Working Men Chapter 2

Title – Working Men – Chapter 2 - Reminder

Author – Rigel126

Genre – Action, Crime

Synopsis – Nigel turns out to be a bad boy who has a problem with rules.

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Chapter 2 - Reminder

When Nigel pushed the key into the door of his apartment one floor above Asad’s, he sensed a storm brewing. Sure enough, waiting behind that door was his older sister Fiona, slender arms crossed over her perky cleavage and her long-lashed eyes curled up in an angry glare.

“You slept with that man, didn’t you?” She fired the accusation fiercely. “Don’t try to deny it! I saw the two of you sneaking away together last night!”

Nigel strode past her to the kitchen, flinging off his shirt carelessly in an exaggerated show of petulance. “Ah, so you noticed? Were you hoping that he would fuck you instead of me? Or weren’t there enough men to satisfy you last night?”

While filling a glass with water from the kitchen faucet, Nigel lazily reached up with one hand and plucked a thrown knife from the air before it could lodge itself in his right ear.

“How dare you speak to your Older Sister in that fashion?! And after all the things I did for you when you were young and foolish and weak?”

A long gulp to quench his thirst, and Nigel set the glass down, turned to Fiona and said with a level look. “I have not forgotten any of that. But I don’t see why I should be prevented from indulging occasionally in what you do on a near-daily basis.”

Fiona’s eyes flared open and she exhaled loudly. “Do you realize that you are a man sleeping with another man?! Homosexuality might be commonplace in the West, but the Elders here will not tolerate that kind of conduct, even from one of their best sweepers!”

“Well, they have two ways to deal with it: accept me as I am or replace me.”

“You are going to be killed soon if you continue to be so reckless!” warned Fiona, her eyes flashing with passionate anger. “And even I won’t be able to protect you then.”

Nigel dropped Fiona’s knife with a loud clank on the kitchen counter. “Well, fuck you all then. I don’t smoke, drink, do drugs or get into fights, so this is how I deal with stress. I sleep with men to forget the smell and taste of blood which have haunted me since I was seven. This is how I keep myself strong and focused on the job!”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get addicted to the pleasure of sex, Nigel. And don’t ever fall for a man. You’re a killer, don’t forget that. Emotions are your deadliest enemy.”

Nigel stood stock still and, without turning to look at his sister, said, “I’m taking a shower and the I have a job to do. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Nigel!”

Nigel stormed off and a few seconds later, the sound of the bedroom door slamming resounded through the house.

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Less than an hour later, Nigel was tearing through the streets of Greater Kuala Lumpur on his customized Kawasaki Ninja, dressed in all-black racing leathers. After a long ride, he came to the port city of Klang. Home to one of the busiest commercial harbours in the world, and also as the state capital of Selangor, the township pulsed with life: massive trucks plied the roads, massive warehouses and megastores rose from the intersections, towering over little pre-war shop-houses and pedestrians moving along the sidewalks like ants.

For the better part of the day, Nigel wandered around the town, scouting the lay of the land, asking directions from the locals, exchanging ribald jokes with old Hokkien Chinese men and taking photographs. In the afternoon while buying a cold drink from a grocery store, the young man chuckled self-effacingly when the lady shopkeeper praised his good looks and gently sidestepped the woman’s playful offer to marry off her oldest daughter to him.

And in the background of Nigel’s amiable interactions with these everyday strangers, Fiona’s words from earlier in the morning echoed in the back of his mind: Emotions are your deadliest enemy.

It has been six years since Nigel’s first kill, and so many lives have ended at his hand since then that it longer invokes fear or regret in Nigel’s heart. But even then, must I be doomed to die in loneliness?

Nightfall came and Nigel’s face took on a grim look. With purpose, he slipped on his crash helmet and straddled his motorcycle once more, this time taking the fastest route to a nightclub near the town limits. Nigel noted that most people were careful to keep some distance away from the club building, the front entrance of which was guarded by four glowering bouncers.

