A dead man stared up at a skyscraper.
At over 1000 metres tall, it was one of the tallest building in the world. A metal behemoth, with its over 5,000 glass windows and concrete base extending a thousand feet into the bedrock. Touted as being earthquake and more importantly, power proof. The only building on this continent rated so.
The very image of luxury and security, an icon of the new world. A challenge to the old world and the old world had replied.
The dead man had replied.
And now a fire starting from the 50th floor reached all the way to the 70th,, a belt of burning blue. It illuminated the surrounding area in its unnatural glow, permeating all those in the vicinity with a sense of unease. The rules the world obeyed had fallen apart. 100 metres of steal, concrete and glass doesn’t just explode. Fire doesn’t burn blue. Charred bodies and red-hot metal do not hail from the skies like rain.
However, the dead man was not concerned with their fate. He was not worried about the approaching sounds of sirens nor the gathering crowd helping those rushing out of the building. He was not worried by the roar of several TV and police helicopters hovering near the building. No, the only thing the dead man feared was the relentless ticking of a hand on his watch. Because 720 degrees from now, he and this city were in for a world of hurt.
After a final glance at the building, he turned away and started down the sidewalk. turning into an alleyway. It was a dead end, with only a rank dumpster for company. The dead man did not escape the sounds of his failure, but the darkness granted him time to think. And to make a call. He reached into the dumpster and pulled out an Aunt Joes Pizza box. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that the last Aunt joes in this city had closed 3 years, which was unfortunate because he had rather liked her bagels as a kid.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Opening the box, he pulled out a flip phone. It was already on and he quickly dialed an 8-digit number.
Ring. Ri-
The dead man smiled. If anything, good happened tonight it was that his patron could no longer feign ignorance or a casual disinterest. Even they had too much at stake tonight. Serves the bastards right.
A soft but clear voice spoke through the old flip phone.
“You Failed”
Not a question but a statement. The man agreed.
“Yes. He has been notified. Based on his previous response times, is estimated to be here at 12:45. How am I to Proceed?”. The dead man spoke calmly as he had been trained to do. But he still glanced down at his watch, 12:43.
A long pause. One that he could not afford.
He repeated his question.
“This contract is now terminated. You are on your own. No assets will be coming.”
A silence as the words hung in the air. Nothing more than the man expected, but he still felt his body fold ever so slightly. There was something about facing your own mortality that made him just so tired. A lifetime of power and for what. To die like any other.
The dead man was about to close the call when he was interrupted by his patron.
“Your contract is released, and so-“
A pause, as if hesitant to continue. Or maybe she was wisely considering the consequences of her next few words. The weight in blood they would cost was not a price casually paid, not that it mattered to him. He clung to every word like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. It wasn’t much, but it was something other than the endless abyss that lay around him.
‘ar- are all of its restrictions. Do you understand what this means?” It was a shaking whisper, barely audible or legible. But to the dead man, his driftwood had just become a lifeboat. Not freedom, but a fighting chance. It was more than he expected and probably more than he deserved.
“Yes” the dead man replied, clenching his fists and crushing the flip-phone into bits of metal and plastic.
The hundreds of pieces fell to the ground, and he heard every piece land. Time slowed. And the dead man breathed his first breathe of free air in a long long time. It lacked all the joy he expected. Maybe it was the ashes in the air. Or knowledge of what was coming.
But the dead man would not go so quietly into this good night.