The Disco lights flashed around with a colourful effect that got blended up with the loud music from the DJ, popularly known DJ Sound-spirit. The pole dancers reminded Henry of Anastasia Sokolova and Anastasia Skukhtorova, even though clubbing had become his usual thing.
Henry was on a hoodie, slowly sipping a Dalmore 62 drink, watching the pole dancers from the VIP lounge. The hot drink chilled his dry throat while he was yet on his long stare. One of the pole dancers realized he focused on her, so she gave this erotic stare at him while making her erotic moves around the pole with the others. This went on, not until he was distracted by the noise from behind. He saw group of rich old men, encompassing his target which had brought him to the clubhouse. They drank and smoked merrily, playing cards.
From Henry's observation, it was apparent enough that his target was the smartest of all, making away with the guaranteed cash to win. He quickly grabbed his cup of drink, quietly walking down to their table, not taking off his look from the pole dancer.
"Do I call you a lad or.... maybe a mate. Coz you are under a dirty hood." A man of them fumbled with a Gurka Royal courtsean cigar in his mouth, as few others gave out belly laughter while few ladies romanced few of them.
"Easy, easy. Easy, Doodle. Stolen money keeps giving idiots some stolen guts!" Another Said with a deeper voice as broke into a hard laughter, while Henry just stood, staring at the cards left on the table since the last play.
"Stolen money?" Henry quietly and calmly asked with a scoff.
The old man picked up the money, signaling one of his bodyguards to bring him his briefcase. He opened it with a clicking sound, slowly dropping the money into the box without taking his eyes off Henry.
"Flip the cards and let us have a game." Henry spoke to him, waiting for his response.
The old man Chuckled deeply, slowly walking closer to him. "How much do you bet on my cards? I can be very expensive." The old man giggled evilly, taking in the thick smoke with a brief and silent sigh.
"The briefcase." Henry slipped in.
"We'll bet on your briefcase." He added, finally looking up.
"My briefcase? Where the fuck is your damn wooden box? I hate to use so much expensive words. Bi-bi-di-bo-bi-do." The old man sneeringly told Henry, releasing the smoke to his face.
"Have me if I'm unable to provide the damn wooden box." Henry justly answered, adjusting his hood.
The men within cheered them up with cough laughter as they both bent green on the game. Through the smoke, the cards were dispersed on the table of drinks as the old man ran up his time within his period and had few hearts to his credit. The applauds later on emphasized about defeat to Henry's belief, but he had few secrets.
The pole dancer showed up again and Henry's attention was lost to her sexy postures. He somehow placed his hand on the cards sensitively, picking one with his right hand and picked another with the left hand.
"What!" The old man thundered in wrath, angrily staring at the cards.
Henry slowly put off the hood, looking up in the same manner.
"You!" The old man recognized, quickly picking his briefcase and asked his guards to shoot Henry down.
But Henry rolled beneath the round table, forcefully standing and pulling the table of drinks against them. The sudden gun shots alarmed everyone on the dance floor as all ran hither and thither for safety. Encompassing the screeches by the ladies as the club was heated up with the heavy gunshots and the loud music after the DJ has ran away.
Henry ran to the upper floor, sliding beneath a door and jumped to the wall, holding up a balcony and swung up. He realized the men coming to him and saw the old men escaping with the briefcase.
"Piece of shit!" He exclaimed, breathing in and took a shot race towards the end point of the upper floor. He jumped down, rolling on the ground to his second stand, evading bullets that shot down two of the men.
"Idiots! You are fired!" The old man yelled, taking his briefcase to the other hand, heading to another passage hurriedly.
Henry ran after him, blew his face and snatched the briefcase, putting on his hood again. The old man's guards ran after Henry who ran out of the large building with the briefcase, looking around for a direction to follow. Next, a Chevrolet Metro car drove in, and it was the pole dancer.
She winked at Henry, but he scoffed and hopped into the car, as the young lady drove out speedily.
"Hey." The young lady said, liting a stick of Cigarette to smoke, but Henry snatched it out of his lips and threw it away through the window.
"What?" She stressed, drifting left with a short stare at Henry who wasn't even looking at her.
"Rule number nine, do not smoke or drink while driving." Henry sighed, yet looking through the tinted windows.
"Rules? I'm fuckin helping you with an expensive lift and here you are, giving goddamn rules." She complained, returning her wheel. Henry spoke no word but fixed his eyes on the rear mirror.
"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with the fuckin briefcase?" The lady asked, looking at him.
"If you can stop saying the word fuck." Henry said in a low tone, straining his eyes to see two cars speedily driving after them.
"Ok. So?" She said, not savvy of the cars behind.
"Just do as I say and I'll tell you anything. Change the clock. Speed up." Henry responded, buttoning up his jacket.
Without objection, the young lady sped up, puzzling Henry. She was really breaking the clock instead of changing. She over sped off that the tyres would screech at every little turn, either to the right or to the left.
