Challenge Submission Just another night...

[Nico]

"It began with an Autumn breeze... "
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Fuck this cold...

About ten years in this goddamn city and he still wasn't used to this fucking chill. Late autumn nights could get quite chilly in the Big Apple and as much as he would wear, he never could get warm, somehow. As little as he could remember from his time back in Naples, he knew that it wasn't ever this cold there. Not even in winter. There was nothing to be done about that, however. Whining around like a little bitch never kept anyone alive on the streets. Frankly, there were worse things than freezing his ass off.

Fucking cold.

Fucking city.

Fucking Central Park.

The young Italian was one of the lucky ones who made it off the streets and was still alive. Street hustling was shit and dirty and most wouldn't see their twentieth birthday before they kicked the bucket. Overdose, some cut drugs, some John beating you dead or a pimp getting tired of you. Take a pick. If you were lucky, they'd sell you as much kind of personal pet to some old pervert with too much money to burn. But no. Angelo wasn't lucky. He worked for where he was now because he was clever. Because there were better, more profitable ways for his owners to sell his ass than for some lousy twenty bucks. Even among whores there was a hierarchy. The people he serviced nowadays all lived over on the Upper East Side, in Midtown or in Tribeca. His clients were politicians now, bankers and people from the Financial District. Go figure. Not exactly the sort that would pick up a cheap hooker in a damn park.

Day or night, it was always the same. Admittedly, during the days it was a tourist trap full of families, children and joggers. But once night fell the scenery changed dramatically. Fuck, he spent too much time in this garbage dump. More than he cared to count, more than he cared to repeat. On cold nights like these, you were actually grateful if some asshole took you into their cars or some seedy motel - because it meant that you'd be away from the cold for a while. Some places just stick on a person, however, like flies to shit. Down in the south of the park, near Park Drive, it was particularly nasty during the night, at least for righteous citizens. For Angelo, it was just the same old bullshit. Junkies. Whores. Pushers. Homeless rats. Somehow, it was like a movie you've seen too often and know all the lousy lines by heart. Or like a bad porn movie. Then again, this park was kind of like home for him. He knew each hideout here, each hidden pathway, each dark corner and all the people who called the park their home. It was somehow like a family.

Frankly, he just jogged through that shithole tonight because it was a convenient shortcut up to Madison Ave and he hadn't been up for spending his hard-earned money on some flea-infested Yellow Cab. Not all of his clients were generous when it came to tips. That bunch of snobs could choke on their money for all he cared.

Then again, since he was already in the area, he might as well keep an eye on the Mistress' merch. It was just dirty business out here, but money was money and there were enough workers gone missing as of late. More than what was considered normal in the trade and La Padrona was getting irritated about it. Of course, there was always more skin but no provider was happy when their merch went missing. It meant losing money. What went down here lately didn't smell of some asshole gutting hookers because he got off on it. This seemed a lot more organised and it reeked of some Russian rats putting their finger on what wasn't theirs. He knew that he heard word about those rats on the streets as of late. Shit. No one needs the fucking Bratva.

The young Italian almost made it past Park Ave and all the known spots for hustling during the night, when his phone went off in a pocket. A glance over the display had him furrow a brow after he paused his jog. Val? Shouldn't she be working? Ah, whatever. He took the call but he didn't get to say a damn word. Because Val was screeching into the phone from the other end, like a goddamn hyena on crack. Something about one of the new girls, a shitton of blood and something about the public restrooms near 97th St.

Fuckin' fantastic. So much for going back to the warehouse, taking a shower and crashing. Fuck.

He stuffed the phone back into a pocket after telling Val that he'd take care of it and that she should calm the fuck down and get working. Angelo took a moment to look around and orientate himself in the dark surroundings. Just some lights along the pathways and the everpresent hum from the traffic nearby. And a - "Hey, Angelo, sweety it's been ages, yeah?" all of a sudden. One rarely could choose who one knew or what some John wanted, but some people seriously were better off dead. Yeah, okay, he knew that dude from his time hustling in the area. Middle-aged, disgustingly fat and no respect for personal space. That was right out of the window. Those horny fucks just never could keep their hands to themselves, either. Tell him something new. At one point, you just stop to care about that anyway. It was just business. "Forget it, Joey. I'm off the clock and way outta yer league."

