The Alarm Clock at the End of the World

Part 83

Briefly prior.

Nep shakes his head. “And when is the unveiling?”

“Sado-Mass goes on at midnight,” Simon says.

“Sado’s playing?” I ask.

“We don’t have time for more questions,” Simon says. He stands.  “Now, if you will step into Lilly’s room, she will get the three of you dressed and ready for the mission.”

Kara leads us to a large, warm room behind the back of the kitchen with the thick, pungent smell of sandalwood pouring out the door. Sitting in a velvet plush chair is a smooth-skinned girl in a white muscle shirt. Her bright blue hair is done up in a loose bun on top of her head.

I’m still stuck on Solomon. Josh Solomon was no A-list celebrity regardless the turnaround he did after prison. Sado’s albums became deeply esoteric, and the sophomoric bit was removed from the performances. He didn’t shit. He didn’t even take off his pants, and very rarely did he engage in physical altercations with fans. The music was straight-up Prog, and most long-time fans rejected the new Joshua Solomon. I was one of them, that shit’s boring. I lost track as Sado increasingly sucked.

Kara says, “Lilly Katt sewed your tuxedos.”

Lilly has curly blue locks that she toys with between her fingers. “Are these the boys who needed clothes?” She’s older than us, maybe in her early thirties, but appears to have taken immaculate care of herself. Her painted blue lips turn up in a closed smile. “Good evening gentlemen,” she smiles wryly. “How can you see in here with the sunglasses?”

“Diving accident,” Simon says.

Lilly grins. “I have some nicer clothes for you. Too bad there isn’t time for a shower.” she says and goes into action. From a massive walk in closet, she pulls an aluminum hanging rack on wheels with three tuxedos. Looking at us each in turn, she hands out our clothes. Mephis and Nepotism in black and mine is stark white. In a flurry of activity, we are battered about, stripped, washed, dressed in our new garb and made up as wealthy investors. I am given two nickle-plated 9mm pistols for the armpits of my jacket. I keep my Desert Talon tucked in my belt.

Mephis is decked out with the most bad-ass looking hand cannon I’ve ever seen, and also a black wooden case about four feet long. Simon says it’s for emergencies, and Nepotism appears to understand an implication. We are advised not to fire until we are fired upon, but once fired upon, to attack with impunity.

With five minutes to spare, we are loaded into decrepit vans with band stickers plastered over the back door and rushed to the rendezvous point. The hot new Crass album, "TRUMPDUMB" is blaring from the speakers as soon as the engine gives power.