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Envia Dome. This spherical, habitable dome that acted as the ozone layer for the human population to live inside was ironclad evidence that humanity evolved greatly in the same 200 years.
A technological marvel that set apart all the things that they’ve done on Earth for thousands of years, but it wasn’t just Mars was terraformed and now inhabited by humans. In fact, almost every planet scientist thought to be habitable in the next 100 years were, you said it, also inhabited by humans. Another fact that humanity evolved throughout the years.
With that being said, almost every planet in the solar system was habitable, in fact, planets outside of the solar system has been conquered by humans. You could say that Humanity now was a Type II civilization.
-
The Ubashi Plaza, the front face of the Envia Dome. Most people interpret it as a touristic place for it resembling the square of the once crowded and bloated Akihabara in Tokyo, Japan. It was even crowded on off-days, with people going on shopping sprees specifically on Thursday, the day of Purchase Evening.
Ubashi Plaza can be a hub for shopping and souvenir-collecting as most of the stores located there are selling stuff for vehemently cheap prices. But it’s also notoriously known for small pick-pocket crimes and territorial gang bangers lurking around in the darkened nights.
And apparently, it’s also a place to arrest or kill runners.
In the already crowded docking station of the Envia Dome, which was supported by a smaller spherical dome attached to the upper part, approached a lone yet pristine looking ship to one of the docking bays that were spread across the Docking Dome.
The only ways people can access the main docking station, or as local people call it, Central Ship Station - it is either by taking a 200-meter staircase, hoverbikes or elevators.
Most people would think that this ship, which had now docked and contacted the ground, was a normal carrier ship. But this ship had a large White Eye logo on its wings. A faction. What was its purpose coming here?
“Ugh... Damn you, Strad. Leaving this stupid mission up to me alone. This will be the last mission I do without you.”
A person with black hair and baggy white coat climbed out of his personal fighter ship, which as the ship that recently docked. The hatch-door was fully opened and as he climbed out, it automatically closed, leaving no chance for any robbers or bandits to loot the ship.
Looking back at the hatch that just closed, he pulled his right sleeve up – pressing a small button on his watch.
The watch instantly reacted to his touch and activated as a radar to trace a target he was looking for. His steps down the staircase grew gradually louder as he pondered on the fact that this... target he was tasked to take down, was no easy task.
The radar traced all the way to the Ubashi Plaza, and then stopped tracing any further. This could only mean one thing. The target was not moving and stood in one place. The White Eye person smirked faintly as he noticed that he creeped in closer and closer to the target’s location.
Meanwhile, the target walked around Ubashi Plaza, having recently completed a contract. He used his downtime to wind down before he was to continue with his next contract. His hands were tightly in the pockets of his jacket – one holding his wallet and the other the keys to his ship.
The White Eye person going down the staircase hastily made his way down. A few seconds later, he touched the ground. Knowing he had no time to lose, he immediately used his I.D. to trick a transporting bot into giving him a free ride to the Ubashi Plaza.
The transporter bots acted like taxi’s and always remained at one place, in the Docking Dome. They were particularly used for quick travel.
With nothing to do, the target mostly just wandered in circles – looking at the wide array of stores and paths to go down. Most of the path’s lead to more of the smaller and run-down stores, while some rarer paths lead to the outside of the Ubashi Plaza. With a short, faint grumble, he chose to walk down one of the smaller streets to avoid attention.
Mars was mostly human, and his pointed ears gave him a sense of vulnerability. This change of race would be picked up on quick especially if he didn’t conceal it. This hastened pace only further strengthened his paranoia, as he walked down the smaller street.
-
The White Eye member just arrived at the plaza – jumping out of the transporter bot carriage. “Hm!” exerting a small noise. He started powerwalking around to find his target.
“Mrgh... What is this, an infestation?” He reacted frustratingly to the crowd. There were so many people. So many people in fact, that he couldn’t see where he was going. But there was another problem. He would hate to draw attention to himself for obvious reasons.
White Eye isn’t welcomed by most factions around the galaxy, especially the leading faction; Dark Intrinium.
The target walked through the cleverly hidden slums between buildings, his boots clanking on the metal platforms that made up the floor.
This noise attracted the gaze of small huddles of gangs on the sides of the streets, almost as if their gaze was to size him up, or to deliberately attack him the moment they can. Some gangs had blatantly kept their weaponry visible in a way to show off or to tell the viewer to not ‘fuck’ with them at all.
He emerged from the gang infested alleys and into a nicely lit street on the outskirts of the plaza. It was mostly hidden due to the adult services they offered, in which the government that controlled the Envia Dome thought was bad for travel or economy businesses.
The target headed towards a bar – intending to spend some of his paycheck on what he considered a well-earned break.
-
The White Eye hitman traced a mark at a bar. He would speed himself up towards the direction specifically.
He kept his guard up for any possible attacks heading his way, since the radar White Eye used was notoriously known for failing to give up a precise location of their victims.
