Silence filled the office... aside from the man’s teary-eyed gagging on my shotgun barrel and the electrical sparking of a light fitting that had taken damage in the fight.
As confusion and disbelief slowly faded from the hero’s face, she held up a hand to freeze me in place - figuratively. I hadn’t budged, and had no intention of being anywhere else.
“Woah, woah, woah.” She shook her head. “You did this? What the fuck, Dubs?”
I shrugged. She was a superhero. It was quite likely she would either kill me outright for the murders or try to arrest me. Neither option would work out well for the both of us. Well, both options ended with me dead, if I were to be honest with myself. Still, she hadn’t worked out which side that chip was going to fall.
Likewise, I seemed to be willing to see what she had decided on before I completed my contract. Perhaps it was the injuries slowing my mind slightly. With the adrenaline fading away, a burning ache had started to grow up most of my left side. Lost a modest amount of blood, but was it enough to prevent me from being as sharp as usual?
All it would take was a thought, and the man would be no more. Contract complete, even if Rockslide took my head off a split second after.
“What are the chances? Shit.” Her brow furrowed, and she ran her hand through her short red hair. “League sent me over here on a mission to bust the leader. The guy currently fellating your arm was in charge of a bunch of gang murders the other day.”
That was quite the coincidence. Usually, my work would never take me on the same path as a hero. Boss made sure of it, I was certain. That my new neighbor had turned up to the scene of the massacre was either dumb luck or someone was having a good laugh at my expense.
Still, I had a job to do.
The gangster squealed and choked as I pressed my gun slightly further into his mouth. I was trying to prompt her to make a decision, even if mine was the same either way. Probably he’d be requesting the hero to take him in, if he could get any words out. Arrest might be preferable to the alternative.
“Stop!”
I turned a glare toward her. Had she decided?
She sighed. “Look. I’m kinda on the League’s shitlist at the moment. I could really use a win. You’ve… what are you really doing here? Vigilante anti-hero? Are you part of this criminal underworld? Just a crazy psychopath?”
Nothing legal, that was for sure. From what I knew, the League of Heroes kept a tight leash on their assets. It didn’t surprise me that the brash woman was probably one of their problem children. I gave her a shrug, much to the detriment of the man with my weapon tickling his tonsils - as well as the burning pain in my left arm.
“Look how fucking bust up you are. You need to get to a hospital or something.”
I shook my head.
“You’re not making this easy on me, Dubs.” The conflict was easy to read in her eyes. I was too jaded to assume she was actually one of the good heroes. “Just… let me take in the leader and I’ll forget about all the rest. But you need help, and I need this bust.”
She must really be in the shit to let me go with not as much as a slap on the wrist. I didn’t trust that. Few well-adjusted people could let something like this go. She saw all the bodies, knew that my arm wasn’t just for show. That this wasn’t a one-off event.
What she was asking was impossible. No chance I’d fail my contract, even If I died right after.
I shook my head.
“Fuck. Please, Dubs.” She pulled a face. “How’s this? We’ll flip for it?” From somewhere, she took out a coin and held it in her hand. “You can call it okay? Or… sorry, no - I’ll have to.”
Something cliche about leaving the fate of the man to chance, seeing as we were in the backrooms of a casino. Probably would have rubbed at my humors if I weren’t lethargic from the growing pain in my side, and the annoyance at myself for allowing Roxy to talk at me for this long when I was on the clock.
Her hand extended, the coin balanced on her thumb. “Heads, I get the con, tails, he is all yours.”
My head was starting to feel fluffy. Slowing down. I maintained a neutral glare at her.
With a sharp ping, she flipped the coin into the air.
I pulled the trigger before it even hit its apex.
----------------------------------------
My car screamed into life as I hit the pedals. A second wave of reserve stims would keep me lucid enough to survive the ride home. Good thing there was little in terms of traffic, and it was mostly a straight line out of the city.
Ending up wrapped around a pylon or civilian vehicle would be rather anticlimactic after the standoff with the super.
