I've broken off from 'Chronicles' to write a bit about another character. It's a rather stupid story, created on a whim, but I felt that I should post it here anyway. I think it might be the start of something new...though I should really finish 'Chronicles' before starting something else.
Oh well. Call me an idiot.
--Nameless City--
I shot every single person dead at the infamous X House, an agency for which I had provided eight months of service, only to discover that there had been members keeping a close eye on me. Obviously, I couldn't have that.
So, as aforementioned, I killed every single bastard at the agency. They were a heartless, powerful bunch, gaining the trust of politicians, other agencies, and rich gangs, cheating them out of cash, drugs and weapons, only to later send an assassin to dispose of a client as soon as their wealth began to run dry. They managed to do all of this without getting caught in the process or after the fact—they had a reputation to uphold. I was hired as an assassin, but I had my own purpose in mind when I joined the X House. That purpose was to kill the agency leader, Clyde Terrance.
But, of course, the plan wavered as soon as I had become dangerously close to being found out, and I knew I couldn't let an X member make even an educated guess as to what I was up to. In my mind, even baseless guesses are too troublesome to risk letting off.
And so on October 7th, in the year 3027 at 8 P.M., I spilt the blood of every member present at the headquarters of the X House agency. The only problem was that the most important member, the main man, had slipped away amidst the chaos I had created.
"Clyde," I uttered under my breath, "I'm coming for you."
***
Friday, October 10th, 9 A.M., I sat up in my motel room, yawning and closing the tacky, yellowish-colored blinds; I couldn't stand the sun first thing in the morning. I hauled myself over to the gritty, sink-only bathroom, and without lights I took a bleary-eyed look at myself in a cracked mirror. I still looked the same, as I had for the last ten years or so; six-foot-zero-inches, lean, shoulder-length hair a strange blue tint, a long face, and most annoying of all, my crimson eyes, the hue visible even in nearly no lighting whatsoever. I had passed out after throwing half my clothes off the night before; it was a long, arduous ride from the X House to this new city, this place I didn't have a name for yet.
"Shit," I mumbled, twisting the sink's knob for cold water, but to no gain. That's what I got for stumbling into the cheapest motel in town, I supposed. I gave up on washing my face, and instead went to gather up my clothes that were strewn on the floor. Then I happened to notice the bloody smell still staining the shirt and jacket; I chucked them both into a trashcan in a corner of the room and fumbled around in the dark for my duffel bag to grab a new shirt.
Something clicked on in my head, my brain starting to wake up. I was in one of the shadiest parts of town, most likely, and I remembered that I had parked my bike outside in the open. Out in the open with my duffel bag on the seat.
Suddenly, I heard an engine roar close by, right outside.
I nearly tore the blinds off the window to confirm my fears; some asshole was trying to steal my bike.
I shouted out before I had even lifted up the windowpane:
"HEY, MOTHERF—HEY!"
He was already making off with it, the tires squealing on the pavement as it left the parking lot.
I leaped out the second-floor window without hesitation, hoping in desperation that I could catch him. Thankfully I was still wearing my boots, and the hit my feet took on the ground wasn't as painful as I expected it to be.
I cursed and yelled and shouted, sprinting after my motorbike and praying that the guy would at least drop my duffel bag. But ultimately, after I chased him several blocks down the street, he got away—and there I was, a half-naked, cussing idiot, with only my guns holstered on my belt, and no extra clothes, supplies or means of transportation.
"Clyde will find me first at this rate," I griped, frantically searching for a quick way to get myself out of this mess.
I guess someone either heard my commotion, or they had noticed the panting, cussing, sweaty, shirtless man clenching his hair on the side of the road, because a woman's voice behind me inquired, "Are you all right, sir?"
I whirled around to find a pretty face, staring with a raised eyebrow at my stressed expression. She looked like a punk; a pair of tinted red glasses, a torn shirt, torn jeans, and short hair dyed blue and cropped at the base of her neck, as well as several ear piercings all indicated a tomboyish type of girl. Despite that, her figure was very feminine, and at the moment she had her hands firm on her hips, glaring at me with intensely bright, green eyes.