The target walked inside, taking in the cozy atmosphere and the strong smell of various alcoholic beverages. He walked up to the counter, sitting down on a slightly bent barstool and waited for the bartender to finish attending to a group on the corner of the counter.
The hitman walked inside the bar shortly after, smirking under his turtleneck coat, he walked over to take a seat close to the target. He intentionally left one seat open in between as a gap in case the target knew if they were being hunted, possibly to avoid getting the first hit should they fight.
However, the hitman stood at a whooping age of 24, he could welcome himself to a drink. He too, thought that a small drink wouldn’t hurt during his manhunt.
The bartender slowly dragged himself towards the new two ‘humble’ faces and forced a smile upon them.
“’s there anythin’ ah’ can get ya’ folks?” The bartender involuntarily spat as he said, with a thick accent sounding almost as if he was choking on a small piece of food. It sounded like gurgling, but nothing to the point of being unbearable to hear.
The target was the first one to answer his question. “I’ll take some Jirubian Spirit.” Leaving out the ‘please’, he pressed two near-unnoticeable buttons on the side of his mask – taking it off and clipping it onto his bandolier, using a fold-out clip. He then took his card out.
“’S ‘n acquired taste, ah’ believe! Yer comin’ from them Jirubian parts, ‘m?” The bartender spoke, albeit loudly.
He put the glass down in front of him, taking a bottle out and pouring out a pale sanguine liquid, dropping a few ice-cubed inside for an extra chill. It’s clear that he did this for a living, as he did it with pristine accuracy and extreme elegancy.
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Most ‘sane’ people would think he was an alcoholic, though.
When the bartender finished pouring this nice lad a drink, he put down a circular pad used to pay via card.
The pointy eared man held his card over the circular pad. Four shimmering green lights appeared followed by a subtle deep, signifying that the drink was paid for. When he was done, he took a long sip of his drink.
It was either that he was craving Jirubian Spirit, or just wanted to get drunk before his next contract. Either way, it didn’t matter for the pointy eared, harsh-spoken man.
The bartender smiled before putting the pad down on a storage unit behind the bar, noticing the other person sitting down, he leaned forward, asking.
“Yer’ here ta shit or ta drink?” The bartender deliberately patted his shoulder, hard to wake him up. The ‘hitman’ was busy looking at his watch. The shoulder had sent shivers down his spine, waking him up. He looked at the bartender, and then eyed his target next to him for a split-second.
“Uh... I’ll... have the Nuvarian ColdBall.” He audibly muttered as he looked at the menu behind the bartender.
“Comin’ raiiight up!” The bartender blurted out, taking all the drinks back under the counter besides one. He grabbed another glass and placed it in front of the watch fixated person, pouring in their selected drink. He then dropped a few ice cubes elegantly.
Reaching with a free hand, he put the circular pad in front of them before walking to a new customer who had just walked into a booth on the other side of the room.
The bar had little traffic today, only 6 or 7 people in total inside at the time. On Thursdays, the number would triple, or quadruple. Since it was a Wednesday, it was an easy drink and leave experience.
The hitman took a sip, occasionally eyeing his target next to him for a brief second, before eyeing his watch. It was a loop. First, he took a sip, then looked at his target, before finishing his loop with a small eye drop to the watch. It almost felt like his body was tensing up. Was he scared?
The target took another sip, coughing into a balled hand. The Jirubian Spirit was a drink only for the wicked, it seemed. The drink had an aftertaste, or rather, a smell so strong that it could make you drunk in seconds.
In addition, this drink burned, a lot. It burned so much that drinking was torture.
Taking another ship before repeating a cough into a balled hand, he then turned his head slightly towards the hitman. This time, he noticed that the hitman was in a series of suspicious looking at him, his own drink and his own watch.
Lightly sighing into his drink, he said. “The hat isn’t for sale.” He said with a heavy breath. He examined them. The hitman had short black hair with little to no bangs.
He wore a near oversized white turtleneck coat with black pants with intricate designs planted onto it. Nowhere around his body screamed a tattoo or a sigil of a faction. The coat he was wearing concealed all his identity, except his face.
“Really? ...Shame.” He said nonchalantly, sipping his drink. The Nuvarian ColdBall was far from an alcoholic beverage. Instead, it was a nullified alcoholic drink which meant that there was no alcohol inside it. It had a blueberry-banana taste and inside his glass was a big ball of candy that he could eat afterwards.
The target let out a singular laugh before going back to his drink.
“Say, you wouldn’t happen to spot any suspicious individuals around this area?”
“Depends on who’s asking.”
The target answered almost instantly, not batting a single eye on his hitman. Unaware of the danger he was in, he sipped his drink, coughing every time after he drinks it.
“Well. I live around these parts. Have been for quite some time, so I’m not exactly an important individual in this case.”
He took a break on his little story by sipping his drink.
“I’ve seen a couple flyers lying around about a suspicious individual that the local police want to crack down. Y’know... doing the neighbourly thing and helpin’ out.” He tried to redirect the question softly, feeling a small sense of fear upon saying ‘local’, indicating that he might not be around these parts unfortunately.
