The playback paused as a scarred finger touched the datapad's screen, a sigh emitting shortly after. Pulling a small metal flask out of a pocket, William took a few swigs before finally pressing the screen once more.
"I work for DynaTech, which as you know has a large presence in this Sector. They have a strict policy on death, however. For my family to receive my benefits, I have to die in a way that is no fault of my own." There was a small pause in the recording, sounding as if the man was having trouble continuing. "You're probably wondering why I would request such a thing. I do not wish to die in a horrible way nor leave a mess for my family to clean up. I want a quick, clean and painless death." There was another short pause, the man's voice starting to tremble. "I've uncovered corporate secrets... horrible things done in the name of progress... I can't bring these forward or my family could be targeted. I'd rather just take this with me to the grave. Please, you must help me!"
The recording stopped, William staring at the datapad's now black screen. Tossing the pad onto his bed, he dialed up his Credjob on his vidphone. A hooded figure appeared after only one ring, asking, "Yes, William?" With a sigh, the man responded, "Something doesn't seem right, but its easy pay. And if you've come to me, you know it must be done for it is the path of the Box. I accept." "Very well. I'll send the details to a node and message you the address."
Lighting up a syntharette, William sat in the darkness awaiting the beep from his phone. It came soon enough, sending the man to the street to find a public access terminal. The node was very light with information, giving only the location of the man's home and that the mission was to be carried out immediately. Committing the address to memory William deleted the node of information and walked away from the terminal.
There was a loud, grinding sort-of alarm pumped into the air for a long five seconds. It was the public alert announcing that cleansing gel would be sprayed in ten minutes. William cursed his timing and looked for an alley to take shelter in, his home too far to return to at this point. The minutes passed quickly in anticipation as the alarm sounded once more to announce the start of the sanitation spray. Viscous beads of gel dropped from the high ceiling in a sort of thick mist. There was a pungent, almost burning vapor that accompanied the spray, forcing William to breathe from the folds of his jacket. For fifteen minutes the spray continued, soaking everything in its path including the man's clothing. "At least its supposed to be healthy... probably not from direct contact though," he said to himself as he got up and continued down the street.
Finding the address was easy enough, despite the stares he received from being on Sub-Level 1. It was where all the high-end businesses and anyone with money resided. It was as close to the lap of luxury as one could have in these dark times. William stuck out prominently, a hooded figure wearing an obviously armored trench-coat. He looked everything of a killer walking amongst the pristine tenants of the level. He paid them no mind as they stared on in disgust. the building Terrance lived in had a metal gate at the front entrance with a communication box to its side. Pushing the button, William said, "I'm here to see Terrance Archer," and waited for the gate to unlock. There was a long pause before an electronic lock unlatched and the gates swung open of their own volition. William walked through and up to the building as the gates shut behind him, noting the single mounted gun hidden within a nook of the wall.
Making his way to the address, William knocked once on the door. "Who...who is it?" trembled a voice from behind. "I've come for the contract." "Oh! Please, y-you must leave. I mean, you must leave before me. We can't be seen together. Meet me three blocks south of here." With a sigh William shook his head and walked out of the building as indicated.
More stares came the man's way as he made his way down the blocks. Anxiety of the mission was beginning to creep up his spine, something still not feeling right. Not having the time to use his Fallen Wisdom convokation to learn more, William instead settled for a hit of Crucible. Ducking into a dark alley, the man quickly pulled out a small plastic cube of blue powder and pulled open the top. Lifting it to his nose he inhaled the powder in one go, instantly feeling the rush of calmness take him over. The worry left him, as did any other kind of strong emotion. Tossing the package to the ground William walked back to the street, looking for Terrance's approach.
