memento mori [DNF]

Chapter 4

The smell of the top level never failed to amaze him. The doctors were some of the only people in the city who had access to clean water from a well, meaning that they all got to shower whenever they pleased. Everyone else had to bathe in the lake, which was snake ridden and polluted. However, being born into poverty, the smell of other people or rotting bodies never got to Clay, but being able to smell fresh air and other people who lacked a stingy smell, was refreshing.

He glanced across the room. It was roughly the same as the last time he was there. Cots laid out in perfect lines, with mismatched sheets and blankets. Dim oil lanterns strewn about the floor and ceiling. Several older men were sitting around in chairs or at a desk crunching numbers, or finding the next target. There were a few people on the cots, but not near as many as there used to be. People had adapted over the years and became smarter, meaning killing them was harder. The doctors also became less lenient when it came to failed missions. These two reasons alone deterred majority of the people who use to rely on doctor assignments for money.

"Is that my boy Clay?" Clay glanced over and recognized the older man.

"Hey." People referred to them as doctors, and although they had created the drug, they were far from actual doctors. They had no intentions of saving anybody's lives. They specialized in ending peoples lives. The targets started out as other business men, or anyone they wanted dead, but nowadays, the targets were mostly just other people who had failed their mission. If you accept a doctors mission, but fail to complete it, you become a target yourself. It was a viscous cycle, but it was one that paid the doctors well. Wealthy people paid monthly fees just to avoid getting added to the target list.

"I thought I'd never see you again after what happened last time. You said you were never coming back." The man was heavy set, which was rare in these famine ridden times. He had gray hair and small framed glasses that were slightly too small for his head. He seemed to have hardly aged since the last time Clay saw him. The doctors were viscous people but this man, Art, had taken a liking to Clay when he was younger and treated him well. Despite being somewhat close for the time period when Clay would do assignments, he couldn't let himself be dragged into the deception and trust him. However, he always went along with it.

"Well what can I say... Desperate times call for.."

"This isn't desperation my boy. This is how the world works. This is what you were made for. I was quite saddened when you said you were retiring, because I knew that you're one of the special ones." The man rose of his chair and started moving towards Clay.

Clay grimaced. He wasn't special. He was jaded by the system and didn't escape it early enough.

After Clay's silent response, the man spoke again, "Well as much as I'd love to sit here and catch up, I have a feeling the boss wouldn't like that. Time is money or whatever the hell that means." He looked up and offered a small smile. Clay had always wondered if Art was truly a good man that had just gotten roped into this and couldn't escape. Or if he was just a master at deception. "Any special target requests?" He asked knowing full well that no matter what Clay said, it wouldn't change who they would give him. "No."

The room was quiet save some groans from a woman laying in one of the cots. He didn't understand much about the drug, nor did anyone else. It was something new created from radiation craters that caused the initial collapse of the old world. That was the only information available to the public. It essentially stopped ones heart and breathing, but didn't kill them. They're not aware of their true body while they're under, and even though there's no beating heart, some emotions such as pain can sometimes be reflected through the true body. As far as Clay knew, however, he didn't possess this reaction. He'd been injured several times on missions, but Levy said his body never moved.