I lean against the wall and take another swig from the can of beer in my hand, watching my former colleagues file out of the office after the last day of work. In the middle of the line of despondent faces is the bitch herself, trudging glumly out of the office that her father had left to her, brought to ruin by her spectacularly poor leadership. But I am getting ahead of myself, so let's rewind a bit. 

After waking up in the gutter malodorous and bleary after a night of drinking, I was greeted by a message from my buddies at HR, saying that the bitch was raising hell as to why in the world I wasn't in the office yet. Bad attitude, tardiness, poor performance, blah blah blah. I had half the mind to show up in my puke stained clothes smelling of stale alcohol just to rub my presence in the bitch's face, but then my mind started working and I realized that's just the thing the woman was looking for. 

The day had finally come. My protection at the firm had worn off and the bitch was starting disciplinary proceedings against me. The HR buddies told me that they were writing up a show cause letter against me right now. The time for words was over. The bitch was out to nail me to the wall. So you know what? 

Fuck that. Fuck the firm. Fuck Wonder Boy. And fuck the bitch most of all. I've got a secret weapon tucked beneath my armpit. And what a weapon it is. I called in sick. Vomiting all over yourself counts as being sick right? And headed home straight away to prepare my letter of resignation. 

Oh, I also contacted a few industry friends of mine at the same time. They would just love to know about the bitch's pet project that would save her firm. I was scared to be sure. But when I woke up in that gutter, it was as if a lifetime had passed between the previous night and the morning. A lifetime spent fighting and killing. Living life as a man of action, not some cuck who spends his life complaining and drinking and whining and accomplishing nothing.

In my dreams I had lived a life of doing whatever I want. 

A life of taking whatever I want. 

I'm going to keep at it. I'm going to be strong, just like in my dream. I'm going to be the man that I want to be. And the first step to accomplishing that, is to destroy the shadow in my heart. The bitch and Wonder Boy. Both of them were going down. 

Hard. 

The moment the bitch received my resignation, it was immediately accepted and my access to the firm's records was sealed off. It was too late though. I was already in discreet negotiations with our competitors. Being cut off by the bitch also had another side benefit. There was almost no way for the firm to prove my theft of company secrets. A deal was struck. My future secured. 

And the bitch was doomed. 

She had lost the precious project the firm's survival had been counting on. Collapse and insolvency followed soon after. And that takes us to the present day, with the bitch and her employees filing out of the office in complete defeat. Its cathartic you know, the sight of my nemesis dying. I grin to myself as Wonder Boy brings up the rear and locks up the glass doors for the last time. I feel bad for the HR buddies though. They were my only friends in that dump. I should have a word with the new office, see whether there's an opening available for them. 

The bitch catches sight of me and stalks forward angrily. My smirk grows even broader. 

"You." she snarls, "What are you doing here?"

"Taking in the sights." I laugh, waiving the can of beer in the bitch's face, "Want a drink before leaving?"

"I know what you did. Get out." she cries, "Get out!"

"No." I sneer, "Its a public area. And what did I do again?" Wonder Boy, Golden Boy or whatever his name is notices the altercation and begins rushing towards the two of us. 

"You did this." the bitch hisses, "I know you did."

"That's slander." I sigh, clutching at my chest while looking hurt, "Stop besmirching my good name."

The bitch looks as if she is about to slap me across the face but Wonder Golden Boy squeezes her shoulder just in time to calm her down. Wonder Golden Boy gazes expressionlessly at me as he leads the bitch away in silence. I see off the pair with a cheerful wave and as they depart from the building, a weight lifts from my heart. 

I did it. I killed the shadow. I am free. 

I finish off the beer and toss the can into the trash. Well, that's that I suppose. End of story. But the building's PA system crackles to life with an announcement. 

"Transmigrator, the individual identified as 'Wonder Golden Boy' is a threat to the stability of this dimension. I require you to eliminate him."

Pardon?

"I have prepared the necessary weapons in the men's washroom. Proceed to get yourself equipped." the PA system then cuts off. 

What's going on? All this sounds familiar. But seriously? Why should I kill Wonder Golden Boy? I have made my point, live and let live, right? My left eye begins to itch something right terrible. Is it infected or something? An overwhelming sense of unease grips me. I know that I should not humor whomever sent that message. Whatever business we had in the past is just that. The past. Debts repaid and all that. I begin walking towards the building's exit. The itch in my eye grows worse, becoming absolutely overwhelming. I begin rubbing it in an attempt to ease the discomfort, and my hand becomes slick with red. Blood. I am bleeding from my eye. 

And with an audible pop, the eye flies out of the socket and bounces across the marble floor, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A single phrase comes to my mind. Place of power. This building has become a place of power. Animal terror surges throughout my body as my eye bounces merrily towards the washroom. Ignore it. Just ignore it. I need to leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. 

Leave. 

I bolt for the exit, as blood freely flows down my face. The PA system comes to life again with a disapproving crackle. 

"Disappointing. I was expecting a long time collaborator to be somewhat more amenable. Still, this is not completely unexpected."

I remember. I remember everything. 

"We are through!" I shout at The Voice as I close in on the exit, "I did my part! There's nothing more to talk about!"

