Ruiner

Corvus. The veritable edge of the known galaxy. Staring up into the misty air of the night, I saw considerably less stars than I was accustomed to. Tiny specks of light broke through the shadow of the sky somewhat sporadically, and directly overhead, I saw a giant region of space which was completely black, devoid of any detail. A strange sight to be sure, but not worth the distraction. I looked downward, to the city of Costello. One of the larger settlements on this relatively sparsely populated planet, Costello was a beacon of light, chaos, and supposed civility slapped right down in the middle of the barren wasteland that was this pillaged planet. Tall, spindly structures of tarnished steel were shoved into this dense metal forest like pigs in a pen, and I stood above them, ripe for the slaughter.

I played the audio message one more time.

“Your targets are Vancimer Goddarion, Cassandra Swinnert, and the most important of all, Roko Kobaskilon,” an old, smokey, yet undeniably feminine voice crackled through the speakers in my helmet. “Once you eliminate these three individuals, you will receive the second half of our agreed upon deposit. Do not get caught. Do not reveal any information about us. Betray the Telracs, and you will pay with more than your life. End transmission.”

I closed the message, and opened my banking account. I typed on a computer console implanted in my left arm, staring at the screen in my helmet. The darkness of the night only enhanced my vision. I double checked the deposit, and–satisfied with the amount–closed the banking app. I closed every application crowding my vision, and the city of Costello reappeared before me. Across the way was a skyscraper, the tallest building in Costello, a structure composed of midnight black steel and lit up with a hazy orange glow. A giant sign stretched down the side of the building, displaying in giant, bold letters: Telracs.

Inventory check. My pistol was in its holster, on the left side of my waist. My tungsten knife was in a sheathe on my belt, on the right side of my waist. I had other tools of varying combat potential strapped to my belt, including an acid grenade, a cyber-katana, a plasma revolver, and a grappling hook, plus some other goodies that I had recently acquired. With those in place, I checked the condition of my armor. The energy-resistant undersuit fit tightly, and was without a single scratch. The color was red, which was perfect, as it reduced how often I had to clean it. The exterior nano-plates were mostly dormant for now, forming a protective shell around the weakest areas of my body. I placed my hand on the chin of my helmet, prepared to take it off for an inspection–but thought better than to endanger myself in such a vulnerable position. Finally, I placed my hand on my belt, firmly gripping the watch-like device which was strapped in place there. I zeroed in on a ledge overlooking a large office window, then pressed a button on the top of the device.

I was engulfed by a massive wave of violet energy and instantly transferred into an alternate version of reality, one swarming with purple shadows and violet visions, shapes of an indescribable color, and quiet whispers like the hum of the ocean in a shell. It lasted only a split second before the real world reappeared around me, and I suddenly found myself standing atop the balcony I had just been looking at. I grounded myself on the ledge, careful not to lose my balance, and took a deep breath. I let go of the device on my belt and turned around, now facing the structure I had previously been positioned on. I took the grappling hook from my belt and latched it tightly around a support beam on the balcony, then measured a particular length and cut the rest off with my knife. I wrapped a small portion of the rope around the palm of my hand, ensuring I wouldn’t slip, then stood on the very edge of the balcony. Lungs full, eyes wide open, muscles relaxed, and head straight up, I leapt from the roof. 

I dived down toward the filth below, but swung in an arc soon after my jump. I crashed through an orange tinted window, flying for a moment before landing in the center of a wooden table. The room was full of people in business attire, of varying species and color. There were humanoids with green and yellow skin, tall, lanky creatures with fungus-like flesh and hair, a couple of stout, green pig-things, and even a Corvidean, a natural inhabitant of this stolen planet. Most of them wore smooth, silky clothing with minimal wrinkling, embroidered in gold and silver jewelry–save for the pig-things, which wore uniforms of white, and had collars strapped around their necks. All in all, there were about a dozen things in this room, each of them now staring in silenced awe at me, the unwelcome guest.

“IF YOU MOVE, YOU DIE!” I shouted, equipping my pistol and gripping it tight. Most of these scumbags seemed too shocked to even consider moving. “Vance Goddarion, Cassandra Swinnert, and Roko Kobaskilon, please stand up!” I demanded.

