XNE231 trudged through the labyrinth of shattered debris, his boots crunching over the brittle remains of skeletons stripped bare of their humanity. Bones, gleaming like pale ghosts, lay scattered—a silent testament to the carnage wrought here. The air reeked of decay, thick and suffocating, as though the walls themselves exhaled the death they had witnessed.
His fingers tightened around the handle of his FD-543, the weapon's cold metal biting into his palm like a last tether to reality. With a deep, shuddering breath, he stepped to the final door, its surface pulsing faintly, as if alive. It groaned open, and there it stood—a grotesque, plant-like creature rooted in the center of the room.
Its face—or what passed for one—twisted into an uncanny grin that stretched impossibly wide, dark red pupils glinting like windows into an abyss. The thing's head swayed to an unseen rhythm, and then, with an almost mocking precision, its gaze locked onto him. From the hollow pits where eyes once dwelled, a black, viscous liquid oozed in rivulets, each drop falling with a sound that echoed too loudly in the silence. This was no ordinary monster. It was the Guardian of the Concept of Death.
"Ah," it spoke, its voice a chilling amalgam of whispers and growls, "a fully-blooded Homo sapien. How extraordinary. Blessed am I, O Death, to witness this moment. Tell me, human—what is your name?"
XNE231 froze, the voice slithering over him like cold chains. His instincts screamed to flee, but his lips betrayed him, trembling as they formed words he barely felt himself utter.
"XNE231... that's my designation. Wait... you speak English?"
The Guardian chuckled, the sound wet and guttural, like flesh tearing from bone. "A small gift from the Concept of Knowledge. A courtesy, if you will. But enough pleasantries—your name."
The creature's command reverberated in his skull, a weight so unbearable it sent shivers racing down his spine.
"XNE231," he stammered again, his breath shallow. "I don't think I can…"
"Kill me?" The Guardian's voice curled with mockery. "Why would you? I am no obstacle to your progress. You've come far, human, and you are strong. But tell me this: do you truly grasp what immortality means? Aren't you humans already cursed with your own version of it?"
"What we have," XNE231 rasped, his voice trembling, "is no immortality. It's a vile parody, an insult to God's design."
The Guardian's grin widened further, if such a thing were possible, its grotesque form shaking with amusement. "God? How quaint. To think a human still clings to such notions. But let us not tarry in idle musings. Here—"
The creature's vine-like appendages snaked away, returning moments later with a sword. Its surface glistened with the same black liquid that seeped from the Guardian's eye sockets. XNE231's muscles coiled instinctively, ready to react, but the weapon was dropped unceremoniously at his feet.
"Take it," the Guardian hissed, its voice dripping with glee. "This blade may serve you well. Kill the Concept of Death, will you? Ah, but don't fret—he can't hear us. Finally, we may all be free. Maybe."
XNE231 hesitated but reached for the blade, his every motion slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving the monstrous figure. As his fingers curled around the hilt, a strange warmth coursed through him—a rush of power, intoxicating yet foreign.
"Why would you betray your master?" XNE231 asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.
The Guardian's head tilted again, its eerie rhythm resuming. "Because the Concept of Death is a prison. I yearn for the beyond, for the realms you humans cannot fathom. Death binds me here, and I grow weary. But enough. Go."
XNE231 stepped into the chamber beyond, and a wave of nausea struck him like a hammer. The air was thick with the stench of rotting souls, a miasma so vile it clawed at his lungs. Before him floated the Concept of Death—a black, pulsating mass suspended in the air, its surface rippling like a liquid heart. Chains of an otherworldly material anchored it to the ground, their glow dim but unyielding.
As he approached, the pulse slowed, matching the rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, he felt calm—unnaturally so, as though some unseen force soothed his frantic nerves. Raising the blade, he hesitated, his mind racing. What would a world without death look like? Would it be salvation—or damnation?
