Issuu

This was her night. She could smell what he wanted by the way she could smell other things. He paid up front. She agreed quickly because she was just a lowly whore. They rushed into a nearby alley. Then she went down on her knees obediently. Lowering his top hat, he secretly reached into his back pocket and slid out a razor blade. He began to moan at her work while raising his hands above his head. But tonight was her night. She had waited months for this chance. And she could feel every movement he was making through her mouth - and when his muscles began to contract she knew it was her moment. Her incisors sprung forth and she sunk her teeth. Strong. Fierce. And the hot blood sprayed fast and painted her face. He howled and she threw her hand over his mouth to suffocate the sound. He bit her hand and she felt the pleasure of it. Then she continued with her mouth tearing at him until she hit his bone and lapped at his kidneys. And that was the night she feasted on the blood and flesh of the notorious Jack the Ripper. He was never heard or seen again. Best of all, he never killed again. But for Victoria she had just begun. And she made others.

Chapter 1: Meeting Anarchy Modern Day Hong Kong Our customers were sitting across the table from us. I always wanted to know why subliminally that customers always sat on the opposing side of their vendors. They sat emotionless as Derek presented. Derek was his English name but his real Chinese name was Wan Ho which I thought was cooler. I also wondered why did the local Hong Kong decide to choose a silly English sounding name. Or maybe it was fun to choose the name – or they got tired of their English co-workers mis-pronouncing their Chinese names. Derek was presenting in Cantonese and I pretended to understand every word. But I did understand what the discussion was at that very moment because it was in bold black letters on the Microsoft Powerpoints being projected on the screen. I took a quick break from pretending to understand and looked out the big windows to see Victoria Harbor – seeing the tug boats yanking cargo cranes, Hong Kong junkets, and seeing the old abandoned airport on the Kowloon side. I saw the FCC building and the hundreds of skyscrapers around it and thought to myself, “It would only take two well placed EMPs to wipe out ten years of electronics and digital memories for nearly four million people.” I smiled at the thought. “Chance?” Derek said suddenly in English. I jumped a bit to re-focus. “I am sorry what was the question?” Just then our biggest customer opponent, Billy, scowled. Billy was also his English name. I didn’t care to know his Chinese name. Frankly, I didn’t give a shit about him. He was the bane of my existence. Derek looked a little startled and adjusted his blue solid tie that contrasted against his white light blue striped shirt. He cleared his throat. Then Derek pleadingly looked at me because he thought I had been listening and thought I understood. “Billy said that our disaster recovery hardware won’t work for them. He said it was not accounting for their Service Level Agreement of two hours.” I sat quiet thinking. Billy laughed and looked around to his counter-parts with a smug look. I turned and looked directly at Billy. I gripped my chair and then I replied, “Fuck you.” Billy’s face distorted. And he chirped out in a bad Cantonese accent, “What?”

“Fuck you,” I said more quietly. The room got silent. That’s when I lunged for him with my fingers outstretched, my knees banging the top of the table as I scrambled to cup my hands around his throat squeezing and then I sank my teeth into his cheek. “Fuck you!” I loved the feeling of warmth as the blood squirted across my face. “Chance?” Derek asked. And I was back to where I was. “The disaster recovery system hardware was based on the answers they gave on our sizing document. So if the hardware is not appropriate based on their SLAs – that’s a miscommunication by their IT team to our Architect team.” Billy snapped back in Cantonese full of anger. Derek spoke back in a controlled tone. Then translated into English, “Billy is saying the miscommunication was our fault.” “That’s bullshit.” I said in reality. Billy’s boss, Mr. Lee spoke up. “That’s inappropriate language for a meeting with a customer you are trying to build a relationship with.” “It’s also inappropriate to substantiate lies in a formal meeting,” I said. That’s when the meeting broke into anarchy. Cantonese words began flying and I could tell a couple of them such as, “Poke eye,” and “Delay no more” because of the Goods of Desire store tee-shirts. Billy sat there smiling. I sat there smiling back. I mouthed, “You are a mother fucker.” He sneered. That evening my company was slapped with a lawsuit for breach of contract. My local Hong Kong manager in his British accent said I was no longer needed. I packed all the nit knacks on my cubicle desk, took all the scrap papers in my desk drawers, and stuffed them into a cardboard box I found near the trash bins. Everyone in the office peeked over their cubicle walls to watch their only gweilo or foreigner get fired.

