaded forward and rested his arms on the table. "My name's Scotty. And… I need a favour to ask of you."
"And what's this favour you ask of me?" Again, Scotty glanced over his shoulder at the bar and he turned his head back slowly in thought.
"I-I-" he stuttered and scratched his white neck nervously which soon left a red rash. "It's… It's my ex-girlfriend." Spectre, unwittingly, cast him a very judgemental face at that moment. "I have my reasons! Which, by the way, I thought wasn't relevant to someone like you!" he defended. Spectre tipped his head slightly as Scotty rubbed his face and tried to calm his tense nerves.
"You don't have to be telling me anything, man. It's just business with me. Even if it is personal with you."
Scotty took out a crumpled photograph from his pocket and slid it under his palm to Spectre. He took it in hand and saw a beautiful woman, around Scotty's age, blonde hair and a dark man standing with an arm around her. "That's Sandy. Sandy Andrews. And that's her… that's her brother, Sydney." He pointed at the people in the picture and a painful smile appeared on his face as well as his tone saddened. "They hurt me… now they're going to pay. Right?" Spectre nodded. "I want her dead and him… I want him… I want him in the same boat."
"Done," said Spectre.
"But wait!" Scotty interrupted him with wild staring eyes. "… Can I do a request? You know, there are many ways to snuff it today." Spectre was open to whatever creative torture he could come up with. Scotty bent his head on the table and kicked around ideas but soon he looked up again, a little annoyed. "… Lola Davidson." Spectre let his guard down and his stomach drooped. "Does that name stir any memories in you?"
"Excuse me?" He knew perfectly well though. A victim from a few short weeks ago, and it wasn't one of the cleanest.
Scotty now put on an intrigued smile; obviously he was above himself, above a serial killer he thought. No stranger could keep him cowering; no one could ever make him look like the fool. "That was you, wasn't it?" Spectre slapped a hand on the table making Scotty jump and leaned into his face.
"You don't know what cho talking 'bout, boy. Don't go there."
"But… You've pulled it off before. You… you made it look like an accident, man… You're beautiful." Spectre glared and kept watching him. He wasn't going to back down like he thought Scotty easily would. Scotty shook his head lightly and the smile dropped. "I don't care, do what you want. I only have one condition… They need to be found together in the same apartment. The address is on the back." He flipped it over and indeed there it was, just a few blocks down from the street they were on. "You don't… You don't talk an awful much, do you?"
Spectre shrugged and venom snuck into his voice, "If I've got something important to say, I'll say it. I don't bother with pointless conversation on my clients. Most of us just don't have the time." Scotty frowned a little but nodded all the same.
"And the money?"
"What d'ya got?" Scotty fished through his dark green trench coat and brought out an enclosed envelope. Inside was a wad of cash he showed him that Spectre appeared to be satisfied with. He handed it over and Spectre slipped the money and the photo into the inside pocket of his jacket. The deal had been sealed, cancel all reservations, he was busy tonight. "Anything else?"
"Will this compromise ever end?" Scotty asked grimly. Spectre sighed, leaned back in his seat and opened his arms carelessly.
"Business is over. Get yourself an alibi if the cops get on you."
"And that's it? The deed is done; they'll be gone by next morning?"
"That's all there is to it. Thanks for your time." Scotty nodded rapidly and got up from his seat. He gave Spectre one last grateful stare and Scotty felt like this man knew what he was all about, he felt like he could read him like a book. Like they were both running away from the same thing, in hiding. It scared him. He turned on heel and fled the building immediately as he barged past anyone who got in his way.
Spectre finished up his drink and after memorising the names, faces and places back to front, he lit up the photo in his hand and it burned to soot. He got up and walked towards the main bar where Les was entertaining the newcomers with small talk. He strolled past but Les spotted him. "You're leaving already, are ya?" Spectre turned around and smiled at his great friend.
"The night's still young, Les. Let's just see where it takes me." Leslie chuckled almost sinisterly and gave him a wink before Spectre left the establishment and disappeared like smoke into the dark mystified night. With 6 excruciating stabs each to follow for his client's promise. The drinks helped him remain oblivious to their anguish because Spectre couldn't reach that ignorance by himself. And no one could know about his soft spot, his sensitivity to human torture.
--
Russel barged in through the front door to Kong Studios breathing heavily and dripping wet with rain. His shoes gave a swampy squelch when he walked and left a trail of water behind him as he threw off his jacket in frustration. He stopped and panicked, taking off his sunglasses and letting his black hat fall to the ground. Everything was warping around him and dizziness overcame him. He forgot about his clothes as his face scrunched into repugnance and he made a run to the bathroom before he would chuck up.
He hung his head over the sink and brought his hands to his face. They were covered in blood. Thick bright red tasty innocent blood and he can't even remember how it got there and how it so perfectly remained indented into his skin. Russel washed his hands and scrubbed them till they were raw and clean, not a trace of traitor on them. He couldn't bring himself to look up at his reflection because he never wanted to look at that face. The face of a killer, a fucking homicidal maniac who just couldn't stop this contradictory fetish. Spectre, meet Russel Hobbs. Two very different people but that barrier just kept getting closer and closer.
The drummer rinsed his hands and flicked them dry before he left for a snack, grabbing Spectre's clothing on the way just as he was falling back into Russel's routine again. Because Russel was always the fool in real life and his only problem was that he dared to escape in the dead of night… for something more. He wandered into the kitchen and looked up only to find the lights already on and Murdoc calmly sitting down, feet up on the table and a fag between his fingers. A softly concerned frown upon his face. Russel mumbled an 'oh' and turned around to walk away.
