"My love… make sure you live a life where you mean something. Okay?"
I woke up with those words seared into my mind, as if they'd been nailed there. Sweat drenched my collar, and the city's machines were already breathing outside, steady, mechanical, relentless. I wiped the sweat off my face with a ragged towel and headed towards the counter where a gun lay. It was a tool that others felt changed them, a tool that made them feel strong. But me? I felt nothing while holding that weapon. I walked out of the tiny room I called an abode and headed down the stairs. I opened the door to the city and was met by the constant yell of a street food vendor, "Get your fresh juice here, 3 credits only!"
I walked towards the vendor's shop and put three credits down on his stand, "Let me get one strawberry." The man responded, "Alright, coming right up!" I waited for a few minutes and frequently checked the time on my watch. "Alright, one strawberry juice!" The man handed the juice to me, and I walked away and headed into an alley, taking a sip occasionally. Finally, I finished the last sip of it and threw it into the trash can that was lying against a wall.
I continued to walk further down the alley, and after a few minutes, I reached the end of the alley, and unlike most alleys in the cities, there was usually just a wall at the end, but there was a door at the end instead. The sign above the door read, "The Walking Tavern". I opened the door to the tavern and entered. As soon as that door opened, I was met by the distinct smell of smoke, alcohol, and all things that seemed to have steamed from the dark side of humanity.
Looking around, I noticed a group of men who looked like they were in their mid-30s or late 20's. They chuckled and laughed, but not in a friendly manner; it felt more dark. Anyone who lived in the slums for most of their life could easily tell those men were criminals. But this was nothing out of the ordinary.
The majority of the bars in the slums were the meeting places for these bums, but if you minded your business, then you had a slight chance that they would leave you alone. Like every other reasonable person, I avoided the men and sat down at a table and waited for someone to take my order. A lady who looked like they were in their late teens approached me. Her eyes gleamed with a calm golden gaze, courtesy of her sunlight colored eyes, and her hair was a light blonde, almost like a lion's mane; her skin was fair, almost too fair for someone in the slums; she had an almost noble aura to her.
"Hello, my name is Yura, and I'll be your waitress today." Her tone entailed a hint of disinterest. "What would you like to order?" I thought to myself for a second, thinking whether I should choose the enticing hamburger with a salad, or choose the cheap bread and soup that tasted so stale one might mistake it for prison food. I put my hands in my pockets and ruffled the change I had, 15 credits… that's barely enough for the bread and soup…. Damn it…. Why the hell was I so damn broke?
"I'll have the bread and soup, thanks," my tone drifting towards disappointment. "Will do, your food will be out in about 15 minutes," she walked away back into the kitchen, and my eyes lingered on her noble appearance. She most likely is part of some noble family or something. My eyes eventually drifted away once she entered the kitchen. I lay back in my chair and sighed at the fact that I couldn't get that one hamburger. I felt a hand grab my shoulder and turned towards the hand.
It was a man, he was in his late 30s and was around 6 feet, his beard was quite gruffy and had an almost nasty scent around him; it was a strong mix of alcohol, gun powder, and tobacco. It was a common scent for most of the older men in the slums. His hands slowly lifted from my shoulder as I turned to face him. "What's your problem?" I asked, my hand in my pocket, gripping the tiny pistol I brought from my apartment. "You seem like easy prey, so why don't you hand over your credits and all your belongings?" the man said, his smirk slowly growing obnoxious. I stood up and looked at him with an expression that was of pure disgust; a disgust I couldn't explain.
"Oh? Does the kid want to lose not only his belongings but his life as well?" he asked, his smirk unfaded. "Or perhaps does the old disgusting piece of shit you couldn't even call a human want to lose his life?" I asked with a smug look. After those words came out of my mouth, he lunged his fist at my face, "You fucking piece of shit! I oughta teach your ass a good damn lesson!", he screamed. I dodged his fist with ease and kicked his gut, and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. I looked down at him, my smug look still not dissipating, "What's wrong, old man, you down for the count
already?"
The man looked up at me, his face displaying an angered expression, "You damn brat… you think you're some tough guy? Do you think you know something? Tough shit….", he paused for a second before smirking at me, "You ain't worth shit you damn brat….". I raised my hand, and was suddenly punched in the back and hit the wall. I stood up slowly, dazed from the blow, and examined who had hit me. It was one of the man's comrades; his build was very similar to the man, the only difference being that he had a clean-shaven face.
"So you guys are gonna team up on a teenager?" I paused for a second and chuckled, "Pathetic… and you call yourselves adults?" Their faces changed, not because of disdain or indifference from my taunting, instead they were frightened; frightened from my chuckle, from my tone and posture. That look on their face was one I could never forget.
