Work Hard! Moral !1d4WGijdSc 2011/10/07 (Fri) 05:20 No. 134 ▼ File 131796480617.jpg - (266.60KB, 850x994 , you don't seem that happy.jpg)
From the outside view, the run-down apartment didn't look like a disgusting, maggot-filled dump. The same could not be said of the interior, however. There is mold in places where you didn't even want to think about, infestations and insects in every nook and cranny, and lastly, half-tap water and half-unidentified-liquid sewer system which makes you want to bathe in a latrine instead. But this was your home.
Or rather, it isn't until you pay your rent, which is due in a week's time. Your job as a manual labor freelancer doesn't pay as much as you hoped to be, but there's not much else you can do. The economy was run down to the ground decades ago, and is only starting to recover now, with dozens of help efforts being placed by the government. If only the government wasn't the sole cause of the economy being trampled down, then you'd find some solace in the regrowth of the cities. You rummage around in your worn down jeans, sorting through your pockets. You find a crisp ten dollar bill from the front of your pants, as well as a tiny business card with small print you can't read. Stuffing it back, you look around the shops to go search for some profit. A few lone shops have signs with something probably asking for employees wanted, but you weren't sure. Often times, you have trouble with the longer words. You open the doors of the first shop, making a jingling sound from the bells above. Nodding your head to the shopkeeper, you point to the sign, reading the long word, then ?Wanted.."
"Oh!" He snaps with his finger. "Ya lookin' for a job here? Well, all ya gotta do is sign this form right there!" The man jabs his thumb on a piece of paper with squiggly lines over it.
"...Sign what?" You answer, not understanding what he meant by signing something. The shopkeeper raises his left eyebrow out of worry, or something else.
"Heavens, son. Don'tcha know how'ta read?"
"No, I do not." you answer candidly. "Was never taught.."
"Good Lord." He scoffs, then sighs wistfully. "Where you raised?"
"Nowhere, sir." you reply in total honesty. "I never remembered.."
He frowns, but pats your shoulders. "Look, kid. I can't take ya in here, but I can see you a hard worker, so take a little kindness from me." The man slips you a ten dollar bill, pushing it to your palms. "Now git outta here." He says with no hint of anger, or disappointment.
You're pushed to back to the streets, looking for some more ways to get some money. One shop with sleek, black doors catches your attention. You're lured by its pristine, clear look as if the whole place was wiped down with a cleaner. A man with black hair slicked down to his neck straightens his collar. "Do you have business here?"
"No. But I want to.."
"You want to?" He questions.
"I want to have business here.."
After a few seconds of smoothing down his wrinkled business suit, he licks his lips. "Okay. Then you must swear to an oath. An oath that you must never say anything about what you will do for us. It will pay good money."
"Yessir.."
"What I want you to do is to shoot someone real quick. Just kill her, the victim I mean. You will be paid a big lump of cash, depending on how it goes." He throws you something. Its cold frame is unfamiliar, but you can guess what it is.
"A gun."
"Yes, it is. There are a lot of them circulating, but try not to dirty your hands too much. It is very easy, however. Come? He directs, not waiting for you to follow. You scramble to a car, where a few men nudge you inside. The man from before is not here, but the new men say nothing until a neighborhood street pops up. 192nd Street, as its named.
The gun is slipped into your pocket, and then the car shifts itself into reverse, and tails off somewhere. You have a mission to do. A mission to save your home, and your life ultimately. But you just stand there, in front of the patio, not moving an inch. Time seems to slow down, although 30 minutes have passed. Or so you guess. A single step is taken. Then another, then a few more. Time reverts itself as you keep on making more distance from the patio. Soon enough, you're right inside the house, with a lone woman lying face down on the only couch. Looking around the place, you find nobody else living here. So she is clearly the target. You point the gun at her, closing one eye to adjust your aim. Your finger starts to shake on the trigger, then your arm. Both your eyes start to close as you pull it.
Click. Nothing.
Nothing comes out. You're puzzled by why nothing has happened. The gun didn't seem to respond to anything. After fiddling around with the gun for a good minute, you realized there was a switch that turns it on. Or something like that. Flipping it up, now you were sure to realize your mission goal. But your arm continues to stutter, spasming to the point where you can't see where to aim. Hoping to calm yourself, you take a few deep breaths, and squint to aim again. You pull the finger.
A large bang rockets around the room, the echoes bouncing off the walls. Then, a blood curdling shriek defies your ears, giving you chills on the back of your neck. The woman is clutching her arm, sobbing and screaming incoherently. A black mark is seen in the middle of her shoulder to her elbow, blood steadily oozing out. Fear kicks in, and you start shooting more.
You should've steadied your arm. Bang. You should've put it to her head. Bang You should've killed her quickly in one blow. Bang bang bang.
There she was. Lying on the floor, 'sleeping.' Blood flows steadily through multiple shots, accumulating on the tan carpet. You sit down on the floor, stupefied by what happened. What happened to your mission..."
In a few short minutes, the enforcers come and take you away.
A cold jail cell. You don't particularly hate it, but it isn't a five star hotel. Not that you've ever seen one.
A voice whispers to you. "I saw what happened. Isn't it unfair that you are forced to be in a world where you are born at a disadvantage? Where you are forced to kill to survive?" A blond woman is now appearing out of what seems to be a tiny hole in the corner. "But I can save you." She assures herself. "Yes, I can save you from this hellish place you call the world. Just follow me.."
"I don't want to." you reply. "I did a bad thing, so it's right for me to be punished. What can redeem a killer?"
"Okay then." She shrugs. "Suit yourself. Your sentence is tomorrow. Pretty soon, huh?" The blond says, detached of emotion.
30 minutes or so passes, give or take a few. You are secured to a chair with a lot of wires. The same blond woman is in the corner of your vision, talking to another blond woman with what seems to be tails.
Blond woman number one whispers to her friend. You just barely overhear their conversation. "We have longer life spans right? But sometimes, I fear that humans understand us better than we do. Rather, we have no understanding of humans at all."
"You know," Blond number two responds. "I think about that often. But really." She closes her eyes as a few men in the front flip a switch. "I think humans are the greatest youkai of them all."