Another second day, another story update. Here we have the rumblings of things to come...
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It was dark. Everything was dark. Eric felt nothing but the air tossing through his ripped clothes and his body shaking rhythmically up and down, as useless as it had ever been. His ears - he was deaf, or there was nothing there for him to hear. No nightly conversations on the street, no gunshots being volleyed back and forth with no victor, going on through the night until day forced the combatants either to turn their guises to ones a sane citizen would wear, or to retreat to their rodent holes and wait until the sun passed behind the mountains once again so that they could begin their fruitless fighting anew, and the next night more of the same. It never changed. New York, as Eric knew, was New York, now and always. It sickened him and at the same time he knew no other place where he could be as comfortable. This violent lifestyle of beasts of men and women alike had sucked him into its cycle of corruption and need like it did so many others, changing its occupants forever, making them into citizens of New York regardless of whether or not they were legally known as such. The government had so little power that a strong enough wind would topple it for any of the groups vying for power, picking apart the city into their own made up districts like carrion creatures tearing at a rich man's body, nourishing themselves on its screams for some out for their twisted violent control fantasies and others to bring order of a kind. Eric had his own subconscious leaning toward making Giorgio a new leader, but did any of these people just standing around waiting for the official power to fall truly have the merit and will to be the ever contested head of a city of millions, too many of which weren't even recognized by the city as citizens, and with all the crime and trafficking of drugs and people and every vice the most corrupt human being on the planet could name in his short life? No, Eric knew. Anarchy? What was the government, the federal power holding up the city with its invisible arms, but an institution of anarchy? Eric himself didn't know its structure, who was the president or prime minister or grand dictator? Were there television broadcasts announcing the comings and goings of the government, was there New York city propaganda buried in the flood of London pamphlets advertising the beauty of stolen freedom? Everyone fighting for power was too incompetent, and the government that there was existed only in the minds of city contractors and the tellers of myths found in corners of alleyways. What was a politician, if not a Londoner in an ironed suit offering money for support, leaving behind a trail of that sick stench of pride earned through the oppression of those deemed lower by what was called a functional government? New York was an empty hole waiting to be filled, only appearing to be occupied by shadows whose priorities were known to themselves and none else. The City of Every Vice had captured all of its visitors in its trap, sapping their strength. The only people with the will to take charge were all interested in their own profits and bloated with ignorance accumulated from decades of eating all the efforts of those who honestly tried as if they were a buffet set up in an extravagant London style. The cycle was a cruel master, but it took care of its offspring by keeping them all alive, no matter their state. It sucked the life from them and left them to contribute to the cycle still, just as Eric had become a man hiring out his skills with the slaughter of other beings on a singular or mass scale, skills that were entirely unknown to him years ago, but now were ingrained into his life like eating and sleeping, and he could easily say that he heard the fire of a pistol more than he heard his own contented breathing or himself swallowing proper food. Why didn't he just give up and die? Because the cycle kept its own alive, even if they were but husks walking the streets in the daily crowd. Eric had heard legends of people who had passed through New York's purifying cycle unchanged, and people who lived on more than two meals a day, people who managed a whole eight or even nine hours' sleep.
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Eric was dropped gently on the floor of his apartment. He opened his eyes, but he could barely see. The kitchen light had been turned on, and his eyes, so used to the dark by now, were blurred by the abrupt change. He rubbed them, and then he could see the tall, gaunt figure of A.G. in the entrance hall, looking down on him.
"Eric?" He asked the man, just after returning to consciousness.
"Yeah, A.G.?" Eric coughed, then sat up slightly. "I'm guessing you brought me here from the Zephyr building?"
A.G. nodded. "Approximately fifty guards rushed into the CEO's office directly after you pushed that woman out of the window, followed by their attempted capture or execution of you. It was then that I flanked them and killed most, and retreated, carrying you to your apartment, here."
Eric shook his head. He still felt sick from being bashed over the head, and luckily not suffering a concussion didn't make that any better. Rest would do him some good, he thought, but then something else entirely struck his mind.
"Shit, A.G.!" He said, rushing to his feet. "I had two things with me, a rifle and flashdrive. Did you leave them there?" His breathing got heavy and he started feeling lightheaded.
