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Truth Through Pillow Talk

There were places you could go. Places where they didn't ask you any questions or wonder what your story was. They were never the most fancy of places, or the ones you'd see on a tourist brochure, but they were out there if you looked. For the price of a drink, you could buy yourself sweet ambiguity; something Alias took comfort in like a warm blanket.

If you knew where to look you could find these safe havens of bleakness. It was The Underground; the real Underground, not what kids in college refer to when they want hardcore illegal drugs. People could come and go as they pleased here. Some looked to escape life on both sides and either enter this secret society, or leave it. It was a highly lucrative setting, but it came at a cost. The cost that Alias had paid tonight.

As he slammed the rocks glass down hard on the bar, Alias wondered how someone like Hets slept at night. He didn't seem the type to lose sleep, except if he lost money on something or didn't get what he wanted. That bastard slept comfortably in his million-dollar bed, with silk sheets, while Alias was haunted by the images seared into his memory. Ironically, it was those things that Alias couldn't forget that he truly wanted to.

"Another..." Alias croaked out.

"Jesus, Alias." The elderly raccoon bartender said looking down at the young fox, who leaned on the scuffed wooden counter with both arms. "What's been with you lately? You'd clear out my bar if I'd let you."

"I've been troubled." Alias replied, not looking up. "Another...please."

The raccoon hesitated for a second, then reached for the waiting bottle of Scotch, and refilled Alias's glass.

The bartender leaned down so he was face to face with Alias. "Something botherin' you?" He whispered.

Alias's green eyes connected with the bartender. "You really want to pull at that string tonight, Larry?"

Larry gave Alias a once over and backed slightly away. "Well, you do what you want, but I'm not going to let you drink yourself to death."

"That would actually be a relief, Lar." Alias shot back, brought his glass to his mouth, and tilted his head back. The liquor pooled in his mouth, and as he swallowed the burn, however friendly, cascaded down this throat.

"Tell me something, do you hate your liver?" A voice behind the black fox asked.

Alias lowered the glass, slightly. "I don't think they're going to want it when I buy the farm, that's for sure." Alias replied taking another swig. He could feel his speech starting to slur slightly. His head was also feeling light as the alcohol did its job, but this is what Alias wanted. It was his only escape, and these assholes didn't realize it.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say you just finished a job; which would explain tonight's festivities." A mink said nonchalantly, sitting down next to Alias.

"Nope, just Wednesday night."

Alias moved his glass to his mouth, only to meet the mink's paw covering the opening. "Goddamn it, Mick." Alias exclaimed, jerking his glass away in annoyance. "If I want to die of cirrhosis, then it's my Goddamn right."

"Well, are you sober enough to talk some trade with me at least." Mick sighed.

Alias immediately straightened up. "What the hell kind of question is that?" He asked dignified. "I'm fine."

"Alright then. I'm doing a quick check with my clients. How are you doing on ammunition?"

Alias rested his glass on the bar. "Good to go. I stocked up last time." He said, rubbing his forehead.

Mick looked around, making sure no one was checking out what was going on. "Well, hey. Check these out. New supplier carries them. Anti-personnel mine." He pulled out a small black rectangular object and casually pushed it over to Alias. "Pushing the button in the middle arms it. Remote control has a two hundred yard radius, giving you plenty of time to get the hell out of wherever you may be."

Alias turned the small black box over in his paws, then set it back down. "Too public for my taste. I'm not into incinerating anyone." He slid it back to Mick.

"Keep it as a sample." Mick replied. "You may find a use for it. Great for car bombs, just place it next to a gas tank. Even larger SUV's can't shield from the blast."

"If I was a fucking terrorist, then it'd be great."

"Well, pal." Mick said folding his paws. "Terror is what you do best." The mink informed Alias.

Larry grabbed the scotch and refilled Alias. "Lady across the room gives her regards." Larry pointed to the opposite side of the bar.

Alias and Mick turned and looked in the direction of the raccoon's finger. Alias scowled and looked through the dimly lit bar, fogged in cigarette smoke. Who would be buying him, of all people, a drink? His eyes scanned the people sitting at tables, until one face struck him as familiar.

"Christ..." Alias muttered, turning back around.

"Shit, terror must be working well for you these days." Mick said.

"Fuck you."

"What?" Mick asked. "I wish I had a filly like that buying me drinks."

"Not that "filly"." Alias replied, making the quote sign with one paw.

"Hells bells." Mick shook his head exasperated. "Well I won't cockblock, besides I have things to do yet tonight...and apparently you do too."

Any of them include getting hit by a bus? Alias thought. If Mick wasn't such a good arms dealer, Alias would almost shoot him. Or maybe he was just in a bad mood tonight. Having her here didn't help much either.

Frustrated, and a little tipsy, Alias rose to his feet and took his glass with him. He walked over to his ever so kind benefactor and stood before her.

"Hello, Alias..." She cooed to him in a tone that sounded like she was asking him to bed.

"Sylvia." Alias replied, dryly. He had no time for her seduction. It may work on other employees, but Alias had no time for such nonsense like a promiscuous girl.

"So, are we going to have that drink you promised me?" She asked, as she always did.