A wrinkly old man with green skin stood and shouted, “If you think you can just-” 

BANG. The man crumbled to the floor. A combined shiver spread across the room, and a few people made moves, but they stopped quickly once I pointed the pistol at them. 

“Who was that?” I asked the businessman sitting closest to me.

“W-w-why d-did you k-k-”

“Who the FUCK was that?!” I shouted, now aiming my weapon at the stuttering fool, but keeping an eye on all the freaks around me. 

“My fath-” the man paused. “Darion. Darion Goddarion.” I turned to face the squealer.

“And who would that make you?” I hissed. The man bit his tongue, clenching his fists, shaking nervously. He glanced around the room, making eye contact with every other piece of trash, but none of them made a sound. Finally, as his eyes returned to me, he realized what fate had decreed for him. I could see it in his watering eyes. The fear. The panic. The formulaic principles of which all killers of his type worshiped. He could’ve tried to bargain with me. He could’ve bribed me away. Hell, he could’ve tried appealing to my sense of humanity–not that he even had one to speak from. A vagrant such as him, I expected much better. Instead of trying to do things the civilized way, he did the one thing that guaranteed his early expiration. He ran.

“GYEUH!” he squealed, diving from his seat in an attempt to evade me, but I was too fast. In the time that I took him to get up to his feet, I was already behind him, the knife in my hands. I plunged the blade into his neck, ripping flesh like soggy wood, killing Goddarion faster than he could breath. The moment he had made his pathetic shriek, everyone else in the room had tried to escape too–including this stupid bastard reaching for the door out. I shot him in the face before his fingers could grace the handle, and he collapsed into a pile on the floor. I armed the acid grenade and prepared to throw it to the door in order to prevent any more potential escapes, but before I had a chance, my neck was suddenly constrained by a grubby arm.

“CHOKE, KILLER!” the pig squealed, squeezing my neck tight as a wrestler, her grip unexpectedly strong. I struggled for a moment, trying to stab her with my elbow or shake her off my neck, but then I remembered the armed grenade in my hand. I tossed it behind me, and the moment it touched the floor, it exploded in a fog of acetous green murk, which spread quickly throughout the boardroom. The bitch let go of my neck the moment her flesh started burning, giving me a chance to turn and blast her fucking head off. Though my armor should protect me from any potential damage, I still elected to quickly evacuate this room, leaving the remaining swine to their fate. I dove for the open door and slammed it shut behind me, bracing it with a nearby cleaning rod. 

“Go, GO!” a nearby piglet squealed, running with the rest of the lemmings down a hallway. Only four of them had escaped, and they were all heading in the same direction, as could be expected. I fired a few shots at them from here, hitting two of them in the chest and one in the gut, while the furthest one ran around the corner, unscathed. I sprinted down the bland, beige office hall, stepping on the corpses of the unlucky two, over to the wounded one crawling like a dying animal on the floor. She dragged behind her a pool of orange blood, coughing and wheezing in an incredibly sickly manner. I grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her over, now looking into her dazed eyes.

“What’s your name?!” I demanded.

“Christie…” she murmured, blood oozing from her twisted pink lips.

“And that man-” I gestured down the hall. “Who’s he?”

“Ro…” she muttered, her head drifting lazily. “Mumma…” 

“Oh, fuck off,” I sighed, stabbing her in the chest. I pulled the blade from her still body and continued running down the hall, following the sound of thudding footsteps. I raced around the corner, sprinting as quick as I could down another boring hallway, then turned down another hall, where I saw my target a few dozen feet away. He glanced over and saw me, then ducked out of the way just before I could shoot him. He continued down another hallway, and I was forced to follow. I bolted after him, my boots pounding on the shaggy gray rug flooring, my temper rising with every wasted second. As I made chase, I decided that now would be a good time to test out another weapon, so I pulled out my plasma revolver. 