I took the elevator down to the ground floor and in a daze instead of going down to the Central MTR Station I walked outside. With everything that made me a office man in a box in my arms, I looked up at the white, steel, mirror, windows of the IFC as its lights were coming on with the evening sun setting, I yelled out, “Fuck you!” That’s when I heard some women around me crying. I thought I had upset them with my profanity. That’s when I noticed that people were consoling each other. It reminded me of the scene of people after September 11th when I lived in the United States. I went up to someone and asked, “What’s going on?” The women had mascara running down her cheeks, she said in an American accent, “A terrorist attack took out a nuclear plant near Shanghai.” Then she went back to sobbing. “Oh god.” I said. -Victoria loved flying except for the body scanners that watched everyone who was hurrying out of the plane to baggage claim. She usually would try to hide in a throng of people or flirt with the guy watching the images. Maybe pull her shirt over her shoulder or flash them a little bit of bra. However, Chinese men were harder to flirt with. They were normally more focused on their jobs than sex. But the food they ate made them tasty to chew on. And thank god the economic boom of China – Chinese men especially the rich ones were getting like their god – Buddha – fatter and fatter. Victoria smiled at the thought and her stomach grumbled. That’s when she saw the scanners. She slowed her walk and tried to get around people but that’s when she heard the sobbing around her. There were cries of anguish and despair. She looked around. People’s phones were buzzing, vibrating, and ringing. Then she heard someone say, “The entire nuclear plant was destroyed. Fucking terrorists!” Victoria shook her head. Couldn’t the government come up with something more original? Poor Shanghai. Those were the greatest women she had ever had. That’s when she noticed the people manning the body temperature scanners were standing and talking to their managers, superiors – some using their phones to call family members. Most were visibly upset.

That was her chance. She pushed forward. On the screen, her body outline showed but it was a pure blue nothing. But the temperature takers were too overcome with grief to notice. She walked past the airport security guards with their sub machine guns. She looked them up and down from head to toe and even from a couple of meters – she could smell their blood – and her stomach grumbled again. That’s when a beautiful European women with blonde hair tied in a pony tail walked past – and Victoria’s neck snapped in her direction because she could smell she was menstruating. Victoria almost made her hers right there. Instead, Victoria let out a long breath and went on to passport control. “Tonight I feel like partying,” she said and then added with a sly grin. “So I can find a bite to eat.” -This was her night. She could smell what he wanted by the way she could smell other things. Victoria sat at the bar of Drop in Central – loved it that it was underground – and her slinky red dress barely clung to her body. She was dallying with the plastic stirrer in her Bloody Mary. With the music pumping overhead and the bar slightly busy, the guy in the black jacket and slicked hair back winked at her. She blew him a kiss back. It startled him. Then he moved over two bar stools and sat beside her. “My name is Charles,” he said with an Australian accent. And he held out his hand for her to shake. She took it like a man and squeezed it hard. “Victoria.” “Damn,” he said, “You got one helluva grip.” “I will take that as a compliment,” and she went back to playing with her plastic stirrer.

“You should.” And he took a sip of his whiskey. “You want another?” and he leaned his head in the direction of her drink. “You trying to get me drunk or something? I haven’t finished this one yet.” “Maybe.” He said slyly. “Well when I am drunk I get horny.” “TMI.” He said and laughed. “So too much information, really?” She took a drink and a little Bloody Mary ran down the side of her mouth. He put his finger to the corner of her mouth stopping it from it running down her chin to her neck. “You are direct.” “A man’s life is too short,” she said. And she bit his finger – hard. It drew blood. “Shit!” he said and withdrew it. He saw the bubble of blood and looked a bit nervous. “God, that was weird.” Just then there was a commotion behind them. A beautiful Chinese woman in a mini black dress who had drank a little too much was yelling at a Chinese man she was with. He yelled back. And then all at once he slapped her. She recoiled and stood there stunned. He yelled again at her. But the music was too loud to understand what was being said. She ran into the bathroom. Victoria and Charles turned back around and started to stare at the bar. The Chinese man found a seat at one of the many empty booths. Victoria then pretended like everything was normal and went back to sitting and playing with her drink. She knew she was just toying with her food. If she got too aggressive he would run away. So just be cool. If she played hard to get he would run into her web. She thought to herself, itsy bitsy spider. Charles sat quietly and drank down the rest of his whiskey. “Bartender, get my friend Charles another glass of whiskey and put it on my tab,” she said.

