1 Indestructible

The galaxy is a vast place for those who live normal lives. Every planet and race has its place and purpose, all working for a greater good. On the surface, it would seem to be perfect as the prejudice of the past has been left behind. Every species knows their place and to stay where they're needed.

The galaxy is not, however, a big place for those who do not conform. War orphans, undesirables, and anyone that would speak out against any sort of injustice. Any remark against the status quo is snuffed out with great prejudice, either by being publicly shunned or silence by the powers that be. Should you dig deep enough, you will find that this golden paradise is actually gilded, and underneath that you will know only rot. Rot which teeters on the edge of open war and ruination for all, with humanity at its center.

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New Shanghai, near the borders of Independent Human Space.

Standard Earth Calendar 03/02/2865

On a planet near the edge of independent human space, a boy sat wrapped up in a wet and ragged hooded cloak. He could always be found here, sitting and waiting. Some approached to offer help, others left money, but most did not even look his way. He never spoke to them or met their eyes. To him they may as well not even be there.

Dampened by the wet night before, the hood started to dry in the hot sun beating down on it from over the skyscrapers. To him, the sun was a timer ticking down to his objective. One face would walk here soon; it always did.

He kept himself hidden under his dirty cloak and watched the people walk by, studying their facial expressions. Happy faces, stressed faces, laughing and angry, he watched them all to pass the time. He uses this as an exercise on his off time to try and emulate what he should look like in different situations, but as to when and what expression to use remains a mystery to him. With so much to see and study he practices memorizing the different emotions he sees, instead of the blank canvases he usually defaults to when looking at anyone. Some were normal humans, but others had cyber enhancements, reptilian scales, arachnid type mouths, and other kinds of disgusting alien features that made it hard to distinguish. Practicing this has somewhat rewarded him in his efforts though, seeing he could at least kind of read the basic emotions of the alien now.

They were so very expressive, but he didn't understand as to why they did this. Often he thought they were undisciplined and weak willed, all completely unable to control themselves emotionally. Sometimes, the boy would practice these faces in a mirror. He did not know what he expected, perhaps some magical effect to make him feel what they felt. It all felt useless, and often the thought that he should quit trying to be human itched at the back of his mind.

All of this was merely a way to pass time until it was time to work. One face would walk these streets every day at 12:35 and go down the same alleyway. He would knock on a steel door three times, pausing between the second and third knock. The slide at the top of the door would open and he would give a password. The boy had watched him for weeks trying to learn that password, but it would change every day… until he noticed a pattern. Today, he would put his theory to the test and listen for that last password, and then he would have his mark.

The people on the street continued to stroll past, barely glancing at him today. Their goodwill from the past two weeks had dried up, and no money was left for him. They had no idea about who he really was, what he was about to do, nor what the building behind him housed. A door was all that separated them from the hidden actions of subhuman garbage. On the outside, it was a closed office building rising high into the sky. No one seemed to question why it was not in use, or perhaps they had come to accept its vacancy as ownership shifted from person to person, without a clear goal in mind. Except one person did notice, and they were paying a large sum to have it and its owner shut down. The boy needed food and shelter and this job would pay for it better than the empty bowl he kept out for scraps.

After a few moments, the mark finally came. A man dressed in expensive and flashy clothes appeared, swaggering down the sidewalk as though he owned them. He kept a hand in one pocket and a his other arm lazily hanging to the side. This behavior was not new to the boy at all. So many others approached him this way and tried to assume they were better than what they were, before the boy put them in their place, this is one of the expressions he knew best without having to study. The boy saw no difference in what the man carried today, he quickly surmised this mark was unarmed. Perhaps he thought himself untouchable? Egotistical, overconfident and narcissistic… these flaws can be exploited. He was easy prey.

The boy's mark behaved as he always had before. Today, however, he noticed the boy and decided to stop ignoring him. He gave the street urchin a kick as he went past and spat at him. Whatever words the mark said did not matter; the man failed to notice the boy guarding himself from beneath the cloak. He slipped down the alleyway, knocking on the door the same way he always had, and gave the same password he did every week. Sometimes he wished he could just go and rip the door out of the wall and be done with this, but the contractor won't pay for a loud entrance to a quiet clean up job.