A.G. gestured to the kitchen table just to his right. Eric sighed in relief when he saw the coiled rifle and the small black USB flashdrive sitting on the counter, no different than when he had last seen them. With a few limping steps he went over to the table and picked up the flashdrive. It was indeed undamaged, and hopefully had the data Eric had collected safely on it.
In an inverse of the last time they met, it was Eric who walked briskly behind A.G. out the apartment's door, the all important flashdrive in his coat pocket. That flashdrive was worth thousands of dollars, and he had to report back to Giorgio immediately. He checked his watch. It was already morning, though there were no clear windows to see the sun through.
"Are you sure you will not need rest?" A.G. enquired as Eric was opening the door to the outside, following him along.
Eric laughed. "Ah, no, A.G., I got enough sleep while I was passed out. I do feel like shit, though, but I've got more important thing ahead of me than getting rest. That, A.G., is a luxury, and I live without luxuries. You should know that by now!"
The man in the long coat and hat that hid his features nodded one last time, and turned away from Eric, running off down the road in the opposite direction Eric was meaning to go. 'It always seems like he has something to do, doesn't it?' Eric wondered idly to himself. With that, he shut the door to
the apartment building and headed toward the New York Bridge, all the while hoping that the roughly hour long walk to Giorgio's tower downtown would be a quick one. Today wasn't the day for running pr jogging. His legs ached too much already for that, so slow, leisurely walking it was for Eric this morning, if not every morning.
The sidewalks were bustling, busy with people of all backgrounds imaginable. There were probably a few up-and-coming hired guns in those crowds, or maybe drug runners, or any sort of person. Maybe there was one of those rare people Eric never managed to see, a person dutifully working for a business or the government. They existed, he knew, but his world never intersected with theirs except on trips to the pub and to the lobby of the mafia headquarters. New York was just that kind of place.
A car, boxy and dark, polished red, zoomed past Eric as it went along its way, honestly following the rules of the road and staying in the right hand lane, as if those laws mattered as anything more than ageing connections to the Old Earth and prosperity. It all made Eric sigh. This kind of day to day never got old and never changed. Nearly every single time he went outside would be something new on the streets. Today it was that car and its lawful driver, last week it was a man in rags selling clean water on the sidewalk. New York was just that kind of place, he thought. A place where the sickest and kindest members of society coexisted, with each side juxtaposed each day. Eric wondered at this distinction. It made him... happy, or satisfied, in some strange way.
As much as he knew about the dangers, hidden and otherwise, of the back streets and shady places of New York, Eric made the decision to take a shortcut through some alleyways in the city, heading downtown to the higher class district where there was not only less crime, but also Eric's eventual destination. The due date for his rent payment was coming up fast, so he needed his money as soon as possible. He'd do anything, just to earn more, even if it meant contracts that put his life in serious risk, like the one he finished just last night. Contracts that had a better chance of killing him than getting him paid. But, such was the life of the second most renowned hired gun in all of New York.
The buildings around the alley were mostly made of brick, the usual material, and the few concrete structures stood out sharply, newer and cleaner than the rest. Since this was the oldest part of the city, brick was everywhere.
While most back areas behind and beside downtown buildings were hidden from the light to make a nearly perpetual twilight atmosphere, today the sun shined bright up in its place in the sky. This late autumn weather was hardly indicative of coming winter, and a winter expected to be no different from the usual: cold, and windy. The sea breeze was harsh in the more extreme seasons of the year, making the weather seem completely bipolar to those who weren't used to it.
As Eric sneaked through the alleyways past fire escapes and dumpsters he always noted in case of a fight, a person darted past him, the first in these uncommonly bright back streets, right near the downtown core. He stopped and turned on his heel to get a look at whoever it was, and curiously, they did the same. Eric scoffed. The figure, with messy red hair tied back in a low ponytail, loose clothes and a boyish look, he knew it was the regular gang recruit, freshly dropped out of school and already knee deep in the true ways of the city of New York. It was almost sad seeing this kind of everyday tragedy, but the inevitability of it was nothing new to him.
The teenager took a few steps forward, beginning to close the gap between himself and Eric. His eyes looking down meekly, he asked, "Are you Eric Morris?" Eric laughed at the poor boy.