I walked towards the pair slowly, soaking in their fear. Was I really human? I didn't feel anger, nor did I feel complete joy from their fear. I felt nothing. It felt like I wasn't alive, like I reached a state of mind where the world itself didn't feel real. As if it were all a big lie, an illusion cast upon me by some forgiving god. I grabbed him by his collar and threw him into the wall.
CRASH
The man slumped against the wall, his body going limp, and his eyes widened. I turned to the man's accomplice and walked towards him. "P-P-Please, mercy!" the man pleaded, and backed away, "I swear, I'll leave, and you'll never see me again!" His cries left the entire tavern silent. Onlookers watching me were overcome with an overwhelming anxiety of what might happen to the one in front of me. The man tripped over some rubble from the broken wall and stumbled to the ground with his back turned to me, and he began to crawl away in an overwhelming fear.
"Tell me, if I let you go now, how many more are you going to threaten?" I asked, although I already knew the answer to that question. "I'll change, I swear! I promise this is the last time!" he pleaded. "Lies…. Lies… Lies…" I chanted, gripping the gun tighter as I aimed it at his head. Not a word came from that man's mouth– Not a word. It seemed he knew that whatever nonsense he managed to mutter in the next seconds, it wouldn't change the outcome of this. The silence was deafening, like a void,
BANG
The man's body went limp, and blood spilled all over the Elysian wood floors, painting them an indistinguishable red. I took the scene into my mind and stood still, absorbing every little detail: the smell, the man's expression, the pool of blood touching the soles of my boots, and the feeling of heat from the barrel of my gun. I slid the gun back into my jacket pocket and walked towards the bar, placed down a 10 credit as payment and an apology for the mess I made, and began to head towards the door.
I was a good distance away from the door before three figures, dressed in suits, entered. Their presence demanded the utmost attention, specifically the man in the middle. His eyes gleamed with an ominous crimson glare that felt inhuman. He was quite tall and well built, with hair as black as night, and hair that reached to the middle of his eyes. His eyes lingered around the room before settling on the body in front of him and then onto me.
"Who killed this man?" his voice lingered in a demanding tone. Everyone looked around and glanced at me slightly, none having the courage to speak. My body shivered subtly, and my eyes glanced at the man. I raised my hand slowly, "It was me." The man glanced at me and then began to walk towards me, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "So it was you, huh?", his tone making it obvious he didn't believe a damn word that came out of my mouth. He sighed and then used his foot to push the body around,
"Any reason for killing him?", his eyes looking back at me. "The man threatened me and attacked me along with his friend," I responded. "Friend?" he asked with a surprised expression, "Where's the friend?" I pointed towards the broken wall where the thug lay, his body still limp. The man took out his government ID.
Name: Iseph Eldra
Position: Division Captain of the Concord Division
Age: 34
Height: 6'2
I read the information on the card, but the one thing that stood out to me was the fact that this man led the Concord Division. The Concord Division was a division specifically made for taking care of the higher-ups' dirty work, the bigger question was: Why would Teleios' stronger enforcers be doing in a slum that posed no threat to the higher-ups?
"You are Caspian Voldren are you not?" Iseph asked, his eyes locking on me. How did he know who I was? Were they here for me? What threat did I pose? Was this seriously going to be my last day living? Shit…. Those thoughts rushed over my mind and an overwhelming anxiety took over me, and that feeling of emptiness I had while fighting that group dissipated and was replaced by an overpowering fear of Iseph.
"Don't worry, we aren't here to kill you," he said as he dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it with his boot, "If we were here to kill you, we wouldn't have even talked to you..", his gaze still displaying that overwhelming intensity. The fact they weren't here to kill me brought a sense of relief over me. But, one question still remained, "If you aren't here to kill me, then why are you here?", I asked, "Well, we are here to recruit you, Caspian Voldren," Iseph said with a smug look.
Here to recruit me? Why? What kind of importance did I have to be scouted by them?What purpose could some kid in the slums that no good has ever come to have to offer to the Concord Division? At the moment, I felt it unnecessary to question their intentions. If I had a chance to get out of these slums I would take it, regardless of the shit that may come my way.
I glanced towards the two men behind him and then glanced back at him. "Fine… I'll come with you…", Iseph wrapped his arms around my shoulders and chuckled, "Great choice, Caspian!". I chuckled softly, a fake laugh, one that I thought could take my mind off of the hell I would be entering. The life of a concord… the life of a soldier with no mind. But perhaps we are just cogs in a wheel, a wheel that would continue to spin indefinitely with no regard for our choice.