Tenebrous

Chapter 1

"An eye for an eye, and the world is blind," in bold, was vividly displayed above Parliament square, illuminating the dark, bleak and rainy area that called itself Napoleonic Park. For miles on end, meaningless propaganda floated above the city, so glamorous it seemed to humble the several satellites miles above the atmosphere. Even at 47:23, the night seemed to bathe in light.

Yet none compared to the capital citadel, only 20 clicks northwest, which hosted scrapers so tall one couldn't even find the end of its shadow, or perhaps nobody looked. A few more clicks, and you would find the sumptuous penthouses of the nobility. For they could not mingle with the general, they were bred simply to rule. In an era of contemptuousness, perhaps that was the problem.

Any higher than that and you would reach the atmosphere, a barrier completely shut to most. Only those who were fortunate enough to afford transport, or even own transport, could surpass the final gate – only to realise there was simply no hope left.

Below the nobility was the general, short for general population. It was often joked by the nobility that they were so average, they didn't even need names. Joked. They made up the backbone of society, though they had one very important rule: refrain from breeding. Breeding was considered only for the nobility, as a way to keep their generational power and wealth. Instead, enormous and complex "hatcheries" were erected to support the general, producing a "batch" every few years. Each "batch" was considered a different mark, not name: mark.

Tenebrous was quite honestly, a ghost. The only thing that marked him different was his extravagant mask which he wore, covering his viciously scared visage. On his arm, a single tattoo marked "Mark X" immediately gave away his purpose. A heavy black robe cloaked him, only cutting off at the floor to reveal his enormous army boots that bolstered him above the general. Tenebrous was already considered tall for his breeding, yet with the boots he looked enormous. Concealed under the robe was a 2-Calibre rifle, something hardly worth carrying yet it got the job done.

Tenebrous was told he served simple men, yet for such simple men, often his job involved several complexities. For simple men who wanted something as simple as peace, such complications rose, such as what to do with those who threatened it. And that was exactly what Tenebrous did. He dealt with people who were either unwanted or unneeded.

Tenebrous paused and arched his head, taking a quick glance at himself in the tinted glass of one of the many spread out shops across parliament. A look of guilt and shame brought his hand towards his helmet, as if checking to see if his scars were still there. As he removed his helmet, he took a quick glance at his true face, the face belonging not to Tenebrous but to Mark X, earning a look of horror, disgust and fear to the spectators near him. Reluctantly, Mark X put on the mask, giving Tenebrous full control, remembering an old joke from a close friend that Tenebrous had all but forgotten about. 'Weakness if for the weak'. As quickly as the moment arrived, it was gone, as Tenebrous continued his journey.

One quarter-click brought Tenebrous to the infamous "Alderman's Bar", home to about any type of mercenary one was in the Market for. All around Tenebrous, shadowy, shady characters eyed him, carefully watching for any signs of hostility that Tenebrous presented. Their hands all firmly fell on their blasters, usually concealed under their clothes, though the more daring simply left them dangling by their side. "Alderman's Bar", as the name suggested, hosted nobility, though ironically, it was often the nobility that were in league with the mercenaries.

Pinned to the wall were several soiled and crumpled pieces of paper, each simply containing a name, picture and price. The range began all the way from a few thousand credits, to a few hundred thousand. Near the very back of the bar, Tenebrous found his own name, picture and price. He stifled a harsh, cold laugh as he saw his own price. It began with 2000 credits, before someone slashed that and doubled it. Then the new price was yet again slashed, and the process repeated several times until there were so many zeroes that it earned several earnest gazes. Yet another benefit of wearing the mask: once someone realised who was under it, it would already be too late.

As Tenebrous ambled further into the bar, he could feel the eyes on him intensify. He did not belong here: he could see it in their eyes. A mix of greed as they looked for his poster, ambition as they looked at his stature and fear as they saw his tattoo . One instinctively stood up, earning a deadly stare from Tenebrous, before promptly sitting back down, earning a crowd of laughter from his peers.

Finally, as he reached the centre, he stopped and sat down at the back bar. Behind it stood two bartenders, one male and the other female. Immediately sensing Tenebrous, the male came over. He was tall, far taller than Tenebrous, yet far skinnier as well, donning an extravagant 5-piece. He gave a wry grin before asking "Drink or Bounty?"

"Bounty," Tenebrous responded, eyeing the female, who was menacingly staring back at him. He looked back at the male, who loomed over Tenebrous like a cold shadow.

"For whom?" The female asked, nervously strolling over to Tenebrous, carefully brandishing her blaster, hidden underneath her jacket. She, like her male counterpart, wore a 5-piece, except hers was a far brighter pink. She was far shorter than him, short even for her breed. As a result, the two of them standing next to each other looked completely different species. She had a similar mocking smile on her face, as if Tenebrous did not look what she had been expecting."The death of Caesar," was all Tenebrous said, earning a wide eyed glance from not only the bartenders, but the nosy customers seated to his left and right. Tenebrous carefully scanned around, hoping no one else had tried to overhear his conversation, before returning his cold gaze to the male.

"Payment?" Tenebrous questioned inquisitively to the bartenders, who by now had lost all colour in their face.

"One million will be transferred by tonight," responded the male, in a voice that no doubt conveyed that he had never ever heard of such money. The male handed Tenebrous a single letter, with the engravings of 'The Baron' stamped in an old fashioned wax on the sealer. Tenebrous arbitally stood, gave a quick nod of thanks and escorted himself out. Tenebrous often thought of murder as a red bloody painting, and his next one would be a true masterpiece.

"An eye for an eye, and the world is blind," reminded the bartender. Tenebrous let out his usual arrogant, eye cold laugh.

"I shan't forget," Tenebrous echoed, still laughing as he walked back into the dark, bleak and stormy area that called itself Napoleonic Park, letting the darkness once again consume him.