The thought of killing him brought the boy an uplifting feeling. He heard from other soldiers that this is what they call glee, he liked this feeling. However he did not like the bystanders coming up to him to see if he was alright, and bringing irritation to override the glee he felt before. One came close to bringing his hood off and only saw a snarling, hateful, glare for their troubles. These things around him are weak and pretend to care, he wanted to turn this city into a graveyard for their offense and couldn't hide his hate for these pests. One look was all it took for the people to disperse and it gave the boy the space he needed to get back to work.

The boy had his way in, and what was to follow was the easy part. The boy gripped the pistol he kept hidden underneath the blanket tightly and waited for his prey to enter the building. A moment later, he stood and made his own way down the alley. Glory to him on this day, as he will pile the bodies high.

Just then, an X factor appeared - another man, a mercenary by the looks of him. The boy had never seen him come this way before, but he stood before him now, his hand curled around an old magnum revolver hanging loosely by his belt. The stranger wore a colorful shirt, unbuttoned on the front giving a clear view of a muscular physique and countless scars, cuts and bullets from a life of constant battle. His face was that of a hardened killer – past his clean shave and neat undercut hair was the steely scent of blood.

They both stared each other down in that alleyway, neither making a sound. They each knew why the other was there. Open contracts always had an element of competition to them. It was inevitable for rival mercenaries to compete for profit, but this was neither the time nor place for a shootout and they both knew it.

The sounds of the city seemed to grow quieter between the two. Their senses were focused to a razers edge upon each other. The cocking of opposing pistols was louder than anything the city could produce for them. They glared at each other like predators fighting for turf, and with no cover between them, this would be over in a second.

"You goin' in there?" the stranger finally breaks the silence with a tone that aroused hostility in the boy. The stranger's hand was still on the grip of his gun and he was watching the boy's every move, yet he was smiling a winner's sneer.

"Nothing to say, that's fine. How 'bout we do this one together, and kill each other over it later?" the stranger relaxed his grip on his gun and raises both hands in the air. The boy nodded curtly, and they converged together on the door.

Three knocks by the stranger and a password later, they were in. By the time the bouncer saw the boy it was far too late, the boy sprung forth with a knife he had hidden and inserted it into the bouncers throat, spraying blood as he gurgled his last words. The door shut behind them, and their work began.

The boy knew what was lurking in this building long before now. Everyone who saw the contract knew. Rooms stacked wall-to-wall with drugs, cells full of cowering slaves and debtors, and oddly luxurious rooms for whores to perform their work. A foul stench of sweat, shame, and death hung in the air, but the two did not care. They moved through the building at their own pace, slaying anyone they encountered that was not already locked up or already overdosing on some unknown substance.

"How 'bout I take the lead?" the stranger offered, stepping forward and beginning down the stairwell. He did not stop for people moving towards him, unaware of his presence until it was too late. All they meant to him was three bullets. Even as he opened the door to the first floor. "I'll take this floor, and you can take the next. We'll meet up at the bottom, sound good?" The boy did not react to any of this. He just calmly walked past him and moved on to the next floor.

Sounds of more men running up the stairs is his signal to get ready and the boy jumped the railings to engage them. A knife appeared from his cloak and cleanly sliced one man's jugular open, spraying red across the wall as the man fell. The other was more fortunate in the end, falling to a single gunshot to the temple of the other. It had been far too long since he was allowed to go wild like this, he couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face as one body went cold and the other whimpered and cried until his eyes closed for the last time.

Each floor they attacked is done alone. Both hunters knew the other was working by the shrill screams of dead men and the occasional unfortunate bystander that stood in their way.

The stranger moved from cover to cover, shooting at any fool that moved out in the open. His reloads were lightning fast - a practiced skill from years of constant fighting and augmentation. Every shot is a kill and allowed the stranger to move at a even pace. The boy, on the other hand, moved with his own brutal grace. Impossible twists and bouncing from surface to surface kept him safe from incoming fire. Cuts and stabs dressed the walls in crimson sprays and anyone that thought to stay away came under fire until the gap between them is closed. Those individuals tried to beg for mercy but none got a word in as the boy butchered them like swine.

