***
He woke up in a bad place, a dark one too at that. The kind where the air feels too heavy and the walls press in closer than they should have. It is not the kind of place you can escape by just packing a bag or driving away to somewhere new. It's the kind of place that exists in you, in the darkest corners of your mind.
'I should probably get up.' The clock's ticking and the sun's already high in the sky. A haggard-looking young man stares at his phone screen for a few minutes, its blank screen reflecting back a face he barely recognised.
His face, pale and drawn, was a stranger in the phone's dark reflection. Dark circles, the colour of bruised plums, rimmed bloodshot eyes. His usually shiny obsidian black hair, now lank and greasy, clung to his forehead. A week's worth of stubble shadowed his jawline, giving him a perpetually disgruntled expression. His reflection stared back, a hollow echo of the man he once was. His eyes, once bright with ambition, now held a haunted, weary look. His lips, once ready with a smile, were now thin and drawn, a grim line across his face. He barely recognised the gaunt, defeated figure staring back at him, a ghost of the man he used to be.
A sudden shift from a few minutes of nothing but the hum of a headache drilling through his head to an angry buzz from his phone made his hand tremble.
A message he wasn't expecting. Just four words.
'We need to meet.'
The room felt off; shadows lingered too long in the corners, stretching where they shouldn't have. The air was stale from being trapped in there for too long. It reeked badly of depression.
His stomach churned, and his headache intensified. He reached for the lampshade for his pills, but the bottle was empty.
Again.
"Damn it, it's kinda early to tell, but today's gonna be a bad day... I think." He barely whispers, his voice cracked and raspy.
He got out of bed with much struggle; his legs felt like they were made of lead. He needed to restock on pills.
The only problem was that these were not the kind of pills you would get in your regular pharmacy.
Out of his bedroom and into the living room, there on the sofa was his roommate hanging out with a bunch of his friends. All of whom wouldn't pay a penny for rent but basically lived there.
"Hey Mordred, you can't just coop yourself up in the room all day, every day without telling anyone. If you are going to die, at least tell someone something.
"Mordred just spared his roommate a glance and grunted with a nod. His roommate just laughed and continued with his game.
'He's a decent guy when he's not high on drugs.' Mordred thought as he went out of the house and pulled his car out of the driveway.
Mordred had always been jealous of people who wore their hearts. He had never been able to react in a normal wayâor society's version of itâand that is what made him good at his job... or was.
If he was suddenly frightened, he wouldn't jump or scream in fear for his life but would still feel the fear nonetheless. To an outsider, he wouldn't look concerned to even say scared. He always looked calm and collected, only showing emotions he wanted to.
He had only heavily sobbed twice, if he remembered right, and never had a bout of laughter he couldn't quite stop. His behaviour didn't affect his relationship with his family or friends, but most people found his demeanour off-putting.
As he pulled out of the driveway, he noticed that his battery was on a critical level. Someone had been stealing his charge, and he knew it. Well, today wasn't the day to be thinking about thieves and robbers; he had an inkling of who was responsible, and he would surely deal with that later.
The drive to the gas station was mostly boring and uneventful, and he spent most of the time in his head, just staring out the window towards the world outside, watching out for any subtle changes or hints of dangerâold habits do die hard.
The world outside was a forest of steel. Skyscrapers reached towards the heavens as if wanting to touch the gods. Hoverrails zipped between the buildings along tracks in the city skyline resembling snakes prowling through a forest. The faces of buildings were adorned with colourful electronic screens that flickered from one advertisement to the next.
Giant and life-like holographic images were projected into the air. "... VYNE Inc., we have mastered the art of cutting-edge bionic cyber tech, creating your personalised prosthetic." Mordred caught the last few words of an actor in one advertisement speaking enticingly.
This made him chuckle wryly. It wasn't an emotion that suddenly surfaced but a habit that he had developed out of necessity to be able to seamlessly blend in with other humans.
There wasn't much traffic on the ground these days as hovercars were more pronounced. Few people ever fancied land cars; it was either they were some rich fanatic or poor person with no choice, and even fewer drove them around.
Mordred sadly fell into the second category, quite literally. He was too broke to afford a hover car, but he still needed his own means of transport as he needed it to be able to conduct business.
