Nostalgia Trap: I Don’t Remember The Eighties Like You Do

Jackie had little time to recover from Teruya’s attacks. From what Ashley said, he had a concussion, lacerations from the glass debris, and a fractured nose. His head was splitting, bright lights still made him woozy. A job still had to be done, however, and Quinn was too jumpy to wait. 80s Night arrived at The Phoenix. The hottest club was right in the heart of Manhattan. With perfection in mind, the club was the best in the world. The sign out front had a special LED sign displaying the phoenix on fire. The doors were obsidian black, with gold hinges, with two guards checking for tickets on such an important night. Partygoers had to pay months in advance, or take your chances in the cold for a chance inside for free.

The November chill got bitter as winter crawled closer and closer. The autumn Jackie knew had died. It was only a matter of time. The rain soaked streets that emphasized the decay of the city had frozen over. Its corpse unmoving, but the parasites still roamed the streets. Snow fell that night. Nothing that would stick. It was soft, fleeting. Just a warning for things to come. Jackie sighed, seeing his breath as he looked across the street from The Phoenix. Busy, as predicted. The line stretched almost the entire block. The thumping and synths of the 80s could be heard for miles. A tease, a siren call for those who want a good time. The VIPs, those beautiful people, walked over to the club, flashing their tickets before stepping in. Jackie had his UV costume on, only his jacket was zipped up to hide the body armor, and bandana worn the normal way. He wouldn’t get far tripping the metal detectors, so he’s walking in unarmed.

A plan was in motion, as he and Rose planned the night out the best they could. She was able to secure a ticket from some Wall Street shark for information Rose got on his competition. Once inside he’d find Q, get information, and kill him. Easier said than done, but UV was good under pressure.

He marched across the street, hands in his pockets, attempting to look slick as he showed the ticket and walked in, headed through the metal detector, and was finally granted access to the club proper. Jacke’s head was swimming, as the bright lights weren't good for his concussion, but he had to move. The interior was obsidian and gold, just like the doors. Tables lined the places not near the dancefloor, and there was a bar at the far end. The second floor was the VIP area, where all the rich gambled and met escorts. The dancefloor itself on the first floor was a show of colors, strobe lights on the ceiling, lights pulsing on the floor, speakers surrounding, and dry ice to make it even sweeter.

The song playing was 99 Luftballons by Nena. Everyone in the center danced their hearts out to the vibrant beat and German lyrics they couldn’t understand. Jackie found it odd they were so aloof to the song’s lyrics about nuclear death and clear Cold War fears. Nostalgia was tricky that way. It tells you a story about what you want to remember instead of what actually happened. Jackie was barely a middle schooler in the 80s, but he remembered what he was told about the “Reds” when he went to bed. He remembered the nuclear drills at school. He’d wondered why the Soviets were so evil. Propaganda was easy to say to children. That’s the decade he remembered. But who was Jackie to spoil anyone’s fun? Besides, he was much too shaken from his head injuries to care. He looked around. Guards lined the second floor, looking down at the guests in their fancy suits. Their weapons were hidden, leaving Jackie to wonder if there were always this many people guarding a nightclub. For the sake of his ego, he assumed that word got around that UV was lurking. Regardless, Q was scared. Good to know.

He navigated through the dancefloor, rainbow patterns flowed at his feet. The lights doing their own dance in Jackie’s brain, making him disoriented as he walked. He saw a metal door near the corner of the room. Walking through revealed it was a stairwell, one leading up and the other down. It was a coin flip guessing where Q would be. Since he’s so unpredictable, and there’s gunmen posted all over the club, Jackie figured the safest place you could be was the basement. It was time. Nobody was walking the stairs as he pulled down the mask, the bandana slipping over the upper half of his beaten face. Ultraviolence awakened.

Jackie snuck downstairs, crouched behind the concrete rails just in case. Reaching the basement, there was a single guard with a SMG wrapped around his person keeping watch by door. Jackie coughed loudly, scaring the guard. Gun drawn, he slowly walked to the source of the sound, checking for whatever it was. UV, ever the opportunist, jumped out and grabbed the man by the head before he could fire and slammed his head against the hard rail, busting his head open like a cracked egg. He collapsed, twitching as blood from the impact spot slowly flowed down to the ground. Jackie grabbed the guard’s head and did it again, bashing his skull in the same spot. The unique sound of a head hitting concrete was too familiar to Jackie. The guard wasn’t moving, and bits of skull stuck to the rail as more blood pooled down. Jackie thought of grabbing the SMG, but he had a better idea.

He opened the door, revealing a long, small hallway. There was a turn before the hallway proper, so Jackie hid behind the wall, getting a proper look. The walls were green and rough, concrete and cracked. The floors were scuffed and disgusting and lights were old, buzzing as they shined gross hue across the hallway. Beyond that hallway is another turn, most likely leading to the boss’ office. Beyond the hissing of the lights, Jackie heard the thumping of music, the party raging on as he waged war not too far. Quinn appeared from the corner with four men, armed with the same SMGs.

“Fuck sake,” Q said, pacing back and forth. “I ask for more guards. And he sends four?”

The leader stepped in placing a hand on Q’s shoulder. “Firstly, all the boys are up stairs. We got detail watching the door, and there’s a whole fucking ticket system. There’s no way that motherfucker got in. We are one of the best, the last resort. Me, Rock, Falcon, and West. Right boys?”

“Yeah, Boss!” Falcon said with a fist up.

Q looked to be calmed a bit. “Fine, I’ll be in my office. Just do another round. I want to be safe.”

Boss nodded as Q stepped in, closing his door. The four walked and chatted, laughing about their night so far.

“Ok,” Boss said as they got to the middle of the hallway. “West. Check on Domico at the door.”