"So?" She said, still waiting for an answer, "What happened? If that guy pinched your stuff, I got the license num—"
"That was my stuff AND my bike he made off with."
"Oh?" Her glare morphed into a curious stare. "In that case, I still think I can help you."
"Come again?"
She scoffed at me. "I said I can help you, if you want it."
This chick's just an ordinary kid, I thought. She's got no business with me.
"'S all right," I replied, and trying not to sound too sarcastic I added, "I really doubt that someone like you could help me out right now."
Suddenly, a fury lit up those eyes of hers, and she marched forward, standing on the tips of her toes to get as close as she could to my face.
"Listen to me, asshole, I'm not just another stupid bimbo prancing around town," she spat. I was taken aback, unaware that stupid bimbos like her even had the brain capacity to get pissed off. I stayed composed.
"I never said you WERE. All I'm saying is, I don't need your help, so don't get all worked up. I'm leaving now, so have a nice day, ma'am."
I turned to walk away, passing the girl as I went, but then froze in my tracks when she spoke in a low tone:
"What if I told you that an X House member was the guy that stole your bike?"
Now it was my turn to start staring.
"What did you say?"
The girl leaned over to take me by the hand and said, "Let's talk at my place."
I was skeptical, of course, but since I had nothing else to go on, I simply complied, following the young woman towards an apartment complex on the next block.
***
I was inside a very…colorful living space. I'd swear that the damn girl was a freak; I couldn't see how she managed to find her own bedroom, with the piles of clothes, dishes and random little devices and trinkets and junk she had lying around. But there were some noticeable items that caught my attention; old music CDs, a whole shelf full of them from the floor to the ceiling that were ancient relics a thousand years old, and three computers, the kind that a person had to type with a keyboard manually. In this day and age, with touch-screens and voice-operated systems, I didn't understand why this girl used keyboards and compact discs. But I didn't get the chance to question it, because she immediately dragged me next to the one clean spot in the apartment, her sofa, and shoved me onto it.
"Sit, stay, I'm gonna go grab you a shirt," she ordered, and skipped off to another room. A minute later she came back and tossed me an oversized, red t-shirt, which I immediately threw on.
"Thanks," I said.
"Don't thank me for that. I just didn't want you sitting around my house shirtless. I'm just glad you kept your pants on." She snickered, and I raised an eyebrow.
"Were you watching me the whole time?"
"From the moment you jumped out the motel window, yeah," she answered. "It was coincidence, really, 'cause I was actually spying on the guy who stole your bike."
"Why? What does an X House member have anything to do with you?"
For a moment, she lowered her eyes in thought.
"Well? I thought you were going to tell me."
She raised her head, saying, "I know. But now you're demanding that I tell you just how I myself am involved…I'm afraid that's a secret."
I'd expected her to say that much, but now I was more curious in her involvement than I was in getting my bike back. I decided to be sly about my questioning:
"Okay, well, tell me who the guy that stole my bike was."
"His first name's Enrique. He's the leader of one of X House's factions, the main drug unit. Apparently, there was an attack at the main HQ down south, three days ago. It was a mass murder spree by one of their own members, and all but one of them was killed. An outside spy had witnessed this event, and the news spread quickly to the other factions. X House's leader, Clyde Terrance, was the sole survivor, and his whereabouts are currently unknown. But the remaining factions are now on a desperate search for him…as well as on a manhunt for the mass-murderer."
I couldn't have been more baffled if I had made an effort. Who WAS this woman? How did she have access to this kind of information?
"Excuse me," I said, "Just how—"
"How do I know all of this? Well, all right, I guess I'll tell you my secret, just because you look so curious. Let's just say that…I'm a pretty good hacker. One of the only hackers left in the world, actually. I've got three illegally set up old manual computers so that I can bypass government overseers that keep watch on the new electronic systems that most other people use."
She twirled around a short lock of her deeply blue hair, an innocent smile playing across her lips. I knew the reason behind her smirk.
"And you, Metal, are the mass-murderer, enemy to every X House member in the country."
She even knew my code name. I just had to sigh.
