high rise hearts ☆ lifesteal smp au

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓 ✧✫

𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲: normal oneshot
𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽𝘀: none
𝘁𝘄: implied suicide
𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆: n/a
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁: minute contemplates the morals of the pmc, and in turn his friends, when they get a hit request for someone on one heart

─── ⋅☆⋅ ───

𝐏𝐎𝐕: minute

It had been a pretty normal shift so far, sitting in the customer service office of the PMC's small commercial building, hidden by the faded awnings of some drab stores lining a side street. Minute had been enjoying the break from the constant calls, as he didn't get them often.
He took a sip of the coffee on his cluttered desk, trying to keep himself awake. The PMC always operated at night, and although he understood why, he was still more of a morning person.
Thankfully, the sharp ringing of the phone woke him up enough. He grabbed it and answered in the usual cheery voice he used for customer service: "Hello, you've reached the offices of the PMC. How may we help?"
"Hello? Can I schedule a hit, please?" The voice on the end of the line, though a little scrapy, was distinctly female with a raspy yet gentle tone to it. Minute liked picking apart the many voices that spoke to him through the phone- it was a little something he did to keep himself occupied while on the job.
"Of course! Can we have their full name and current location, if you have it?" Minute recited. Most calls had a basic script he needed to follow, which he'd memorized by now. "Mhm, one moment..." There was some shuffling from the phone speaker, what sounded like fabric shifting.
Soon enough, Minute had their full name and location and was inputting it into the database. Being a cop gave him access to detailed records on pretty much everybody in the city, which was helpful when finding out info on targets. However, this one was apparently in a hospital, which was a little strange.
"Alright, give me a moment to look through this information. Kindly hold for a moment," Minute told the caller, then placed the call on hold. Lobby music drifted from the speaker as he scrolled through the record of the target.
Everything looked okay, but Minute soon realized something. The target was listed as being on one heart, and the PMC didn't take hits on people with such low heart counts. Looks like he'd be declining this one.
He took the call off hold, the record still pulled up on his computer screen. "Ma'am, I apologize but we cannot carry out your hit at this time. Your target is on one heart, and the PMC does not take hits on people with low heart counts. Have a nice evening-" He was interrupted by the voice speaking up again, sounding slightly more agitated: "Wait! Can I speak to your boss? Tell him I'll pay double for this hit. Please?"
Minute considered it for a moment. Even with the extra money, he trusted that Clown would say no, and it would satisfy the customer. "Hm, alright. This most likely isn't a guarantee that your hit will be placed, however. Please hold."
He put the call back on hold and rose from his cushioned chair, which had a dent in the cushions because of how long he spent sitting and taking calls. Clown's office was just upstairs.
Minute swung open the polished wooden door of Clown's office, labeled with a fancy golden plaque. Clown was there, scrolling through his phone while also signing some paper on his desk. He looked up when Minute entered- his mask was off, and he was smiling cheerfully. "Hey Minute, what do you need?"
"Hey, uh there's a customer that wants to talk to you. They want a hit on someone with one heart, but they said they'll pay double and they really want to talk to you." Minute watched the expression change from the casual smile into a thoughtful look.
"Hm, I'll go talk to them. You can follow me," Clown said, pushing himself out of his chair and walking through the open doorway. Minute followed him downstairs, shutting the office door behind him.
They filed into the customer service office, where Clown took his seat and picked up the phone, crossing his legs underneath the desk. Minute leaned in the doorway, listening to them talk.
"Hello, this is ClownPierce, head of the PMC. Can you state your issue, please?" Clown started politely. The voice on the phone said something Minute couldn't hear, although he assumed it was details about the hit.
"Ah, I see... Ma'am, I am sorry but the PMC does not carry out hits on players with such low heart counts. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience-" Clown is presumably interrupted, and apparently what he hears from the phone pleases him, as he smiles to himself.
"Triple? Hmm..." Clown paused for a moment, then the speaker said something again. "You know what? If you send the money over now..." There was more babbling from the speaker. "Alright, thank you for your time. Have a good evening, ma'am." He put down the phone, then turned to Minute, still smiling.
"Alright, so this hit will be a little different..." That surprised Minute- he'd really thought Clown would decline, despite the caller's offers. "Clown, you can't be serious- if we kill this person, they'll be dead. Like, forever..." He must have looked very appalled at the idea, because Clown chuckled at him.
"I'm aware. But this caller has offered us 25k for this hit. You know how much that is?" Clown's look was distant, as if imagining that much money getting sent to his bank account. "Yeah, but- we're KILLING someone. Like, for real, Clown-"
Clown stopped him by raising a finger. "Think about it, Minute. We need that cash. We could upgrade our services, our location- hell, I could pay you guys extra..."
Minute still had trouble thinking about the idea of killing someone, but he could see in Clown's face that he wasn't going to be swayed. He was the head of the PMC, and in the end, they'd be carrying out the hit if he said so.
But not only was he the head of the PMC, he was Minute's friend. And Minute wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that Clown- someone he'd known for so long, someone he trusted as a boss and even looked up to- would kill for some extra money to line his pockets. It was heartless, cruel. But he had no choice, it seemed- especially if he wanted to keep his job, now that he thought about it.
"I guess... but that doesn't mean I approve of the idea." Minute said firmly. He tried not to let his moral dilemma show up on his face. "I know, I know. Don't worry about it," was all Clown said as he got up and left the office.
Minute watched him retreat up the stairs, then sat down in the spot Clown had occupied, sighing deeply. He didn't like to think about ending someone like that, especially for money. But Clown was doing it, and he didn't seem to care, not an ounce. It still kind of shocked him.
Well, if Clown was fine with it, maybe he was just overthinking the idea. Maybe he'd feel better about it once it was done and over with. Minute tried to convince himself of this, but it never seemed to stick, and soon enough the phone was ringing again. He sighed again and answered.