It was a tiny thing, only being about as big as my hand, and it was of rather experimental design, constructed from a clear green frame wrapped up with lots of mangy, multicolored wires. The wires all lead to what was essentially the barrel of the revolver, which was shaped similarly to a satellite dish. As I rounded the next corner, gripping the fragile gun, my target became visible once again. Still running, I aimed the device at him and fired. Huge, wobbly waves of yellow energy burst from the satellite dish faster than I could comprehend, bouncing from the walls, shimmering and shaking through the air on their way to my target. The strange rings of light seemed to duplicate as they bounced from the walls, and in less than a second, they had multiplied to the point that the entire hall was full of them. They zoomed across the hallway in the wink of an eye, and though I couldn’t yet see what had happened, I heard a ZAP followed by a panicked shriek.

Impressed, I looked down at the plasma revolver only to find that it had completely exploded during the course of the discharge, and all that was left was a smoking shard of glass impaled in the palm of my hand. I carefully pulled the splinter from my flesh as I walked down the hall. It wasn’t too bad an injury, and would likely heal within a few weeks–but it would certainly inhibit my ability to use this hand in the meantime. I tossed the fragment to the floor, and made it to the end of the hall, where I paused to examine the remainder of my target.

He laid on his front, face to the floor, the entire back of his body burnt to a yellow crisp. Any clothes he may have been wearing were completely disintegrated, and any skin he had was now vaporized, floating in the dead air. While it initially looked as though the wounds cut deep into the internal body, I now found that only the exterior was damaged. Whatever was left looked like a slab of meat that had been seared on the surface of the sun for exactly one millisecond. But oddly enough, it seemed to be moving still.

“Are you alive?” I queried, kicking the creature’s crispy leg. It let out a gurgled groan. I leaned down and grabbed the sickly fucking slug by the arm, turning it over. The front side of the thing was barely damaged compared to the back; the clothes were intact, as was the skin, and in fact, the only damage he had sustained seemed to be a broken nose from when he impacted the floor. The man had naturally dark skin, a shaggy beard, and short, curly hair. His eyes, whenever they drifted open, were an unnatural yellow, and had dilated pupils in the shape of a diamond. 

“What’s your name?” I asked. The pig only moaned in pain. “If you tell me your name, I’ll kill you quickly,” I sighed, crossing my arms. The pathetic worm opened his mouth, pursed his lips, and uttered a single word.

“Burn…”

I scowled at him. “Fine.” I leaned over the struggling body, focusing the lens of my mask. “Do me a favor and look dead.” It seemed that right as I said the words, the pig stopped squirming, and soon afterward his breathing ceased as well. I let out a small chuckle and tapped the side of my mask, taking a photograph of the corpse. Hopefully this was Roko, and if not, maybe it was some other asshole they wanted dead too. Who knows, I might even get a bonus for all the other dipshits I iced. 

I walked back down the hallway I had originally come through, and accessed the helmet’s computer systems. I opened up the messaging application, uploaded the image of the dead pig, and sent it to the coded address I received this job from in the first place. Once I reached the other hall, I took a photo of the still-suffering Christie, plus her two coworkers that I killed earlier. I added their photos to the message, then headed back over to the boardroom. The door was dented but not broken. I removed the brace, and the door immediately slid open, a pile of bodies slumping out with it. A green puddle of simmering liquid poured out into the hall, and I was careful not to step in it, or else I’d probably have to get new boots.

Most of the bodies in this room looked like they had been thoroughly decomposed. They still had some trace amounts of flesh hanging on, but their faces were melted mush, and their clothes were nothing more than blackened ash. I couldn’t much tell the difference between them beforehand, but now they all just looked like fucking mummies. Despite this, I took a photo of them, not even bothering to separate the bodies in the flesh pile. I moved over to the other side of the room, where my female attacker lay alone, her head reduced to a pile of gray and red mush. I took a photo of her remains, plus that of piggy Vance and his loudmouth father, whose jaw had somehow become disconnected from the rest of his skull in the brief time I had left him in here. I sent all these photographs in one mass email, then sat down at the edge of the table and waited.

A few minutes later, I finally received an audio response from my employer. 

