Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 14.
#14 of Venom: Beautiful Killers
Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 14.
"...vengeance, with money attached...."
Tivoli parks her car at the front parking lot of the place where she is trying to start her new "career." She slowly leaves the car and even more slowly closes the door. It takes her a couple of minutes to back away from her vehicle. A couple of deep breaths later, she is facing the building she needs to enter. It is not the friendly, comforting place that she had started to get used to. She now sees a cold, hard, and unfeeling structure, where the inside matches the outside.
Her head is filled with memories of Monday morning. Her hands start to tremble. As she steps toward the door, she puts her right hand behind her head to feel what is left of her injury. She gasps a little, taking in the pain of the nodule on her head. Once she puts her hand down, she presses her lips closed and nods with grit.
Slowly, one foot is forced in front of the other and in no time, Tivoli is at the front door. She spends a couple of minutes there, trying to look tough. (After all, tough furries don't get thrown.) She puts her left hand on the door handle and exhales deeply.
Suddenly, a loud bang bursts through the front door, scaring her into backing off. She puts a hand to her chest and tries to breathe away the shock. Voices can clearly be heard from inside the lobby. The voices turn to loud laughter, easing her fears. She looks at the window on the left side of the door, where she can see St. Croix reaching up to close the Venetian blinds. After emphatically nodding and pressing her mouth closed once again, she quickly steps up to the door and again puts a hand on the handle.
Meanwhile, her right hand runs up her inner right thigh. She is wearing a black, leather skirt, short enough to be comfortable to sit in and long enough to hide the knife. She feels for it and grins, satisfied that it is in place. Making as little noise as possible, she opens the door.
There are ten anthros sitting in front of the main desk for the morning meeting. St. Croix and Hoeness are there. Inverness is there. Baua and his favorite camera are there. There is a mixture of faces, sizes, and fur types in the room. Tivoli stops breathing for a moment, possibly intimidated by the surroundings. She is about to speak when the door behind her closes, startling her.
The sound of the door turns everyone around. St. Croix and Hoeness stand. Everyone else stays seated. Camille turns, sees the ocelot, shrugs, and turns back to the front. The wolf beats the German Shepherd to her and shakes her hand. She is clearly tickled as he offers her his seat.
"You okay?" Hoeness asks. She nods yes.
Robert Crevecoeur is moderating this meeting. He leaves the front desk and calls St. Croix over to him. As they whisper to each other, the wolf points to Tivoli while Robert nods. The ocelot looks on, trying to slow her breathing. She plants her balled fists on her lap, patiently waiting for something to happen. She is obviously anticipating something really bad.
The executive shows off an embarrassed smile and gives her a slight wave. After she responds in kind, he goes back on message. "Well, I told you this meeting would be a rather short one. Just look through the ten marks on the table. Don't forget about Arlo McDaniels. He's still waiting for someone to take him out. He's still in the Beverly Hills area, and that's not too far out of your way, is it?" He laughs. "Good luck, fellas."
The meeting ends and the crowd start to rearrange the seats. Tivoli stands, slightly bumping into Camille. They exchange quick apologies and pass each other by. The cat heads for the door, not even taking a glance at the pictures on the desk. The ocelot sighs and waits to get a look at the top picture. She gets pats on the back from St. Croix, who asks to take a look at the back of her head.
Crevecoeur is standing behind the desk looking at her, clearly having trouble remembering who she is. He watches her wince in pain, then smile at Hoeness who brings her a cup of coffee. He watches her blush coyly as she sits down to groom herself. There is plenty about her that is pleasing to the eye. He is intrigued enough to step out from behind the desk. As soon as Hoeness leaves, he stands in front of her.
It takes her a couple of minutes to notice, but once she stops straightening her blouse, she sees him.
"How are you?"
Tivoli stands quickly and extends a hand, trying once again to look as tough as she can. However, her voice is soft and overly respectful. "Mr. Crevecoeur. I remember you."
They shake hands; he holds her right hand with both of his. "You do?"
