Behind the Mask Ch. 16

All characters are at least 18 years old.

------

"You know what's weird? Parents get to name their kids."

"...Yeah, and?"

"I'm just saying. A person isn't who they're gonna be until many years later. Sometimes they even change who they are through the course of their life. But through all that, you still call them the same thing. We don't do that for caterpillars and butterflies."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Caterpillar. Butterfly. Two separate names for... essentially the same creature, but it's changed. But people change too. You can never tell what they'll turn into just from when they're born. The parents don't know who this baby is gonna be. Even the baby doesn't know who it's gonna be. But they slap a name on it anyway, and y'know, forever now."

"Drew, it's just a fucking name. What something's called doesn't define what it is."

"Then that defeats the whole purpose of names, maybe even language. The whole point of language is communication. If we don't all use the same words for things, kinda useless, isn't it."

"Kids need a name that early because they need something to formulate a sense of self around. Otherwise they just grow up with no identity. Might as well be referred to by number."

"I say let them find themselves. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of identity."

Brie sighed and shook her head at Stef and Drew. "If I didn't know better, I swear you two dumbasses are high all the time." She dropped her head into her hand. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

"Hey hey hey," I piped up. "I'm right here."

Brie pulled herself away from Stef on my couch and came over to me, laying back onto me for a cuddle. "You know I'm only talking about these two savants over here."

"All I heard is I'm smart," Drew replied with a grin.

I sighed deeply, nursing a gentle smile. This could be the last time we hung out like this. They didn't know it, of course, but I wasn't about to tell them that. Occasionally, I would see Drew giving me a look as if to say that I should say something. Ask for help. But how could they? What could they do to protect me from a cartel hit squad? Besides, my plan didn't require and couldn't afford their involvement.

Worst case scenario, I died. Best case scenario, I started a gang war with the scariest gangbangers in the country. Knives out, back against the wall. I'd finally bitten off more than I could chew.

I wondered if Charles would be sad at my funeral.

Cherry came back from the kitchen with a glass of juice. "Been a couple days since we've seen August. Everything alright?"

An arrow lanced through my chest, but I managed a smirk in response. "Why, did you wanna see him again?" Inside, I played the events of last night over again. It didn't help that Drew had been talking about names earlier. It was probably over. Even if I made it through all this alive, August would be lost to me.

Keep it together, Lexi.

"Not my type," Cherry joked with a wry smirk. "Now answer the question."

"You're learning," I noted sourly, and she bowed her head appreciatively. "It's fine."

"Wow, that bad, huh?" I shot a look at Stef, and he shrugged. "Hey, I'm a guy, and even I know what 'fine' means, okay?"

"You guys are worse than a pack of housewives," I grumbled.

"Hey, don't knock housewives," Drew cut in. "That's that good shit."

"Speaking of, when are you gonna wife up your mom? Or is Leon gonna do the honors for your cover story?"

At this, both Drew and Cherry grimaced. "I think we're planning to take things nice and slow, and start off with cohabitation," Cherry said carefully.

"Ugh, I'd love to be a fly on the wall in that house," I groaned, and Brie slapped my thigh. Cherry looked even more flustered, but Drew just rolled his eyes. He already knew everything between him and his mom had been bared to me, and somehow I found his resignation even more delicious.

"Why don't you focus on your own man," Brie grumbled.

"You're just worried that yours will go wandering off in my secret garden," I teased, and this time she pinched me. "Yow. C'mon, don't flip out. That perv only wants his sister."

Their eyes locked and they both blushed and oh my God they were so cute.

It was sad that I wasn't meant for a love like that.

"Hey guys, I gotta head out. You're welcome to stay, but just lock up when you leave." Brie sat up to let me stand.

"Where are you going?" Drew asked, eyes narrowing.

"Taking out the trash, what else?" I replied with a wink. His expression was grave.

"Wow, you're seriously calling August trash?" Stef muttered. "Is that what you're into, or...? What am I saying. I'm not surprised."

"Go have fun," Cherry laughed. "Don't let us hold you up."

I waved at them and went to my room to prepare. On a notepad, I wrote final words to each of them, even Coco and Leon. God willing, they would never have to read these words, but they needed to be written regardless, in case something crazy happened. Next I called Alain.

"Oui, mademoiselle?"

"Is Code Red all set?"

"Certainement, mademoiselle."