What did that loser think, anyway? That he'd suck that poor excuse of a dick for lousy twenty bucks and some Oxy that almost offed him once? Mexican shit pills, those. Who knew what all was in those fucking pills back then. He'd been puking his guts out for a day because of that dude's crap. Where'd he get this shit from anyways? Some dirty bathtub in Tijuana? "Daddy's got something delicious for you." That voice sounded vaguely slurred and the dude reeked of cheap booze and yet, he was already fumbling with the zipper of his pants. Nothing new. "C'mon, take yer prick elsewhere." the young Italian said. He wasn't up for that shitshow. He had to get going and take care of that shit Val told him about. Angelo already knew that someone would be not happy about this.

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During the fifteen-minute jog here, Angelo had enough time to steel himself for what possibly went down here. If one could prepare oneself for that kind of stuff to begin with. Val had been pretty vague because she was hysterical but 'One of the new girls and a lot of blood' didn't sound like some John got a little rough, huh?

He had slowed down before he reached the public restrooms, looking around to make sure the coast was clear. It was late already and the chance that anyone would be around was minimal. Yes, perhaps a junkie or some bum seeking shelter in the restrooms. But no one that would cause trouble. Val was gone of course, probably for the better. While he approached the small building, he went over the information in his head on this area. Who usually hung out here, which pusher controlled this area, which boys in blue possibly could come by. Essential knowledge if you want to survive out here or not end up busted by an overeager boy in blue. What the fuck was the new chick doing here anyways? This was a known spot for Johns looking for boys and a quick fuck. Shit just didn't add up.

But no matter, he walked on in. Someone had to take care of this and he wasn't up for having The Mistress on his ass. The stench of urine and weed was expected inside but after a mere couple of steps, Angelo stopped. Fuck. Val didn't lie, huh?

It was a goddamn mess on the filthy floor, the unmistakable scent of blood mingling with urine, weed and probably some vomit as well. The tiles had been white once but - forget that. The young girl was lying there like some distorted doll. Her body twisted as if she was writhing in convulsions before her death, one of her hands tangled in the long, dark-brown hair and those dead eyes were staring up at the young Italian. Her pretty face was covered with blood that had run down from her eyes, out of her mouth, nostrils and ears. Fuck, it looked as if all her orifices were bleeding and the scent was heavy in the air.

Angelo covered his nose with the back of his hand while he coughed. Shit that wasn't pretty. He didn't look away, however. Fuck that. Perhaps it was weird that someone young like him wasn't frightened by such a display. Fuck that, too. What the hell happened here? The dead whore was dressed, with no ripped clothes and no trace of having been tied, tortured, stabbed or shot. Nothing. Nada. Just this fucking mess. He took a step or two back, leaning himself against the wall while he dug his phone back out and lit a fresh cigarette. Fuck, what wouldn't he give for some blow right now and a goddamn shower.

His mind was still racing while he typed a quick text. Because someone needed to know about this shitshow here and clean up before the sun would be up. His head leaned back, his eyes closed and for a moment he was just breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Think, for fucks sake. Think. He'd not seen any needle tracks on the body, nothing glaring that could have caused her death. But that left another option. Perhaps she took something? But nah, he knew the pusher in the area and while that dude was an asshole, he worked for the Padrone. But what if someone was selling under the hand? Someone who shouldn't sell their shit here? What if it was some new drug? Or.. fuck. The Russian.

Either way, Angelo wouldn't wait around. He'd done his damn job and told the cleaning crew and now it was time to get lost.

He was still fucking freezing. What a night.

".. and it ended with yet another dead whore..."
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