Categories > Movies > Raising Helen > Coverup
As a child, Paviche Largo had never truly gotten along with his older brother. Like everything else, teasing and sibling rivalry had been taken to the extreme, and Pavi had therefore learned at a very early age that the best method of dealing with his brother was to stay out of his way. If that failed, you never rose to his provocations and above all, you never, ever cried.
Pavi was crying now. Rather, he felt he should be crying. Instead, he continued to stand there staring rather blankly at the aftermath: three women lay sprawled in the alley way, their blood giving the rough and broken asphalt a mirror-like glister in the dim streetlight. The one girl he thought he’d seen somewhere before, the blond he didn’t recognize at all, but the brunette slumped atop a packing crate… Her, he knew.
“Maria…” The word sounded small and helpless and it took him a moment to realize he was the one who’d spoken.
Less than an hour ago she had been alive and laughing, part of the mass of the club. She hadn’t come with him, however, she’d come with Luigi. One of the myriad of clerical staff, Luigi had probably run into her at their father’s office, but Pavi knew her best as the head chef’s daughter. Mario was going to have someone’s balls tonight, though at this point, he’d have to arm wrestle Paviche for the honors.
Things had started out well enough, but there was a fine art to not pissing off Luigi. Depending on his mood, anything or nothing could set him off and then there were dead servers, or dead GENterns, or dead groupies, and it was very, very messy (on several levels) for everyone involved. Pavi was only glad that the focus of that unpredictable wrath was no longer directed at him.
There were moments when Pavi genuinely liked his elder sibling; especially now that they were more or less on the same plane of maturity. Luigi could be the warm and charming big brother when he felt like it, and the evening had gone reasonably well, all things considered. Amber, as usual, had disappeared earlier in the evening of clubs and cabarets, but he and Luigi had a few hours left of carousing. They had all gone out clubbing together, though ‘together’ generally meant being in the same building at the same time. Amber went off with her friends, Pavi with his, and Luigi with his own modest entourage. Modest being about four or five people; Amber generally trailed a baker’s dozen of hangers-on and Pavi didn’t usually bother to count all the members of his personal party.
There had been a lot of mingling of groupies that night, and Pavi and Luigi’s entourages seemed to surge back and forth like the surf outside. He had seen Maria’s face here and there, amid the crowd, and had thought nothing of it at the time. After all, he hadn’t gone out for a night on the town in search of intellectual conversation. Maria was not one of the GENterns- a unique breed in and of themselves- or one of the countless faceless GENECO employees, she was first and foremost- to Pavi anyway- Mario’s daughter. And Mario was one of few people who garnered Paviche Largo’s utmost respect.
It was therefore something of shock, when, having sneaked away from most of his party for a brief intimate moment with a charming young lady- Rebecca, or maybe Rachel, he thought her name was- that he noticed over her bare shoulder the mess of bodies strewn across the back alley miscellanea. Few things could stop a Largo in heat, but any further thoughts of cuddling evaporated as he stared stupidly and Rebecca-something asked him what was wrong. All the incorrect parts of him had gone rigid, and felt frozen and heavy instead of racing with heat and excitement. What’s-her-becca turned and shrieked at the sight, recovering only enough to state that she was calling the cops and then make a hasty exit.
Pavi just stood there for a moment longer, unsure if he was really seeing the world as it truly existed. As the son of Rotti Largo and brother to Luigi, Pavi was no stranger to disease, death, and violence. Indeed no one was exempt from that knowledge these days. However, despite watching people be repoed or seeing Luigi quite literally rip some GENtern a new one, it had never really registered. There would be a new one to fill the space tomorrow and so he never worried about it. Those people were human, certainly, but they were not important to him. He didn’t know their faces or their names, if they had families- children, spouses, pets. They weren’t real to him; they were replaceable, expendable, like an army of hundreds of faceless, identical ants.
Life was cheap, except when the loss meant something to you.
Maria had been beautiful, still was in fact. There was a deep rent in the middle of her cocktail dress that penetrated all the way to the other side. Otherwise, she looked as if she had simply passed out after drinking too much. Unlike her father, he skin was pale, though she had his dark and curly hair. She was pretty in her way, if not as exotic as the women who ran with Amber and Luigi and himself. He had teased and charmed her like all the others, but because of the head chef, he’d taken a few extra precautions. Although determined to have his cake and eat it too, the round-about wooing found Pavi taking a genuine interest in her life. He was rewarded, eventually, with success but strangely enough found himself wanting seconds, and not simply of her body.