Out of sight and in the shelter of a dark alley, Nigel unzipped and shrugged off his racing suit, revealing a starched shirt and necktie below. He slipped on a vest and coat jacket, gelled and combed his hair and slid on a pair of sunglasses. Leaning forward to look into the rear-view mirror of his bike, the Chinese man carefully attached a false moustache above his lips and nudged it into position. As a finishing touch, he clipped on a silver earring to his left ear.

Thus properly attired, Nigel strode up confidently to the club entrance, where the burly doormen were conducting identity checks on visitors. As Nigel approached, he was naturally stopped.

“Club ID please.”

“I’m new.” Nigel cast an airy smile of a young cocky professional.

“Tonight’s Members Only Night. I can’t let you in.”

“And what if I’m planning to sign up tonight?”

“You’ll need to be introduced by a member. Now move along, sir.”

“Here’s my letter of introduction.” Nigel held out several large bank-notes for the four bouncers to see. “Will this do?”

The lead bouncer snatched the money out of Nigel’s hand and peered at them, then turned to Nigel with a wicked smile. “Sorry, fool, but we aren’t that kind of cheap and sleazy establishment.”

Nigel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I had the impression that the inside of this building was full of unsavoury… trash.”

“You better move your ass before my mates do it for you,” warned the chief doorman as his goons circled Nigel menacingly.

A long sigh from Nigel. “I tried to do it the easy and pain-free way, but since you insist…”

Out of Nigel’s shirtsleeves slipped two razor-sharp knives, which he lanced outwards into the chests of two of the goons. Caught off-guard, the other two tried to retaliated, but they were no match for the Chinese man’s superlative agility. He pounded a fist hard into the nose of the lead bouncer, knocking him out flat. The last doorman had just found himself held in a headlock before his neck was snapped in two.

Alarms would be raised very soon, and Nigel had precious little time to spare. He stormed into the building, ignoring the stunned club patrons he and zipped to the back and up the stairs, dodging the attempts of the security staff to stop his advance. Nigel had in fact snuck into the building several days ago and had memorized the floor plan. He slammed his elbow into the face of one guard without slowing down his pace; another was tripped up and sent crashing through a window on the first floor and slammed into the concrete sidewalk.

He made a turn at a corridor and came up against four armed sentinels guarding an ornate door. Two were dead with knives lodged in their throats before anything else. The other two goons raised their guns, but before they could take aim, Nigel grabbed one of them by the arm and forced him to shoot the other in the head. Nigel then wrested the firearm away and put a second bullet through the last guard’s temple.

It took two, three hard kicks from Nigel to force the door open and when he did, a fierce volley of gunshots burst out from within. A hand grenade was flung into the room in response, causing a massive explosion that started a fire and set off the sprinkler system.

From then on, it was a complete massacre. Inside the room were four crime bosses who congregated for a meeting with their respective personal bodyguards, a total of twelve men. Nigel was an unstoppable and deadly as a storm, zipping between furniture and dodging bullets, slicing open flesh with a long knife and firing back metal slugs but with great efficacy.

In less than a minute, Nigel found himself looking around for the next victim with an animal look in his eyes, and it took several seconds for him to descend from his battle-madness. Eventually, he got his mind and breathing under control and did a head-count of the deceased. He recognized the faces of his targets. All accounted for… Wait, one of them was still alive. Nigel raised the groaning, barely-conscious man’s head by the hair and slashed open his throat. Blood splattered across the floor, and the body was flung away with a careless thump.

Minutes later, Nigel was far away from the mess he just made and was on his way back home. Rain started to pour from the darkened sky, soaking even through the leather of Nigel’s racing suit. Behind the crash helmet visor, his mouth was stretched in a stony scowl while his thoughts began to wander.

Just minutes ago, I killed more than ten men, and I feel nothing at all. I am a true killer who’s lost his heart and soul, who is beyond the reaches of mercy and redemption. And yet… why do I long so much to feel someone’s skin against mine?

With a hiss of frustration, he stepped on the gas and zoomed down the highway at break-neck speed.

 [Chapter 2 – Reminder End]

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