"Yes. The chief introduced me to you guys. She told me--"
"Damn!" He releases her hand. "I don't recall that. That sounds like something I would definitely remember."
"You...don't remember me?"
"Your face looks familiar." He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. "I do remember a party, and we were celebrating an anniversary. I definitely remember the cake. Um...what's your name again?"
"Tivoli." She is trying not to laugh at him.
"Why don't I know that?"
She looks at her feet. "Well, you weren't in the best of conditions when we first met."
"What do you mean?"
"You were drunk."
"I was?"
She clears her throat loudly, desperately trying to hide a laugh. "Mrs. Cross kind of yelled at you."
"Now I definitely would have remembered that." He shakes his head, giving up and avoiding further embarrassment. "Look, let's assume that I wasn't here that day, and that this is our first encounter. What are you here for?"
"I came to join Venom."
"Join what?"
"Oh. No, I mean I came to join your 'hitman project.' I want to do what they're doing." She points at the workers standing by the front desk.
"Ah. So that's why Ted came early today."
"So what's the procedure?"
"Well...I take you to him. You sign some papers and a few short minutes later, you get a handler."
Tivoli stops smiling. She looks surprised, as if she had forgotten the important concept of the initiation process. "A handler? Just like that?"
"Something wrong?"
"Well, I just thought the process would be a bit more complicated."
He leads her through the hallway. "It isn't really. If it was, we'd have far less workers."
"Well, I've been taught a lot, and I remember most everything, from grooming to work hours. But I still feel like I don't know enough."
"That's because when you first come here, you have to know a lot of stuff. Some people take to it right away. Others take a while to get everything. Is there anything you feel you're missing?"
"Well, how much I could make for a hit?"
They enter the dark hallway, where Crevecoeur stops to look at her. "Let's see. The lowest dollar amount I've been offered to have someone killed was ten thousand dollars. The lowest dollar amount I've seen personally was someone Simon saw, and...you know who Simon is, right?"
"Of course. I met him after I met you."
He shakes his head, still unable to remember that day. "Right. Anyway, Simon met someone who could only afford five thousand to have her ex killed. The highest paid offer I've ever seen was a fifty thousand dollar hit job on a dirty cop. That was a good day for us."
Tivoli's smile returns. "So the fees range from five thousand to fifty thousand."
"Not really. During our earliest days, one of our workers, a wolf named Shiloh, exterminated someone worth seventy-five grand. At least that's what he's told me."
"Wow...I can expect that much?"
"No. Not really."
"I can't?"
"Prices above the middle forty-thousands are very rare. Most of the people we meet have fixed incomes and are usually wary of spending too much. Many of them change their minds about killing altogether. They're really fickle and shy. But a few of them, those willing to part with five-figure dollar amounts, are really into it. Once I had the same client three weeks in a row. He gave me about forty-thousand all at once to off some important people. I'm just saying that the prices differ dramatically."
"Where do these people come from?"
"We find them. That's my job. Right now, they're everywhere. They hear about us through word-of-mouth. Rumors of our existence are purposefully spread, and it entices people to seek us out."
"Okay, but how do you know the wrong person won't hear the rumors? How do you know the police won't find you?"
"Those workers over there in the lobby? Many of them are friends of people who are friends of people who want vengeance on someone. Those friends don't trust police, so they are not really likely to report crimes. They won't rat anyone out. They're more likely to get revenge themselves. Once they hear about us, those who want vengeance, with money attached, join us. Many of them end up staying. I'd say that's how about half our workers joined us."
"Got it." Tivoli nods while deep in thought.
He looks carefully at the ocelot as she soaks up every word. "Rumors are discreetly spread by the workers to their fellow furries in places like The Shark Pit. They are also spread to everyone through social media. That's how we have mostly humans looking for our services. You might see a forum post that says, 'Hey, Bill, you know how the mayor was killed last night? Well I heard there's a furry hit squad out there taking requests. If there's some bitch you want out of your hair, and you could pay them enough, that bitch'll be dead in no time.'" He chuckles, making Tivoli a little uncomfortable. "Everything is kept out of the public eye. You won't find those rumors in any of the more prevalent social media outlets. And most of them are sent in foreign languages or codes."