"If things go sideways tonight, send the Pigeon. Then follow Eschaton."

There was a pause, and at first I was worried that he was scheming or something. But then my fears were allayed. "Mademoiselle... You should not come tonight. I can take care of it."

"You don't come anywhere near this. I'm not to be disturbed until the dust settles. Is that understood?" I ordered sternly.

"...I understand, mademoiselle. Bonne chance."

I hung up and put the phone down, staring at it on the desk as my breath came out in staccato. I didn't have it in me to say goodbye to him like that. It was all in Eschaton anyway.

Now, what to wear, what to wear?

I smirked. What else? The crimson low-cut spaghetti strap. The hem ended just below my ass. If I was to die today, I wished to look smashing for the occasion. I made sure my hair looked nice and full, and my makeup was on fleek. There was a knock on my door and Brie entered when I answered.

"Hey. Wow, you look good."

"Thanks. What's up?" I patted myself down then grabbed my purse.

"Drew said you might need some help." She looked a bit confused, meaning he hadn't explained.

"Nope, all good." I gestured to myself, and she nodded.

"Not sure he was talking about getting ready, but... Is something going on?"

I chuckled and hugged her. It took her by surprise, but she hugged me back. When we separated I sighed. God damn it, I hated this.

"Take care of yourself, alright? And take care of your brother. I'll see you when I see you." I walked out of my room before she could process, and blocked out her string of questions as she followed me out of the house. Fuck, don't cry and ruin your makeup, Lex. Brie was still knocking on my car window when I smiled at her and pulled out of my driveway.

Don't look back. You can't charge forward if you're always looking back.

--

I parked my car in front of the butcher shop and took a deep breath. They were waiting for me. Two black SUVs; it was almost laughable how cliché it was. We stepped out of our vehicles at the same time. They were dressed about how I expected: cheap button-downs and jeans. Four got out of the first car, and another from the second. Five guards total. And then the man of the hour, Death himself, stepped onto the scene.

His attire was much more sharp, starkly differently from his men. Black everything, which definitely made a statement. Lot of angst, lot of "I'm sixteen, I'm angry at my father" syndrome. I almost burst out laughing at the thought, and was glad I didn't. Boy, I almost just rushed into the arms of my maker.

He was dressed to the nines. I think his suit was Italian. But you couldn't stuff a wolf into some wool and call it a sheep. As he got off the car, I saw him pull his sleeve over a series of tattoos. He'd kept his face, neck, and hands untouched, but who knew how much of the rest of his body was covered. He was pretty good-looking, but slim, with gaunt cheeks. And he had this look in his eyes... I couldn't tell if he looked cunning or lifeless. It was unnerving.

Flanked by his entourage, he approached me. I had to assume they were all armed. Forcing myself to unclench my nerve-riddled fists, I beamed and held out my hand. He took it and raised it to his lips. Fucking creep.

"Señorita Rochester, la Cazadora. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," he crooned. His Spanish accent sounded fake, done to appear less worldly than he really was. And alarm bells went off in my head any time somebody wanted me to underestimate them. Not that I was at ease around this guy to begin with.

"Muerte, I presume?" I inquired, and he nodded. "The pleasure is all mine. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"I apologize for soliciting you like this. But then again, you are privy to how things are done in this business, yes?"

I chuckled in response and gestured toward the butcher shop, leading the way for him and his men. Nobody believes in God more fervently than a girl wishing to not take two bullets to the back of the head. We made it inside without incident, and as usual Tony was behind the counter making some choice cuts.

"Hey Tony," I said.

"Evening, Miss R. What'll it be?" His gaze made a cursory pass over my guests before settling back on me, playing the ever-irritable Italian.

"Buffalo wings. Two dozen, with ranch dressing."

"Celery?"

"No celery."

He took a deep breath and waved us through, and I led the way into the freezer and down into the club.

"Most impressive," Muerte commented as we passed through the double doors.

Employees moved around as usual, and I led my guests to my office. Taking a seat in an armchair, I gestured for him to join me in the sitting area. He studied the room, pausing quizzically at the snake tank because Artemis wasn't in view at the moment, then moved to sit. One of his men sat on the couch so that he was between me and Muerte, while another took the other armchair. The other three remained standing.

God, I hoped this worked.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said suddenly. "We should have some refreshments. Would you and your men...?" I stood to walk to the intercom on my desk.

