Found & Lost | Dystopia | Sci-fi

1

10 years later

My hands have never been soft. Unlike the tender feel of a mother's hands on her child's cheek, my hands are rough, covered in callouses and scratches. My knuckles throb painfully at each punch I throw, sending an ache through my fingers.

I've done this a million times before, in fact, I've trained for years, just to get this type of shit done. A punch in the gut, another in the face, a kick in the shin and he's on the ground. Crouching to the man's level I inspect his movements. To my delight, he's definitely out.

Grabbing his pulse, I feel the soft pumps against my thumb. I'll take I have to go through with this, it's not like I've been given a choice. He's not human. My hand grabs around the handle of my knife, expertly sliding it across his throat, blood seeping out of the wound. I became exactly what I swore to destroy.

A huff of exhaustion escapes my lips, as I observe my surroundings to check my safety. It's not like I'm expecting to see anyone here, because to be fair, who in their right mind visits a dark abandoned place like this. It's on the edge of the city, an old school.

Flipping the now dead man on his back, I search his pockets, my fingers brushing against a piece of paper. Opening it nimbly, I scan the numbers written down in black ink, slightly smudged around the paper.
Is this some kind of code language? No, that's not it. They're coordinates, by the looks of it. I'll have to report back to Kenzaki with this information, he'll probably send one of his other sidekicks with me into whatever happens next.

Shoving my knife in my belt and this new found piece of paper in my pocket, I move a strand of hair out of my face, making my way back to my motorcycle. I'm more than happy to be out of this place, it's incredibly grimy and lmely hasn't had any visitors in decades.

I swing my leg over my bike, idly pressing in the handles and shooting forward. Tilting my head to the side I admire the well lit up city. It's huge, there's stores, people, cars quite literally flying by. What's most remarkable though, is how bright it is. One can't even tell it's getting darker, unless they'd look at the sky.

That's unfortunate, the members of the yakuza dont go unnoticed, mostly because of the way we dress. That said, I keep at the edge of the centre, swiftly making my way through the crowds, making sure to keep my head down. A few right turns and then a left, and there it is.

A scruffy looking building we moved to about two months ago. I sigh, slipping my helmet off and leaning my bike against a wall outside, before turning the handle and stepping in.

At first glance I can tell there are more people than usual, some of them gambling, others doing drugs. Mostly heroin, but a few of them simply smoke. The room quiets down a bit as soon as I step in, all of their eyes following me curiously. I don't pay any mind, instead making a B-line to Kenzaki.

"Casey!" He calls out with a smirk, quite a demeaning one at that, but that fails to surprise me. Ive never taken much of a liking to him. To be fair, he did sell me out to be a prostitute, which backfired into me coming back at his doorstep. And how did that happen? It's a long story. Though afterwards, he figured he could use me to run errands and finish his jobs, because who expects a child to be part of the yakuza?

"What do we have here?" Kenzaki looks me up and down, observing the few scratches I just gained from this new job. Pulling the piece of paper out of my pocket, I hold it out between my fingers, handing it out to him.

"Coordinates. I found them on one of the guys, they didn't carry anything else." I respond to him shortly, keeping my voice at a low tone. "You're telling me, that they planned on going there only for them to carry this?" He says skeptically, holding up the paper with a look of disbelief.