He stood there for a moment, looking at her, waiting for the world to please make sense. In the dim light he noticed a small, black line just in front of one ear. Reaching, he touched it and discovered the end of a GENECO barcode tag almost completely hidden by the edge of her hairline. Vaguely, he recalled her mentioning something about melanoma once, and now that he thought about it, she was missing the rather fetching beauty mark she’d once had about an inch over from the corner of her mouth. A new face, then. Once her body was collected, the GENECO parts would be removed- face and all- cleaned, and resold. This simply would not do.
Digging out a pair of gloves earlier borrowed from a GENtern and his pocket knife, Pavi watched with detached interest as his hands deftly, gently peeled the face away. It came off with only mild resistance, indicating the surgery to have been quite recent. With any luck she still had plenty of Zydrate in her system and therefore hadn’t minded much when the blade pierced her. A brief flicker of light caught his attention and he looked up, scanning the half-light for the source but found none. The blond he didn’t know spooked him briefly as her head suddenly lolled to one side. Kneeling, he double checked just to make sure. Dead as a doornail. Probably just gravity taking advantage of limp muscles. Dismissing the incident, his attention returned to the task at hand. Like a floppy, rubbery mask the face dripped in his hands. A convenient and decently clean plastic grocery bag scavenged from the trash kept it from staining his clothes as he carefully rolled up the face and tucked it into a pocket. The smallness of the plastic-wrapped bundle made his heart squeeze queerly. Never mind. Her face was technically his, anyway. At least he would have something to remember her by.
Tossing the gloves into one of the many trash cans, Pavi had to take a moment and remember why exactly he was in a dark alley full of bodies in the middle of the night. Piece by piece it came back to him and he realized that he really ought to return to the club before Rebecca-or-other’s policemen showed up. He only stayed long enough to round up most of his entourage and proceed to the next club on the strip. Luigi was already there, looking only mildly rumpled and in a different shirt. Something at the bottom of Pavi’s stomach went cold.
“Lose your shirt again, brother?” he quipped, draping himself over a random female party goer who seemed only to happy to act as a prop.
Luigi rolled his eyes and knocked back a mouthful of alcohol. “Dumb fucks, all of ‘em.”
“Might-a the Pavi have a word later?”
His brother didn’t answer in words, only cocked an eyebrow and nodded, suspecting but saying nothing.
“See you then, fratello!” Pavi chirruped and flounced off, inwardly trying to think of just what the hell he did want to say to Luigi.
Pavi was crying now. Rather, he felt he should be crying. Instead, he continued to stand there staring rather blankly at the aftermath: three women lay sprawled in the alley way, their blood giving the rough and broken asphalt a mirror-like glister in the dim streetlight. The one girl he thought he’d seen somewhere before, the blond he didn’t recognize at all, but the brunette slumped atop a packing crate… Her, he knew.
“Maria…” The word sounded small and helpless and it took him a moment to realize he was the one who’d spoken.
Less than an hour ago she had been alive and laughing, part of the mass of the club. She hadn’t come with him, however, she’d come with Luigi. One of the myriad of clerical staff, Luigi had probably run into her at their father’s office, but Pavi knew her best as the head chef’s daughter. Mario was going to have someone’s balls tonight, though at this point, he’d have to arm wrestle Paviche for the honors.
Things had started out well enough, but there was a fine art to not pissing off Luigi. Depending on his mood, anything or nothing could set him off and then there were dead servers, or dead GENterns, or dead groupies, and it was very, very messy (on several levels) for everyone involved. Pavi was only glad that the focus of that unpredictable wrath was no longer directed at him.
There were moments when Pavi genuinely liked his elder sibling; especially now that they were more or less on the same plane of maturity. Luigi could be the warm and charming big brother when he felt like it, and the evening had gone reasonably well, all things considered. Amber, as usual, had disappeared earlier in the evening of clubs and cabarets, but he and Luigi had a few hours left of carousing. They had all gone out clubbing together, though ‘together’ generally meant being in the same building at the same time. Amber went off with her friends, Pavi with his, and Luigi with his own modest entourage. Modest being about four or five people; Amber generally trailed a baker’s dozen of hangers-on and Pavi didn’t usually bother to count all the members of his personal party.
There had been a lot of mingling of groupies that night, and Pavi and Luigi’s entourages seemed to surge back and forth like the surf outside. He had seen Maria’s face here and there, amid the crowd, and had thought nothing of it at the time. After all, he hadn’t gone out for a night on the town in search of intellectual conversation. Maria was not one of the GENterns- a unique breed in and of themselves- or one of the countless faceless GENECO employees, she was first and foremost- to Pavi anyway- Mario’s daughter. And Mario was one of few people who garnered Paviche Largo’s utmost respect.
