Work Text:
The night was young. Or rather, what the clocks said was night, for the city was lit up as far as the eye could see with garish neon signs. High rise offices with blinding billboards were at each side of a road densely packed with people, and standing at incomprehensibly tall heights. While at the centre of it all was a circular shopping complex, emitting blue and purple hues from its copious amounts of windows.
The busy atmosphere was the ideal coverup for crime. It was stunningly simple to swipe a wallet off a passerby, or even drive a blade into their side. In spite of this, there was a preventative measure, or else the city would have collapsed long ago.
Flocks of drones that drifted about with the purpose of identifying felons were designed with the latest version of optical technology. They were government property, and the government showed no mercy when disposing of dissent. Rumours said they were created to appear adorable to dissuade any wishing to dismantle it.
Attempts to bypass its security measures were futile, often ending up with the would-be hacker getting punished severely. So, it was accepted that drones were a part of city life. Don’t disobey, or you’ll suffer a fate worse than death, they seemed to remind citizens - which was incredibly disturbing when paired with its unassuming appearance. In another world, they could have been a harmless robot companion.
But on this ordinary day, the way the drones flew through the air was different. Shakily, with little sparks between the gaps of its circular body. Below the quivering machines, the public was none the wiser, focused on tight schedules or in meaningless conversation. This was the other reason why crime was so easy. People either had little awareness of their surroundings, or mustered up some reason to not help if they witnessed it.
The bystander effect states that when more people are present in an emergency situation, the less likely they are going to help. This is thought to be because they believe responsibility is shared among the group, but also from the need to act as agreeably and appropriately as possible. They are able to rationalise the behaviour and move on without a guilty conscience. Even if their lack of action leads to a string of murders in plain sight.
In the middle of the crowded roads was a boy gazing up at the sky, seemingly the only one to take note of the odd behaviour of the drones. If not for the mask obscuring his face, a smirk would have been visible. Instead, his eyes subtly crinkled with mirth.
A haughty voice broke him from the moment of satisfaction, which only he was subjected to listening to.
“Stop standing around and focus, you dolt - what if we lose the target?!” the voice all but shouted.
Except, it really did sound like shouting, since it played directly into the boy's poor ears. He sighed, knowing the noise would come out fragmented in the other's own earpiece. The noise cancelling program was already struggling to filter out the sounds of the surroundings.
“Allow me to appreciate my work, Tsukasa,” he sighed as if mildly disappointed with a child, “You have a tendency to rush these missions.”
“But Rui, we're under time constraints!”
Rui tuned out the rest of the lecture, having heard it many times before. He found the nagging to be a familiar nuisance, yet it was - though he'd never admit - endearing.
Instead, he swept his gaze over the mass of citizens. Some turned to walk into the shopping centre and drain their wallets, filling their bags with junk in the process. Some held cups of coffee or tea, speed walking to their office with urgency, despite the slight look of dread they wore. Rui appreciated it all, the chaos of the city, structured buildings masking the turmoil within.
Once more, he was interrupted with an “Hey, are you even listening?!”
He wasn't.
“I was. Anyway, how is your view up there?”
From the earpiece, he heard the sound of a sniper rifle being reloaded. The model was of his own design, a fact that he was quite proud of, especially because it had earned the approval of seasoned fps gamer Nene. It was based on the traditional FR F2, but featured a star charm hanging off it, and a yellow-orange accent on the predominantly black body.
“He's drawing closer to your loca-” a sneeze, “Ugh, these masks are so annoying!”
Rui sighed, “You'll just have to put up with it, I'm afraid. Besides, Nene suggested we wear it for anonymity.”
“Anonymity my ass! If it was actually going to do that, it would cover our eyes instead.”
“If you don't like it that much then take it off.”
A little “oh” had gotten through the noise cancelling, so the thought had probably never occurred to Tsukasa. Rui had to stifle a laugh, because though people were willing to look the other way if someone died, breaking social convention seemed to be worth their time to criticise. Laughing was a bigger crime than murder.
At last, the target was in his sights. A shaky drone tailed him, being controlled by Nene with a jailbroken Nintendo Switch. He didn't actually know where Nene was, but it was somewhere away from the action. Nene preferred the logistics side of missions compared to being sprayed with blood. And gaming, hence the controller in the form of a gaming device.
“I see him now. You'd better take aim.” Rui spoke quietly.
He began to amble towards the target, though his eyes were sharp. Drones from above scattered away, save for the one near the target. Weaving through walkers of differing paces came naturally to him, a skill that any city dweller had to pick up unless they wished to get swept away. He drew nearer.
Had he not become accustomed to the assassin mentality, he'd feel bad for the guy who was going to die soon. The name of the person escaped him, so he opted to call him The Unlucky One in his mind. It made the operation seem far more deep than it actually was.
The Unlucky One fell into the category of overworked businessman. He observed his manner. Jittery, probably from an unhealthy dose of caffeine. Who sent in a request to take down a seemingly normal man? A vengeful ex? His arch nemesis?
Questioning the meaning behind each and every hit was a pointless endeavour however. Their creed was to simply get the job done, not mull over the details. For Rui, it was more because of curiosity rather than out of guilt. What drove a person to contact others to do a deed they couldn't do themself? Did they deem it too much of a task to handle, or because they wanted it to really hurt?
“Excuse me,” he called out, “Do you work for the office building close to the shopping centre?”
The Unlucky One startled, faced him nervously, and nodded. “Y-yes, I do.”
“That's a relief… You see, my father works there too, and he left these documents at home. Could you take these to him for me?”
The documents were in a neon pink translucent folder. A sticker was on top, featuring the name of Rui's imaginary father. The papers inside had text generated by Rin, an AI Nene had learned to code after delving deep into a programming rabbit hole. While he hadn't read it, Rin was sophisticated enough to create something that looked legitimate.
“Um, alright…” the Unlucky One replied, his eyes settling on the folder.
Rui held it out to him, and it was grabbed by shaking hands. The coffee, he presumed, or maybe it was nerves.
“Thank you so much! I've actually found a few people from your company too, but they all turned me down. It's a relief that there are still kind people out there.”
Instead of saying something, the grip of the Unlucky One's hands tightened around the folder, eyes boring into it out of embarrassment. Working an office job, compliments were rare. At least there was a silver lining, he wouldn't be a wage slave anymore, working himself to death.
“Apologies for taking up your time!” He turned around briskly without waiting for a reply, counting down the seconds as he walked away.
In three seconds, the Unlucky One would no longer have to go to work.
In two seconds, the Unlucky One would no longer have to worry about bills.
In one second, the Unlucky One would be dead.
He smelled the blood before he processed the shrill scream. It was the stench of death, metallic yet familiar. Another job well done, though he wasn't going to get cheesy fanfare out of it, or a tacky medal.
After seemingly forever, Tsukasa spoke. “Well, that's that. Do you think Emu will be sad that we did this without her?”
“Most likely, but she'll cheer up if we manage to get her something from the taiyaki place.”
An overly dramatic sigh. “Do we have to…”
“You want her to be sad?”
Rui bickered lightheartedly with Tsukasa, continuing his walk down the busy streets like he hadn't done something terrible. He looked for the shop sign with the comically large fish with legs, a mascot that the group had laughed at upon first seeing. Someone was leaning against the shop wall, a black mask pulled down their face.
As their gazes met, Rui said “You're paying, by the way.”
Like he did before, he tuned out Tsukasa's complaints, and entered the establishment.