“Are you serious?” The same voice as before spoke into my ear, but this time, the voice was somehow even more agitated. “I mean, are you fucking serious? We had very, very specific targets in mind. Vancimer, Cassandra, and Roko. Those three people, and not one more, remember? But no, you had to go and fuck things up, didn’t you?! Well you can forget about the second half of your deposit, you fucking freak. You’ve left one bitch of a mess for us to clean up, so why don’t you consider yourself lucky for what you’ve got and fuck OFF before I have to hire another piss-useless merc to wipe YOUR sorry ass off the map!”

And with that, the recording shut off. I checked my inbox for any other messages, such as, perhaps, a clarification that this recording was simply an ill-conceived joke, but I received no such indications of that. I stepped down from the desk and walked over to the fractured window, in need of some fresh air. Unfortunately, the only air found in this corner of the planet was smog further polluted by dust, sex, and fraud. I felt ill. I started pacing around the room, my feet squelching with every fucking step. My skull was brimming with thoughts, and I needed someplace, any place, to store them. I started an audio recording.

“Lucky? Who the fuck would consider themselves lucky to get the fucking scrapings that you sent me? I mean, I killed more than you asked for; so what? Why the fuck don’t you pay me MORE money?! I’m out here, risking my FUCKING life for a few hundred-thousand scales? I mean, you can’t get any lower than that without a law degree! I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen, you stuck-up, gaslighting, FRAUD, EMBEZZLING MOTHERFUCKER! I am gonna come to your fucking office, and I’m gonna WIPE MY FUCKING BOOTS ON YOUR SKULL!” 

I slammed my fist down on the office table, splintering the soggy wound into a hundred little pieces, bruising my already injured hand. I winced and bit my tongue, clenching the fist. I walked away, hugging my hand close to my chest, and tried to think away the pain. I paused by the window, and took a deep breath; big mistake, as even the filter of my mask couldn’t wash away the foul scent of this city’s destitute underworld. I stood still and played back the audio recording. Even I couldn’t help but feel intimidated. I opened up my messaging application, uploaded the entire audio clip, and sent it to my former employer’s address.

“Oh, shit,” I sighed, instantly regretting it. They were gonna chase me across the galaxy now, weren’t they? Fuck. I didn’t have the patience to deal with this shit. I opened up my computer and accessed the galactic cybersphere. Search engine. Keyword: Telracs. Incredibly wealthy family of lawyers, politicians, and landlords. Seeing those three words just made me chuckle. Who better to slaughter than them? I found the location of their family mansion, in the capital city of Conchylium. I copied the coordinates to my helmet’s macro, then placed my hand on the device on my waist. Kill or be killed.

A flash of violet light, a moment spent in the magenta oblivion, but it all ended soon enough. I was in the middle of the street in a wealthy neighborhood, with mansions the size of shopping malls as far as the eye could see–which wasn’t very far, mind you, due to all the fog in the sky. It was daytime, clearly defined by the bright, white light in the sky above me, but there was hardly anybody around. My head swiveled around, glancing past parked hovercars and gates of twisted steel, but not one person was clearly visible to me. Whatever. I double checked the address posted on the cybersphere, twenty-one seventy-three, and then looked to the gate nearest to me, which had identical number printed in gold lettering. I walked over to the gate.

Peering through the wire, I saw a large, spacious lawn of withered gray grass, surrounded by this fence, taller than a streetlamp, all containing the mansion. It was orange brick, at least four stories tall, with a sloped roof of gangrenous black, and wide, perfulatory windows painted white. The mansion was twice as wide as it was tall, and seemed to slope down toward the ground like a pyramid. It was one of the ugliest fucking structures I had ever seen in my life, like somebody saw a possum rotting in a flat tire and thought it’d make for an excellent architectural challenge. Just like the exterior streets, I saw nobody outside, and all the windows were blocked. I was worried for a moment that I had somehow wound up at the wrong address, so I approached the gate, where a speaker was implanted in the wall.