Slaves and whores heard screams and gunfire throughout the building and hoped their saviors would come for them, but could only scream as they watched their buyers being slaughtered, one after the other, and those too high to comprehend the world around them saw demons coming to claim their souls. Their screams of the downtrodden filled the stranger with sadistic joy, this was nothing more than a show to advertise him and his company, while the boy sneered at them in contempt, these weak things should just die if they aren't willing to fight back.

As they reached the final floor, the boy stood at its entrance and culled anyone coming through, waiting patiently for the stranger to join him. Their prey was safely tucked away behind a thick, reinforced steel door. Three dead guards lay in pieces on the ground outside of it. The man seem amused by the violence this kid was capable of, and of what the kid might do after they kill their target.

"Wow, you're still alive, kid! Congrats! I knew you had it in you." the stranger said with enthusiasm. He dropped the façade quickly as he realized the kid was ignoring him, as he came down the final flight of stairs.

"Seems like they'll be waiting for us. After you, then?" the stranger said, stepping back and performing an extravagant bow, gesturing for the boy to take the lead in a mocking imitation of a gentleman.

Scanning the door, the boy noted a single dim light above it, wires curling towards the staircase from it towards the floors above, all through a square cut in the wall going inside their entrenched position. From the cells above, among the addicts and the enslaved, was a stockpile of weapons gleaming in the distance, from which the boy took with him two grenades. He squeezed the trigger on the side of the first and tossed it through the hole.

They could hear the men behind it panic and choke as the smoke filled their vision and lungs. No one wanted to run forward and dispose of the grenade for fear of their attackers coming through the door at that moment and disposing of them. They simply let the smoke build up, cursing and taunting the two in an attempt to start the battle on their own terms. The boy would bite, certainly, but only after the smoke had filled the room completely.

After a moment, he creaked open the door, and the frightened guards opened fire. Bullets, lasers and plasma fire blew it off its hinges as the boy stood to the side and readied another grenade. This one had a timer on the side, counting down from five. The men did not relent in their counterattack. Their vision narrowed upon the doorway, and they failed to notice the grenade rolling towards them until it went off, abruptly ending the gunfire.

It was then that the boy made his move. He jumped into the smoke, and blood shot from his victims. Carnage screamed from the smoke. Cursing and screams accompanied by the sounds of meaty thunks and slashing of flesh. Gunfire, lasers, and plasma shot wildly around, dispersing the smoke slightly. No shot fire found purchase and only gave the stranger a good view to watch the kid hold tight to a thugs shirt as he plunged his knife into his chest and neck repeatedly. Soon the screaming came down to one man and that voice too was silenced with a crack, and finally a thump.

"Nice work, kid, Who do you work for? Have you considered joining up with another company?" he casually exclaimed, clapping his hands and grinning widely as he walked through the destroyed doorway. He did not fear what the boy could do to him. His eyes appraised the boy and saw potential. The boy, however, never even looked his way.

"Well… we'll see how you feel later," the off put stranger sighed with a knowing smile, and walked past the boy with gun in hand.

He glanced around a corner and emptied his weapon down the hall, the cacophony ending with six dull thuds. The boy narrowed his eyes as he observed the stranger's work. His rival's speed was not unlike his own, far beyond what the eyes could perceive; this rival was little more than a blur of death and bullets. The boy relied on his strength to move him at great speeds, but he could only guess as to how this stranger was able to reload so quickly.

They continued clearing each room one by one. The boy would draw their fire and slay the first enemies in front, aiming for arteries and veins to panic any of those he couldn't reach immediately, and once the line of fire was cleared, the stranger would finish anyone in the rear, flanks or otherwise, with great efficiency. After a few rooms of this the stranger convinced the boy to switch roles, with the excited stranger displaying his own prowess, crushing throats with his elbow and gouging out eyes while the boy stood by and used his own firearm, to less efficiency, just as the stranger had before. Watching the stranger showed the boy all he needed to know, he is brutal and swift, every move was calculated and made to finish his opponents in one strike. He did not take the time to indulge in the pain of his prey, while the boy used it to break those that would try and fight again. The stranger is good, but the boy knew he is better.