The target slightly turned his head towards the hitman. “That is a neighbourly thing to do. Not to mention, dangerous too... For the untrained, of course. This area of town is notorious for its crime rate – pickpocketing, extortion, human trafficking... cold murder.”
The target noticed their change of subject, but really was just too lazy to bring it up. After all, he wanted nothing to ruin his downtime. He wanted to enjoy his drink, with no sense of insecurity or danger looming around.
“Hahaha... Is it?” He laughed a bit, stirring his drink around with his finger. His right arm, however, was twitching.
“Indeed... Especially for those that aren’t well.” The target didn’t notice his twitching at first but then gestured to the hitman’s right arm, before taking another swig of his drink. Finishing, he asked.
“What’s that, Parkinson’s?”
“Not at all. The drink shivers me quite a bit. Must be an after effect of the ColdBall.” He responded quickly, as if to cover something up. The target didn’t notice it, however.
The target smiled, and then broke into a slight chuckle, ‘noticing’ his innocent demeanour. “It should. The ice they use is all imported from Europa. Purest dry ice you can come by.” The target would look at them again, trying to see if there was anything that could give away any allegiances.
“Heh. No wonder it’s pricey. It still delivers, nonetheless. Top quality drink.” He finished up his drink, putting the ball of candy inside his mouth, munching it. It had a sweet taste, which exploded into an exotic mix of Mango, Dragon Fruit and Durian.
“Mmm... this tastes good.” He said, still munching.
The target quickly chugged the rest of his drink, before turning on his stool to face them properly. It seemed that the target had a lot of questions for this mysterious person. Why were they so open to a conversation with a person that IS, wanted by the local police here. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he had his reasons to suspect.
He leaned on the backrest gently while slightly resting his right arm on the counter, lifting one eyebrow.
“You know... While my line of work isn’t known for its intellect, I’m smart enough to notice your constant staring. It’s jarring. So let me ask you this. What do you really want? Half of the people in this city are spineless cowards or petty criminals.”
His tone deepened, while questioning the hitman’s entire attitude from the beginning. He was too lazy to bring it up, but now he was interested enough to point it out.
But now, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of danger looming around. Not that he was scared or anything. He was one of the most fearsome beings in the galaxy.
He was just annoyed that should the target do something, his downtime would’ve been ruined, and that would’ve set him off.
However, there was something up with this young man, and his thoughts only delved deeper and deeper into ‘what if he’s here to kill me?’, since his body language was extremely tense and hostile.
“That hat.”
The hitman humoured, looking at it.
“...Heh! Sure, buddy. Like I said, the hat ain’t for sale.”
The target said in an intentionally dry way. If there was any way to try and pry information from him, it would be now. But second by second, minute by minute. This very demeanour that the hitman had, this very moment that he stared back at his watch. This very moment that he dropped his entire act, was the moment that the target knew that he knew that he was-
“Hired by the White Eye previously, were you not?” The hitman finally dropped his ‘innocent’ act as he didn’t want to prolong this any further.
“...”
“Right to the chase, nice change of pace.” The target simply smiled, as if he pitied his interrogation skills. He sat straight up on his chair now, his body tensing up as well.
“You’re right. Me and White Eye have a brief history. What about it?”
“Just came here to do my job.” The hitman finally revealed his task to the target. The hitman was here to kill his target. He pulled his right sleeve up, ripping the watch out that was consistently vibrating. Hence his arm previously shaking.
It was a blatant lie, but it was a good one.
“And that job is?”
He looked around the bar before turning his gaze back at the target, not breaking eye contact at all. The bar was mostly empty, with a few people having left. The bartender was in the staff room restocking the drinks. It was at this moment that the hitman’s body screamed ‘extreme hostility’, as he said:
“To kill you.” He then looked at the circular pad which had yet to have the drink paid for. He paid for the drink, swiftly taking his card out of the pocket and hovered above it, before setting the circular pad aside.
“Huh.” The target lightly scoffed. “I suppose killing one of Nextellar’s Premier Board Council wasn’t enough?” He gently took his mask off his bandolier and put it on. “Y’know, that’s a little poetic. The very guys who gave me my career are now attempting to rip it away.”
The hitman stood up from the rugged barstool and stretched his arms.
“It’s a complicated profession, ‘s what I like to say.”
“Can I at least know what made your Upper Echelon think that this was a good idea?” He stood up as well, adjusting his hat and jacket. He had his ‘revolver’ on stand-by, his hand hovering around it, ready to unholster it the moment the target captures danger with his eyes.
The hitman just shrugged.
The target sighed. “Must we really do this? It’s such a nice bar. The aesthetic, the smell of alcohol, the nice bartender. Don’t have to ruin it all, eh?”
The hitman got into a battle stance, which resembled that of trained White Eye fighters. He was one of them, obviously. However, this battle stance felt advanced, like they were one of them for a long time.
“Nice things blip away eventually, Rakoji Kovac.” The hitman said his name.