“Hey, uh, is this the Terlacs residence?” I spoke into the white box

“Huh? Yes, who is it?” a low, elderly voice with a muffled drawl replied. “Let’s see here..” he muttered, every note sounding like it was spoken from a mouth that was currently chewing on melted caramel. There was a brief silence, and an orange light suddenly lit up on the speaker system. “Oh shit,” the voice uttered, and the speaker suddenly turned off–though the light remained on. After a moment, sirens started blaring from all across the street, but primarily in the vicinity of the mansion. I stepped away from the speaker, and looked back through the spires of the gate.

The mansion had lit up. Orange lights were flashing now from every flat surface there was. Windows were swiftly covered by giant metal plates, and doors were reinforced with steel beams, risen from the ground. But they weren’t alone. All throughout the courtyard, patches of grass were displaced as slabs of metal rose from beneath. The lump of steel gray quickly expanded into a more defined shape, stretching out and turning in on itself, like a tightly-coiled machine. Soon enough, the masses of metal evolved into their true forms: giant fucking machineguns, rocket launchers, and laser cannons. And there were dozens of them, scattered around the property like mines in a warzone, all pointing directly at me.

“I suggest that you leave now, freak,” a different voice spoke over the speaker, this one being immediately recognizable as that of my former employer. 

“Which floor are you on?” I inquired, my eyes tracking the higher levels of the mansion. 

“You have five seconds to vacate my property before I am forced to defend myself.”

“I bet you’re on the top floor, aren’t you?” I murmured, my eyes now fixated on the roof of the fourth floor. My fingers quietly slipped down to my waist.

“Die,” the voice on the intercom stated plainly, and the weapons in the courtyard were all set off at once. There was a terrible cacophony of smoke and gunfire, explosions and laser blasting, the ground trembling through it all. My ears were nearly blasted off in all the commotion, and my eyes almost melted from the intense brightness of it all. But by the end of it, there was only one casualty: that ugly fucking gate. I sat perched on the rooftop, safe from any harm. But I didn’t waste my time sitting around for too long. The weapons were scanning again, and soon enough they’d surely spot me. 

Turning to the wall of the mansion, I looked for any entrance or weak points. I traced the edges of the exterior walls with my gloves hands, feeling cool, brittle bricks. I was near a window, or what had been a window before it was blocked by this giant plate of steel, like a manhole over a mousetrap. I touched the metal in the hopes that it might be removed, but the instant my fingers graced it, I was zapped with a sharp sting of electricity. I winced and fell back, shaking the pain from my hand. But I realized something much worse. Turning back to the courtyard, I saw that every single giant black weapon was turning to face me. The steel was smart. It knew. And they didn’t hesitate to fire. 

There was another chaotic barrage of fire and explosions, and just like the last time, I managed to teleport away before it had a chance to even scratch me. I was back to the front gate now–or more accurately, the crater in which the front gate had once stood. I crouched down amongst the smoke and the rubble, patiently waiting for the overbearing sound of gunfire to cease, when I noticed that the intercom was still intact, laying next to me. Better yet, the light on it was still glowing that orange, even if it was slightly dulled. I raised my head briefly, and saw that–just as I had hoped–a hole had been blasted through the mansion at the spot I had previously occupied. I grabbed hold of the intercom and spoke into it.

“Did you idiots seriously shoot at your own fuckin’ house?!” I cackled. “What a fucking joke! You’ll be easy to kill!” I tossed the intercom and turned back to the mansion, seeing that all the weaponry was already swiveling back to face me. Before they had a chance to fire, I stared at the mansion and teleported, leaving behind yet another empty target for them to waste ammunition on. I landed on the same rooftop I was on earlier, the only difference being that now it was charred black like a blast zone, and a giant hole was blasted into the wall. I dove through this hole quickly, before the weapons could possibly notice me again, and finally made it inside. 

Somehow, the interior of this supposedly high-art, old-money, mob boss mansion was even butt-fucking-uglier than the outside. The walls were orange cream, divided up by intersecting segments of twisted eggshell white columns, which must’ve been made of some sort of exotic rock or something. The ceilings were a peanut brown, twisted and carved like the hair on the back of a morbidly obese alcoholic grandfather, and interlaced with blinking lights of piss yellow. The floors were mostly darkened wood, black like the fur of a mangy dog, though they were occasionally demarcated by rugs of putrid horse shit green.

