'You see, it's cat and mouse, their the the defenders but if the price is right then they don't defend shit and frankly I don't trust it no more than I trust Australians and I don't trust them because, well, where the fuck is Australia John, answer me that? Their sneaky fuckers, this MI5, men in black bullshit, I mean whats to say they don't have your file, my file, just waiting for a chance to sink their teeth through that neck of yours?'

Tacky looked around at the small circle of hookers and business men, the sound of their laughter drowned out by the swing music that engulfed the club from end to end. It wasn't usually Tacky's taste, the suit n' tie, dance the night away gig but after the promise of a powdered nose and the finest brew Las Vegas had it was an offer that was hard not to take up. Especially when the offer came from JohnConstantine.

Sweat ran from his forehead as Tacky lowered his nose to the table and snorted more of the 'dust' that had gathered.

'Now it could be the coke talking, please do tell but I think i'm onto something here, that fuckers onto us, second time i've seen him today.'

Tacky looked around the room before pointing a finger at a seemingly innocent man across the club, engulfed in the fruits of the whore house and the best the bar had to offer. The group looked wearily at him and slowly the noise from their table died as each man caught a heavy dose of suspicion. Cigarettes were lit by shaking fingers as Tacky grabbed John firmly by the shoulder and pulled John up to join him in the back and forth pacing.

'I don't like it John' he said scratching his chin and dragging heavily on his cigarette. 'Not one fucking bit. What do we do? Wack him? Or-or we could burn the distillery, get rid of the grog before he follows us there?'

John kept a close ear to Tacky and his well thought out, intelligent rant. It just made fuckn sense. Like wearing a suit and tie, or a hat. Not that John wore a hat, but that wasn't the point here. Australians. Sneaky pricks.

"Australians. I've been sayin' it all along." John tried chiming in with before Tacky ran off with the conversation stick once more. This guy was good, John thought, as he leaned forward with a rolled up fiver and sniffed down some hurry up.

And that's when things really did get a fuckn move on. The night till this point was normal. Casual even. Slow paced. Conversation was off its tits, but why wouldn't it be? It was Tacky and fuckn Constantine.

They were the movers and shakers, the dust party makers. Rolling deep, women on their jocks, and the club all wanting to be seen with em. Atleast, that was how John percieved it.

He wasn't a big party goer. Haha. Fuck me. So that was a lie. And that was the devil laughing all the way from his fiery throne. He loved a legless night. And dust just allowed him to roll on, and on, and on, and.. And now that mother fucker was eyeing us, Constantine thought as he bought into Tacky's suspicions.

"See him?! He was fuckn eyeing us." John said trying to look discreet as he started to dance on the spot, solo, pretending that's all he was doing as his eyes kept making their way over to the now very suspicious looking man.

He was two stepping with a serious and concerned look on his face, like he was in the dance off of his life. But, John never fuckn danced. Ever. And this thought crept in with the others. Australians. Wack him. Burn down distillery.

"We need to move! We head to the car and see if he follows. Then we decide our next move." John said as he stopped dancing and moved to square up to Tacky whilst giving him a strong pat on the chest.

"But if he's onto us and has found us here, and we don't take action, we're pretty much fucked. Like the convicts did to the Aborigines in Australia." Constantine spewed out rapid fire as he walked to grab his packet of smokes from the table, with Tacky hot on his tail.

Before making the next move, as if on the same page the two simultaneously turned and looked right at the guy who was now also looking back at them.

Tacky nodded, why didn't he think of that? The car. Bloody genius, takes a great mind to think on the spot so fast...but this pacing had to stop, John looked like a bloody penguin. Everyone knows that's step one of been inconspicuous. Not that Tacky played it off any better. And the heat, Tacky really did need to complain about that, no other club leaves you with a swimming pool at your feet...

Tacky went to grab the cigarettes off the table but they'd disappeared, pushing the suspicion further.

'Alright we'll move, I mean cars are faster than humans right, I sense this working John' 

That was the problem with the situation, both men sensed to much. Hell, the quiet night had turned to shite in a matter of minutes due to Tackys quick thinking. 

Both men pushed their way through the crowd gathered by the door, attracting strange looks from the men and woman around them as Tacky ripped his tie off. The Las Vegas air provided no relief as Tacky and John jogged down the street towards the car. 

'You drive, lets see if this fucker follows us'

John took to the driver side and fumbled in as Tacky quickly entered the other. Both men looked at one another. Sweat was the topic of the moment and a neck tie that had somehow latched onto Tacky's head like a Rambo headband, the long bit hanging over the back, would've been another.

But before more movement of physicality or mentality was to take place they had to calm themselves. They also needed to wait to see if the other man exited and was actually as suspicious as he seemed. First though, woosah.

As the club kept an influx of party goers coming in, some were also exiting. The parking spot was a couple blocks from the venue, and people walking past on the sidewalk were for the most going to join the open sinfest.

A plastic bag was removed from the glove compartment after John motioned to Tacky. Now the Zen was about to begin. Not really. They were so dusted John forget they weren't yet driving and nearly had a fit as he sudddenly looked up, white powedered nose, and saw the rear of the parked car in front of him.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" was all he could articulate before he realized they were stationary, and removed his right arm from bracing his passenger.

"Fuck me! Are we flying or what!" was the obvious answer to anything at all he could've said, so it was fitting that's all he did say. He looked over at Tacky as he took some quick shallow breaths and brushed at his nose.

Tacky thought for a moment, dwelling upon the situation. He was a car man, he'd make damn sure everyone knew that and at this stage he was almost certain they couldn't fly, an opinion he wanted to express but kept bottled for the moment. Instead he approached the issue of the Nevada heat and the...? Tacky bounced his head off the dash in frustration, almost sure there was something else he ought to consider.

Just as he asked John what the hell it was the man strolled past the car, a woman in his arms. Tackys involuntary 'shit' was quickly followed with Johns hand over his mouth and his head forced between his legs.

'Head down Tacky, were trying not to be seen remember?'

Tacky nodded as he remembered the nights events. Head out the window for air, Tacky thought about the next move.

'Maybe if we drive, i'll get more air?' Tacky suggested, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 'I say we drive real slow beside him and see where the hell he's going. Airports the other way so maybe he ain't Australian after all. Maybe'

John raised his head and flicked it back as sweat flung off his partly soaked blonde scruff he called morning glory. It usually didn't need a brush or much of anything when he awoke. Glorious.

Now though his thoughts were with Tacky and his head propped out the window. They needed more air and driving slow whilst tailing that possible Australasian just made damn sense.

The key was turned in the ignition. The engine bounced into go mode. Lucky Tacky maintained all the crew's vehicles as John was used to playing with dashboard wires.

A slow roll began. The wheels turned ever so slightly yet for some reason John's heart was pounding. He imagined it to a piston smashing up and down in his chest.

He wiped the sweat off his brow then regripped the steering wheel tightly and gave it a left tug. After ten seconds of heart thumping action they were finally away from the curb and rolling a few meters behind the suspicious man and his plaything.

It wasn't until they themselves entered a vehicle and pulled out in front of them that their suspicions were confirmed. Australians. They seemed to be driving on the damn wrong side of the road.

Tacky still had his head out the window. God knows what lovely relief he was getting. The car in front picked up speed and John pushed his foot down harder on the pedal to keep up. 

Just as the car in front passed through an intersection a turning ford pickup came down the wrong side tooting toward them. In a frantic panic, John pulled hard on the wheel to the right. The car skidded into the curb and came to an abrupt stop.

Maybe it was them on the wrong side. And as they lost sight of the target maybe it wasn't who they initially thought.