Tokyo, a shithole as it's ever been. At day it's a bustling city with oceans of people crossing the streets every few minutes, while at night it's a cyberpunk, crime-infested metropolitan.
Neon lights, giant holograms, weird advertisements about cybernetic implants that allow you to see your desired sexual fantasies A.K.A virtual porn, campaigns of politicians running for office with those stupid grins on their faces, dark alleyways filled with rats and junkies, gunshots heard in the distance...
yep, it's a shithole alright.
'If it isn't for the newest clue I wouldn't have gone to this city in the first place...' I thought annoyedly as I heard a wail of police sirens going past me. I looked in the direction of the annoyingly loud sound to see a bunch of police cars speeding through the street, normal in this day and age.
The Cuban Missile Crisis back in 1962 caused the whole world to turn upside down. The Nuclear War between the US and the USSR caused millions of casualties all over the world, and it was never the same anymore.
People never really believed in the so-called "emissary" of the people anymore, and the crime rate has been higher than ever. Gun violence, terrorism, assassinations, and manslaughter, people go so far as to the extent of taking someone else's life to fulfill their satisfaction.
And when certain people cannot accomplish it themselves, they hire people to do it for them. As long as they have enough money to put on the table, they can make these people do anything, and I mean ANYTHING. This method has been the main source of problem-solving for the people of the new world --albeit mostly only for the rich, of course.
These people who take on these requests from their employers are called Mercenaries. Yeah, we need to come up with a better name for them. I mean, yeah Mercenary IS the exact word, but be a little more creative with the naming for god's sake! Like uh... Wreakers or something... I-I'm not good with names!
Their greed for money is insatiable. They'd always want more. They'd do anything they're asked to just to make a couple of hundred bucks, even risking their lives to get it. Truly scums of society.
...I'm one of those scums too.
Anyways, since the requests vary, people who took on being a mercenary as their main occupation must be prepared for anything at all times. They must have the set of skills required to be able to complete their employer's request, or else they suffer the consequences; Death or ex-communication. Hence, only a small amount of people in this world actually become full-fledged mercenaries.
But employers don't want just normal people to fulfill their requests. Considering the nature of the requests, even the most skilled or trained people would struggle with the simplest of tasks. And the employers don't like that very, very much. Basically, they want something more than just a skilled human.
And Mother Earth has just the right thing for that.
Rulebreakers. People who are able to break the laws that sustain this world.
Unnatural, their cause of emergence still unknown, outcasts that are feared by the world, just what these rich, fat, lousy rat-pigs need.
When they first appeared, researchers hypothesized that these abnormalities are caused by the severe radiation exposure that slowly mutated the genes of the ancestors of these Rulebreakers, mutating from generation to generation.
Uh... I think that's basically what they said, I don't quite understand it myself. Not much of a science person.
Amongst these Rulebreaker mercenaries, there is one that stands above the rest. The paramount of the mercenary world. Numero Uno.
They all refer to him as "The Numbing End", "The Reaper that None Knows", or simply...
"Death".
His identity is unknown, an urban legend in the underground world. There is hardly any proof of his existence in this world, as people have only caught glimpses of a male figure leaving the scene of a crime with a trail of blood and smoke, and witnesses do not seem to recall ever having seen what he looks like. Even the most powerful people of the underground world struggle to get into contact with him.
And I, Clarke Akioto, am here to hunt him down.
As an aspiring mercenary myself who just entered the scene six months ago, I want to make a name for myself. And what could be a better way than to take the first spot in the mercenary rankings? After I become the best mercenary in the world, employers will come running to employ me and I'll drown in an endless pit of riches! Truly a noble dream!
'It sure was a hassle to find even a single clue of his whereabouts. The only distinctive habit he has is that he'd always leave behind pitch-black smoke whenever he exits his missions. I had to connect the dots and contact his employers to get this far... even though I had to use a little bit of force to get answers from them...' I sweatdropped as I remember all the things I had to do to them just to get answers out of their mouths. They were persistent, I'll give you that.