Absent-mindedly observing how far humanity had come in just a short while, Mordred pulled into the charging station and started to charge up his battery.
"At least this station has superfast charging." His stomach rumbled, and he realised he hadn't had anything substantial to eat in a while, and he probably wouldn't be getting some anytime soon.
Under normal circumstances, he would have gone for a quick drive-thru, but he couldn't afford to make the chief wait any longer, so he decided to get some chips and maybe a soda if he could even afford it.
Stepping out of his car and entering the minimart, Mordred spotted the cashier giving him a curious glance, probably because of how haggard he looked.
He didn't mind; after all, this was a free world, and they were in an even freer country, and everyone was entitled to his or her opinion. He just gave the cashier a dry smile and went down the candy aisle. Ignoring the mildly infuriating song on repeat playing in the background, he selected a plain-flavoured potato chip.
'VYNE's Crackles: plain-flavoured potato chips. Synth version.'
"These guys just have to dip their fingers into ...every ...single ...fucking ...thing." He muttered.
VYNE Inc. was the biggest corporationâcompany, conglomerate, or whatever it is they wereâin the whole world. They dabbled in everything one could think of. From education to agriculture to technological advancements to warfare. They had so much power that big and powerful countries who couldn't even begin to fathom the scope of their strength feared them and tried all they could to nerf them. And their fears were not unwarranted.
If they willed it, they could take over the world in just ten minutes, and no one could oppose them.
Many conspiracy theorists believed VYNE was up to no good, speculating they were involved in aliens, making deals with the devil, having special and cruel programs that created enhanced humans, and a whole lot of other absurd and over-the-top things.
What they didn't know was how close to the truth they were. VYNE was just a cover company for UHuLâthe organisation that employed Mordred back then.
Mordred, lost in thought, walked towards the fridge, hoping an energy drink would give him the boost he very much needed.
As if on cue, in the background, right where the counter should have been, he heard someone screaming some incoherent gibberish. Probably a homeless guy getting bored, hoping he could earn some sympathy points and get some food or cash.
Or maybe it was an actual customer having a few issues and trying to start a war over it.
Mordred always marvelled at how the world was run on human emotions. He just couldn't understand the intricacies and dynamics involved. He didn't regret that his emotions were naturally suppressed because it helped him think rationally no matter the situation. Quite handy for someone in his line of work but not enough.
He always thought back to that day, wondering if maybe he had more expressive emotions, just maybe, the fear he felt would have made him run away but alas the past was the past and there wasn't much one could do to change it.
The price tag on the energy drink made him even more depressed. "The cost of living is getting absurdly high maybe I should sell my car off," Mordred mumbled seriously considering it for a while but quickly casting it aside as fast as the idea came to him.
While walking over to the counter he could still hear whoever it was screaming at the top of their lungs.
"... the fucking drawer! I said to open up the fucking drawer.!!"
The words reached Mordred making him freeze in his tracks. "Shit! Shit!! Shit!!! Why today of all days?" He didn't like how this was going. Crouching on the floor Mordred inched his way towards the end of the aisle trying to confirm the situation.
Right in front of his very eyes, the cashier was being held at gunpoint. His heart set into a frenzied pound. Had it been a year ago he could have probably taken the robber on but not today.
Sighing Mordred reached into his pockets for his phone, at least he could get a video or two to help catch the suspect.
"Crap, I left it in the car." Mordred cursed under his breath. This was probably his cue to leave.
"I want every byt you have, once you're done open the bag I brought and throw some cigarettes inside; not the crappy ones I want that good stuff. Yeah, get them all in there. Don't forget to add the booze too YOU FUCKER!!!" The robber screamed.
"Do you want me to put a bullet in your head and do it myself? ...huh? Do you want that? I'm not picky... Keep it moving im running low on time and stop shaking like a fucking chihuahua, it's not like I'm going to shoot you. This laser gun here is just for your motivation so that you don't try to pull any funny shit or get any funny ideas."
Mordred sighed
The universe just didn't want him to have some peace. It was at this moment that he did something truly stupid. He tried to escape unnoticed but his haste caused him to stumble and knock over a soup can that clamored to the floor.
Clank...clank...clank.
The can clattered to the floor, the echo ringing through the shop, carrying with it a hollow sense of despair.