Chapter 2.2 - Shadow over LondonMature

The work of a cleaner, the politically correct word for paid killers, is rather simple. Go in, shoot people and sometimes politely deliver a message to someone as his bodyguards' innards soak the carpet and he resisted the allure of soiling himself.
This was going to be one of the latter type of job.


NeoHumanity had opened up it's doors eight years prior, becoming one of England's prime research institute in magical phenomena as well as Metahuman biology. It was partially thanks to them that the average Joe could have mana casters on their cellphones, which most people used to make fireworks or light show. Give something amazing to people and they'll usually waste it on party tricks.


The facility itself was a three floor building with more windows than walls, all in the sleek white panels and steel structure that looked mildly futuristic. The front of the building bore the logo and slogan of the company; The Vitruvian Man along with the words 'A better life, a better you; NeoHumanity'

I flipped open my phone, it was an ancient piece, it didn't even connect to the mesh or had any caster, but I liked it that way; it didn't show up on the local grid or on scanners. The building's lay-out was displayed in full, even the basement levels that you wouldn't be notified of on the tour. I memorized the plan one last time and cut off the power. Last thing I needed was it ringing.

I sprinted toward the fence and leaped over it, narrowly missing the barbed wire that lined the concrete perimeter wall that surrounded the compound. There was a back entrance not too far from where I'd entered. I hustled toward it, more out of habit than anything else, my stamina was a different beast from before I'd been changed.

As I expected, the door was locked, next to it was a keypad with a magnetic card reader. Mechanical locks were mostly a thing of the past, discarded on high tech facility in favor of magnetic locking mechanism. Being a hitman meant more than just shooting people in the face, you couldn't do it if you couldn't approach your mark. I looked around, I was alone, and pulled out the small kit of tool that was rolled tightly in a nylon holder from the inside pocket of my coat.  

Unlike what people saw in films, shooting the thing wouldn't have opened it. Just fry the mechanism for good. I popped the panel open and examined the wiring. The keys were linked to the dial device, which would check for the password and then send the clear signal to the magnet holding the door. Using the micro tools, I pulled the wires from the dialler and the pad and instead plugged them into a black box I'd brought along before placing the panel back in place. I then punched it whatever and the door buzzed open. 

I opened the door only an inch and gazed inside, opening the astral sight. A lone pulsing form distinguished itself from the sea of gray inside of the building's corridor. He stood in place, his hands moving from one side to the other.

Great, the janitor.

I opened the door fully and looked at the camera. It lazily moved from side to side overlooking a pair of hallways, I counted the timing; six seconds. I stepped closer, going as fast as possible, and grabbed the Janitor. A hand over the mouth to prevent him from saying anything. With the other hand I opened the employee's washroom and dived into it. The man smelled like fear, and lightly debated. 

"Do you want to die?" I whispered to his ear. He shook his head. "Then stay calm, you aren't paid enough for this."

He calmed down and I let go with one hand, taking a plastic syringe from my coat. I jabbed it in his neck and he quickly went limp. He'd wake up in the morning with hang-over and no memories of the night. I slowly propped him against the wall, sitting down on the floor.

The stairs were two corridors away. I moved quickly, keeping the timing of the camera system in mind. Security was not quite as big as one would expect, but the offices were mostly a cover for whatever they were doing in the underground levels. 

I took the stairs and ran four flights up to the third floor. The Mark's office wasn't very far. In front of the door, a burly man in a cheap suit was standing there, a bud in his ear. Probably a body guard or something similar, he didn't look like office security. Out of his left breast pocket was a small barely perceptible point, a holstered gun.

I crouched down, hiding behind a planter that occupied a part of the hall where the elevators lead to and hit the recall button for the elevator. It took about twenty seconds to arrive with a piercing ding that attracted it's attention. The doors slid open and the man looked warily at it.

He slowly started moving forward, going left to by pass the obstacle in his way and I went the other way.  Like an idiot, he looked inside the elevator and then up so I moved in, passing a garrote around the man's neck, crossing my arms and squeezing, a kick in the back of the knee, then rammed my own knee in his kidney and he was down on the ground, gasping for air.  I watched as his essence began to dim and the pulse within it weakened before letting go. I stuffed him in the elevator and walked toward the office itself.

And then I knocked.

The End

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