We find one slumped against a mailbox on Barrow, hand probing the machete notched broadside his skull. He brightens when he sees us; thinks we’re here to help. Larson helps him, alright…with a spike through the eye. We heave the body onto the truck.
On Flagler, we spot a lady in a creepy doll getup, gut-shot and groaning. She sees our uniforms and understands. Even tries to crawl away. Carney does the honours.
City’s always a bloody mess after the big night. Cleaning gigs pay well. Job’s simple: put the bodies on the truck.
Including the ones still breathing.
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