I continued to walk down the streets of downtown Shibuya while putting on my headphones that was already playing my favorite song and felt as if all the sounds around me were fading away as if my surroundings became a big blur plastered with dots of light. I matched my steps with the rhythm of the song, feeling the music seep into my body. But it was soon cut off when I bumped into...
a wall...?
"Huh?" A croaky voice mumbled. I looked up to see a towering figure wearing a white suit. He slowly turned around to face me. He was a middle-aged man with a scar running down the right side of his face. Pieces of jewelry were seen decorating his body. Three gold necklaces, rings on every finger, diamond earrings, and I could see his Irezumi peeking through his chest.
'A Yakuza higher-up.' I thought to myself, slowly backing away from him.
With a cigar in his mouth, he glared at me with condescending eyes as if I was just a small fly who was annoying him.
"Looks like a fly bumped into me. Ya blind or somethin'!?" Bending down, he frowled at me.
"I'm sorry, mister. I didn't see where I was going." Looking for trouble with him was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment. Didn't have the time to care about some trivial things.
"Yeah, I can see that..." He mocked me, pointing at my bangs that cover my right eye. "You should get a new haircut so that you can see properly." He added.
"Sorry mister, I'm in a rush. Excuse me-" As I tried to walk past him, he grabbed my hand tightly. I winced as the force of his grip was enough to pull me back in place.
"Oh, I don't think so, little wolfy. I think ya have to properly apologize for bumpin' into me-"
That smirk of his was annoying me. 'Guess I don't really have a choice, huh?' I internally sighed. I then snapped my fingers and suddenly appeared five meters away from the man, escaping his grasp.
I walked away from him with a smirk on my face as he looked around the crowd, bewildered as I just disappeared into thin air right in front of his face.
'You're lucky we're in a crowded place, or else I would have sliced your throat the moment you talked shit about my bangs.' I drowned out the sounds with my headphones again as I continued to walk towards my destination.
Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you all.
I'm a Rulebreaker too.
My ability is called Blink. I can travel anywhere within the radius of the sounds I create. For example, I clap my hands, and the sound travel for about 15 meters. Since soundwaves travel omnidirectionally, I can travel everywhere within that 15-meter radius. It's pretty much short-distance teleportation. And if someone happens to hear the sounds I create, I can blink toward that person no matter the distance. It can not only be activated by sounds I create using my body like a clap or a snap. As long as I use my body part to create a sound, whether I ring my bell earring or fire a gun, Blink can be activated.
It's pretty sweet, I know, but it's not overpowered. Each time I blink, I have to create another sound for me to be able to blink again. Since I have to create a sound to be able to do it, I cannot solely rely on my ability in stealth missions as enemies can be alerted by my sounds. Blink can be really disorienting, since my vestibular system and Blink aren't the best of friends. I used to puke every few usages or so. My ability is also hindered in crowded places, as it tends to drown out the sounds I create.
After half an hour of walking through the neon-hued streets of Shibuya, I finally arrived at the possible location of Mr. "Death"'s next mission. It was a ran down warehouse covered in rust all over, about 500 meters square in size. The lights were barely on, blinking randomly with sparks falling towards the crack-decorated asphalt of the facility. Some of the windows were broken while others were covered in dust and mold.
"Damn," I whispered to myself.
I then threw a rock that landed on the roof and blinked myself towards it. I immediately crouched down and slowly walked towards a window that overlooked what was inside the warehouse. I peeked my head over the window to see what was inside, only to see something that made the gears inside my brain run.
The current Prime Minister was tied up on a chair, bloodied and bruised.
'Well, this is interesting.'
I gently carved out a hole in the window with my knife. Then I quickly caught the carved-out glass piece before it fell to the ground and put it next to me on the roof.
'Don't wanna hit the cargo's head with glass now, do we?'
Without a single ounce of fear in me, I dropped down from the window. Just before my feet touched the ground, I snapped my fingers and blinked just behind the asleep prime minister, stopping my momentum so that the noise I made was at the absolute minimum, and also so that my legs wouldn't break of course.
"Now what to do with you..." I slowly circled the battered prime minister, asleep oh so soundly (probably fainted because of the beating he received...), and thought about the things I should do with him as bait.