With a smile, he said, "There are probably a dozen guys named Eric Morris in this district, lad. Who's he like?"
This time the teen nodded, and returned Eric's smile with a sly one of his own. "I hear he's got the voice of a Londoner, and he wears this big grey coat that flutters behind him when he walks on the rooftops."
Eric wasn't smiling anymore. "Better question. Who are you? I'd prefer to get to know everyone who has an interest in me because at least half of them want to shoot me down when I'm not looking - and to the other half it doesn't matter if I'm looking or not."
"W-wait, so you are Eric Morris?" The teenager suddenly became shy again. Eric at that point mainly wished that the kid he was talking to would grow a pair and start talking straight to him, but he gritted his teeth and played along anyways, albeit not as nicely.
"Yes, you dumb bugger, I am Eric Morris, now what the hell do you want?" He asked, slipping his hand down into his coat to rest on his holstered pistol.
"I'm sorry!" The teenager said quickly and honestly. "I'm Mel, I don't think you know me, but well, I know you, if that... if that makes sense."
Eric sighed. "Yes, of course, I always forget people who know me, they all love me anyways!" He deadpanned to the boy. "Look, I've got to leave now, I've got more to do than chat in an alley with some average high school dropout like yourself."
Mel cocked his head, looking rather sad. If he was trying to pull Eric's heartstrings, it certainly wasn't working. Eric turned back around and strode off towards the street. "I'm leaving now." He said, not looking back.
"Can I come with you?" Mel asked in a desperate tone.
That, of all things, got Eric's attention. "Wait, what?" He said, staring blankly at Mel. "What the hell is going through your mind that made that idea?" This kid was strange, of that Eric was now more than sure.
The teenager nodded resolutely, looking more serious than Eric would have thought him capable of. But just his honest desire to follow a contract killer around wasn't enough to satisfy Eric. He had become too cynical and suspicious over the years, so even a juvenile delinquent could be hiding some dangerous kind of trouble that he really didn't want to deal with on his long awaited payday.
"Alright," Eric said, "I'll let you come with me if you tell me why you want to follow a hired gun around, and then give me a logical reason why I should let anyone, let alone you, hang around a person like me."
Mel struck a thoughtful pose, no longer holding his attention on Eric, and instead gazing to the side. "Let's see..." He began after less than a minute of thinking.
Eric shook his head and laughed, a little out of spite and a little due to the strangeness of his situation. "Wrong already, then."
"Huh?" Came the utterly confused response.
"If you had a real reason for wanting to hang around me, it'd be on the tip of your tongue ready to jump out as soon as I asked for your reason for wanting to follow me. Understand that?"
The teenager didn't show any signs of agreement or disagreement. He just sighed and avoided giving a response for a while. "You were walking around, right? Not running or anything?" He asked this in a much more straightforward tone than before.
Eric nodded. "Yes, and?"
"You're coming in through a back alley."
"Yes, one near downtown, where the crime's down compared to just about everywhere else. The mafia keeps this place locked up tight when it comes to that, you know. And then, what else?" Eric crossed his arms, expecting some kind of statement of resignation at least.
This time, though, it was Mel's turn to laugh. "When was the last time you were here? Can't have been in the past few hours, that's for sure. Downtown's gone crazy lately, what with the Zephyr building open for looting and the CEO getting killed. Not even the mafia you talked about can do anything about it. Did you expect that, Eric?"
Now Eric was just grimacing. The kid was exactly right. By all rights he should've known that there would be some fallout from what he did, some sort of response from any group, even if it was from just the government that sponsored businesses like the Zephyr Corporation. What he didn't know was how bad it would be, and that was something he'd have to see for himself. It was almost fate that the mafia headquarters was just about a block away from the Zephyr building itself. If he looked down the road from the sidewalk outside of this alley he could probably catch a glimpse of whatever was going on. He hoped it wouldn't stop him from getting paid, at the least.
"Fine, lad, it seems to me you're a little competent, eh? Or maybe you just have too much time on your hands. Tell me why you want to come with me on my action packed adventures now." Eric wasn't happy, but he had to admit that this teenager didn't seem to be from the same lot as the others he'd found in the western districts.