Crevecoeur leads her to the conference room. Still a little uneasy, she asks, "What do you get out of it?"
He shrugs. "Well, there's the commission."
"You get a commission?"
"First you kill the mark, then you come back here with evidence of the job, maybe a picture you've taken, or something personal that belonged to him. Then we show the client the evidence, and he coughs up the cash. We handle all the money that comes in; it is independent of the loan commissions and Vivian does not see any of it. In the evenings, we pay you in person, assuming you're able to get here. We give you paper money. No checks or bank deposits."
"Yeah, I remember that clearly."
"For each payment made, the executives get a thirty percent cut. It is shared by all the executives, but most of it goes to the one who found the client in the first place. That's what I get out of it. This month, I've bagged the most clients, so I've collected the most money."
"Thirty percent?"
"Yep. If you're about to be paid ten thousand dollars, we take three thousand dollars from that. If a mark makes you forty grand, we get...um...."
"Twelve grand!" She laughs.
"Let's just go." He opens the conference room door. "By the way, you can do anything you want with your pay, but don't go crazy spending it, okay? The economy's still bad out there."
She nods as they enter the room. Her face brightens as the fluorescent lights beat back the darkness. "Finally," she says, quickly following him inside. She darts to the nearest velvet chair and sits down with a big smile on her face. He leans herself back and tries to bury herself into the soft fabric. It does not occur to her that Ted is sitting across from them.
"Good morning, Robert."
"Good morning, sir. Our new recruit is ready."
The suddenly frightened ocelot stands. "Uh...good morning!"
"The morning meeting's just ended. Looks like the hitmen are disappointed again. There's just no mark good enough for them right at the moment. I'll be off to work now." He nods and leaves.
"Sit down, ma'am."
Tivoli nods, chuckling at being called ma'am. As she sits, she tries to wipe the smile off.
"First thing's first. Are you all right?"
"Yes. Thanks for asking."
"Two days ago, I saw you in the cafeteria. St. Croix and the chief were looking you over. You looked in real bad shape."
"I don't remember that. I probably didn't know where I was. But I'm okay now."
"Any lingering effects? Headaches? Dizziness?"
"Not really. I've got a bump where I fell."
"That's good, 'cuz I can't sign you up if you've got a concussion." He opens the manila folder in front of him and pulls out a couple of sheets of yellow paper. "You'll get your own file, just like at a doctor's office. Every worker has one. Just fill in your contact information. If there's any time you can't come here to get paid, we'll send your pay to you."
"That might be a bit problematic. I don't have a place of my own anymore. I'm crashing with a friend of mine. She's a bit nosy, so--"
"Don't worry about it. Just get over here as soon as you can once your hunts are through, and we'll take care of you." He hands her the two sheets of paper and watches her as she writes excitedly. "Your handler is waiting for you in the chief's office."
She smiles. "Really? Who is it?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Just keep doing what you're doing. In the past, we announced new recruits days before they came here, so a hitman would step forward to volunteer his services and teach the new guy. Unfortunately, it led to favoritism and nepotism, which led to some visible rifts among the guys. It was even worse when the first female arrived. So, we changed things. Now we just pick someone to be the handler the day before the recruit arrives. Now everything's fair and nobody fights. We tried to choose someone compatible with you based on your interview last week."
Tivoli stops writing and looks at him. "Kind of like a dating site." She suddenly gasps. "It couldn't possibly be another ocelot, could it?"
"You might wanna lower your expectations a little. We have no ocelots working here. But he is a feline like you."
She quickly finishes writing and hands him the forms. After he tucks them away in the folder, he stands and leads her out the door. She clasps her hands behind her back, anticipating her first real, physical lesson.