'C4? No, he'd notice from a mile away... Trap wire? No, that's stupid. Timed bombs? No, useless... What if I kill the minister before he steps into the room to catch him off guard? No, then I won't know what his goal is with keeping the Prime Minister captive in the first place. Shit... what to do...' My mind followed my body as I kept on going in circles.
My train of thought came to a halt as I heard a cough. I looked over to the prime minister who was starting to regain consciousness.
"Where...?" He groaned, voice raspy from dehydration.
"You're still in Tokyo, Mr. Prime Minister."
The middle-aged man slowly pulled his head up and looked at me with tired eyes and a sunken face.
"You weren't the one from before..." He mumbled, gaining my interest. With a little excitement, I approached the tied-up man and crouched to meet him eye-to-eye.
"Did you see what he looks like?" I asked him, my facade of being a stoic, cold, woman slowly beginning to fade as I waited for his answer in anticipation.
The man looked at me for a second. But considering he didn't have any other resources at the moment, he decided on trusting me and giving his answer.
"I... It was after office hours and I was just about to go home, so the lights were off. I couldn't see him clearly, but I could tell that he was a big man. Tall... He was as tall as the doorframe... He didn't trigger even a single alarm, even with his size. I couldn't put up much of a fight as, well... I'm old, so I couldn't see much of his face. But I saw a few stitches on his mouth, if that'll even help..."
But then, voices outside the warehouse interfered with our super-duper important conversation.
"You sure this wasn't just a set-up or something?"
"Look, I get your concern, but the data we received is verified. He should be here, all tied up nice and dandy."
I clapped my hands and blinked towards a steel frame on the ceiling, before grabbing it and hanging myself from it, away from the line of sight.
The door was then sled open, showing 10 men who were armed with high-leveled weaponries. They were wearing the typical cyberpunk hooligan fashion, pure shit, and zero taste.
'So he was using the Prime Minister as a trade object... He's number one for a reason, huh?' I monologued inside my head.
"Puckie," One of the armed men elbowed the one who stood in the middle. The man then turned his head toward him.
"That him?" He pointed at the minister who was grimacing as the light from outside flared right into his eyes.
The man in the middle, now known as Puckie, clicked his tongue, "Yeah, and I'm 9 months pregnant with sextuplets. Of-fucking-course that's him, idiot! Who else is here, the fucking task force!? Those drugs are corroding the chrome you got for brains, shithead! Now go secure him before some unwanted guests come crashing!"
'Yikes, you kiss your mother with that mouth?'
The man complied and did as he was told, but not without grumbling curses along the way.
"Oi Puckie! He looks a bit... damaged... Will the client still accept it?" The man shouted to the man at the back while untying the Prime Minister from his chair.
"The only thing that matters is that we give them the product alive. We'll get our full paycheck then." He answered back nonchalantly whilst tinkering with his assault rifle.
One of the men who stood at the rear began to wander his eyes around the room and questioned, "Hey, I get that the data we got is verified and all, but I still don't like this. This can still be a setup by some rival gang or something."
The man untying the Prime Minister laughed mockingly, "They can come all they want! With the firepower we have, even the ACES won't stand a chance."
"Now that's just bullshit, Lonnie!" One of the men replied, making all of them laugh except the worried one.
"If we were to face the ACES, you'd be the first one dying out of all of us!" Another added, extending the streak of laughter.
The man in the middle (Puckie) added, "Even if it is a setup, we still have the Prime Minister in our possession. The country will be in the palm of our hand as long as we have him. No one-"
"Uh, guys?"
His talk was then interrupted by the worried man shakily pointing towards something.
"Guys, where did they go...?" The worried man uttered as his shaky hand pointed toward where the Prime Minister was supposed to be, only to find the chair...
empty?
I couldn't believe what my eyes were showing me. My mind began to race, wondering how it even happened. My awareness was toward both the group of men and the Prime Minister, so I would have noticed if there was something. But somehow...
'What the hell!?'
"Shit!" They all readied their guns, "How!?"
"They were just right there!"
"Lonnie! Where the hell are you, man!"
"Forget Lonnie! What about the Prime Minister!? What's gonna happen to us!?"
"Forget Lonnie!? Motherfucker, do you even know what you're talking about!?"
