As the hints of light began to shine through his eyelids, Wil stirred from his light slumber. Not only was he made to sleep lightly because of his dangerous thirst, but also because of the animal stalking him. As he opened his eyes to the sun peeking over the distant mountains, a wave of nausea broke over him as his blurred vision came into focus. He was feeling very weak. Another day without water, and he probably wouldn't last.
Groggily plucking some edible grass to temporarily ease his burning throat, Wil looked down at the furry creature, its face buried into the ground, ears spread out limply to its sides. It had barely moved since the disturbance the previous night. It would have been nice if the animal could lead him to water, but so far it seemed content to follow his footsteps.
The jackalope's ears suddenly perked up and its face popped up from the ground. It stared at Wil for several moments, blinking it eyes sleepily as it stretched its body.
It began to hop towards him, and Wil tensed, ready for a fight. Perhaps it had finally gotten fed up with stalking him. However, it veered off and hopped past him in the direction of the mountains, then looked back at him and stopped. He sighed. He was quickly growing tired of wondering what was going through the creature's head. The more time passed, the deeper he believed this was all just some sort of dream. Perhaps he had gotten injured on a job and fallen into a coma. The pain of thirst felt very real, and his body and mind craved the flavors he had long been accustomed to.
The jackalope continued to watch him from a sidelong glance, as if waiting for something. Wil unsteadily rose to his feet on wobbling legs as his vision distorted once more. Everything he viewed faded in and out in a blurred outline.
Hopping forward the length of several steps, the animal craned its head back at him once more. It was heading in the same direction he had been going himself. Looking that way toward the mountains, he could definitely make out shapes at the base of the mountains, yet his wavering eyesight prevented him from being able to focus. He took a step forward and paused as his body resisted him. He was beginning to die. His body was starting to shut itself off. He felt a strong urge to lie back down and go back to sleep, but he knew that once he closed his eyes he would not be opening them again. He had not imagined that dehydration would be the cause of his death. He at least wanted to go down fighting.
Staggering forward, dragging himself mindlessly across the grasslands, he felt his consciousness fading away. Soon, he was unable to notice the massive trees peeking out from the horizon, nor could he come to the realization that he was being led.
An icy wave crashed into him like a brick wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. As water entered his lungs, he flailed his limbs as his body was dragged along by an unseen force.
Wait. Water?
He ceased breathing, blocking more water from entering his lungs. Normally he would simply float to the surface, but with his body lacking oxygen to keep it afloat, he was sinking instead, not being able to tell up from down as he fought disoreientation.
Wil could see a light through his blurred eyes. Typically, people would tell you not to go toward the light. However, that was now the only thing he had to go by. Knifing through the water, he pulled himself toward the glow as his lungs screamed for relief.
As he broke the surface gasping for breath, he paddled furiously toward the nearest shore while choking and coughing out water. The water was pulling him along steadily, and his aching arms found it difficult to fight the current. All he could do was focus on reaching the shore. Between his ragged breaths and his aching body, he was unable to pay any attention to anything immediately outside his current objective. It reminded him of his work, in which during extremely stressful or intense situations his mind would seem to drift away while his body continued to move on its own. His performance was not in the least bit affected. He had been trained specifically for those types of instances.
Before he knew it, Wil had crawled out from the water and found himself fading in and out of conciousness. He vaguely recalled as if watching through someone else's eyes, gulping down mouthfuls of water before passing out once more. He felt feverish. Unknown colors and shapes swam before his eyes as the world around him spun. At times, he felt he was being carried, a feeling of weightlessness as light and dark traded places repeatedly.
Eventually, all the colors and lights dissapeared, and all that remained was darkness.
It was a large city. It was once known by another name, but after the Rerevolution, it now bore the name of the corporation that owned it. After the disbanding of the central government and a short-lived socialist regime, the most powerful corporations and leaders of industry pooled their resources to stabilize the chaos left by crumbling institutions. While many things could not return to the way they once were, order was restored, and while the idea of law remained, the corporate leaders ruled similarly to kings in their own regions with their own private armies.
Hubbard was a child corporation of the Rozen Group, the central power of the Rozen Territories. Hubbard was an industrial city filled with factories and processing plants and offices, with agricultural areas along its borders. With the rule of the corporations, living conditions had improved particularly for the lower class as more work became available, and while citizens had given up old freedoms and liberties, populations were generally content as their leaders focused on efficiency in their businesses, and anyone who threatened the status quo was dealt with harshly.