"I hope this changes something," he murmured, swinging the sword in a clean arc.
The blade struck true, slicing into the sphere. But even as the wound appeared, it vanished, the mass reforming as though untouched. Undeterred, XNE231 tried again, and again, his strikes growing frantic. The same maddening result greeted him each time.
The Concept of Death pulsed on, immutable, eternal.
"One more," he whispered, though his arms trembled with exhaustion. He raised the sword again but stopped mid-motion, a weak smile crossing his face. The realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
Lowering the blade, he turned away and began his walk back. The Guardian greeted him with its sickening laugh, its head bobbing in approval.
"Couldn't do it, could you?" it taunted. "Or have you finally understood?"
XNE231 met its gaze, his expression weary but resolute. "A paradox. Who knew that would be the crux of it all?"
The Guardian's laughter echoed long after he left, its twisted amusement carrying through the ruins like a mocking hymn to futility.
As XNE231 turned to leave, the Guardian's vines shot forth with lightning speed, their jagged tips piercing his flesh like icy needles. A cold, viscous liquid seeped into his veins, spreading through his body with a burning chill that made him gasp and stumble.
"Who said you could leave so soon?" the Guardian hissed, its grin widening to an impossible degree. The laughter that followed was a macabre symphony of malice. "You ventured into my garden without offering tribute. That's hardly fair, is it? You wielded my sword, after all, and now I require retribution."
XNE231's muscles screamed as he struggled against the paralyzing poison coursing through him. His breathing grew labored, and the Guardian's voice slithered into his ears like an unwelcome whisper.
"There is a... company on the surface layer," it said, its voice heavy with mockery. "Pleasure Party. Surely you've heard of them, haven't you? Their CEO and I share... let's call it a joint venture. You will assist us, brave little human. Your mettle has impressed me."
The words "Pleasure Party" were a dagger in XNE231's mind. His face twisted from fear to revulsion and finally to a burning hatred that threatened to consume him.
Pleasure Party.
The very name was an affront to human dignity, a company shrouded in vile infamy. They catered to society's elites—those who lived atop gilded towers, untouched by morality. Their most grotesque offering? The Auction of Death. An obscene spectacle where CEOs and powerbrokers bid on the lives of their peers, reveling in the twisted thrill of deciding who lived and who died. Often, these assassinations were personal—a CEO bidding to kill a rival, a family member, or even a child to feel something, whether it be fleeting sorrow or macabre satisfaction.
Yet, the depravity did not end there. Pleasure Party also trafficked in flesh—those at society's bottom, desperate to survive, were reshaped into vessels of submission. Human bodies were surgically and chemically transformed into living playthings, perfect for abuse, molded to their tormentors' desires. Souls were erased, leaving behind obedient husks. These atrocities were hidden in plain sight, their horrors masked by contracts and collusion. The world's eyes were averted, blindfolded by indifference and greed.
XNE231's fists clenched, his hatred bubbling into something raw and primal. The Guardian chuckled, its amusement dark and palpable.
"Ah, I see the name stirs something in you," it purred. "Good. That fire in your eyes—that's exactly why I've chosen you. Now, kneel and swear your service, or... I'll ensure your flesh becomes part of my garden."
The vines tightened their grip, black liquid dripping onto the floor in slow, deliberate splatters. The air grew colder, the weight of the Guardian's gaze bearing down on XNE231 like an unrelenting tide. He looked into its grotesque, grinning visage, his hatred warring with the creeping despair clawing at his mind.
For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the distant sound of dripping liquid and the slow, steady hum of the Guardian's laughter. But he had nothing to, now he was a member of the Pleasure Party.
XNE231 adjusted the crisp folds of his uniform, its stark, immaculate fabric clinging tightly to his frame. His badge, polished to a mirror finish, caught the morning sunlight as he pinned it to his chest. For a moment, he stood before the towering edifice of Pleasure Party's headquarters, a gleaming marvel of architecture.
