The blade was sharp and clean. It was designed especially for her. I spotted Keya at the arcade. She was playing a game with a small gray ship that you could upgrade with purple lasers and shoot your enemies. The purple lasers were the best you could get. She was a veteran.
She looked forlorn there, staring at the chipped and marred screen. I wanted to end it there. Take her attention for a split second before the blade did its wicked work, a quick and final strike. No one in the arcade would have raised an eyebrow. The arcade was a dead zone for cops and innocence, a free-for-all.
The night had come and gone. It was something akin to daytime outside, a stale and subdued attempt at sunshine. It was arguably the most densely populated and polluted city in the world. You were supposed to wear a set of nano around your face to filter it all out. But I was used to the coughing so I figured I could get used to the sharp-edged pollution in Zion. But there in the arcade, the pollution was indoors only and was made up of contraband. The plumes of smoke originated from banned carcinogenic Japanese non-filtered cigarettes.
I walked up behind her and stood watching the screen. I stared at the ships exploding on the machine. She fed another coin into the slot. I waited there, behind her, until her muscle arrived.
Seems like she was wise.
She’d cheated three times, I found out. ‘Hey Joe,’ that’s what they called a murder like this, a ‘passion crime.’ That was if I could carry it out. I needed to garner the courage or perhaps the fear to make the final move.
She spun around as the muscle closed in. I struck out with the blade but they were too quick. One of them ripped an arcade game from the wall and threw it at my head. It struck, hard. None of them had guns, but they all carried heated belts. The belts were a length of stretched leather with ends of red-hot radioactive coils that would burn through any surface like hydrochloric acid. When there was more than one of these things around you, it was a far more excruciating way to go down.
I looked Keya right in the eyes. I grabbed the blade tight, my knuckles blue and my head full of tiny stars, I drove the knife into my chest and exhaled, blood gushing from some ruptured organ, gasping and attempting to call her name one last time.
She turned back to the arcade machine and took out another set of enemies. The muscle watched as I dropped to my knees, blood soaking the already stained, mottled blue and red carpet.
As I bled out, the muscle disappeared. They left me with her. She fed another coin into the slot. I could see her reflection in the top right of the screen. Her face was cold. But I could see in her eyes, there was something new. It would be the only time I would see her smile.
Can someone please help me out with a collection of Belushi’s best SNL clips?
Here Come the Warm Jets