Hubbard Tower lay dead center as the seat of local power and commerce. As such, it was heavily secured both by automated defenses and armed guards at regular intervals. Without proper credentials and authorization, normal citizens couldn't even come close. Even so, a small boy stood inside the lobby.
A very official-looking woman in a black suit stood towering over him to the side. Her long black hair was tied into a ponytail and large black sunglasses covered her eyes even though they remained indoors.
The child at her side didn't even come up to her waist. His red hair glistened and stood freshly cut and cleaned, and he was dressed in loosely fitting, hastily procured clothing. His eyes were glued to the black marble floor with his head hung low. A small hand was being firmly grasped by the imposing woman.
There was an audible ding as a glossy elevator door opened and a scrawny, balding man in beige formal attire nearly tripped over himself passing through them.
"What have i said about that step!" The man bellowed at no one in particular. Besides the two guests, a receptionist taking a phone call, and several armed guards, there was no one else in the lobby. Even so, while the boy shuddered, no one else seemed to react at all. The man wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Those familiar with him would note that he seemed to be the kind of man who was always sweating,
The man seemed to have known the pair would already be there, making a beeline straight to them. His blazer was left unbuttoned and a part of his tucked in shirt was hanging out. If one listened closely enough, they could hear him muttering to himself over and over again, "Not my job, not my job, not my job".
"A-agent Spinoza," the man audibly stuttered, holding out his hand. Things quickly got awkward as the woman showed no inclination to accept it, instead remaining motionless with an iron, unreadable expression. After an uncomfortable silence, the man took back his hand, wiping off his sweat once more. "T-the director is currently preoccupied with business matters. I would, of course, be more than happy t-to take that off your hands."
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There was an awkward moment as the woman simply continued to stare at him wordlessly. The man fidgeted slightly.
"I will be taking him to the director myself." She replied, affirming that she wasn't asking permission. Nevertheless, the man seemed to be the dense type that didn't pick up these subtleties.
"B-but the director is-"
"Are you impeding a Rozen agent?"
The man visibly paled. "I-I wouldn't dare! Its just-"
"Then I'll be going now."
"P-pardon me!" The man sputtered as he spun around and hurried back toward the elevator with the woman in tow. To onlookers it may have seemed that he was fleeing rather than leading.
The elevator ride felt like a short eternity though it only lasted around a minute. During business hours, there wasn't much movement between floors, so they were able to move all the way to the top without a single stop. The woman stared blankly ahead at the doors, the child continued to lock his gaze to the floor, and the wiry, sweating man was muttering to himself quietly, "not my job, not my job, not my job".
With an electronic "ding", the doors opened to reveal what seemed to be a different world from the dingy, gray, generic office spaces of the lobby and previous floors. Glossy and reflective surfaces of crystal and glass were arranged in a decorative fashion, while gold, silver, and white colors adorned the floors, walls, and ceilings. It was like walking into a palace. The woman remained unfazed, but the child's gaze rose slightly as his mouth fell open. He quickly returned to his previous state when he remembered where he was.
They passed through a short hall displaying several antiques and art pieces before rounding a corner and arriving before a large, glossy metal door. The man opened his mouth to ask them to wait outside, but before a single sound could escape his lips, the woman spoke a single, definite word, "No". He wiped his forehead again, panic and nervousness written in his expression, but there was nothing he could do about this particular woman. Poking a combination onto a small screen, the doors slid open.
A woman on the other side of the door jumped in surprise, her hands fumbling with the buttons on here shirt. In fact a button popped off and bounced off the floor, but upon seeing the agent, she ignored it and scurried past, her skin flushed and hair disheveled.
The director's office was a windowless room. At one time, most high ranking officials would have had at least an entire wall replaced with glass to overlook their high positions, but in the chaos that followed the Rerevolution, that design had been removed to protect themselves from assassination attempts. While its function now served little purpose with the iron grip of the National Conglomerates, the trend had yet to make a comeback. The office itself was in no way less showy than the hall they had just passed through. However, it was decorated more with furniture and appliances, implying that the room was used quite often. It even gave off somewhat of a "lived-in" feel.
