– No One Chooses This Life
Sunlight burned straight into my eyes, stabbing through the hole on my roof. I groaned and rolled onto my side, pressing my face against the cold floor.
Sleeping on the ground wasn't uncomfortable anymore. You get used to a lot of things when you don't have options.
I turned again and held up my hands in front of my face, they wouldn't stop shaking. I tried to sit up and pain shot through my chest. I ran my hands over it, pressing lightly at first and I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
I must've broken a few ribs.
I had worked myself to the brink of collapse last night. And after all of it, I was still nowhere close to paying off the debt.
I dragged myself to a bucket of water, splashed my face and gave my armpits a hurried scrub. Afterwards, I pulled on yesterday's clothes and checked what I had to eat. There was a half bun in a box near the drawer.
I stared at it for a moment, then shrugged and chewing it slowly, the dry bread was sticking to my throat. When I was done, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my last cigarette. I lit it, took a long drag and let out shaky breath.
'I never chose this life, none of us do in the world we live in. But only those chosen by the system or those lucky enough to be born into families with one, get to live anything close to a good life... while rest of us can't even afford a decent living.
And when I was a kid, I thought life would get better once I grew up. I had dreams just like every other kid in class, that one day I would become a hunter and earn enough money to never go hungry again.
That was the dream they sold us.
But when I turned sixteen, the system started choosing everyone my age. Though, it skipped a lot of us and I was the one who needed it most.
My mom killed herself after i didn't make it. She owed a bad man a lot of money too and when she died, that debt landed squarely on me.
Now, I take jobs that make me hate myself just to feed the man who owns my life.'
Those thoughts haunted me every morning. I crushed the cigarette under my heel, grabbed a small bag of money from under the floorboard and stepped outside.
The shack I lived in sat deep in the woods, far enough from town that nobody cared what happened out here. I walked the dirt path until it turned into cracked pavement, then kept going until buildings replaced trees.
I headed straight for the abandoned warehouse in the north. Two black cars are parked outside, meaning Santos was early. And that isn't a good sign.
I barely made it three steps inside before I felt the movement behind me. Two men stepped in as the door slammed shut. I turned slowly. Santos himself was standing in the center of the floor, flanked by two more goons.
"You sure damn took your time with my money, boy."
I lifted the bag slightly. "I almost didn't make it. Last night, I pushed myself until my whole body broke."
"I don't give a shit! When you have my money, you come to me right when the sun slips out. Not when you feel like rolling out of your shit hole." Santos said, stepping toward me. And he's men closed the circle.
I felt a surge of irritation. This old man was such a pain. "Come on, dude. I'm here, aren't I?"
I knew I screwed up, the moment those words slipped out of my mouth.
Santos's face went bruised red and he didn't even have to nod. One of the goons behind me slammed a foot into the back of my knee. My leg buckled and I hit the ground hard.
Santos reached down and snatched the bag from my hand. He peered inside, then spat on the floor.
"I've had enough of your insolence. And this bag, is the fee for my wasted time. Now, I want my actual payment. Where's the rest of my money?"
I didn't even get to respond. Fists instantly came from everywhere. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my head, although... I was actually exaggerating so that they could stop messing up my outfit.
When they finally stopped, they hauled me upright in front of Santos.
"I've got a job for you tonight. Meet me at the diner at 6:00 PM." He leaned closer. "And this time, if you're late… I'm going kill you."
They dropped me down and left. I lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondered if I should even bother standing up. But maybe if I stayed here, the world would just forget about me.
I closed my eyes.
Thunder shook the warehouse, jolting me awake. I checked my battered watch.
05:50
"Shit."
I forced myself up and stumbled outside. Rain poured down, soaking me instantly. I sprinted through it, taking every shortcut I knew.
I reached the café and burst through the door at exactly 05:59. I was drenched and everyone there turned to me with disgust. But I couldn't care less.
I walked toward the back booth where Santos sat. On the wall-mounted TV, a news anchor was shouting and I turned to watch: "Breaking news: B-Rank Gate has appeared in the 8th Sector and Ogres are starting to pour out! Citizens are being evacuated and urged to stay away from the scene it's cleared!"
"Hey! What the hell are you doing standing there?" Santos barked from a back.
I turned to where he was sitting and he wasn't alone. There was a woman sitting across from him, wearing a gray suit. She was definitely into shady businesses like him.
I limped over and went to slide into the booth but Santos slapped the table. "Don't you dare wet those couches. Stand up."
I felt my eye twitched, though stayed on my feet anyway. Santos slid a photo across the table and it was a man in his late forties.
"Since when do you do business with grown men?" I asked.
"It's not your business who I'm dealing with."
I scratched the back of my head, trying to clear the fog in my brain. "Alright, where do I find him and how much am I collecting?"
"You're not collecting anything. You're going to kill him." the woman said smoothly, and turned to Santos. "Are you sure he's the right guy for this?"
I looked at Santos, then back at her. "Of course not. I don't go around killing people without a valid reason."
Santos slammed his fist on the table. "You can and you will, Kent!" He turned to her. "I hate to admit it but this boy's skilled. He once killed a goblin all on his own."