"Now wait just a fucking minute, lards," said Murdoc. Russel walked up to him and said nothing, did nothing. He felt vulnerable when anyone could see his eyes. Murdoc stared at him and noticed as he stood his clothes were forming puddles at his feet. He gestured Russel, "where've you been at 4 o'clock in the morning then?" Russel shrugged and cleared his throat.
"Just out."
"Out where?" he asked, raising his tone.
"Why do care so much, Muds? Do I ever ask you where you've disappeared to in the early hours?" Murdoc blew out the smoke and the room rapidly became hazy which didn't help Russel's appetite and yearning to stay clean.
"I'd like to know," he said evenly, patting the dead ash off his cigarette. "This is the third time this month I've caught you sneaking out like a dirty rodent. It almost looks like you're having more fun than moi." Russel scoffed and shook his head.
"That's not the case. I'm just trying to get a social life going."
Murdoc looked surprised, "that's setting the bar a little high, isn't it, Hobbs?" Russel glared down at his feet and bit his lip so tightly. His confidence was well bruised by now, see it wasn't always 2D that got the worst of it. Murdoc smiled and pulled out the chair next to him from under the table. "C'mon, sit down. Nightcaps," he grinned as he got out two glasses from behind him. Russel took a seat uneasily just when Murdoc brought out the Jack Daniels.
"I don't know, Murdoc. I'm tired."
Murdoc shook his head firmly as he poured them both out like he wasn't going to hear it. "No excuses, you've spent the night out and you're telling me you can't handle one last shot? Besides, we have to get up in a couple of hours for that interview with what-his-chops and his dowdy circus lot anyway. Might as well make an entrance, I always say. No, you will join me." Murdoc picked up his glass, gave it a little shake and held it out to Russel for a toast. Russel picked up his and they both clanked their drinks together, "cheers," and took a gulp. The bassist kept a watchful eye on him all the time and Russel hardly glanced over at all, like he was afraid of something.
"So…" Russel sipped the horrible strong stuff and gazed at Murdoc who held a sly grin. "Was she good?" Russel stared at him in disbelief and shook his head with worry.
"Whatever you're inferring, I certainly didn't pull a one-nighter."
Murdoc rolled his eyes, "Who are you kidding, Hobbs? You smell like daisies and there's practically lipstick all over your shameful face. Cut the shit, who is she?" Russel quickly finished the last of his drink, glad it was over and done with until Murdoc gave him a refill.
"You're not gonna slag her off, are ya?" he asked grimly. Murdoc shook his head and mumbled a 'nuh uh' as he was too excited by how much room in his glass he had left for more toxic spirits. He silently battled whether he'd let him in Spectre's life but… what was the harm? "… Her name is Madison. But we're not together."
"But you want her, right?"
"Well-"
"She was way out of your league, right? How plastered did you have to get her just so you could get under her dress?" Russel quietly fumed while Murdoc kept leading him on. He knew he was pissed with him but that didn't stop him from trying to take him to his limit.
"Believe it or not, Murdoc… there are actually some decent good-hearted people out there and this woman really does like me for who I am," Murdoc chuckled to himself and Russel lowered his head. "I think so anyway…" He shook his head and gave Russel a slap on the back.
"Whatever. Either all, you hadher, man. Didn't think you had it in you." Russel paused and looked up with a steady expression.
"What?"
Murdoc was about to abandon his glass and go straight for the bottle but he stopped halfway. "Well I just thought you weren't the type, you know what I mean." Russel shook his head like a little lost puppy who wanted explanation but Murdoc ignored him and took a swig of the alcohol. It would have looked like Murdoc was holding back just so he could binge drink with a mate but this was another character and he was already resting off his wasted state when he walked in. Murdoc caught him staring and he smiled sweetly. "I need this more than you, mate, you're the one who got laid tonight, so you say."
"So while I was out 'getting laid', what were you doing?" Murdoc laid his head on the table and shrugged moodily.
"Whatever I wanna do, punk. I'm invincible, remember?" he let a shrill laugh escape his lips and Russel nodded awkwardly.
"And you're pissed already. I would say what a surprise but… it's not anymore really, is it?" There was silence while Murdoc's eyes flickered open and closed drowsily. Russel frowned at him and folded his arms seriously, thinking about how much he hated this man and how his hypocritical ways made him sick.
"… Ooh, lighten up, old chum… You had a good night you're not gonna just… throw it… aw-…" Murdoc soon slipped into a deep drunken sleep and started snoring loudly. Russel sighed and yawned and finally he got up from his seat and pried the half finished Jack Daniels out of his dry hands. The drunkard whispered many disturbing pick up lines in his sleep and Russel only hoped they weren't still directed at him.
Just as he was about to put away the bottle, he caught flashes of the scene. Sneaking into their apartment, following her around like her own shadow and wrapping the rope so tightly around her neck so that she couldn't even breathe a sound. While he was too busy trying not to faint as the struggling made his only identity flake off. He was about to put away the bottle but suddenly he decided he needed it to. He switched off the light, leaving Murdoc to it and retired for the night. With his fix as a final kiss off to his average thrice a week evenings, he accidentally caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked like murder.
--
INCASE ANYONE HASN'T MADE THE CONNECTION YET: SPECTRE IS RUSSEL HOBBS
I don't wanna sound cocky or anything but… I like this story. It's got a bit more depth. I don't know. Maybe it's just 'cos we've practically never had a Russel fic. And I've decided that he's my favourite character too :) That kid's messed up but he's alright.