The room that I was in now seemed to be a part of the main hall, as there was a winding staircase just before me, leading–in a spiral–downstairs. To my left and right were hallways with multiple doors on either side, and all the way across from me, past the entirety of the staircase and alongside some kind of wicked balcony or ledge, was a set of wood-carved double doors with tinted glass windows bearing a mark that must’ve been the family seal. There were hidden cameras all over the fucking place, visible to me due to a feature of this handy dandy helmet. I stepped over to the staircase, leaning on the metal railing, and glanced down. 

A mob of people–many of them dressed in orange and black armor, some of them in what you might call casual wear, and a few wearing the typical white clothing of an indentured servant–were quickly ascending the staircase. I leaned back before they had a chance to shoot at me, and patted down my belt, quickly looking for any kind of tool that could help me out here. The only thing that really seemed applicable in this situation was a gravity matrix, although I had really been hoping to save it for something else. Oh well. I tossed the small, blue and white orb over the ledge of the staircase, and watched as it activated in mid air. 

A glowing vortex of light instantly exploded from the matrix, starting out at a rather small size, but quickly growing larger with every passing second. As it expanded, it consumed whatever it could touch, dragging the poor object into its swirling whirlpool of color and light. Within a few seconds, the matrix was large enough to start pulling in members of the Terlacs family, who screamed and struggled, but could not resist the pull of the matrix. Upon seeing this, many of them tried to run back downstairs, only to cause a stampede which resulted in many of them being flung from the banisters or consumed by the matrix. Though I was incredibly entertained by this wonderful little toy, I didn’t let myself get too distracted, and soon continued on to the double doors across the hall.

Approaching the doors, I saw some more hidden cameras on the ceiling, each of them pointed squarely at me. I didn’t let it faze me. I tried to open the doors, but they were locked and bolted shut. I reached to my belt for another tool to cut through this obstacle, but soon realized that it wasn’t necessary. I laughed when I noticed it. I could see clearly through the doors, thanks to the small portions of tinted glass which were level with my head. Pressing myself against the door, focusing on a spot of the floor within the room, I activated the teleporter.

There was a brief flash of violet light, and I found myself transported into a large office. Like the rest of the house, the ceilings were shit stained, the walls were orange fuck, and the floors were asshole brown–all except for a large rug draped in the center of the room, which was actually a very pleasant pattern of green, white, and orange. The walls were adorned with maps, documents, portraits, and paintings, all worth very much, I’m sure–but that wasn’t my main focus. No, what I was concerned about was right across from me. A huge desk, set up with a sprawling computer system. Posted up at that desk was a wrinkled old man, his skin green like a rotten vegetable. Standing behind him was a slightly younger–but still wrinkly–woman, her skin a slightly lighter shade of cabbage.

“DAVIS, HE’S IN!” the woman shouted into a microphone or something. I started pacing towards the desk.

“Are you the woman who hired me?” I inquired.

“Get the fuck outta here,” the old crone cackled, “Or we’re gonna SKIN you a-”

“Do you RECOGNIZE me, bitch?!” I shouted, pulling out my pistol.

“I absolutely refuse to speak to such a-” BANG. I shot the old man in the head. The woman froze, her jaw dropped wide open. She slowly turned to face the bastard, only to see that his head was torn open like a shitty present on Christmas morning. And her face was splattered with the wrapping paper. God, what an awful metaphor.

“W-what did you do…” she stammered, falling to her knees, burying her head in the man’s chest. I continued walking, taking my time, almost at her now. “What did you DO?!” she suddenly screamed, turning to face me with a scowl on her face and a pistol in her claws. She fired the weapon at my chest point-blank, but the bullet bounced right off. I took the gun from her greasy fucking hands and tossed it behind me. She stared blankly at me, stunned, and soon lost her will, falling to her ass. “W-wha… w-why…?” she stuttered, staring straight up at me. “You… you killed… everything… why?! she begged, but I remained silent, glaring at her with a quiet volition. She slowly turned away. “What…” she whispered. “What d-do you want f-from me?” I knelt down before her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look into my hollow eyes.

