Chapter 2

Two Men walk towards each other on the street, they are dressed in identical Brooks Brothers suits in Charcoal Grey and share the same smooth features, fresh shaven and close cut, well trimmed hair.

Smell of Hugo Boss and Testosterone

They are neither brothers nor clones yet they might as well be. They nod simultaneously to each other as they pass, each feeling the weight of the large knife that is sheathed within the uncreased depths of their suit jackets. This scene repeats itself all across The City as everywhere the 454 small-block engine of The City Economy roars to life.

The first Man enters into a glass building where an army of Men in identical Blue Coveralls scrub and shine and buff and rinse off the graffiti that has accumulated over the past evening, but by the time they encircle the building they must begin anew for paint and marker and acid have already sprung up in a cancer like malignancy of names and tags and slogans. Cause and effect. Clean and deface. These Men are lucky. They will always be employed as long as there is a system of have and have-not, affected and disaffected. Asocial, anti-social, deviant, miscreant, Youth versus Everyone Else.

The second Man entered a brick building, walking through the lobby he saw a man in a Beige Brooks Brother's suit. Knives out. They fought quietly to the death in the middle of the lobby. No one noticed until a Secretary in a Black Pencil Skirt slipped in the congealing puddle of blood and fell ballerina-delicate landing on a firm gym-sculpted ass. At this point she was helped up by Five (5) Men dressed in Charcoal Grey who then set upon the corpse in Beige tearing it apart growling and screeching like baboons. The Secretary tore off her Black Pencil Skirt and High Collared Blouse and joined the Men who proceeded to fuck and bite and tear at her and each other violating and penetrating. Ripping and rendering until all that was left was a semensalivabloodshiturine soaked mess. The mess was cleaned up soon after by a team of Blue Coverall clad Men. They whistled while they worked.

It was 8am.