There was not much of a wait as Terrance quickly made his way to William, anxious for his death. "I apologize for this but I must again ask you to meet me. If we are seen together on this Sub-Level it will surely blow my cover. We can-" he said before being cut off. "Fine but we meet where I say now. 33-3-115. Got it? That's a whorehouse, so go back to your apartment and dress in something less...obvious." Terrance seemed embarrassed but nodded and walked away. William shook his head and said to himself, "So that's why it seemed funny. He's a total vanilla. Probably a missionary-only kind of guy. Tch, what a waste."
An hour passed, finding William and Terrance outside of The Cracked Whip. "Here's how we're doing this," William started. "You go inside, have a nice time but don't spend any creds off your stick. Use this one instead. That way there's no legal grief." Terrance took the credstick and clicked the button until the readout displayed the identification. "So I'm supposed to be this Jerry guy?" "Yes. Spend at least three hours in there or else the contract is cancelled. Got it? That's it. Just walk outside when you're done." Terrance looked rather confused but nodded once and walked inside.
Terrance, the shy and uncharismatic man that entered The Cracked Whip was soon gone, replaced by the daring and high-stakes Jerry. The sensation of pretending to be someone else was exactly the thing Terrance needed to come out of his shell. He made it a point to tell everyone he met that he was Jerry and was a self-made man, rich and single. It was exhilarating to finally experience the world for what it really was, dirty and gritty and full of mystery. Jerry took two women to bed that night and had the best sex of his life. Afterwards, high-stakes Jerry decided he'd join the two in a hit of whatever they were doing.
Six and a half hours passed by before Jerry awoke from his drug-induced stupor. His mind was foggy and he felt as through he was walking in a dream. He looked down at his credstick and clicked the button to display his name "Jerry" before nodding and slipping it into a pocket. He walked out into the harsh electric lighting, able to hear their buzzing and low-powered struggle to stay lit for the first time. Raising a hand, Jerry shielded his eyes and stumbled down the street wishing he had another bottle of rice flower wine. As he walked he began to think of how it would be so nice to get back to his apartment and hangout with his friends. A smile came to his face, genuine and fully-heartfelt. Jerry was happy.
"Hey old man, give me all your money!" came a shout from behind. Jerry turned around awkwardly, still buzzing from the alcohol. He strained his eyes and saw a dirty young man before him, obviously a ganger by his clothing and the red fabric tied around his bicep. "No, I, wait!" Jerry stuttered as he stepped back. "Come on man! Just give me your credstick!" the young man shouted as he brandished a sharpened metal pipe made into a shiv. Fear filled Jerry's eyes as he was overwhelmed by the thought of being killed. Somehow, Jerry had no idea of Terrance's intentions to die.
The youth charged Jerry, no longer having any patience as his eyes glared red with some unknown toxin. Jerry was no fighter and the shiv easily found its way into his ribcage. The world began to topple over itself as he was thrown to the ground. He could feel this coat being pulled off, forcing him to his side and indirectly forcing the shiv deeper into his ribs. A terrible cry emitted from Jerry as his eyes searched the ceiling of light for an answer.
"Why...why now? I'm not ready to die now..." Jerry whispered. He then saw the body of the youth thrown to the ground with a silenced cry. Turning his head Jerry could see William crouching beside him. "I'm sorry Terrance. I nodded off when you didn't come out for awhile. This punk got you first, so I'm sorry this wasn't peaceful." Jerry searched William's face for answers but found none. "Terrance?...Oh my...." Jerry said as he trembled, his face beginning to pale. "The...contract. I'm... I call it off..." he struggled to say.
William helped Terrance sit up, wrapping an arm around him as he did so. "I'm sorry Terrance, but that's no longer an option," he said as he wrapped his other arm around the man. In his right hand he wore a ring with a long spike protruding downward from it. With a hand over Terrance's mouth, the long spike made its way into his heart, the deep red blood flowing quickly over William's fingers. Terrance's soul, once thought to be free of the mortal coil, now found itself trapped with the kultist's ringblade, never to find peace again.
Fan-fiction for Obsidian: The Age of Judgement
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