The woman looked at me and smiled. She honestly creeped me out with that smile. And they didn't know that I didn't kill the goblin because I was skilled. I got lucky that day.
She slid a paper across the table. "That's where you'll find him. Memorize it and get rid of it."
I grabbed it and turned to leave.
"Make sure you report back before midnight!" Santos shouted from behind me.
I stared at the paper: Old Ridgemont Apartments. Room 271. I crumpled the paper, chewed it into a pulp and spat it into a napkin.
I walked back out and the rain was still hammering down as I made it back to my shack. I reached under the floorboards and pulled out a service pistol.
I had stolen it from a dead policeman during a monster outbreak years ago. And I usually just used it to scare people but today felt different. I tucked two serrated knives into my belt as well and headed for Ridgemont.
Old Ridgemont Apartments loomed over the street, it was a crumbling relic of the old world. But still, compared to the shack I slept in this place was luxury.
I walked casually past the lobby, slipped up the stairs and found Room 271. I tried the handle and to my surprise, the door was unlocked. I pushed it open slowly, with my gun raised.
The room was dim. And a man sat on the chair, facing the door. He didn't look surprised.
"So, you're the one they sent to take me out? You don't look like much." he said, chuckling as he stood up.
I knew instantly what he was doing, he was trying to piss me off and make me sloppy. I squeezed the trigger.
The bullet should have taken him in the chest. But in a blur, a black blade appeared in his hand and he deflected the bullet sideways into the wall.
In that moment, there was no mistaking it. The old man had a system.
Before I could fire again, he shot at me. He flipped the blade into a reverse grip and slashed.
I jumped back, the tip of his blade whispering past my throat. He closed the distance again, instantly. I backed up until I hit the wall. He flipped the blade again and drove it toward my head. And I shifted my head, the blade burying itself inches deep into the wall.
In that instant, I drove my knee up to his gut but he dropped his blade and caught my leg with both hands. I let the gun fall and grabbed his head, yanked it down, driving it to my knee again and again.
He snarled, hands clawing for balance and then somehow he hooked my standing leg. My grip loosened from his head. He grabbed my face and slammed my head on the ground hard enough to rattle my brain.
He turned back to the wall, wrenching his blade free. He then walked toward me and began a series of rapid stabs, as I rolled desperately across the floor. The blade was thudding into the floor again and again, inches from me.
I managed to kick a chair into his shins, tripping him up just enough to scramble to my feet.
This guy might not be too skilled but he's got a system. And if this goes on any longer, I'm going to die.
I bolted for the door, snatching the gun on the way out and that split second slowed me down. He was right behind me, landing a kick in the center of my back.
I was launched forward, crashing into the stair railing. My hands grabbed the bars instinctively and I didn't stop to think. I used them to swing myself down to the lower stairs, landing hard against the wall.
The man had jumped right before I could stand, slamming into me and we both went crashing through the wall.
Inside the room, a naked couple screamed and scrambled under their covers. Neither of us even looked at them for long.
The man landed a punch to my gut that made me cough out blood, instantly. He followed up with a brutal left and right combo to my jaw. Before I could block, he launched a front kick that sent me flying into a wooden dresser and it shattered upon impact. The couple bolted out of the room, screaming.
The man walked toward me, his blade flashing. "You made a mistake coming here."
I pulled the trigger of the gun I was still clutching. The shot hit him in the gut and he staggered back but he didn't fall. The wound only seemed to make him more furious.
I pulled the trigger again and it clicked, empty. I instantly, dropped the gun and went for a double-leg takedown. But as I lunged, his knee came up, catching me right on the nose. My nose cracked, blood pouring down into my mouth.
He flashed his blade and drove it deep into my stomach. I gasped and grabbed his wrist, holding the knife inside me so he couldn't twist it. I then pulled him closer and slammed my forehead into his bridge of his nose.
He staggered back and I instantly pulled my two knives from my belt. I drove one into his side, feeling the blade slide between ribs and drove the other knife up into his left trap.
He roared, trying to raise his blade one last time and I grabbed his wrist. His strength was far more than mine, making my arms shake. So, I headbutted him again and again rapidly... until his face was a mess and mine wasn't much better either.
I ripped the knife from his trap and plunged it into his eye. The man collapsed backward, hitting the floor.
I fell to my knees, clutching the gaping wound on my stomach. I could feel blood leaving my body and pouring out onto the carpet.
I forced myself to stand. I need to get out. If the cops came in here, I was done. Or if Santos's men found me like this, they'd just finish me off.
I stumbled down the stairs, passing people who screamed at the sight of a man walking with blood all over him. I made it out of the apartment building and into the rain.
The hospital was miles away. And I knew in that moment that I wasn't going to make it but I walked to it's direction, regardless.
I tried to cross the road but my consciousness was swimming away, drifting into the dark. I fell on my knees in the middle of the road, cars blowing their horns and passing around me.
'Finally, I don't have to work tomorrow.'
I slumped forward, my face hitting the pavement. My eyes closed and the surrounding sounds faded into nothing.