"Yes, that bit of info you have is correct. But I don't feel obligated to tell you why I did what I did…other than I'm still after Clyde."
"And that's all you need to tell me. I can't say that I know for sure where Clyde is, but I can show you where your stuff is stashed." She smiled coyly.
I relaxed my stiff posture a little. "This Enrique knows who I am. That's got to be the reason why he took my bike—he's trying to lure me into a trap."
What lingered at this point now, was the question of what kind of trap was lying in wait for me.
***
The girl insisted that I should wait for at least another day, in order to make preparations. She was to come along, for she had a stealthy plan in mind for obtaining my bike without falling for Enrique's so-called 'trap', and perhaps even implementing another idea she had in mind.
"You should try and take down this faction, too," she said. "The drug scene around here has gotten way out of hand because of the X House, you know."
I didn't say anything to that. But then I realized that she was doing all the talk, so I asked her a simple question:
"You haven't told me your name yet. You know mine, so, what's yours?"
"My name…?" She gave me a puzzled look, as if it were a strange thing to ask. "My name is Maye. Yeah…"
She took her gaze off to another direction. "We've been talking a while. Are you getting hungry?"
"I guess. Can you cook?"
"Naw, are you kidding? I'd be a fatty if I could cook for myself. I usually order takeout."
I didn't object to that idea; I couldn't cook either. We ended up ordering pizza, but were suddenly left with nothing much else to talk about during the half-hour wait for food.
I had begun to drift off into a daydream-like stupor when a melodious sound floated through my ears.
"Guitar…?" I muttered, opening my eyes.
"Guitar," Maye answered. At first, I thought she had put in one of her old CDs, but to my surprise, she had actually picked up an acoustic guitar, and was plucking a familiar, classical tune.
"You can play Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' on guitar?" I said, thoroughly impressed.
"Yes. I taught myself how to play classical music. I can play anything, really. How else do you think I earned the cash to afford all my junk?" She smiled a half smile.
She sure likes to grin, I thought.
I listened to her playing, which had tones full of emotion, yet somehow relaxed and controlled. When the song finished, I granted her a little applause.
"Thankyouverymuch," she said in a mock-Elvis Presley voice, laughing.
The doorbell rang.
"Food's here!"
She set down her guitar, grabbed a ten-dollar bill from her pocket, and opened the door for the delivery boy, smiling politely while taking the pizza box out of his hands and replacing it with the cash. The boy gave her an odd look as he left (I couldn't think of anyone who still used cash, though it was still legal,) but Maye paid him no more mind, for she had already grabbed a slice out of the box and was ferociously chewing on it.
"Bon appetite," she said with a full mouth, placing the box in front of me. I grabbed a slice and ate it in silence, watching Maye pace around the room, grabbing another pizza slice, sitting down at one of her PC's, and chatting small talk and plans to me even though I gave her no replies. Eventually it got dark, and I finally said something.
"I'm getting tired. We have a long day tomorrow, and a tough job tomorrow night."
"That's true. Is the couch comfy enough for you?"
"Yeah."
"Good, 'cause I don't like sharing my bed. Unless you need a really good night's rest—I sleep like a baby on that thing."
"'S all right. I'll be fine here."
"Okay, then. Sleep well. I'm showering before I sleep—I know I'm sexy, but no peeking!" She winked at me, jogging off to the bathroom. I chuckled slightly.
"Right."
I stretched myself out on the sofa, pretending to drift off, listening for the sounds of Maye going into her room. Ten minutes went by, and then I heard a door click shut.
I watched the old clock that hung on the wall to my left, waiting for another ten minutes. When I was sure that Maye would be fast asleep, I arose from my lethargic position.
I reloaded my guns' ammo, and practiced a couple quick-draws. After that, I silently went to grab a black, leather jacket from Maye' coat rack, hoping she wouldn't mind as long as I brought it back, and stepped over to the open window on the other side of the room.
She'll get herself killed if she tags along. Sorry, girl. Gotta go alone.
A breeze swept past me as I jumped out, taking off into the night.
***
"UGH!"