Roxy hadn’t killed me outright, which I felt was a mistake on her part. I had certainly learned a few new swear words as she constantly berated me from the office and all the way to the exit. Ear plugs, surprisingly, didn’t help that much. She had to stay put - wasn’t allowed to leave the crime scene and would have to report that someone had done the job for her.
She might turn me in, and that would be the second smartest thing she could do. I needed to update Boss on this new turn of events… he would advise me to go on the run, perhaps. Starting over wasn’t ideal, but dying was worse. In my current state, I would die before hitting the next city. I’d take the chance of stopping for rest and maintenance first.
The super seemed to think I owed her favors, just because she was constantly trying to make friends with me. It wasn’t something I needed or cared for. I completed my contract; I waited for the next contract. Repeat until I received the death that was long overdue.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
A real 'friend' would understand that my work came above all, I assumed.
Streetlights washed over my struggling vehicle in pulses. I had long figured I was living on borrowed time. Ever since I woke up with these augments five years ago. Didn’t even remember my life before whatever accident had ruined my body. I owed Boss for saving me and would do his will until I couldn’t. Only when I met my second end would the debt be paid off.
Wasn’t like I could filter back into normal society looking like this. Even less so after the years of training to be a hitman. Difficult to put warmth back in the furnace once it had frosted over.
Events of the day had me more morose than usual, but I couldn’t pin down why exactly. Roxy had brought complication into my normally simple life. And now this angry hero with godly strength lived next door to me. She had the power to stop me, but tried to appeal to my emotions. It was unfair. Underhanded in a way that I didn’t understand.
Better to not dwell on it right now.
The lights of Goldarch faded as I exited toward the outskirts. High-rise buildings fell away to factories and warehouses, then storage yards, before finally dust and rocks. My car eventually slid into the patch of ground some might call a driveway. Yet, I felt no comfort in being home.
I stumbled from the vehicle. The left side of my body was stiff and unresponsive. A glance towards my neighbor and one light was on at the top of her house - bedroom most likely. Stood to reason she might have made it home before me if she could fly or leap great distances. I was half expecting her to be waiting, either to twist my head off or to give me more of her ire.
Didn’t care. Contract complete.
Shuffled myself up to the door, dragging my left foot through the loose gravel. Switched the traps off. Inside and the light came on. Mag and drum unclipped and placed upon the crate before I lugged my body towards the workbench. Another switch and an adjustable spotlight burst into life. I drew out a box that had the medical supplies in.
First up was my hand. The knife wound had mostly closed up already, thanks to the stims. Probably wouldn’t need stitches, so a bandage would do. I pressed a vice onto the edge of the workbench. Bandage dispenser slotted into the top and then I could wrap it around my normal hand. Not as tight as I would have liked, but it would do for what I was able.
I shuffled my chair backward and adjusted the light to look at my leg properly for the first time.
The bodyguard must have had some manner of shotgun too. A flechette launcher, perhaps? Something exotic. Nearly two dozen wound markers still filled with shrapnel. Adjusting the light, it looked as though the same had happened to my chest and left shoulder. Fewer wounds, however, as my many layers of thick clothing had absorbed half the intended projectiles.
From within my medical box, I withdrew a small device. Pale white with stripes of yellow on one side. A handy piece of tech that could remove shrapnel from wounds. It wasn’t exactly surgical in nature, but thankfully I didn’t have the capacity to yell out in pain. Some mixture of special magnet, alongside a high-powered laser. Zap the site of the injury to burst and cauterize the flesh around the shrapnel so the magnet could pull it out. Maybe ‘magnet’ was the wrong term, as it worked on some non-metallic foreign objects.
Something V-Force related, but Boss didn’t exactly give me the instruction manual. Nor would I have read it.
I set to work, my eyes clenched shut every time there was a pop, follow by the clink of the ejected material dropping to the floor. The smell of burned skin filled my nose and my re-breather whirred as I let out a long sigh. I might need to use the vice to repeat the same process on the wounds in my shoulder if my arm couldn’t reach.
