PROLOGUE
The twilight bathed evening was not of any importance. It resembled any other of the June evenings that blended indifferently into each other. There was the perfect balance of the breathless sun setting in the bloody red sky stained with too many colors and the cold stars beginning to appear that reflected on the East still river.
The only great disturbance one could have taken note of was the gunshot that ripped through the silent atmosphere, shattering the peacefulness, and the shuttering of the dock boards under the corpse that fell to them. The audible sound of the shot echoed for a few minutes before finally dying like its victim had.
And as though nothing had occurred, a smoldering silence one again fell upon the nameless dock in Brooklyn, all save for the heavy breathing of the three figures that stood in a half moon around the corpse.
The noise of the audible shot still ringing in their ears, they regarded the fallen cadaver that had been a Brooklyn newsboy-the way the lifeless limbs were sprawled in impossible positions and the river of deep crimson that trickled from the gaping wound in the unfortunate's head.
The assassin, her arm stretched taunt and away from her, slowly lowered the smoking revolver, her steel-gray eyes sharing in the somber scheme of her countenance. The accomplice to her left shared in her solemn expression. It was only the one to her right that was displaying any emotion: his coal- black eyes alight and his thin lips pulled into a disgusting smile.
The assassin shifted her eyes from the cadaver to the boy on her right, her eyes on fire. She raised the revolver, aligning it between his eyes. "If you keep smiling like that, Nero, I'll pull this trigger and I'll have no regrets."
His smile didn't falter, instead, it grew. He shook his hands in front of him as his dark eyes danced wildly. "Angel, baby, c'mon. Why ya seem as though ya at a goddamn funeral? You killed one of Spot's boys. It's not like ya just killed some civilian for Chrissakes."
Her eyes only narrowed more in fury, the gun still pointed straight at his forehead. "Can it, Nero. You know on any other terms I wouldn't give a damn about killin' one of them. But we've been on terms with them. No major rumbles for more than a year. We don't kill them and they don't kill us."
He inclined his head and tugged his mouth into a sneer, taking no heed to the revolver point-blank at his head. "Angel, you should know more than anyone else that Oliver don't take no shit from nobody. Especially Brooklyn." He passionately motioned to the corpse sprawled at their feet. "He was defiling Oliver's name." His eyes glittered vehemently. "Ya brother for Chrissakes! Insulting Midtown! Don't go getting' soft on me now, Haddox…"
She released a growl and stepped towards him, placing the barrel of the revolver to the flesh between his eyes. Her eyes in slits and glimmering, she cocked the trigger. "Don't you dare push me, Night, don't you dare."
A feverish silence fell between them as they regarded each other with impassioned gazes. It was Flynn Finesse, the third member of the party who finally broke them up.
"Hey, hey, hey," he fiercely cried, stepping over the corpse and placing a hand on the revolver and pulling it away from Nero Night's skull. "Knock it off, will ya? Oliver ordered us to do something and we did it. Christ, it's just a knock off. We never sat here and contemplated whether or not it was ethical to kill one of Brooklyn before. We just did it and went." His hazel eyes glimmered. "Did it and left. Left before either Spot or the bulls caught up with us."
Angel Haddox and Nero Night stepped away from each other, burning malice still laced within their glares.
Night's lips finally curled into a smile as he gestured towards the fallen newsie with his head. "Is ya name finally catching up with ya or something', Angel?"
Angel released a howl of hate as she wretched the revolver from Flynn's grasp and expeditiously raised it at Night, not thinking twice as she pulled the trigger. Yet Flynn had been quick, and placed his hands upon the barrel and thrust the gun upwards, causing the bullet to slice through the darkening sky, Night ducking low still.
For the twain time, the echoes of a bullet rang in their ears, yet this time followed not by the falling of a body to the docks but a revolver.
Nero straightened, incredulously regarding her with wide eyes. His voice was high and cracking. "What are you? Fucking crazy, Angel?"
Angel observed him; her breathing labored and bared teeth clenched together. "No, Nero, no. I'm not crazy. I'm Oliver Haddox's sister. And don't you ever, ever say anything like that again. Because if you do, Flynn won't be there and I will blow your brains out."
Night regarded her, hunched, his oleaginous hair and eyes just as raven glimmering in the waxing moon. Daring not to tempt Angel any further, he only straightened, and cocked an insolent brow, motioning to the corpse. "Come on. Let's dump him into the river before anyone comes. And we better do it real quick because isn't someone liable to think something suspicious after hearing two guns shots? Most notably Spot Conlon?" He cast Angel a caustic glare, who returned the favor just as gratefully.
"All right, guys, c'mon," Flynn instructed, falling to his haunches at the cadaver's crown. "Nero, you get his feet and I'll get his arms."
His eyes sharp and features set, Nero strode to the fallen's feet, roughly rising to his feet before Flynn could to the same, causing the body to be inclined at an angle.
"Nero, knock it off will ya?" Flynn hissed, rising as Night had done.
"Knock what off, Finesse? You want me to cry a river over this stiff?" Nero spat, as he and Flynn stumbled over to the edge of the dock. "Ya know, you're starting to get jist like Angel. What in the hell's wrong with ya? Getting all emotional-" He halted as he saw Angel stoop down in one fluid motion and retrieve the gleaming black revolver and casually point it in his direction.
Flynn's features twisted into determination as he and Nero swung the lifeless body to and fro thrice before releasing it and allowing it to hit the river with a grand splash. "I'm not getting emotional. Neither is Angel. We take it seriously. You take it as though they are animals or something and need to be hunted down."
Night allowed his gaze to flicker from the cadaver as it lazily began to flow downstream. "Christ, Flynn, he insulted Oliver. I don't know about you, but you don't insult Oliver Haddox and get away with it." His features twisted into a sneer as he observed Angel. "Maybe that's why I'm his right hand and you're only his sister."
With a slick click, the trigger of the revolver was once more cocked. "Is three times a charm, Nero you stupid bastard, is it?"
Flynn released a sigh and strode over to Angel, gently yet firmly gripping the weapon and taking it from her grasp and sliding it in the waist of his trousers. "Jesus Christ, knock it off you guys? Ho, come on, we have got to scram now. Don't want Spot to catch us, now do we?"
Casting Nero Night one more scowl, Angel Haddox turned and plucked the revolver from Flynn's trouser waist before continuing down the dock. "Let's go."
And Night and Flynn Finesse followed the assassin, as they always did in this habitual song and dance of slayings, and as the water-logged corpse of a Brooklyn newsboy drifted down the dark river that reflected the cold stars and bright moon, awaiting discovery.