"Kind of beat me to it, don't you think?" Alias replied turning to walk away

"Hey," she rose to her feet and grabbed his paw, to which Alias stopped and faced her, "I don't like being ignored." She had soft brown eyes, and the illusion of innocence. They seemed to cry out, calling for a strong male to come and protect her, to keep her safe in this crazy world. They asked Alias if he could be that male for her.

Alias looked down at his paw, hers connected with his, and then looked back to her. Alias wasn't sure if Sylvia acted like this to every male business client who came to see Hets, or if it was just to him. Either way it didn't matter. He had no agenda with the young female, despite how he may or may not feel. Alias had not the time, patience, or energy for something like this. He was pretty sure he had been born with a heart, but like everything else, it had been ripped from him.

"It's not a perfect world though, now is it?" He replied, without spite, but without comfort at the same time.

Silvia let his paw go, and sat back down. "That may be true, but we could get as close as possible." She shot him a coy smile, the atmosphere reeking with the sexual innuendo.

"You can tell Hets nice try." Alias told her, letting out a weary exasperated sigh. "I only do my drinking here, and live nowhere around." Now that Alias was aware that Hets was concerned with his activities, he knew better than to send some slapstick investigator to snap pictures of him. Besides, everyone knew that more information was divulged during pillow talk than torture.

"Oh, Alias." Sylvia giggled. "Hets didn't send me to spy on you."

Alias rolled his eyes. "So I guess you're just being friendly then?"

She leaned forward, her tight top emphasizing her cleavage. "You'd be surprised how friendly I can be..."

Alias was sure he could just as well ask any of Hets's business partners and find the answer to that.

"Sylvia," Alias started slowly, "as...flattered as I am, I have been through hell this week I'm tired, I'm frustrated, and tomorrow I'll probably have a hangover of biblical proportions. Don't be insulted when I turn and leave."

"Why always the cold shoulder, Alias?" Sylvia caught his arm as Alias attempted to leave. "Have I done something to offend you in some way?" The young horse walked around the table to the fox, who had his back to her. "Or is the fox as black on the inside as out?"

Alias didn't know how to respond to that. She was right in so many ways she didn't even understand.

"Somehow, I don't think that's a road you want to go down tonight." Alias replied quietly.

Sylvia, slowly running her paw up Alias's arm, moved in closer to him. Alias could feel the heat from her body on his skin. Her paw slid across his chest and wrapped around his neck, bringing her muzzle close to his ear.

"Come on, Alias." Sylvia whispered. "What's under that black coat of fur? Who is it that cries out inside those green eyes?"

The scented perfume Sylvia always wore radiated up and met Alias. He had always detected faint whiffs of it when he would pass by, however, he could smell it very clearly. It reminded him of falling backwards onto a warm blanketed surface somewhere.

Alias breathed in deep. "Amore Di Voi; an excellent choice, classy, yet seductive. Rumored to warm a male's blood."

Sylvia laughed slightly. "I'm trying to find out if that rumor is true."

"Couldn't any of the "others" confirm that for you?" Alias asked harshly, causing Sylvia to scoff.

"I would think that you, Alias, of all people would know that there are some things we do because we are paid to, others, to survive, and some because we truly want to. Believe me, I'm not getting anything out of this, and I can survive without you, but when it comes to if I want to or not...well that's another matter entirely."

Alias stood there for a moment. The first thing that came to mind was that Sylvia's act was a ploy and she was just an actor. Alias wasn't exactly sure what Hets had to gain from something like this. He would be less inclined to tell Sylvia anything than Hets simply because the information he told her could endanger her life. Alias had no qualms when it came to putting Hets's life on the line. But still, what information could Hets want from Alias? Alias didn't ask questions of any of his clients. It was easier that way and it made his practice seem more appealing.

Then what if it wasn't a game? What if Sylvia was acting like this because she felt this way? Sometimes it was hard for Alias to read people because of emotion. Not necessarily his, but others. There were the six primary emotions; sadness, fear, anger, surprise, joy, and love. Alias knew the first three well enough, the fourth, if careless, could cost him his life, and the last two were foreign elements to the young fox. It wasn't that he couldn't feel those feelings, but it was that he couldn't remember those feelings. They had been taken from him a long time ago, along with so much else. He was left here, like a sea animal washed up on shore, out of place and confused.

"Well what do you think?"

Alias blinked, coming back to reality in the bar. That was an interesting question to ask him. "I think," Alias started, "I think I'm going to go home now." Alias said quietly.

He felt her slowly release her arm around his neck as she backed away from him slightly. Her paws slid to his overcoat, as she gripped it gently by the lapel. "You know, Alias," Sylvia explained, "sometimes there are good things in life that we let pass by because we're afraid of taking a risk. You know what that leaves us with?" She asked him. Alias took in her words, considering them more than the actual question. "Regrets." She answered after Alias didn't reply. "Enjoy your drink." Sylvia told him as she walked away, and out of the bar.

Alias stood there for a second, before finishing what was left in his glass of scotch. As the burning sensation traveled from his mouth down this throat, he indulged in the comfort of the liquor. It made things easier, one thing being his life.

It made it livable.