“Try not to make a scene. We’re getting some info and then we’re ditching.” Apollo said. Dion stared at the flashing lights on the sides and top of the building and the figure of a man slipping and stuck in mid-air. Above this man was the word, 'Tipsies'.

“I’ve never been to a club.” Dion said. His eyes were engrossed and glossy with the bright red and orange of the lights.

“You don’t drink, do you?” Apollo asked.

“Nope.”

“Let’s keep it that way. Just do what I tell you and stay put.” Apollo said and he knew by the curious look that that, would not happen. “The man we're looking for goes by the name Mr. Lovinski.”

“Is he Jewish or Russian?” Dion got out of the car and felt relief.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s scum. That’s his breed, shit. Son of a mob boss, a drug dealer. I want the names of his LSD dealers, I looked into the autopsies of all the victim in the past month. Nearly all of them had it in them.”

“Right.” Dion took the lead and Apollo narrowed his eyes as he looked at the quick stride Dion took. They came to the bouncer who eyed them both. Dion cut in line, he was mesmerized by the sound that caused his skin to vibrate. He pushed past three people, two men with pants too tight and a girl with a skirt too short. They all seemed to rip when they fell to the ground and Apollo felt his hairs rise and a sudden need to slink back and disappear. He grabbed Dion by the hand.

“Watch out.” He said. The bouncer grabbed Dion by his other hand too. The bounder wanted to tell him the same thing, in a more intimate way. He cocked his hand and punched Dion in the jaw. His hand broke and Dion stood bewildered. The oversized man slunk into the ground and holding two fingers that now limped, swollen and black and blue.

“Get in before the camera sees us.” Apollo pushed him. The line behind them stared at the fallen man.

The two fell into the crowd and began squeezing themselves between the hot bodies so doped on ecstasy and heat exhaustion that their pupils began to look like giant black craters, from the moon, from the volcanic nether of the earth. A young man collapsed, Dion caught him and found a nice seat to put him on. He slunk, pushed Dion away and looked for his spot in the amalgam. His perfect pocket in this giant ocean.

“Don’t waste your time on these idiots.” Apollo said. “They love killing themselves.”

“Why?” Dion screamed. The bright lights made the music feel louder than they were. Their ears had long since collapsed and all they heard were muffled waves of bass crashing against them.

“These people, they’re hollow.” Apollo said.

“They look like they’re having fun.” Dion said.

“And yet they’re hardly conscious of it. Anyone having fun would probably want to be aware of it." He said. "These people need this. They’re like fragile pipes, ready to break at any time. Too small and weak for the world. This is the shit they need to fit themselves properly.”

“Sounds like your kind of people.” Dion smiled. Apollo pushed him and walked towards the bar. He whispered something into the bartender's ears that made her wide-eyed. She ignored the brutish catcalls of the drunkards falling from their stools and brushed away women passed out on the wooden counter with a mixture of vomit and drool drizzling out of their mouths and nostrils. She led Apollo and Dion to a fleet of stairs and the small neon lights on the corners of the hall that eased them with a blue hue.

Deeper they swam in the shark tank, deeper they turned, past rooms that banged and beds that creaked and the sad laughter of people hitting themselves against the walls. They stopped at a pale man who changed his color skin with whatever the DJ was deciding at the time. He was a chameleon. The light was flashing through some glass walls around them. They had taken the stairs to a sort of penthouse and behind this man were the red drapes, and further from that were the sounds of coupling people. Apollo stood against the chameleon, Dion stood a safe distance away from the both and looked down at the people dancing on the flashing tiles.

“I’m here to see Mr. Lovenski.” Apollo said. “I’m with the cartel.”

Dion’s eyes opened.

“You're alright, but he," The chameleon pointed to Dion. "He doesn't even look Mexican."

Apollo took out a wad of cash rolled into a cylinder and flashed it, the man saw the hundred dollar bill behind the rubber band and wanted to grab at it.

“The rest is in the car. Your boss should already be expecting this meeting.” Apollo said. The man did not move though was growing tenser as his eyes fluttered left and right.

“Do you understand? Muévete. Hijo de puta. O, te mato.” Apollo whispered towards him. He lifted the curtains and Dion drew him to the side before he could enter, around the corner.

“What the heck have you been doing?” He asked. “None of this is right.”

“What’s right is what gets the job done.” Apollo said. Dion grabbed his arm and shook him.

“What have you been doing these past few days?”

“Networking.”

“This isn’t how we should do things. What kind of justice is this? When you do it with dirty hands you just stain the whole thing.” Dion said. Apollo took back his arm.

“Then just wait here.” He said.

“The problem isn’t me being there with you, the problem is this being done at all.”

“You said you would be willing, you said would listen to me, right? Well, deal with it.” Apollo said. “This is the only way I can get what I want, the most convenient and best way and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I don’t feel good about this.” Dion was biting his lips and chewing on the inside of his mouth.

“There are a lot of things you wouldn't feel good about. And they still happen day to day, all over the world.” Apollo said. “But do you lose sleep over every atrocity committed? Over every grand or small act of injustice? No. Because that wouldn’t be convenient. So just stay put and relax. Pretend like you didn’t see it at all, that’s the best way for moral people like you to get through the day.” Apollo walked towards the red curtains. Dion regretted everything, he regretted mocking Apollo earlier, he regretted climbing the stairs and in the confluence of his mind, between a curiosity and a fear and an anger he went down. Rushed down. Ran down. To the people, down to the counter with the drunkards because they seemed like better company that Apollo. And Apollo felt better with Dion at distance, at an arm's length he could grab though very, very away. He could finally breathe as he stepped into the room with the satin curtains and the man at the center staring at a pole dancer across from him. Apollo looked, he should bear witness to it all. He frowned and saw the man with a woman wrapped around his thin arms and two bodyguards with their buttoned-up shirts looking across. They looked like vacationers, with the tropical flower patterns all across the fronts of their shirts.

“They lost a bet, I made them wear them.” Mr. Lovenski said. The bodyguards smiled. What right do they have to be so jovial, Apollo thought. Lovenski slapped a seat to direct Apollo. Apollo grabbed a stool and sat with the pole dancer behind him. It was easier to talk to the man that way.

“I’m here to discuss a deal.” Apollo said.