Dirty Work: Volume 1

A Leader Of Men - 5

From reading my records of my activities and, shall we say, skirmishes, whilst working under the boss, you might think that Celestria, had you never been there, was easy and quick to get across. One might think of it as nothing more than a large city, which is what it was, and easy to be traversed within an hour or two. Part of this is because, in my records, much of the travelling time is incredibly boring, and so I leave it out. The other reason is that much of the time that I spend travel across Celestria is spent not paying attention to things like traffic, or roads, or laws. If one were to think back to my first tale told, they would note that I travelled a great deal underneath the planet's surface. This, it must be said, greatly speeds up the time it takes to get from one place to another. For this particular journey however, to Region 18, it took us most of the day. One of the reasons is because of the distance, but the other is the public transport. Celestria's Magna-Train system, whilst being all very well and good when working and fully operational, some might even say that it is great, is atrocious when it's having one of its moments and throwing the toys out of the pram. And so we lost four hours having to go by an alternate route through Region 29, back across to 15 and then over to 18, instead of going straight there. The sky was returning to its abyssal blackness, the same colour that blood looks in the moonlight.

We spent most of the journey in silence. In my mind, I turned over the possibility that, having been almost untouched for so long, the boss had grown complacent, and this sudden move against him had totally rocked him. And yet Lura's death, and the events leading up to it from her capture to eventual passing, had not affected the boss like Flore's capture had. It struck me that there was something about Flore that was uniquely special and important to the boss, and I spent a good deal of the initial part of the trip across the Regions trying to figure it out.

The idea of them having been romantically or sexually involved flashed across my mind, and I toyed with the thought of them in the office, one straddled across the other, tongues down each other's throats, before dismissing the thought. It didn't fit the boss' style, nor did it fit Flore's.

A family relation, then perhaps?

This I thought of asking Markro about, but thought better of it. If that was the case, it was possible that not even Markro knew about it. The paranoia went beyond family, something so secret that he could not bear to lose, but could not possibly give away the reasons for. Sending in only two people, then, might make sense, if he wished to hide the connection between them from even the Red Rose thugs. It was possible, just possible I thought, that they had captured Flore knowing that she was connected to the boss, but not how. I reasoned that such a special connection would not want to be exposed to the enemy for any reason, especially as they only wanted the box that was locked inside the vault in Region 24 to begin with. Sending in two guns would look like a rescue attempt, but not a serious, all-guns-blazing mission, which might give away the seriousness of the situation.

This, as we got off at the station in 15 and made our way through the bustling crowds to the platform that would take us to 18, was my thought process, and my eventual conclusion as to the situation. The thoughts of madness had been eliminated by rational thought from my mind, and I was quite proud of myself for doing so. It didn't make me any more hopeful about our chances, but I felt better about my own mental state. I felt like a detective, one of those that tracked down the serial killers, like the Reaper that had been around a little while before.

However, as we boarded the final train to Region 18, the rationality seemed to dissolve from my mind like someone waving their hand through a projection.

What caught my attention as we sat there, side by side on the train, were the faces of those that sat around us. I saw the life in their eyes, the spark behind the glassy orbs that kept reminding me of all they could achieve, all they possibly were achieving. I saw teenagers on their way to visit relatives, teachers off to conferences. One man sat with a Halo-Core before him, talking to someone about the recent collapse of one of Halo's rivals, and if their guys could salvage anything from it before it was snapped up by another company. I noted his pressed suit, seeing the fraying edges of his collars, noting a speck of rust on his cufflinks. Trying to look good; trying to make ends meet. Trying anything to keep out of the gutters, just as I was.

And as I sat there watching, looking into people's eyes, whether they were aware of it or not, I felt the cold of the weapon I carried press into me. It seemed to grow ever colder as we travelled, as if some invisible hand were turning a dial next to it, slowly turning the temperature down, down, colder to the icy touch. A cold, devilish hand. Only a devil would make you realise that the people that surround you are also human. A god would let you ignore it and get on with your task. Sweat began to seep through the pores of my forehead.

I the lights flicker off and I saw through the darkness all of them suddenly slump, holes in their heads. I saw the life drift from their eyes like smoke drifting up from a dying fire. I saw them all turn their heads to me, and the Rose that appeared on their clothes did not deter the ice going down my spine. I felt not that I had done some service, for I was sure that I had shot them all, the train rumbling and shaking them as they grasped onto the railings with one hand in the air, other by their sides. I didn't even feel a numbness. I felt like I was a god, a king, a leader of men, one that took charge and took lives because that was what I did. Morality and immorality dived around one another like dancing serpents, and I was not sure if shooting someone and taking their life, if I supposed them to be evil, was good or not.

I realised that, for the first time, I was finally starting to appreciate the responsibility of looking someone in the eyes as you stole their life and cast it out for the stars to feed on.

The lights flickered back on again and they resumed their business, alive and well.

'Can I get past?' I asked Markro, for I was sitting by the window, he next to the aisle.

'Need to use the little boys' room?' Markro asked, a slight grin on his face. I nodded. 'Go for it,' he said, getting up and allowing me to pass, 'I might follow you soon.'

Though there was a grin on his lips, his face was pale and as I brushed past him I was sure that I could feel him shuddering. Fear took grips of all of us, and there was always fear to be found in the eyes of death when one realised that that was what they were providing. When you realised that you were a waiter in death's restaurant, that was when you started to shudder.

I got to the bathroom just as someone else was leaving it. I hurried inside and turned the lock so fast I thought it might break. I threw my head over the sink and threw up, vomit dripping from my lips and sweat dripping from my forehead.

I tell you now, stood over the sink in that train, shuttling towards Region 18, I had never felt life so close and tangible, and never will again.