It was therefore something of shock, when, having sneaked away from most of his party for a brief intimate moment with a charming young lady- Rebecca, or maybe Rachel, he thought her name was- that he noticed over her bare shoulder the mess of bodies strewn across the back alley miscellanea. Few things could stop a Largo in heat, but any further thoughts of cuddling evaporated as he stared stupidly and Rebecca-something asked him what was wrong. All the incorrect parts of him had gone rigid, and felt frozen and heavy instead of racing with heat and excitement. What’s-her-becca turned and shrieked at the sight, recovering only enough to state that she was calling the cops and then make a hasty exit.
Pavi just stood there for a moment longer, unsure if he was really seeing the world as it truly existed. As the son of Rotti Largo and brother to Luigi, Pavi was no stranger to disease, death, and violence. Indeed no one was exempt from that knowledge these days. However, despite watching people be repoed or seeing Luigi quite literally rip some GENtern a new one, it had never really registered. There would be a new one to fill the space tomorrow and so he never worried about it. Those people were human, certainly, but they were not important to him. He didn’t know their faces or their names, if they had families- children, spouses, pets. They weren’t real to him; they were replaceable, expendable, like an army of hundreds of faceless, identical ants.
Life was cheap, except when the loss meant something to you.
Maria had been beautiful, still was in fact. There was a deep rent in the middle of her cocktail dress that penetrated all the way to the other side. Otherwise, she looked as if she had simply passed out after drinking too much. Unlike her father, he skin was pale, though she had his dark and curly hair. She was pretty in her way, if not as exotic as the women who ran with Amber and Luigi and himself. He had teased and charmed her like all the others, but because of the head chef, he’d taken a few extra precautions. Although determined to have his cake and eat it too, the round-about wooing found Pavi taking a genuine interest in her life. He was rewarded, eventually, with success but strangely enough found himself wanting seconds, and not simply of her body.
He stood there for a moment, looking at her, waiting for the world to please make sense. In the dim light he noticed a small, black line just in front of one ear. Reaching, he touched it and discovered the end of a GENECO barcode tag almost completely hidden by the edge of her hairline. Vaguely, he recalled her mentioning something about melanoma once, and now that he thought about it, she was missing the rather fetching beauty mark she’d once had about an inch over from the corner of her mouth. A new face, then. Once her body was collected, the GENECO parts would be removed- face and all- cleaned, and resold. This simply would not do.
Digging out a pair of gloves earlier borrowed from a GENtern and his pocket knife, Pavi watched with detached interest as his hands deftly, gently peeled the face away. It came off with only mild resistance, indicating the surgery to have been quite recent. With any luck she still had plenty of Zydrate in her system and therefore hadn’t minded much when the blade pierced her. A brief flicker of light caught his attention and he looked up, scanning the half-light for the source but found none. The blond he didn’t know spooked him briefly as her head suddenly lolled to one side. Kneeling, he double checked just to make sure. Dead as a doornail. Probably just gravity taking advantage of limp muscles. Dismissing the incident, his attention returned to the task at hand. Like a floppy, rubbery mask the face dripped in his hands. A convenient and decently clean plastic grocery bag scavenged from the trash kept it from staining his clothes as he carefully rolled up the face and tucked it into a pocket. The smallness of the plastic-wrapped bundle made his heart squeeze queerly. Never mind. Her face was technically his, anyway. At least he would have something to remember her by.
Tossing the gloves into one of the many trash cans, Pavi had to take a moment and remember why exactly he was in a dark alley full of bodies in the middle of the night. Piece by piece it came back to him and he realized that he really ought to return to the club before Rebecca-or-other’s policemen showed up. He only stayed long enough to round up most of his entourage and proceed to the next club on the strip. Luigi was already there, looking only mildly rumpled and in a different shirt. Something at the bottom of Pavi’s stomach went cold.
“Lose your shirt again, brother?” he quipped, draping himself over a random female party goer who seemed only to happy to act as a prop.
Luigi rolled his eyes and knocked back a mouthful of alcohol. “Dumb fucks, all of ‘em.”
“Might-a the Pavi have a word later?”
His brother didn’t answer in words, only cocked an eyebrow and nodded, suspecting but saying nothing.
“See you then, fratello!” Pavi chirruped and flounced off, inwardly trying to think of just what the hell he did want to say to Luigi.
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