"Miss Spinoza," a large man standing behind a large, ornate desk bellowed out in a deep, steady voice. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."
Edherd Hubbard was a large man in more than one sense of the word. In his younger days he had been a celebrated fighter known nation-wide, though when his father passed away he took up the corporate mantle and retired from sports. Over the years, the mass of muscle he once carried was slowly being replaced by body fat, and while he was growing lightly pudgy, his figure was hardly any less intimidating. At one time a nest of curly bright red hair sat atop his head, but he had since gone bald and all he could hold onto was a thin wispy beard.
Like a stain on a white shirt, the interior of the office was a stark contrast to its surroundings. A dark brown blazer was thrown sloppily across the desk surrounded by dozens of documents and personal items that had once been resting on its surface. Hubbard was fussing with his tie and several buttons on his brown shirt had been done crooked.
"That would be 'Agent' Spinoza," she answered blankly, seemingly unfazed by the implications of the scene in front of her. "I see that you still partake in degrading hobbies. I see that being sterilized hasn't negatively impacted your youthful vigor."
For just about anyone else, speaking in such a manner and bringing up such a touchy subject as his virility would have been akin to writing one's own death sentence. Regardless, Hubbard waved it off as if deflecting a physical projectile. "Now, now, agent, I'm sure that there are more pressing matters to discuss than my health and how i spend my time."
"On the contrary, I believe now is a perfect time, seeing as how I have Wilhelm here with me." The boy looked up briefly on hearing his name spoken. "Everything has been arranged for him to join your household by the end of this business day."
"Today? I'm hardly prepared to deal with that business right this moment. I'd need at least another week-"
"I'm not here to negotiate." She cut him off sharply. "I am only here to ensure progression and enforce the terms of this case."
Hubbard groaned in exasperation, waving his hand at the thin man. "Mr. Broder, take care of this."
The thin man turned to the boy, but the woman called Spinoza stepped in front of him. "It is unlawful for a minor in his legal situation to be left in the care of anyone other than those part of the caretaker's household or authorized childcare institution."
"Blast, woman! I'm trying to keep an entire city running!" His voice exploded throughout the room. The small boy shuddered, shrinking down against her side.
"Seeing as you have the time to fool around with secretaries, I seriously doubt taking care of this matter will seriously affect your schedule."
Hubbard grunted several times as if trying to retort then changing his mind, his reddened face denoting his anger as he tried to keep his temper in check. He was not used to being spoken to in this way that had no respect or fear for someone in his position. Though there was more or less common law, in the end Hubbard's words were law in his territory. If he really wanted to, he could have just about anyone within his territory "disappeared", and while there would be questions from higher up, he could always come up with any excuse and no one would ask further questions.
The agents of Rozen were different. Hubbard didn't perceive them to be of higher standing than he. For the most part they were simply lapdogs who facilitated correspondence between the territories and the Rozen central power, while occasionally overseeing more serious social or legal incidents. They answered directly to the heads of the Rozen Conglomerate. It was rumored that they were trained to be unable to lie, and that a single word from them could topple an entire company.
He was already regretting his outburst. Hubbard was many things, temperamental for one, but he was no fool. He had been raised and taught from a young age as the successor of the Hubbard corporation by the most learned educators that money could buy. He wouldn't give the agent any more ammunition against him.
Hubbard sighed as if expelling his rage through his breath. "Mr. Broder, take the remainder of my calls and reschedule any appointments as well as completing todays agenda."
"B-but sir!" The thin man squealed in obvious distress.
"That will be all, Mr. Broder." Hubbard sighed. As long as the confounded woman acted within the law or under her masters' orders, she had authority which he himself could not oppose. If she were from within his own territory he would have simply arranged for her to dissapear, but as an agent of Rozen, harming her in any way would bring the greatest retaliation upon not only the perpetrator of such an act, but also on their families and relatives, even the people in their social circles. Such actions were tantamount to suicide, as well as complete and utter annhilation. For now.
Hubbard begrudgingly gathered his effects and slipped into his jacket while the thin man, Broder, blubbered almost incoherently up until the moment they began their descent on the elevator. They moved from the corporate headquarters to Hubbard's limousine in relative silence. All the while, the boy's head remained bowed, his gaze glued to the floor.
Unnoticed by others, Spinoza squeezed the small boy's hand reassuringly.