The building was breathtaking. Its façade was a seamless blend of glass and steel, rising like a beacon of modernity and power. Fountains lined the walkway, their crystalline waters dancing in carefully choreographed patterns, while lush gardens bloomed with vibrant flora, perfectly maintained. Even the air carried a faint, pleasant fragrance, as though the very atmosphere bowed to the company's opulence.
"Hello, nice to meet you. I'm XNE231," he murmured under his breath, practicing the words with mechanical precision. They felt foreign in his mouth, a mask for the turmoil bubbling beneath his calm exterior.
With a deep breath, he stepped inside.
The lobby was a vision of grandeur. Marble floors gleamed beneath his boots, their surface so polished they seemed to stretch endlessly downward. Golden chandeliers hung above, casting a warm, inviting glow. Employees buzzed around the space with infectious energy, their voices light and filled with purpose. The air thrummed with the sound of success: laughter, the clicking of heels, the hum of cheerful conversation.
"Good morning!" a passing employee greeted, flashing him a dazzling smile. "First day, huh? You're going to love it here!"
Before XNE231 could respond, another employee chimed in, holding a tablet and looking over their shoulder as they hurried past. "Don't forget to try the Pain machine on the top floor—it's life-changing!"
Everywhere he looked, there was enthusiasm and camaraderie. Groups gathered around sleek pain machines, dispensing pills that make your body ache so that they can experience the feeling of pain, exchanging jokes and laughter. Others moved briskly but with genuine smiles, clearly eager to tackle their tasks. This wasn't just a workplace—it was a community of people who seemed to thrive in its intoxicatingly luxurious embrace.
"Welcome!" came a cheerful voice from his left.
XNE231 turned to see a figure striding toward him. His stomach turned as the speaker came into view—a humanoid figure with the unmistakable face of a cow. Its glassy black eyes twinkled with mirth, and its broad nose twitched slightly as it spoke. Despite the grotesqueness of its bovine features, its suit was impeccable, tailored to perfection. He was probably bio-engineered for some sick person's personal pleasure, but he seemed to have risen from ranks as a sex-slave slightly shocking XN231.
"You must be the new assassin!" the creature exclaimed, extending a hand. "It's been... oh, 214 years since we've had someone fresh! And my, my, you look like a fine addition to the team."
XNE231 hesitated before shaking the offered hand, the leathery texture of its palm sending a shiver down his spine.
"Come with me," the creature continued, its voice brimming with enthusiasm. "No need to worry about an office—we wouldn't want to waste company resources on food, water, or electricity for you, now would we? But don't fret, we'll keep you busy!"
It led him through a side corridor, the walls adorned with digital displays showcasing company milestones, stock growth, and messages like "Innovation Through Killing" and "Shaping the Future, One Assassination at a Time." The employees they passed waved or nodded, their faces lit with genuine pride.
Finally, they reached a room where a sleek black gun rested on a pedestal, its polished surface gleaming under a soft spotlight.
"Your first assignment!" the creature announced, clapping its hands together. "The CEO of Pain Enterprises. He's been... problematic. Can you believe he's trying to negotiate with the president to raise taxes on the rich? From negative 51% to negative 50%! Outrageous, right? That extra percentage point could fund a dozen more projects for us! He cares for the botom 98.99%, we give them jobs why care for them!"
XNE231 stared at the creature, its cheerful tone clashing with the horrifying implications of its words.
"The company won't suffer, of course," it continued breezily. "His son is ready to take over. We've ironed out all the details. But the CEO's audacity? Unacceptable. Now, off you go—time is money, after all!"
XNE231 stepped forward, his hand hovering over the gun before he finally picked it up. The weapon's cold weight settled heavily in his palm, a grim reminder of what lay ahead.
As he left the office, the vibrant energy of the headquarters remained undisturbed. Employees laughed and worked around him, their joy a stark juxtaposition to the task looming over his head.