“Is that Tidus?”
Devon looks over to the bar where a sallow skeleton with the approximate appearance of a young man he once knew to be Tidus allows himself to be manhandled and groped by any and all. “…I thought we were supposed to meet Tyson?”
Johnny squints through the smoke and neon bursts of light. “I am pretty sure that is Tidus.”
The S666 tempts Devon’s fingers; Solinis had lost track of that young man quite a while ago. “What should we do? I am not sure if this supercedes our original mission or not.”
A groan. “I bet you anything that Tidus is going to be the victim of that snuff film.”
The bit of professional resolve has vacated Devon completely. Solinis aside, everyone is quite fond of the boy in question. “We have to wait until we receive the signal,” Devon cuts through pursed lips, as though his son were tempting him to abandon the mission. “We have to wait until the second cut.” After the boy begs them to stop. It was supposed to be fake. He was told it was fake.
And then, ‘How did you expect to pay for all those drugs you used, all those nice clothes you got, the fancy hotels you stayed at…..’
Seemingly on cue, Tyson trundles down the steps of the entrance, into the underground night club. It is apparent that he himself only recently discovered the identity snuff victim number three by the robotic motions of his gait.
Devon turns back to his rye and permits the other two their obligatory theatrics regarding the opulent deus ex. He wants to hate himself for caring more about the snuff victim he was slated to allow to suffer up to a certain point whe finding out that the victim is someone he loves, but his emotions are dead.