The air in the shop was filled with the scent of musky perfume as Clith arrived. It was heavy enough, the smell visibly clouded the air. The entire area was filled with blue and green trinkets, colorful crystals, a variety of smelly candles, and anything that might seem at home in a demonic ritual or exorcism. In terms of shops, it was unassuming. That’s what made it a good front for the Chameleon Syndicate. Like the organization it worked for, it blended in. He walked to the shop’s back, passing stalls, the old woman managing incense, and into the staff room.
He felt around the door. The false handle had a key in it. If you attempted to turn the holographic knob or the key, it would shock you with enough electricity to fry your circuits, organic or otherwise. He always forgot where it was, but he spotted a flake coming off the paint on the frame and pulled. The door slid open. An athletic man sat in a hallway chair, chewing on candy, his head against the wall as he eyed him. He slid by the cramped quarters and headed down the stairs at the end.
The room he entered held a handful of accountants and a handler, whose purpose within the gang is to manage high-value employees like Clith. The handler of Clith was an odd machine-like creature, bearing a resemblance to a bipedal woman, albeit in a sculptural manner.
“Hey Clith. Got something big for the board today,” she said, with a voice that sounded like feeling a deft hand. “You’ll be heading a team.”
Clith raised a hand, but she was faster than him.
“We know you work alone, so we haven’t picked anyone. Before I tell you what the job is, it pays well. Well enough to retire somewhere with a nice beach. A nice school. A good college for when your little one grows up, and a better housing market than a deserted island. And when you die, she’ll be able to live away from all this. Somewhere you’ll never have to hear another voice from Veridia for the rest of your days.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
The air stilled. They stood there, gazing at each other. His eyes were filled with acceptance, and her eyes were searching for anything else.
“You can do as much as you want by yourself, but the job is too big, even for you. We can provide recommendations. We know you’re not a social guy, but I suggest turning someone on the inside.”
“The inside...?”
“You’re going undercover within the veil. We have a contact on the inside, but we don’t have enough leverage to get him to do anything but give you a recommendation.”
“Why?”
“Can’t tell you what I don’t know. Here’s the soft to get you started. Plug it when you can.” she put a chip on the desk, and he pocketed it.
“You know what happens if you can’t do this.”
“I know.”
“Good. Get outta here, I have an appointment at 1.”
He left, saying nothing more. He jogged up the stairs and slid past the man guarding the door. As he made his way past, the man grabbed his arm and stopped him.
“A word to the wise, don’t fuck this up. They’ll do more than burn you this time.”
“What do you know?”
“Nothing man, Nothing.” He shook his head and let go, going back to whatever he was watching at the time on his git.
He exited the store without any more fanfare. As he walked out of the alley and back towards his home, he dialed into the piece he picked up from the table. As his git covered his right retina, he tuned out the rest of the world and listened.
“Hello ERROR: NAME NOT FOUND! Welcome to your media player. We see you’ve inserted a new piece of ware! Would you like to install it now?”
He crossed two fingers on his right hand, and a confirmation sound dinged.
A feeling of painless fire lit up his brain, filling every corner of his mind. His vision flickered before coming back. He kept walking as if nothing had happened. He’d become used to this. Too many years of updating, upgrading, uninstalling, and repackaging to not be. He checked the change log on his OS. Nothing. His leg locked up, and he hobbled on his other leg to the wall. He sat down, yanking the soft out, but it was already too late. Once installed in his mind, there was no going back. Clith rapidly swapped between screens, trying to find the freeze function. He shut every optional thing down and switched to safe mode.
His body shook. He forgot to check the shitty fucking soft. Whatever the syndicate had gotten in, it was there until THEY said he could remove it. Usually their soft was clear, but they did this to check for traitors.
A sign flashed on his retina.
ALLEGIANCE VERIFIED. BODY UNLOCKED.
~ C.S.
His leg started moving again. He got up and walked the rest of the way home, rooting through his mind and doing what little he could to make sure he was clean.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, what’s the verdict?”
Clith sat in a chair with his body restrained, staring at a bright light while she worked on him.
“Well, you’re clean. Diag returned no damage, so your juice is fine. Your ware isn’t fried and the files are the same size everywhere they should be. But, there are a couple of new things. I didn’t touch them, I don’t wanna know, but they’re clean. You’re safe.”
Dr. Reed was one of the best. She knew it, and so did every one of her clients, few as they are. As Natalia was all too familiar, that’s not a good thing. High-profile contracts with unsuspecting companies end up with her having too many bodies to dispose of and too little margin for error. The moment she slips, the moment she stops being the best, she stops too.
“Thanks, Reed.” he gestured with his head.
“No problem. Try not to bleed before I see you next.”
She unlocked the station. No risk of seizure, so there was no concern.
Nat walked over to her bench as he headed out. Despite the sterile room, she could still see the blood. Clith had come in too many times. Too many cuts, too many bruises. She knew her clients liked it rough, but she had seen Clith in so many disjointed shapes that she never wanted to see anymore. But she did. She needed to continue. That’s how it is, and so it is. She resumed her research, allowing her thoughts to escape and shutting the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Clith returned home, he found the lights on through the outside windows and heard rustling coming from the cracked front door leading inside. He crept up and waited. There was one, wait, two voices. Unsure of the number outside, he cautiously entered. When he moved in with Selan, he discreetly broke the front step specifically so he could hear someone approaching, and kept his door hinges oiled for this exact situation.
What can you say, he was a paranoid assassin with too much incriminating evidence in his house to warrant any other mentality.
He didn’t see a vehicle. Whoever these men were, they most likely arrived on foot. Upon silence in the entryway, he slipped inside. He grabbed the baseball bat near the front door - you can’t beat a classic - and wielded it like a two-handed sword. As one of them walked out of his room, he slammed the bat straight into his gut, winding him and making him drop his front. Clith grabbed him by the neck and pulled him up in a choke hold, just as the other man appeared from the kitchen.
Clith swiveled to face him, holding the other man like a shield. He knew these men had guns, so he shoved his still-confused friend into the other and brought his bat to bear. They both tumbled and fell into the kitchen. Demonstrating his skill, Clith stood on his adversaries, continuously striking the man in front of him with his bat while his friend struggled to rise. When the man finally got a good grip, the other man was already dead.
Clith swung the metal bat into the man’s side, making him fall yet again. He dragged him into position in front of the door as the intruder groaned, put him on his stomach, trapped the man’s arms with his knees, and prepared for a neck snap.
“Tell me who sent you,” Clith said quietly, staring out the front door. “And I’ll let you live”
“Ok, ok, slow down a minute, fuck, uh, the orphanage?”
Clith tightened his grip and applied enough pressure on his neck for him to stop moving and gasp for breath. He loosened a little.
“One more time, you won’t have any more chances.”
“The Veil. You want in, right? You let me up and I’ll let you in. I’m your ticket. You don’t kill me, and they’ll let you in.”
He snapped his neck.
Clith checked the intruder’s pockets and found two weapons, a photo of a young girl, and a list of houses to hit. It was common practice to keep important details in writing so they couldn’t be hacked or read out of your git, but this was amateur. He dragged the bodies down into the basement, cleaned up what blood there was from the beating, sorted the mess, and went about making dinner for when Selan got home.
