Mako's eyes flew open. It was a sudden, jarring moment, like being pulled from the depths of a deep dream. For a second, he wasn't sure why he'd woken up. Then it hit him.
They had been drugged.
Mako tried to tap Mei, to warn her to stay awake but he couldn't move.
His chest rose and fell in short, panicked bursts, but his arms and legs were lifeless, as if weighed down by invisible chains. He tried to lift a hand to shake Mei awake, to warn her, but his body refused to obey.
Even his head was stuck, locked in place by a force he couldn't see or understand.
He managed a faint, guttural sound from deep in his throat, a pathetic and desperate, "Hmmg, hmmg!" But his lips wouldn't form the words, and his voice betrayed the rising terror in his heart.
The woman-Grace-turned to face him, and the warmth that had once softened her expression was gone. In its place was a cold, calculating grin. Her eyes gleamed with something predatory, and her lips curled into a cruel smirk.
"Don't fight it, love," she said, her voice low and syrupy, almost mocking. "You can't win anyway."
The driver's laughter rumbled through the car like thunder, loud and full of menace.
Mako's heart sank. It was as if the warmth of the car had been sucked away, leaving only a hollow, suffocating chill.
Not you too! Mako's mind screamed bitterly. He thought of the kindness she'd shown, the concern in her voice, and how foolish he'd been to trust her. Is there anybody who isn't corrupt in this world?!
The question echoed in his mind as darkness surged forward, swallowing his thoughts, his fear, and his pain. He sank into its suffocating embrace, powerless to resist.
*****
When Mako woke, a blinding pain shot through his head, splitting it open like a cracked shell. He groaned, blinking against the throbbing ache. For a moment, the world was an incomprehensible blur.
Shapes and shadows swam before his eyes, and his body felt heavy, weak.
As his vision cleared, the reality of his surroundings struck him like a punch to the gut.
He was strapped to a bench-thick leather bands held his arms and legs down, biting into his skin. The room around him was dimly lit, but the faint light revealed enough to chill his soul.
Other benches were scattered around the space, each one stained with dark, rust-colored smears. On some of them, there were pools of blood so fresh they still shimmered under the light. On others, cruel-looking instruments gleamed-a collection of blades, saws, and tools whose purpose Mako could only guess at.
A horrifying thought clawed its way into his mind, and he felt the sweat break out across his brow.
Were his kidnappers organ traffickers?
He'd heard the stories-whispered tales in the streets about people disappearing, only to be found weeks later in rivers or alleyways, their bodies hollowed out, their organs sold to the highest bidder.
Mako's breathing quickened, his chest heaving as the thought solidified into certainty. Was this it? Was he about to become one of those stories?
A scream ripped through the air, sharp and piercing. It was the sound of pure terror, of someone in agony. Mako froze. The voice was familiar.
Mei!
"Mei!" he shouted, thrashing against the straps with every ounce of strength he had. The leather dug deeper into his skin, but he didn't care. "Mei!"
The scream grew faint, retreating as though she were being dragged farther and farther away. And then it stopped.
Silence.
The weight of that silence crushed him. A sick, sinking feeling spread through his chest, and though he didn't want to believe it, a voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth.
She's gone.
Footsteps echoed to his right, slow and deliberate. Mako turned his head as far as the straps would allow, but he couldn't see who was coming. He didn't need to.
He knew it was his turn.
A cold blade pressed against his abdomen, the sharp edge biting into his skin. It was a cruel sensation-cold and burning all at once. Yet Mako didn't flinch. He didn't fight.
There's no point, he thought bitterly. Mei was gone, and with her, any will he had left to resist.
The knife's tip pierced his skin, and a searing pain shot through him. He gasped, his chest heaving as his body instinctively tried to recoil, but the straps held him firm.
When the blade plunged deeper, the pain became unbearable, and a scream tore from his throat. It echoed through the room, mingling with the metallic smell of blood and the faint hum of distant machinery.
The last thing Mako felt was the warmth of his own blood pooling beneath him. Then the darkness returned, deep and endless.
This time, he welcomed it.
*****
Mako opened his eyes.
He wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious, but he knew he was no longer in the same place. There was no light, no sound, no sense of time or space.
Just an infinite void that stretched in all directions.
Where am I?
The thought drifted through his mind, but no answer came. Was this heaven? Hell?
Some forgotten space between life and death?
A voice cut through the silence, deep and resonant. It wasn't a sound so much as a feeling, a vibration in his very soul.
"[Congratulations, you have been chosen by the gods of vengeance.]"
Mako blinked into the darkness. "What?" he whispered, his voice small and uncertain.
"[To take out the corrupt people in the world.]"
The words echoed around him, growing louder, sharper.
Mako frowned. A chance to rid the world of corruption? To punish those who preyed on the weak, who destroyed lives without a second thought?
"[Do you accept?]" the voice asked.
Mako hesitated. Accept? Accept what?
"[lf you do not accept, you will die.]"
The voice was calm, almost indifferent, but the weight of the words settled heavily on Mako's shoulders.
I'm already dead, he thought bitterly. But as the thought lingered, he realized what was happening. He had read about this before-in novels, in stories where death wasn't the end.
This was something else. Something more.
He thought of Mei-her screams, her death
-and anger rose within him, hot and consuming.
"I accept," he said firmly.
The void around him trembled, and a sudden burst of light enveloped him. It was blinding, a white-hot brilliance that seemed to pierce his very being. Mako shielded his eyes with his arm, but the light still burned against his closed eyelids.
When it finally dimmed, a new voice spoke, mechanical and emotionless.
"[Welcome to the Assassin System.]"