After all this, I would need to set about stapling shut the holes in my clothes. Maybe bring out some spare fabric to cover the area. Despite my complaining arm, I tapped at the side of my hydration cannister. Would need to replace that too - combat often drained it quicker than sitting idle.
I placed the shrapnel-remover down on the workbench while the battery recharged. Instead, I brought up my wrist to check the screen. Slowly, I pressed the button with the end of my gun and confirmed that my contract had been completed.
Still hadn’t let Boss know about my new neighbor. It wasn’t even that I didn’t want to - but typing out long messages with a shotgun tired my brain out like nothing else. There was sure to be a back and forth with him asking for more details or giving me a plan of action. I didn’t have the stomach for it.
Especially not with being lightheaded from the contract. I’d wait to see if I died in the night first.
Clean wounds. Replace can. Repair clothing. Maintain arm.
It would be a long night, but once done, I’d be able to sleep for as long as I wanted to. Boss wouldn’t give me anything new tomorrow. I could even put off all the maintenance until the morning if I wanted… but no, I had to do it now.
Perhaps it was just to distract me from the uncomfortable feeling that I had gotten into something that would cause me grief in the near future. There was still a chance that Roxy could flatten my house in the night and take me out that way. A mercy I was unlikely to receive, as she seemed to see me as an ‘innocent’ still.
Did I feel guilty? No. It was difficult to pair my work with such emotions. Apathetic and dissociative was the only way you could kill so much and not break. The super didn’t have the strength to kill so easily, and for that it was a shame she couldn’t get what she needed. I didn’t wish her any hardship. If she would shut the fuck up and leave me alone, she’d be much more palatable.
Perhaps if she was one of the bad heroes, then… no, there was no point rolling my tired brain over such abrasive thoughts.
I replaced my hydration cannister while the tech was still charging up. This near-empty one didn’t have the sediment at the bottom, but I also felt less satiated. For all the things that I could no longer do, enjoying food was probably the one I missed the most.
Syrup-laden pancakes. Steak and veg. Fuck, even a basic toasted cheese sandwich. It was uncomfortable to reminisce over these things - not only because I no longer had the capacity to taste, but everything I had ever eaten was in my before-life. Perhaps the only thing that kept me from losing my sanity over it.
Why I could remember these brief snapshots of food, but little else was neither here nor there. I still had the maturity and knowledge base of an adult rather than a five-year-old. It was just the memories of who I was that stood out of reach.
A sharp hiss as the new cannister clipped in, and I shivered as the first burst of whatever was in them seeped into my system. I risked falling asleep once my body started to process it… but I was pretty sure I’d be alert once I started blasting the shrapnel from my body again.
I paused. A noise from outside. Beneath my goggles, I glowered and turned my head toward the door. Footsteps grinding against loose dust and gravel. Slow and slightly aimless.
Now I felt awake.
Standing from the chair, I took two quiet steps over to my crates. Drum up and clicked into my arm. Racked a shell. Heartbeat was pounding in my chest, expecting that I was about to have a fight against a superhero. A few more steps took me to the door.
One last whirr of a sigh through my re-breather filters, and I flung the door open - gun-arm up and ready.
Pitch darkness returned my glare. I scoured the area for signs of anything… but there was nobody there. The light in Roxy’s house was now off. I waited a few heartbeats, unfocused but alert for the slightest movement or shadowed edge out in the open. Nothing. One last glance around and then I went back in. Closed the door, but kept my brow furrowed.
Clearly, I had started losing it. Rough night. I exhaled, not realizing that I had been holding a breath.
As I stepped back over the other side of the room and unloaded my arm, I heard the footsteps again.
This time at a quicker pace and fading further away from my house, in the direction of where my neighbor lived.
My hand remained gripped to my drum mag for a few minutes as I waited for something to happen. Eventually, the aching wounds in my leg won out, and I relented to resuming my maintenance duties.
Boss wasn’t likely to give me any work tomorrow, but I was certain there would be conflict of some kind.