"Shit, what do we do now Puckie!?"
"Lemme think for a sec, goddammit!!"
The men were in disarray, with fear destroying them from the inside. A cluster of emotions struck them; emotions towards their comrade and themselves. As if fear of the unknown slithered its tentacles around their bodies, dragging them even deeper into the lake of dread.
Then, at the edge of my peripheral vision, black smoke slithered its way from the darkened part of the warehouse as if it was some sort of creature stalking its prey from the abyss. The movement was lifelike as well. It genuinely looked alive and it was unsettling. The smoke was barely visible; I could see it because of my skills as a trained mercenary, but it'd be no surprise if they weren't able to notice it as it was so faint.
The smoke slowly circled the group, enveloping them in the hazy abyss. One by one, they began to notice the smoke they were surrounded with, then it was only pandemonium that came after.
"Hey, what's with all this smoke!?"
"Shit! Watch your backs! Engaging air filtration and thermal sights!"
"...See anything?"
"...Not a damn thing, dead cold."
"Same here."
"Fuck..."
It was like I was about to witness a herd of lambs getting massacred by a wolf. The weak, feeble prey, trembling as they were cornered with nowhere to escape, against the lone, starving predator, lurking in the darkness, circling the herd searching for the best angle to pounce. It was as if I was being shown a bona fide example of the law of nature right in front of my eyes. The strong preying on the weak.
It sent chills down my spine.
Then, something came out of the smoke and into the middle of the group. It flopped and bounced a few times, making wet sounds every time it touched the ground. The group all quickly pointed their flashlights toward it, only to discover that it was their comrade's severed hand, holding one eyeball inside its palm.
"Jesus Christ!"
"My God..."
"Holy shit, I think I'm gonna puke..."
"Fucking hell, Lonnie..."
"We didn't sign up for this! At least I didn't, goddammit!"
"Puckie...! I think now's the best time for that brain of yours to work...!"
"You think my gears aren't spinning right now, huh!?", Puckie was in turmoil.
"That's it! Fuck this, I'm outta here!", said one of the men before dropping all his gear in haste and sprinting as fast as he could toward the still-opened door. But as he was a few steps away from escaping what could possibly become his death, the door slammed itself shut.
The man silently stood with his mouth agape as he processed the impending fate he and his comrades were about to experience. There was no escape for them. His knees gave in to the fear, making him fall onto the ground in defeat.
"Nook!", Puckie quickly turned towards him and hastily approached him, but as he was about to drag him back to the group, the defeated man blinked out of his sight. Gritting his teeth, Puckie took a step back as his trembling hands were getting worse.
It was the end for them.
The concept of death had been concretely engraved in their minds right then and there.
The smoke kept on becoming denser and darker. They were slowly fading away from my sight. I felt sorry for them, but then again, at least I wasn't the one with the short end of the stick. With the small amount of pity I had for them, I watched as they slowly got swallowed by the darkness; the light of their flashlights slowly becoming mere twinkles of light like the stars in the sky, before disappearing completely, their silence becoming dead quiet.
...
..
.
I didn't want to admit it.
There was one emotion that I tried my best at suppressing back then.
Pushing it as deep as possible inside my heart, as my pride and ego wouldn't me to accept that as an actual emotion I have inside of me, towards who I want to surpass nonetheless.
But as I watched the whole scene unfold before my very eyes,
I was afraid. Genuinely afraid. Horrified, terrified.
I tried my best not to puke my guts out, or to hyperventilate.
The concept of death had not only been engraved on those people's minds but on mine as well.
I had just been shown just how terrifying the man I wanted to face was, and millions of scenarios exploded into my mind on just how he could bring me 6-feet underground.
They were only goons, pawns you can find everywhere, especially in this city.
As I looked below towards the sea of black smoke, I couldn't help but imagine how gruesome the scene must have looked once the smoke had dissipated.
And I couldn't help but imagine how I would fare against him.
It was like I was looking up at an insurmountable wall that rose above the clouds.
No.
It was as if death was looming over me, staring at me dead in the eyes with its hollow pockets for eyes.
...
Turns out he was.
...
Death's eyes truly are hollow.
...
..
.
I couldn't remember anything after that.