All who witnessed them had the same thought. They are invincible. The stranger started to feel at ease when fighting alongside the boy - a true partner in this dance of death. The blood sprayed over them like crimson fountains, painting all surfaces in their art of mayhem. The stranger knew that he had to have this boy join him and this would not last unless he could convince him. Or perhaps…

As his train of thought trailed off, they saw their mark. The terrified man ran out in front of them with a woman, gripping her hair tightly in his fist. Once he saw the pair, he screamed, falling against a wall and holding a knife to the woman's throat. It did not matter to the pair, and nor did she. No one in the room cared about the fate of this single poor soul.

The boy moved forward steadily, showing no regard for the woman's life. The stranger took aim, a red bead appearing unnoticed on the woman's chest as their mark pressed the knife to her throat. The stranger chuckled and gave the woman a saccharine smile. Her complexion went pale as her eyes grew wild in terror when she realized these men were not saviors but rabid animals killing everything between them and the man holding her as a shield.

"Sorry miss, today just ain't your lucky day," the stranger said calmly.

A lone gunshot rang through the hall as the bullet fairly ripped through the woman's chest, hitting their prey in the lung. With a howl of agony from both, the woman fell from his grip, gasping in shock on the floor. Their prey clutched at the wall, tearing down one of the fluorescent lamps from above them as he fell. Before he could hit the ground, the boy rushed forward at a blistering pace, burying his knife in the man's eye just as another bullet tore through the other.

Much to the boys exasperation, he knew that full credit could not go to either if both weapons made a killing blow. They each had an equal share in the prize, and neither were interested in sharing.

"So, I guess that's how it is, kid. You could just walk away. I won't judge ya," he mocked the boy, twirling his magnum on his finger near his hip. "…Or, of course, you could take me up on that offer."

This second-rate murderer thinks he can keep up with me through some fluke? He believes himself superior, I will bury him with the rest, the boy thought savagely. Being called out as a coward brought his blood to boil. He openly took out both the knife and pistol he kept hidden and proceeded to stand squarely across from the stranger.

Just as before, they stood apart from each other. The stranger looked down upon the boy with a smirk, and the boy quietly seethed beneath his cowl.

"How 'bout a little wager, kid?"

The boy did not respond. Light from the fallen lamp shone into his hood and the stranger finally could view his pale face. Black hair fell, messily, in front of his face but his eyes could still be seen between the lines of his bangs. The boy's eyes watched him, but did not seem to focus. Dark, empty eyes glassed over the stranger and he felt a chill in the air. This kid was on the edge of being something of real worth, he just needed a guiding hand, and he'll be perfect, the stranger thought ambitiously.

"I win, and you work for me. You win? Well, you can kill me and keep the bounty. Sound good?" the stranger's gun clicked abruptly as he reloaded, quick as lightning. As before, the boy couldn't see how his rival could move so quickly, but only the result mattered anyways.

The boy didn't respond immediately, his expression stony as ever. He had no squadron anymore; his life was his own to spend as he chose. This incompetent was not the same as the other faceless masters who sought to claim him, but he would not be shackled regardless. The boy resolved long before now to show him how a real soldier fights, and this wager is sufficient enough of a show for this mercenary wanna-be.

The boy broke his stillness with a sharp, curt nod and the stranger smiled, eyes widened in excitement. He retrieved a coin from his pocket and showed it to the boy. They both knew well what it meant, a duel at touchdown. The room was still as night as he flicked the coin into the air. Neither dared look away from the other's eyes, for one instance of hesitation would be the end of them.

Quiet had dampened the room like a curse as the coin started to descend. The two stood nearly motionless, and the sounds of their weapons readying for battle seemed to echo like song. The click of the stranger's hammer and the scraping of the boy's knife against his own sidearm harmonized, as though they were meant to ring together.

The boy visualized it all in that split second. The stranger would shoot, and the boy would jump. He would miss, and the boy would close the distance just as he had countless times before. The boy would fire into the stranger's chest, propel himself from off the wall, and sink his blade into his victim's eye. Such was the technique he had mastered, and it would all be over in an instant. The boy revisited this scenario over and over again in his head, and he could see his victory, savoring the thought of ending this infuriating person from the galaxy.

As the coin finally hit the ground, a quiet ding echoed past them.

One gunshot, one quiet thump, and it was over.