Ted stops in front of the chief's office and knocks on the door. "Again, keep your expectations low; he might not look like the kind of guy you want for a handler. Then again, he might just be the best looking cat you ever saw. But when you see him, don't act disappointed and don't fawn all over him. Just shake his hand like a professional."
The door opens, revealing the brightness of Mrs. Cross' room. She lets the two in. Tivoli's eyes pace her surroundings; her ears stand even more erect than usual. She tousles her hair, trying to make herself look more presentable.
"Welcome back," Vivian says. "Glad to see you back on your feet."
Tivoli is not listening. She keeps looking around the room until she suddenly notices the back of the stranger's head. He is sitting at the desk.
"Don't be rude. Stand when the lady enters."
The stranger obeys the chief and gets out of the seat, turns to salute Ted, then finds Tivoli almost directly below him. He stares wide-eyed at the mousy-looking girl, whose eyes flutter when she sees his face.
"Oy." Ted shakes his head and makes his way out of the room.
The feline is yellow, with dark spots covering most of his head and neck. His face is spot free. He has a dark, triangular nose and a white mouth. His short-sleeved casual dress shirt exposes more spots on his arms and the back of his hands. He is thinner and about a foot taller than Tivoli is. His closed-mouth smile shows off his broad whiskers.
The ocelot wastes no time in approaching him. "This must be Loiola."
The handler raises is brow. "Excuse me?"
He has a thick accent. Her breath shakes when she hears it. She turns to her boss. "Isn't this Loiola? With an 'I?'"
Vivian chuckles. "You've been watching the tapes. That's good. But Loiola's a leopard. This guy's a jaguar."
The handsome feline extends his left hand. "Good morning. My name is Paraná. I am honored to meet you." Before she can return the greeting, he bends and leans into her. As she gasps again, he plants a heavy kiss her left cheek.
She giggles and covers his left hand with both of hers. "Tivoli. My name's--"
"All right, knock it off." Vivian passes them and returns to her place behind her desk. As she sits, she hands the ocelot a manila folder, exactly like the one that Ted has. "Since you guys are gonna be best buds for his next three missions, you get to share everything. I've just given you his file. As the apprentice, you have the right to know who your guy is and where he lives, in case you need to go to his house and plan strategy."
Paraná watches closely as Tivoli sits and examines the forms. She scans through the papers as if looking for something specific.
Vivian takes out an emery board from a drawer and starts to file her nails. "You should get to know each other and start doing things together as a couple until your apprenticeship is through. You should eat together, drink at bars together, everything save sleep together."
"You'll have to bear with me. I've never been a handler before." The big cat chuckles nervously.
Vivian nods. "That's true. However, Ted's told me that he chose Paraná in particular because of the number of hits he's made and his easygoing demeanor outside the workplace. I hope you approve."
"I do." Tivoli closes the folder, supremely satisfied.
"Once your handler sees your file, you're officially on our team. He'll start talking about what to expect from him and maybe you'll choose a hunt this very day." She folds her arms. Her serious posture tries to cancel out Tivoli's amateurish, happy sniggering, with little success. The chief sighs heavily. "If you've got any final questions before it happens, now's the time to ask them."
"So this is it then? I'm official?" She looks at the jaguar, who nods emphatically.
"What do you think? Do you like her right off?"
Paraná chuckles. "Yes, and I want to apologize for reacting the way I did when you all chose me to be the handler today. I was rather busy and I have not been in a hunt for some time."
"Really? You should have told us."
"But I don't mind anymore. She is absolutely beautif...um...I mean good. She is good." He clears his throat. "I mean, I will do it."
Vivian shrugs. "He says yes. Congratulations, girl. You're golden."
Tivoli stands joyously and shakes the chief's hand. She turns to shake the jaguar's hand. He promptly holds it, leans forward, and kisses her cheek a second time.
The chief shakes her head. "Don't get too excited about that, okay? That's just a custom."
The ocelot looks deep into his eyes. "I like it."