"Wrong." The Voice's trademark rasp echoes throughout the lobby, "You said it yourself to Mrs Alley. You are part of my little gang now. We will never be through."

The doors of the exit burst open inwards, slamming painfully into me and sending my body sprawling across the floor. 

"We will never be through Transmigrator." The Voice continues, "Never ever."

A figure clad in a black trench coat and wearing a hood strides into the building, staring daggers at me. The doors slam shut behind him and lock with a definitive click. 

"Thankfully, I have a new servant at my disposal." The Voice concludes, "Your presence while welcome, is no longer actually necessary."

The Executioner unsheathes the double handed sword strapped to his back and draws inexorably closer. I scoot backwards on my butt and slam against the lobby's reception counter. The PA system booms one final time.

"Goodbye."

.....

"Shit!" I shout into the darkness. I can't move. Can't see either. Somewhere near me, I hear a woman snoring. 

"Calm down." the familiar rasp sounds in my ear, "I have merely shut down your body's optic and automotive functions so that I can regrow the lost eye."

"Cool." I mutter, my throat loosening up, cold sweat running down my back, "Where am I anyway?" 

"My place of power in the sarcophagus." The Voice says, "Were you having a nightmare perhaps? Care to share? It might steady your nerves."

"Nah. Its all good." I demur. That was more than a nightmare. It felt too real, too significant. A premonition perhaps. A warning given by my intuition? Whatever the case, its not something I should be sharing with The Voice. 

"Who's snoring?" I ask, hoping to change the subject. 

"Mrs Alley. She is resting from the excitement of her adventure." The Voice rasps, "Both of you performed admirably. The plan has been brought to fruition."

As The Voice speaks, I hear the hum of nearby machinery powering up. I recognize that noise. Its coming from the Inclinator's engines. 

"So the Hero's all fixed and raring to go?" I query, "No strange discoveries? No unexpected setbacks?"

"None at all." The Voice confirms, "Even better. I had the opportunity not only to repair the Hero, but deal with a loose end. I am preparing to send him back up to the surface for the benefit of his adoring audience."

"That's great, I suppose." I sigh in relief, "So Alley and I are just cooling our heels here? Getting some TLC from you?"

"Enjoy the time off Transmigrator." The Voice confirms, "The Hero needs a moment to bask in the limelight while you and Mrs Alley to lay low for awhile. Lie back and relax."

"I can't move thanks to you." I remark dourly as I hear the Inclinator in the distance beginning its long ascent back to the surface.

....

Irene. 

My lover. My wife to be. We were going to get married. And then?

Everything is a haze. As if there's something pressing down against my head. Why can't I think clearly? Someone tried to kidnap her. I think? There was a chase. I was chasing ...

I was chasing a SUV. Yes, that wrecked SUV in the corner of the Inclinator. There were other cars as well. Driven by Legion soldiers. Coming after me. Trying to stop me from saving Irene. The Legion soldiers were led by, led by someone?

Of course they were led by someone. What's wrong with me? My mind is working so slowly. Focus. Remember. The Legion was led by someone, someone close to me. My eyes grow acclimatized to the darkness around me and I take in the details of a pair of wrecked cars smashed against the SUV. A flash of insight, a memory triggering in my head. 

Nicholas. The Legion soldiers were led by Nicholas. He wanted to stop me from saving Irene. I wouldn't have any of that, so we fought. Corpses are all over the Inclinator, filling the place with the rank smell of death. Did I kill Nicholas? My mind rattles, searching for the information. The wheels turn, and another part of my brain lights up. 

No. I did not kill Nicholas. We fought, I hurt him and he got away. But his men kept trying to get to Irene. So I stayed behind to protect her. As the memories flood into my consciousness, I feel myself becoming more aware, more alert. What happened next? Come on, I know I can recall this!

The three cars fled into the Inclinator, and then I rushed inside as well. But then, but then ... Then nothing. Just darkness. My memory just can't recollect anything more. But I can make a guess. I fought the Legion soldiers, the corpses are proof of that. Above me, I hear the grate of a blast door opening. The pieces fall in place. 

The battle must have triggered the sarcophagus's security system, sealing us all inside the Inclinator shaft. It must have been for some time as well, judging by the smell of the corpses. Our rescuers probably just managed to perform an override, allowing the Inclinator to bring us back up to The City. Soon enough, the Inclinator ceases its ascent and comes to a stop with a gentle sway. The shutters in front of me unseal and starts to rise with a metallic rattle. Sunlight begins to peek in through the gap. 

Its over. Its almost over. The light begins to wash over me. But there is still something missing. 

Where is Irene?

Then I notice it. 

A damp, stinking weight in my arms, wrapped in white lace and silk. 

No. 

I feel my spirit core begin to heat up, overflowing with power. Blood seeps from the object I am carrying, soaking into the sleeves of my suit. 

No!

The shutter completely rises, and the gears of my mind make their final revolution, unlocking the installed direc - no memory. I carry the bloody corpse in my arms in a princess carry, and as instruc - as my emotions overwhelm me, tears start to flow from my eyes. I walk out, into the flashing camera of the press that has gathered at the Inclinator. My lips move in the specified fashion. My lungs holler. My knees performed a synchronized drop to the ground. 

"Nooooooooo!"

But my heart is empty.