Disclaimer: I know it has been a very long time since I posted anything, but let me just say I moved during Christmas and only just got internet, so there's my explanation. This came to me after a night of drinking and some absolutely fantastic Humphrey Bogart film noirs. So I hope you enjoy this, and now on with the show.

HA

While the wind carried in the squall and the gulls, the bay was busy with life. Tugs pushing barges and ferries transporting workers, no one noticed or cared about the small group of men on an old and unused set of docks. One man – clearly the leader with his shoulders covered by his trench coat – lit up a cigarette. His two lackeys flanked him as he stared down the fourth and final man; poor bastard had his front to a .45 and his back to the sea.

"You know that was foolish, very foolish Mr. Horowitz. You think I wouldn't have know? That word of your missteps would not reach my ears? And now I'm down here, belittling myself to the work of my boys, because you decided to go and make trouble." Smoke flew out of his mouth with every word, he took another drag beneath his thin and dark mustache. The last man shook his head in a mixture of fear and denial, hands automatically reaching before him as if to stop the inevitable.

"I did – I mean – it was – I ain't never tried to double cross you, honest. It was an accident, me walkin in to the trap the way I did, but ya gotta believe me I ain't never meant to cause you any trouble." His hands trembled as the words flew out of his mouth. The mustached man laughed out a puff of smoke, his calm demeanor easing the panicky little man with his back to the sea.

"Eugene, Eugene Eugene Eugene. After every trip you make, you come out okay. This will be no different. Say, I think I'm gonna have another smoke. Would you like one?" grounding the end of his spent cigarette beneath the heel of his boot, the man with the mustache snapped his fingers, and the man to his right offered his boss the cigarette case and lighter. Watching as the small man nodded, he turned his back on him. The man to his left stepped forward, and shot one, two, three, four, five times, until at last the small little man with his back to the sea fell off the dock.

"Come on boys, my girl's on tonight and I don't want to miss it." the trio walked back up the dock, two always fallowing the one, and left the corpse of the mistake to disappear within the waves.

HA

The smoke rose up in lazy circles, first around the hand that held the lit cigarette, then the head that puffed the stick, golden ringlets shining in the lamplight. Then up it wafted, casually circling the light before disappearing completely. He had watched her now for what could possibly have been an eternity, but he couldn't have been there for much longer than four hours. She had been there the entire time, smoking and drinking and laughing and dancing. And he had been there, watching her.

Her hand sat high on her waist, just below her glorious breasts while the other held the cigarette to her crimson red lips. The bright green dress, although covering all necessary parts, left nothing to the imagination as it hugged her every curve. Catching her cold blue eyes, he gulped down his shot of whiskey in one before making his way over to her.

"Say, could I get you a drink?" his question was punctuated when she lifted a glass and let the dark amber liquid touch her red lips. He wanted to touch those lips in the same way. She smiled over the rim of her glass and shook her head as if reading his thoughts.

"It would seem I have both a drink and a cigarette, and so have no use for you."

"Gentlemen, gentleman. The time has come for the main floor show, and here she is! Hillwood's own Mistress of Malice, that Scintillating Sinner, the Dame of Deceit, Miss Helga Pataki!" with a devious smile, the bombshell blonde stood to the raucous applause, putting her cigarette in the ashtray provided to the table.

"If you'll excuse me." And then she was gone, onto the stage and swinging her hips in time to the piano and snare drum.

"We'll meet again my dear on doomsday, pigs will be flying through the sky. On the 12th of never, at a quarter past forever; stricken with the rapture we'll watch the world's demise . . ." another man lit her a new cigarette, and she held it with on hand as the other traded places from just below her breast to fondling the torch she sang into.

"The Boss just phoned, he'll be back in no time at all. Guess that issue with Horowitz was done faster than he thought." The bartender laughed as the lackey ordered another drink and bummed a smoke from the sharp dressed youth on the barstool beside him.

Ah, now that made a his ears turn. So the Boss was coming back? Then maybe the night wouldn't be such a waste.

"We'll meet again my dear on doomsday, a hint of Armageddon fills the air. Now that Hell has frozen over and the sun is growing colder, we'll be drawing closer cuz there's no more time to spare . . ." the singing dame locked eyes with him again, and winked.

No, not such a waste at all . . .

"We'll meet again my dear on doomsday, a shower full of frogs and toads. But as bleak as it may be - apocalyptic revelry - hand in hand we'll tiptoe through the carcasses and bones . . ." the doors opened, and a man with a thin black mustache flanked by two big men entered with a whirl of the wind in their coats and a toast of the patrons. Nodding to the bartender and a smile to the crooner, the man – clearly in charge – made his way to an empty table. He lit up a cigarette as the woman on the torch slowed her voice in time to her accompaniment, and every man in the building lost attention for anything else.

"The air's too thin to breathe on doomsday, at last we face the reckoning. And blood will fill the sea, cobwebs will cover you and me as flames engulf the remnants of this grand catastrophe . . ." the band picked up sped again as she swayed her hips in time once more. His brain catching up with the world, he moved towards the Boss with a amicable smile on his lips and a drink in his hand.

"Say, Mr. Gammelthorpe, my name's Arnold Moser, and I'd like to buy you a drink."

"It's doomsday!"

"Moser huh? Well what can I say, I like the cut of your body and the shape of your head. Lucky for you a position just opened up in the company, now accepting applications. Sit down and have a drink. The show is just getting good." And so the man joined the Boss at the table, watching as the sultry blonde swanked and swanned her way about the stage, blowing smoke and raising the egos of the men before her – among other things. The bartended lit up a smoke with complete disreguard for the accelerant behind him in the building made of kindling. The rest of the men hooted and hollered as the girls serving as the striptease came out for a little hands-on entertainment.

"It's doomsday!"

HA