Mel was much quicker to answer this time, nearly interrupting Eric before he could finish his sentence. "Two heads are better than one, right? You probably need somebody to help you out sometimes, to do the dirty work and all that, to free up time for yourself." He examined Eric's face and continued, "And you don't look like the kind of guy who gets to sleep much, and I'm gonna guess that you wish you could eat more, or have better meals. I'm right, right?"
First this guy was pissing Eric off because he seemed like a witless fan or an unfortunately fated kid, but right now he was a step ahead of Eric, who couldn't think of any good retorts or really any way to dissuade Mel from his course of action.
"I don't need your help." Eric replied gruffly. He sometimes tried to seem more masculine and knowledgeable than he really was with these kinds of short, to the point answers that didn't take much thought to come up with.
"Yes you do. You really do."
Eric sighed. He had lost.
"Alright, then, I'll let you hang around with me for a while. Just don't be too much of a nuisance, if that isn't too difficult for you." Then, he mumbled to himself, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?"
A satisfied Mel ran to catch up with Eric who had already departed from the alley as soon as he had agreed to let Mel tag along with him. He didn't say a word, staying behind Eric the whole time they walked together. Eric was unnerved by the teenager's presence and always made sure to check behind himself every few moments when he trailed behind, in case anything went sour as he expected it to.
They attracted no more attention than any other two people wandering the streets of New York, passing through the crowds trying to stay confined on the sidewalks, with each person going their own way at their own speed, from the leisurely waltzing of drug users to the hurried strides of blue collar workers, none of which could afford the astronomical prices of vehicles, let alone the gas needed to run them. There were much like Eric, only slightly farther above the poverty line and probably a bit more legitimate according to the moral side of the general public.
Once they reached the sprawling lot that Giorgio owned, surrounded by a small park that was still neatly taken care of, Mel stared up in awe at the tower, rising up into the sky like nothing else around it, looking as if it could pierce the wispy clouds above. It may not have been the tallest structure in the city, but it looked to be from where Mel was standing, with smaller, mostly two-level, buildings surrounding him on both sides making a sharp contrast to the mafia headquarters.
Eric eyed Mel once again. "I'm afraid you can't come in here. I have important business that I'd rather not have you listen in on, and I don't think you're even authorized to enter the building beyond the lobby."
Mel just shrugged in response. "That's alright. I can wait down here 'til you come back, no problem. Take your time, if you need to."
A smile flitted across Eric's lips at this new compliance. It was a little refreshing, but still annoying just to have this kid hanging around. Nothing good would come of this, he knew, but he'd deal with that after he got paid. He felt as if with enough money he could do anything anytime, and to an extent that was actually true for most parts of New York, but luckily for Eric it was still second to the ability to shoot someone dead if it became a necessity for survival.
The lobby hadn't changed from his last visit. Eric gave a two finger mock-salute to the receptionists dutifully filling out paperwork at their desk, and went up the golden elevator. He was definitely glad that he wasn't fighting a madman with a knife this time. Those cuts still stung a little to the touch, even after A.G. had fixed them up. Elevators, it seemed, would never be the same, not even this one that was giving him his express ride to thousands of dollars in much needed cash.
The elevator let out its standard 'ding' when it reached the floor Giorgio's office was on, and the doors automatically opened for Eric to gracefully step through, feeling like he was walking on air from the sheer elation that, in just a few minutes, he would be a rich, rich man. He nodded at both of the elevator guards as they stepped up beside him, and with them by his sides he walked towards Giorgio's desk, where the mafia don himself was still busy at his computer, this time looking at his computer screen in abject frustration rather than his usual casual scowl.
Eric stood at loose attention. "Giorgio?" He asked cautiously. "The job is done. Is my contract payment here?"
Giorgio tossed aside the mouse in his hand with a flick of his wrist, letting it settle on an angle at the edge of his plain lack mousepad. "Ah, Eric." He said, sighing then swivelling in his chair to face his hired gun. "From the commotion, I can tell full well that you've completed the contract to a reasonable degree. The place is mostly cleaned out now, and I have the body of the CEO on ice in the sub-basement. You did a good number on him, that's for sure."
"My pay?"
Giorgio laughed in an almost mocking tone. "Your pay, yes, that's what you've come here for, isn't that right?"