So grunted the guard I had sniped from behind the drug faction building, which was just a huge hotel building that they had bought out. I darted over to the crumpled-up body and dragged it into a shadowed alleyway. Then I cautiously stepped through the front doorway, which, as Maye had mentioned, was actually the safest spot to enter—after all, one would usually expect intruders from the roof or the back of the building.
The inside still kept it's hotel lobby look as a cover, rather than being remodeled to look more like a gathering place for gangs; an impressive stone fountain, gushing water from a spout into the little round pool beneath it gave off a pale reflection in the dim lighting, and for a moment it obscured the view of a receptionist's desk and two elevators in the walls on either side of it.
A nice cover at that, I thought.
Like a noiseless wind without trees to rustle through, I half-walked, half-ran over to one of the elevators, planning to find the basement, when—
I cringed, nearly jumping when a hand tapped my shoulder.
"Shhh, Don't shoot."
I sighed, slapping my hand on my forehead.
"Maye," I whispered, "what the HELL do you think you're doing?"
"I should ask you the same thing."
"This is idiotic of you—"
"I'M not the one who's being idiotic, idiot. YOU'RE the one who took off without bothering to take the blueprint map."
I turned to face her as she held up a little device; after tapping a few key buttons, an image projected into the air. It was a map of the building, something I admittedly had forgotten about.
"Why didn't you show this to me before?" I asked.
"Because I knew you would try to take off alone."
Maye wasn't as much of a dumb bimbo as I had first thought. I sighed again, leaving out the sarcastic note to it.
"All right, you win," I resigned. "I guess I still need your help. And before you ask, yes, I DO plan on taking out this whole damn place, but only after I get my bike."
Maye folded her arms and nodded. "I understand. But tell you what; I've already got this place memorized, so if I lend you the map, will you go take out Enrique?"
"But—"
"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to your bike." She winked, walking past me to get to the elevator on the left side of the desk. "This lift goes to the lower levels, including the underground garage. The other one will take you to where Enrique is. But there are mobs of guards, so try to be stealthy about it. That way we can get this done without making a huge commotion…"
She trailed off, waiting for a response. I told her, "Sure. I'll be careful."
The elevator door slid open, and Maye stepped inside, quickly tossing me the map device after she did.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Hm?"
"I'll be needing my jacket back, as soon as this is over with." She grinned at me before the door closed again.
I looked at the still-activated map, confirming Enrique's location. I then followed Maye's example and went inside the other elevator, punching the code for the fourth floor.
I leaned back and waited as I felt gravity shift, the weight of the high-tech, claustrophobia-inducing box making it seem as if I was sinking and being lifted up at the same time. I shoved the map-device in Maye's jacket-pocket, the image's faint glow now smothered. I drew my right handgun, my semi-automatic fondly named "Storm", fiddling with it and performing a few fancy throws and flips here and there.
This is taking too long.
I folded my arms, wishing I had a cigarette. I remembered that I left an almost full pack in my duffel bag…which, of course, was still with my bike.
I thought of Maye.
She'd really better take care of herself.
A little mechanical beep sounded, and the door slid open, with two armed guards waiting on the other side.
"It's show time," I said, a slight smirk on my face.
***
There sure were a lot of guards for one building. Well, one floor. Even just for one section of one floor. My point is there WERE an insane number of guards, waiting for my attack, probably as Enrique had planned—but the guards were dumb, and I, on the contrary, was not.
One by one I took them down; but since Maye told me to be stealthy, my bullets would be saved for the ringleader. In place of gunfire was the sound of necks snapping, spines cracking, and bodies slumping to the hard floor, barely able to utter even a gasp before their quick, painless deaths.
"Sweet dreams," I cooed as I hand-chopped the neck of another guard.
I took occasional glances at the map, circling around the floor trying to find Enrique's room. I kicked down several doors, all rooms stashed with piles of drugs, and one room even held a gigantic safe which I assumed was where they kept at least some of the money.
Eventually, after taking out another two guys in my way, I found the rat I was looking for; though, apparently, I had interrupted something.
"Ugh," I groaned, "get a room, you two. One with better security."
Enrique and his whore both screamed, and the startled man tried to fumble around for something. But whatever it was, he never had a chance; one shot from me, and his brain matter smeared the walls, as well as the bedspread.
