Tales of The City: The Assassin

Stepping out of the building, more cops pushed past him, making their way in. A slight draft filled the streets as the sun beamed down upon the city. While walking down the steps, the stark aroma of body odor, garbage, and gunpowder filled Roger's nostrils. Like many others, this massive city is just as crowded, if not more. Since there is minimal walking space along the sidewalk. It's common to bump into somebody, with everyone having somewhere to be and no time to get there. It was expected to see people get into an altercation, like the one unfolding before Roger. The crowd created a circle as if on cue, leaving the two arguing with enough space to hash it out.

"I said, you need to apologize for ruining my kicks bitch as muhfucka."

"Man, I ain't apologizing for shit! Go fuck yourself!"

Without delay, one of them threw a punch, and the fight broke out. Not wanting to get caught up in the commotion, he kept walking. Stopping at the end of the block, waiting for the crosswalk to turn green. A gunshot went off, and the crowd scattered. But that's just life in the city. One moment, you're walking along the sidewalk. Next, you're lying in a pool of your own blood. Overhead, an aerial vehicle from MedTactical was flying to their next trauma patient, followed by armored escort vehicles.

"I guess that was someone important or at least a high enough employee of a major corporation." Roger thought to himself.

While walking further, he happens upon a block riot. Luckily, he was on the side behind the police line. By the look of things, the police were slowly encroaching on the rioters. Turning down a nearby alley, the stench of garbage and sewer scorched his nose.

He put on his air filter mask so he could breathe normally. Not paying attention to those he deemed non-threatening, a man in a puffy vest and baggy clothes approached him.

"Hey boss, you looking for a good time? I got the best whores and cheapest prices in this district. One hour is seventy-five credits. For two, that's one twenty-five. What do ya say a good deal, right?" the pimp with the expression of knowing he gave a good deal.

"Move out of my way, I'm busy," Roger replied, pushing past the man.

Feeling disrespected by Roger's actions, the pimp had a wild look in his eyes. The pimp snapped his fingers and motioned his muscle to block Roger's way.

Two brolic men sporting some muscle-infused cybernetics stepped in front of Roger with a hand out to stop him from going further. Turning around, he stared at the pimp with an annoyed look.

"You said one hundred and twenty-five for two hours, correct?" he asked with cold eyes.

"Yes. So which do you want and how much time would you like? Nadia is my best. She can suck your balls till you're drained. Ha haaa." he said, motioning to a woman on the side to approach him.

Eyeing the woman intently, she sheepishly walked over. There was slight bruising on her arm and shoulders. Even though she was easy on the eyes, that's not hard when body modification is as common as a cloud in the sky. Turning to stare at the rest of the stable. He took his time looking each of them up and down.

"Oh, so you want a different one? Maybe two, perhaps? You know what they say….."

"Shut up, I'm thinking," Roger said in a commanding voice, cutting him off.

Tightening his fist, he wanted to smack up Roger but didn't want to risk losing a potential customer.

"Ok, here's thirteen-five for the whole stable for twenty-four hours. The timer starts when you drop them off at my chosen location." Roger demanded as he held out his watch, waiting to transfer credits.

He was purely shocked by the request since no one in this part of the city does this. He stumbled over his words, trying to make the credit holder accept payment.

Sending the location to the pimp, he turned around and left without saying another word. At the end of the alley, he stopped in front of a garage. Lifting the door inside sat a custom black what looked like an elongated crotch rocket that was lowered and sat like a Harley. Rolling the bike out onto the street, he pressed a button, closing the garage door. The motorcycle roared to life, and the nearby citizens were startled by how loud the bike was. Flowing into traffic, he swerved in and out of the lanes, not wanting to be stuck waiting.

Swiping the screen on the interface of the bike, he called an unsaved number.

"Hello, who is this? Why is it loud?"

"Man of the cloth, it's me."

"Oh Roger, my son, you know it's been a while since you've been to confession. I was beginning to worry something might've happened to you. Just like all the others. And about your salvation, please take the eucharist at this weekend's service."

"No promises. I need you to make some room at the orphanage."

"Why? Did you find some young orphan out on the street? Also, we don't have room for another one.

"Well, I don't think they care where they stay as long as it's not out on the street. Besides, they aren't kids; they're whores. And I already sent you some money so you can relax about all this." Roger said flatly.

"Well, if it's an amount near your last donation, I don't see any problem with helping you in your endeavor. Why are you doing this? This is a bit out of character for you, is it not?" the priest agreed. 

"Don't pry into other people's affairs. Goodbye, priest." hanging up the call, Roger sped into traffic and disappeared among the sea of vehicles.