"No, I came here to give you a great big hug, Giorgio." Eric scowled. "Now that I think about it, I wouldn't even do that for free."
The mafia don kicked his feet up onto his desk, revealing his shined black dress shoes and white pants with a crease down each leg so sharp they could probably be used to cut a slab of steak. "Alright then, Eric, here's your money."
He heaved a brown leather suitcase onto his desk, and one of his bodyguards opened its locks. To Eric this sight glowed like pristine, perfect gold, seeing stacks of black and white printed bills, arranged so meticulously to fit in exact rows, each stack held together with plain string, all hand tied. It was the equivalent of having a high class dinner being delivered on the legendary silver platter. It was almost too much for Eric to handle; this seemed almost unbelievable to him.
Cracking a smile, Giorgio said, "It's five thousand in all, Eric. Enjoy."
Eric's smile of wonderment fell away with that short remark. "Wait, what do you mean?" He stared at Giorgio, appalled. "Five thousand?"
"The kill was not anonymous. You were reported by a number of witnesses." Giorgio frowned as he said this, getting slightly annoyed at ow Eric was pushing the issue instead of just leaving.
Immediately Eric slipped his USB drive out of his coat pocket and presented it to Giorgio with a clever smile, thinking he had outsmarted the mafia don for once. Instead, he received the coldest glare he had ever known, lasting for just long enough to make Eric confused and more than a little afraid.
"Eric." Giorgio began, his voice low and trembling. "Eric, don't you know? Eric, those financial records are useless now! Absolutely useless!"
Eric started to mouth, "How could that be?" when he was cut off.
Giorgio nearly leaped to his feet, standing just behind his desk, looking Eric straight in the eye. "Eric, half of the fucking city has those documents now! Perhaps in your continuous string of 'accidental' failures, you didn't notice that you did not destroy evidence of your presence in the Zephyr Corporation, and it's simply unacceptable that you'd forget to at least shut down the corporation's mainframe, and at best destroy it entirely! I know you can do those things, Eric, I have records of all of your contracts here in my own computer, that I always remember to turn off at the end of the day, and that I always protect with state of the art encryption. You fancy yourself a self-taught hacker with all of your London bullshit education, but what is that really worth here? I expect efficient results, not moronic corner cutting and mistakes that even the lowliest of idiots could avoid!" He was visibly seething, his face turning red from the exertion of shouting ay Eric point-blank.
By now, though, Eric had passed the initial shock of Giorgio's tirade, and looked him over with a sneer. "Giorgio, if you really think you could've done better, then I fucking dare you to deal with dozens of armed guards, traps, and no cover. That entire place was likely built just to kill me!"
"Dare me?" Giorgio laughed, this time truly mocking him. "I'll tell you know that my troops could've stormed that place the very same night and taken it without any problems whatsoever. However, would that be silent? More than likely it wouldn't, right? Remember, you were being paid to fulfill that contract regardless of how much danger it put your life in. If you were to die, that would be nothing to me. I would find a replacement, and make use of your finished mission. I'd love to have an extra building, you know. But, the point is, you inexcusably failed in your duty to complete your contract to its exact specifications, only fulfilling the basic parameters, and actually doing worse than if you had just went ahead and shot yourself as soon as you walked in the building! You, Eric, are fucking incompetent, and I shall never hire you to work contracts for me in the future, with no exceptions." With an angry sigh, Giorgio fell back into his soft black leather chair, enjoying its comfort that so contrasted his heated rant.
Eric gazed down at his feet, shaking his head, disappointed, in both himself and Giorgio.
"Giorgio, you weren't there." He sighed. "Shit happened, and no one could have expected what went on inside that building - unless they were involved, of course."
Giorgio didn't reply. He only pointed to the elevator across from him, his expression worsening with each second that Eric spent not leaving his office. Eventually Eric relented, though, and hung his head as he retreated to the gilded elevator awaiting him.
"Don't forget your money, Eric." Giorgio said, and Eric walked back to the suitcase, closed and locked it, and carried it in one hand, continuing on his way out. The whole time, he did his best to avoid looking in Giorgio's direction, as the man bored holes in him with his cold stare.
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Poor Eric. ;_;
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