memento mori [DNF]

Chapter 3

He searched the woman's body for anything valuable, but only came back with her knife and three silver coins, not enough to purchase anything of importance in the market. He tore the bottom of her shirt off and wrapped it around the wound on his forearm. It wouldn't need stitches, but it was bleeding quite a lot. He fled the scene and disappeared into the musty garage. It was a multi-level parking garage from back when there used to be running cars around. Before Clay was even born it received the nickname of the warehouse, although he's not entirely why. It smelled of mold and rotten eggs, and made him choke every time he entered it. The garage held both ends of the financial spectrum. Near the entrance, it housed the poorest of the poor, those not fortunate enough to own their own house, but desperate enough to stay in the crime ridden garage. Having so many people in one place meant that no one could have any personal belongings or food of any kind, or they'd risk being instantly killed the moment they stepped back into the garage. The upper levels held all of the doctors and their assistants, the richest group in the city. Clay was fortunate enough to stay there a few times. After he had a decent amount of successful assignments under his belt, one of the doctors took a liking to him and would offer him food or a place to sleep even when he wasn't on assignment. He never felt safe while staying there, but they had cots as opposed to the blankets on the floor that he was used to.

He cautiously made his way through the bottom level with his knife in hand to ward off any potential muggers. He recognized a few of the dimly lit faces as the same ones who were always there two years ago, but sadly, there were always new faces present. Kids, much younger than him, frequented the garage because it served as a hotspot for drugs and easy ways to earn money. There had been a steady boom in population for the past decade since people had nothing better to do with their time, but most kids were thrown to the streets as soon as they were born since the parents didn't want them or have the means to support them. Clay used to frequent the bottom level when he was much younger, as most merchants won't hire kids under 14. He shook his head and tried to forget the time he spent in the lower levels.

Levy and Clay's parents weren't wealthy by any means, but they had gotten their hands on the small shack that they lived in now. There were virtually no laws in the city, so once his parents passed, Clay did everything in his power to secure the house that his parents had left for them.

His father was the first to go. He did runs for the doctors, which is why Clay picked it up at such a young age. However, on one run he failed to kill the target, and in turn, became a target himself. Dying only a week after. His mother was attacked by a gang less than a year after his father was killed. Clay found her body in an alley behind the shops, bloody and mutilated. That image would forever be burned into his brain. He's just thankful that Levy wasn't with him. He met Nick when he was eleven, just before his parents died. Nick had recently lost his own parents in a bombing and was inches away from death when clay found him. That was back when Clay's heart was still pure, so he brought him home, like a puppy. Despite his parents being good people they couldn't afford an extra mouth to feed and essentially told Clay to take him back where he had found him. However, for the next few months Clay would ration his food once a day and then sneak out to give the small amount to Nick, who he had hidden near the stream closer to his house. Nick was standoffish and scared at first, but soon took a liking to Clay and they became friends. Then, when both of his parents died, a little over a year after he met Nick, he invited him to move in with him and Levy. Levy was two years younger than Clay, and only a year younger than Nick. Their close ages made getting along fairly easy, except for the occasional fighting.

He started going to the lower levels right after his parents passed and he learned that no one at the markets was willing to hire him for cleaning. It was brutal for a twelve year old boy down at the bottom. He made a promise to himself that he'd never stoop that low again, but it seemed he wasn't great at keeping his promises.

He tried to make as little eye contact as he could, while also being aware of his surroundings.

"Is that you clay?" A voice echoed out from somewhere beside him. He recognized it though and made the decision to keep moving. He reached the stairwell and began climbing, stopping just before reaching the top level. There was one rule that was heavily enforced. Once you step foot on the top floor you have to accept an order by a doctor. If you refuse or try to turn back, you're killed. This was to discourage people coming up to the top in an attempt to escape a pursuer, or just to steal something. He stood on the step for a moment pondering his decision. He truthfully wasn't worried about failing the mission. He had done over fifty and only had a few that gave him real trouble. He was more worried about how Nick and Levy would react. The doctors gave the option of staying on a cot while unconscious and guaranteed protection, but it costs almost half of the pay he'd receive, and of course, if the mission fails, it results in immediate death rather than having a chance to fight off attackers back home.

He knew that he had no choice but to take the pills here and try to make it back home before he passed out. His decision was made. He took the final few steps up to the top.