I nodded to the prostitute as I left, explaining, "That's what he got for stealing," and slammed the door behind me.
"Next item on the list: find Maye," I decided.
I wasn't sure whether her job was going to be as effortless as mine was, but I assumed that she was at least heading outside of the building with my bike by now. I jogged over to the nearest window, broke my code of stealth and charged through. Regardless of the shattered glass, I managed to avoid any scratches, and I just left myself fall, landing catlike on the sidewalk below.
Brushing off broken glass pieces, I once again took out the map, and puzzled over the location of the garage, which was a floor below ground. The garage exit was actually a block away from behind the building, so I started heading there.
As I turned around the street corner, I saw that I didn't have to go any further.
"Hey!" I called out to Maye, who beamed brightly as she rode my bike, proud of herself.
"Told you I would get it!" she shouted back. She hit the brake and waited for me to approach.
"Thanks," I said, panting a little. For some odd reason, all that I did inside the drug-house didn't tire me out, and yet now I felt weary and out of shape standing next to Maye, who hopped off the bike and gave it a pat.
"This thing's awesome—it looks custom made."
"Yeah, it is. I built it myself, actually. It used to belong to someone I knew. I added a bunch of parts, and I give it a good tune-up every couple of weeks."
She giggled girlishly.
"What?" I said. "What's so funny?"
"I didn't think you had any hobbies, or anything. Other than your job…whatever that is."
So, as I had guessed, she honestly didn't know about my real objective. Or maybe she was just good at pretending.
"So…" She gazed at me with wide eyes, fluttering her lashes behind her glasses.
"Nu-uh," I said firmly, "I'm not telling you what I do for a…living."
"Please—"
"Don't give me that. I'm thankful you helped me out, and I also did what you asked me, so I'm afraid I'm done here. I have nothing else to tell you."
Suddenly she seemed forlorn, though it was subtle.
"I see," she said softly. "But…"
I could have just hopped on my bike and taken off right then and there, but something, guilt, pity, whatever it was, forced me to stay and listen.
"But?"
Her eyes lit up as she enlightened me:
"I wanted to show you around the city. Not THIS part of the city—the exciting part. You know, not the run-down, hopeless part. I wanted to take you to the bar I work at, to watch me play some music. Me and my buddies always have a good time—you would, too."
I was surprised that she wanted to hang out with me so badly. We'd only known each other for what, a day and a night?
Though somehow, I couldn't refuse. But I didn't say anything right away, either. She prompted me:
"Would you—"
"Stay?"
"Just for another day or two. That's all I'm asking…"
I softened my seemingly cold expression, giving her a half-smile.
"Well, why not. I was in a hurry, but maybe not. I don't mind."
Then, she just laughed. A joyful laugh—it was strange, to me, how someone in such a shit-faced, crime-ridden city could be so profusely optimistic. Her cheerfulness was pleasant contrast to the surrounding dreariness, however; and so I, in my own little way, joined in, giving a good chuckle.
An idea struck me.
"Say," I started, "maybe we could—"
Then my eyes widened. I told Maye to move, but—
BOOM.
Maye's laughing face contorted into one of pain as blood surged from her chest, her heart. She fell forward, her eyes blank and her red-tinted glasses sliding off her nose; I caught her slender frame, knowing that one shot was all it took.
It was too late for her.
I gasped, holding the girl that was so vivacious, so full of infinite energy only mere seconds ago. I looked up in horrified rage to see Clyde Terrance, my target, ten feet away and sneering at the sight of a meaningless death.
***
October 13th, 10 A.M., I checked out of the motel room, walking outside along the parking lot to my bike in long strides. I settled myself on it, revving the engine, putting on gas.
"Come to the outskirts of Radial City," Clyde had said. "We will settle the score there."
I adjusted the red shades sitting on my nose, as well as the collar of the leather jacket on my shoulders. I revved the bike once more, so loudly that the engine's snarl echoed forth several streets down.
"Settle the score," I murmured, speeding away from Maye's city, the city I still had no name for.
exhausted
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