"Only if you will be joining us," Muerte replied. In the reflection of the snake tank, I saw him watching my lower half as I walked away. I grinned; Death was a man after all.

"Can we get some whiskey in here please? The good stuff," I said into the intercom. Rejoining them in the sitting area, I crossed my legs and leaned back. "So. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Before Muerte could even speak, a worker knocked and entered, carrying a tray. She off-loaded seven tumblers and a decanter before bowing and leaving. Muerte began pouring out measures of the amber liquid, handing the first glass to me. He watched me carefully as his men helped themselves to the liquor. They sniffed it and grunted their approval, but nobody drank. I knew what it was. The fear of poison.

I raised my glass in a silent toast, then threw back half the drink. I played casual and sighed in satisfaction, and only then did Muerte slowly raise his glass to his lips. His men followed suit, though they sipped more gratuitously than their boss.

"So, you were saying?" I prompted, swirling my drink around.

"Ah, yes. Well, you have quite the operation here," he said, gesturing around us. I took the opportunity to glance at the air ducts in the ceiling.

God, I hoped this worked.

"And you've made quite the name for yourself in... certain circles," Muerte continued.

"And which circles would those be?" I flashed a curious smirk, and he chuckled.

"The rich and powerful. Those with tastes that cannot be satisfied elsewhere, around prying eyes." Fucking Barnes. I was gonna destroy him. "But you do some prying of your own, yes?"

"I like to know who I'm working with," I said nonchalantly, shrugging.

"Sometimes it's dangerous to know too much," Muerte said darkly.

We stared at each other, and I took a deep breath before finishing my drink and pouring myself another. He downed his as well, and I filled his glass. "And what happens to curious cats?"

"I believe you already know the saying," he sighed. Perfect. Now all the pretense was out of the way, I just had to bullshit him until the next part of the plan.

"And how long does this little cat have?"

He downed his drink and poured another. "Well, once Death shows up at your doorstep..."

I chuckled once. "I see." I crossed my legs the other way and fingered the strap on my dress. "Is there any way to... change your mind?"

His eyes unerringly dropped to my cleavage, then to my legs, and I pretended not to notice. "Perhaps. But that all depends on you. You see, you would have to convince my men here as well." He gestured to the other five men, who were being less than discreet on where their eyes were wandering.

Play along.

I let a hint of fear show on my face as I looked at all of them. "Wait, what?"

"I don't think we've ever had a white chica quite like this one, eh, homes?" Muerte called, and his men all cheered in response. Okay, didn't have to fake the fear anymore. Work faster, work faster.

They began unbuttoning their shirts, and I hastily got to my feet. "Hold on, fellas. Um... How about a dance instead?"

Muerte looked at his men and smirked lecherously. "Heh. Sure. Dance first."

As I breathed a small sigh of relief, I felt my head dip a bit. There were such things as miracles.

I walked over to stand in front of the snake tank, creating a backlit effect on my figure. The men all seated themselves and poured more alcohol, and I began to dance. I drew my hand across my body, up my arms and down my breasts. They watched me hungrily, a couple even bouncing in their seats in excitement. I slipped one of my dress straps off my shoulder and caressed the skin underneath, and Muerte leaned forward, eyes intent on what was under my dress. He was planning to be the first one in, having his fill of me before tossing me to be used by his men. I felt my hands trembling.

I slipped the other strap off, and they waited restlessly for me to pull the dress down to expose my breasts. I gave one of my mounds a generous squeeze, and some of them began making feral noises, itching to tear me out of my dress and ravish me. Six men, their disgusting hands all over me, pushing themselves inside of me, covering me with their lust before snuffing me out. And who knows, maybe they continued after that.

August, please save me.

I was just pulling the dress off the tops of my breasts when the world spun and I fell over. The men said something to each other in Spanish, probably out of confusion, and Muerte barked something at them. Two of them got to their feet and lurched toward me. They took me by the arms and went to lift me, but they also began losing their balance. One of the men sitting on the couch dropped, his head slamming into the coffee table.

"¡Puta!" Muerte snarled, jumping to his feet and drawing a pistol. He pointed it unsteadily at me and suddenly something slammed against the reinforced glass. Jerking up, Muerte fired at Artemis three times. And that's the last thing I remember before passing out.

God, I hoped this worked.