He shook his head. “Thanks but I don’t want a woman to buy me a drink.” “What are you sexist?” she asked not looking at him. She then re-crossed her legs and let her dress slide up to show her smooth legs and thighs. “Maybe. But I blame my parents. I never had any sisters.” He paused. “I didn’t know what a period was until my first girlfriend.” “That’s not sexism. That’s just ignorance.” She stuck her finger in her Bloody Mary and then slid it slowly in her mouth. “Stop it,” he said. “I am getting jealous of your finger.” “Why be jealous?” Then she looked at him. Charles then noticed something strange – as if she had cat’s eyes at night – they flashed light in the blackness of the club. She noticed. “What is it?” “Where are you from? You are not from around here.” “How many people are really from here?” she shot back going back to focusing on her drink. “The locals.” “Local is relative.” “Maybe.” He said. She drank more of her drink then wiped at her mouth. “Will you watch my drink and not drop a Roofie in it? I got to go to the little girl’s room.” “Sure.” She stood and pushed her hands down her dress and her fingers went around the curves of her breasts. “If you want to be a gentleman, you could help me.” “Where?” “In the little girl’s room.” And then she ran her fingers down his back then left. Charles sat at the bar shaking his head in disbelief.

But sure enough, five minutes later, he looked to see if anybody was watching and pushed into the woman’s bathroom. There was the beautiful Chinese woman from earlier – who was standing against the wall. She had a strange look about her but she was no longer crying. Victoria was standing at the sink putting on lipstick. Victoria looked at him from the mirror. “Go into the stall.” She said to him. And her eyes looked at a bathroom stall with the door open. “What are you? My boss?” She laughed. “Now I am.” And she put her lipstick in her little carry purse and kissed him hard pushing him into the stall. “What about her?” He said moving his head in the beautiful Chinese woman’s direction. Victoria leaned over and kissed her. She kissed back. Charles’ heart started pumping harder. Victoria felt it. She smelled his heart beating faster. He took his hand and grabbed her ass. She linked her fingers into his fingers and pushed his hand harder on her ass. Then with her other hand she took the Chinese woman’s hand and pulled them all into the same stall. The door slammed shut and it locked The bathroom was thumping from the outside speakers. And no one heard him screaming. -I wanted to quit thinking about how I had fucked up. So around midnight, I put on my jeans and a black tee-shirt and went out. I was going to find a place to get fucked up and forget. Spend the little money I had in my HSBC banking account on booze and regrets. I walked around SoHo but because of the nuclear disaster – there were few people out. It looked like a Typhoon Signal 9 – and the streets and bars were empty. I then ventured to the one place that I knew would be open – it always open – Drop. But when I got nearby I saw the police cars and ambulances. The flashing blue and red lights was blinking and lighting me up. I stood there in disbelief and saw gurneys go past with white sheets with blood stains.

I asked aloud, “What the hell happened?” “Some sadistic shit,” a woman’s voice said beside me. I turned and attractive brunette was standing there. She was applying lipstick. She was wearing a slinky dark red dress. “The world is going the way of anarchy.” She put her lipstick in her clutch purse. “So sad.” I shook my head. “Nothing wrong with a little anarchy.” She flashed super white teeth while smiling. “Wow. I like the way you think.” Just then a beautiful Chinese woman wearing a black mini dress came up and kissed her on the mouth. Then they both turned and looked at me. “We want to dance. You know a place?” said the woman in the red dress. I felt strangely aroused. “Yes, I guess Lan Kwai Fong.” The Chinese woman in the black dress grabbed my hand while grabbing the woman in the red dress’s hand. “Let’s go.” “Where are we going?” I asked a bit nervously but excited. “We are meeting anarchy,” said the woman in the red dress.