“I want what you can’t give me,” I whispered. I raised my cyber-katana, swinging it swiftly, slicing her throat apart before she had a chance to respond. She choked quietly as sickly blue liquid leaked from her neck like water from the tap. “But the money wouldn’t have hurt either, asshole.” I kicked her dying body over, shoved the old man from his chair, and leaned over the computer system, which was conveniently already logged in. I did a quick search through all of its programs and found something rather interesting, labeled Generator Control. 

Delving further into this program, I soon discovered that there was a generator system buried in the basement below the mansion, which apparently powered all their worthless fucking defense mechanisms. I messed around with the available settings for a moment, until I realized that I could remotely control the power output from here. I cranked it all the way up, then shot the monitor with my pistol. I stood still for a moment, just looking around. The house was starting to tremble, which was likely as a result of the still-growing gravity matrix on the stairwell, which would soon reach the floor that I occupied. I looked behind me, and saw a metal safe set into the wall, firmly locked. One last score.

I tampered with the front of the safe for a while, but it wasn’t a combination lock, nor was it digital or fingerprint based. It was a voice activated seal. Thinking myself quite the clever little idiot, I played back the clip the broad had originally sent me. Her bitchy voice screamed through the speakers in my helmet, yet the safe did not budge. Then I looked over at the old man. Of course. I sighed, thinking that I was completely defeated. I looked down at the cyber-katana, still in my hands, and had a wild idea. I backed away from the safe and locked my eyes on the little seal in the doorway, where the locking mechanism was. I leaned back, then lunged forward, shoving the katana as deep as I could into the safe’s seal. I dragged it up, then shoved it back down, breaking the seal completely–and shattering the katana in the process.

Whatever. I can just buy a new fucking katana. I tossed aside the useless hilt and opened up the safe, squatting down to peer inside. Just as I had hoped, there was a huge stack of cash stuffed in the safe–on the same side that I had shoved the blade in. All the money was shredded beyond use. I banged my head on the wall. It wasn’t a complete loss, however, as there was one thing of interest in the safe: a molten blade. A knife with a hilt of pure titanium wrapped in cool brown leather, with a glowing blade of perpetually super-heated metal, though I couldn’t quite tell what material it was. It came with a special sheathe, thankfully, which I strapped to my belt. I carefully removed the blade from its place in the safe and examined it. Then, requiring something to test it on, turned to the Terlecs woman.

Before I had much of a chance to pillage, however, the doors to the room were blasted open, as the gravity matrix expanded inside. I turned back to the wall, seeing a window which was thankfully uncovered, which I shot with my pistol. The glass shattered into a thousand tiny shards, and I climbed outside, onto the moldy roof. There were still many giant weapons on the lawn on this side of the house, so I decided against traveling much further out there. Instead, I set my sights on the roof of a neighboring mansion, a long, safe distance away from this shaking demolition project. I braced myself and activated the teleporter, consumed by  a wave of violet energy.

I fell onto the roof of this neighbor’s mansion, then quickly turned to watch the fruits of my labor. The Tercats mansion slowly closed in on itself, as the power of the gravity matrix ripped the supports of the structure from their places underground and twisted them up into mangled debris. Then came the fireworks. The generators must’ve fully overheated, because before the place even had a chance to collapse, a giant explosion blasted forth from the basement below, completely destroying every inch of the house and forming a giant crater of destruction in the immediate vicinity. The fireball of orange and yellow rose high up into the sky, and pellets of wood and steel rained down like ash from a volcanic eruption. I am supreme.

I stood up on this roof, and set my new blade into its holster, casting the old one aside like a used toy. I felt victorious, but only for a moment. Because in the end, what had I really accomplished? What had I done? Wrecked a home? Murdered a couple elderlies? Ruined an entire family? I thought about it for a moment. 

…

Yeah, that's exactly what I did! And the galaxy's a better place for it! Fuck those Nazi assholes, they deserved to die! They stiffed me on the tip! I'll ruin some bitches for that any day. And with that moral conundrum patently resolved, I typed in some new coordinates in my computer, grasped the teleporter, and was absolved by the graces of a pure, violet light