West nodded obediently. “Yes, Boss.”

West marched his way to the end of the hallway, going to turn the corner until he met a bloody fist to the face. Upstairs, Rebel Yell by Billy Idol began playing as Jackie disarmed West and used him as a shield to prevent the other three from firing. He charged with West as the battering ram. Jackie pushed West into the group making Falcon and Rock fall down, their weapons scattering the floor. Boss dodged attempting to raise his weapon to shoot UV. Jackie grabbed the gun with his right hand preventing him from going higher and used his left to rip the magazine from Boss’ gun. He then used that same mag to thump Boss on the side of the head, knocking him down. Rock got up and wrapped his bigger arm around Jackie, choking. He struggled to breathe and escape making him a prime target. Falcon ran over and punched Jackie in the face and sides, rocking him. His already fucked nose was leaking blood again before Jackie finally kicked Falcon back hard and drove Rock against the wall. Rock smacked the back of his head against the rough surface stunning him long enough for Jackie to start throwing elbows into his ribs. Rock loosened up, letting Jackie escape, but he still held Jackie’s hands as he twisted out. Jackie threw his head into Rock’s nose, breaking it as the headbutt connected, the sickening crack of skull on skull echoing the hallway. Rock fell back, but West was behind with a switchblade.

West jammed that knife into Jackie’s side. He was wearing body armor, but it cut through just enough to break skin. Jackie grunted with pain and turned with a spinning back fist, bringing West down. All of the men were exhausted, sucking in air as Jackie stumbled back while pulling out the blade embedded in his armor. All four of the guards got up panting but ready for action. With the thumping music upstairs, Jackie charged the group. Rock was first, immediately forcing the knife into his heart, killing him. Falcon and West grabbed Jackie before he could throw another punch, tackling and stomping on him as he tried to block the blows. Jackie went low, literally, as he rocketed his fist at West’s crotch. He held his dick and yelped, allowing Jackie to get up and push Falcon against the wall, slamming his head against it repeatedly until blood replaced the green. Boss had an actual knife and attempted to stab Jackie. He had no other choice but to block it with his hands, letting the blade stab right through his leftie. He screamed in pain, but that was motivation. Jackie used his right arm to throw an elbow at Boss and a thrust kick to send him flying. He pulled the knife from his hand and used it to slice an emerging West in the throat before he could counter. Blood splattered Jackie’s bandana as West fell to the ground, holding his neck and coughing, convulsing as he began pooling the hallway with his blood. Jackie stabbed Falcon right in his forehead, letting the thing stay in his head, a reminder of his brutality. Finally, Jackie grabbed Boss’ hair and began slamming his head against the hard ground over and over again. The thumps turned to splashes from the blood. The splashes turned to cracks as his skull was exposed. He stopped moving as the skull finally cracked. Jackie let go, letting himself catch a breather as he basked in his violence.

Ignoring the stinging pain, Jackie staggered over to grab an SMG and walked to the door, hearing Q talk to somebody. He kicked in the door and shot Q in the side before he could do anything. He dropped the phone on his desk as Jackie walked over. Q was hyperventilating as panic set in. Blood stained his white shirt as he held it. His glasses slipped off his face and hit the floor. Jackie let him suffer for a bit, grabbing the phone. The caller was still on the line. The ID said Rossi. As in Lars Rossi. Jackie put the phone to his ear.

“UV?” Rossi asked once.

Jackie hummed. “How did you know I was going to pick up?”

“Q is not a good shot. And you’ve been dying to meet me, haven’t you?”

“You can say that. I would love to know the man I’m going to kill.”

Rossi laughed. “You know, I must admit. I underestimated you. I thought you were some methhead, randomly killing people. But you’re organized. You have a plan to take me down. Something I forgot could happen to me.”

“Why are you doing this? Why harm so many people?”

“Harm? You sound young, so I’ll tell you this. While you’ve been shitting in diapers, I was attempting to stop an all out war in New York. They don’t teach you this shit in school. I’m the reason this city is so fucking safe. ME. Not you, me.”

“Really,” Jackie said. “Tell that to the junkies. The mothers you extort. The families you tear apart.”

“Oh, come off it UV. You think you’re better than me?”

“No,” Jackie answered. “People always love to call out hypocrites, but they tend to forget the hypocrites are usually right."

Rossi paused for a moment before speaking. “Well, UV. I would love to chat more, but I gotta make some calls. Alert everyone you’re here and all. But I will kill you. Your head will be on a spike by Christmas, I promise you.”

“You won’t see Christmas. I’ll have you dead by Thanksgiving.”

Rossi chuckled at the statement. “One more thing. Since I’ve answered your question, answer mine. UV. What does it stand for?”

Jackie smirked, looking at Q as he bled out. “Ultraviolence.”

He hung up and bared the door with a filing cabinet. Quinn had an emergency exit he could slip out of at any time. After writing UV on one of the walls, he looked at the fading Q. “I got some questions about Rossi. You can die quick or slow. Your choice.”

Q closed his eyes, breath shaking. “What are your… Questions?”

“Why are you under his payroll?”

“He wanted a… Party here. He’d paid for the upgrades here–” Q coughs blood. “Fuck. He paid for everything.”

“Party?”

“For the… Yazkuza.”

“Yakuza?” Jackie wondered aloud. As he said that, the door started to bang. The reinforcements have arrived. He had to make this fast. “Who else does he use for this party? Hurry.”

Q was almost dead. “Dan Heartly. And Yuliana…”

“Yuliana what?” It was too late, the door was almost broken through and Q was dead. Jackie popped a shot at his dome and ran through the emergency exit, using the tunnels to run outside into the cold abyss of the night.