Book 2: Chapter 17 - Everyone Has Their Own Burden to Bear

There are those who believe that the
end of the world also ended exploitation.
At least, once a new society emerged.

The prevailing idea is simple.
Once ‘magic’ or talents were introduced,
all people were equalized.
Exploitation, prejudice, violent acts of control.
To them, these ‘stopped making sense’ once everyone had magic.

The truth is these people are actual idiots.
The implicit admission in their logic,
that these things ‘stopped making sense’
is that before callings, they did make sense.

Things have certainly changed.
But that asinine sentiment itself is proof
that they’ve also stayed the same.
—Journal of an Unknown Corpse

Violet was in the green district, visiting a gym specifically for that category. It was a bit of an intimidating place, with weights and machines large enough for industrial factory work. It made sense, she supposed. They didn’t really make gyms geared toward category white teenagers. But some of the lower-ranked reds with weak strength attributes used equipment that Violet could handle. She had to stay in shape somehow, calling or otherwise. This meant she was familiar with how they worked. Most tools and machines were designed for someone with greater strength than a pre-crystallization human would have had. Attributes modified a person's base abilities, so even reds could earn a considerable boost in abilities just with exercise. A green gym with considerably heavier equipment was expected. The reality of them was still difficult to process in person.

That was fine. That would work in her favor—if her information was right. But she wouldn’t know for sure for a while yet. She sat at the front desk, her right hand pressed to the clean surface. She had her information etched into it, and she frowned at the numbers. Her degree was as stubborn as ever.

Violet Asher
Category [Red]
Calling <Reaper>
Degree {9}
Attributes
Agility (152)
Constitution (72)
Dexterity (123)
Endurance (80)
Perception (204)
Resistance (99)
Strength (59)
Bloodlust (412)

Gemma hadn’t been enough to get her to ten. She’d thought she might have reached it when she made it to the gym, but she hadn’t had any luck with it so far. It was frustrating. She knew that each degree took more clarity than the last. She needed exponential gains to keep advancing through the degrees, which she’d confirmed when she made it to the academy. The jump between categories always took even more, apparently. This explained why Derek had carried her so much further than Stephanie. And it explained why she was still a degree nine.

Killing definitely granted her more clarity than anything else. Every interaction with Aubrey had helped a little, but her calling was clear. Killing was the ultimate form of domination. She was a Reaper. Not a Manipulator. Not a Negotiator. Not a Leader. The death was the point. She could grow without it, yes. But she was expected to advance two degrees, including a category jump, in three months. Actually, they expected her to advance four. Which meant they would expect constant, rapid growth. Faster than she could keep up with, at her current rate.

But she’d learned something. She’d learned about the Nightshade class. The type of calling hedron had. The kind which the government monitored closely, apparently. She was glad she’d gotten Obfuscate as her first talent. But that wasn’t her concern at the moment. The news that her life would be over if her calling was discovered was… not news. She’d already known that the minute someone saw it, they’d know she was a killer. It would be obvious. Even before that, her lack of calling had made her disposable. This just gave a name to her classification.

Or, it gave her an even better justification to do whatever she needed to protect herself. Her childhood troubles hadn’t ended after all. Even now, she lived to be the object of hate and ridicule if she was discovered. Everyone but her was considered useful. Valuable. Desirable. But her lot in life remained unchanged. She was to be hunted and discarded. And everyone she met would be alright with that. If she slipped up once, any given person would happily send her to her death. It wasn’t her fault that she had to do the same to survive. She might not have been a good person, but she wasn’t worse than anyone else. She just had the advantage of information.

No, what really mattered about the revelation was simple. Well, two things mattered. The known existence of the Bloodlust attribute was one. She could learn how it worked and what exactly it did. She was nearly giddy about the opportunity to research that, if she could find a way to do so. But she only had three months to reach orange. That was what mattered more. So she focused on the second bit. She had a calling like a hedron. She didn’t know how they advanced, not exactly. But they were animals. Whatever had happened to them, they were animals. She didn’t know what theories experts had on the matter. Not yet. But there were few concepts easier to understand than survival of the fittest.

Her theory was simple. The obvious theory, to anyone who’d ever played a video game. The bigger her target’s category, the more clarity she’d gain. If that had nothing to do with how a hedron advanced, she’d be shocked.

She knew it wasn’t going to be that simple alone. And there was some evidence to suggest otherwise. Alex had moved her up a degree, whereas Daniel had not. It had felt like more clarity, even if she hadn’t used her own hands. Or maybe because she hadn’t used her own hands. But that was just a feeling, and she couldn’t be certain how close she’d been to advancing before that. On the other hand, the only two kills that had definitely worked were the two yellow lancers. Like an animal, she would grow faster by killing stronger people.

Or… that wasn’t exactly right. She would grow stronger by killing more powerful people. Category was only one vector of power, after all. Caitlyn hadn’t granted Violet a lot of clarity, but it had turned out Alex’s mom hadn’t had that much power on the city council in the end. Violet wondered if killing an orange with a particularly high level of political power would grant her as much clarity as killing a green receptionist. Ultimately, she decided she was a human with a hedron calling, so her advancement would be a mix of the two. She needed to take power over those who otherwise had power over her in some way. And she was going to test that.

The front door finally opened, and the singular client she expected walked through the door. A large man, over seven feet tall, and wearing a custom suit. She didn’t know his real name. Shepard’s clients all referred to him simply as “Jack,” or “The Debt Collector.” She got the distinct impression that Jack was a nickname, though. His job was, reportedly, to collect gambling debts from red, orange, or low yellow students. Despite the gym he was at, he wasn’t actually green himself. At least, not according to the information Violet had. The fact he was there was confirmation enough, though. He only arrived so late because he had no other choice. Even at degree ten, it was illegal for a green gym to allow a yellow inside. It was too dangerous. A lower category could work there, although it was a gray area. But only for administrative work. Operating the equipment or moving the weights was out of the question for anyone below green. And in Prism City, such a law would actually be enforced.

This was also why he rolled his eyes the moment he saw her sitting at the desk. He walked like it was difficult to fold his arms, and rested his right arm on the desk as he leaned in. 

“Where is the usual guy?” he asked immediately. Violet gave him a bright smile.

“Hello! Welcome to Emerald Fitness!” she greeted.

“I asked where the other guy is? The kid who always works nights?” Jack repeated.

“He recently suffered a workplace injury, I’m afraid. I’m covering for him tonight,” Violet answered.

Jack sighed. “Listen, I have an arrangement with the gym’s proprietor, understand? I expect to be allowed inside. I don’t care about hours. I don’t care about other requirements. I am not in any danger. Strength is my favored attribute. I have strength-boosting talents, and I am considerably stronger than many greens who come during regular hours, you understand? The requirement being based on category and not attribute and talents is ridiculous,” he said.

Violet nodded in understanding. “Of course! I have been made aware of the situation, or I wouldn’t be here after closing. You are welcome to exercise here, as usual, sir,” she replied. 

Jack relaxed, his hostile demeanor melting away. It wasn’t replaced with a friendly one, exactly. But it was less annoyed and apprehensive. “Good. Glad to see he still knows how to hire competent employees. I assume you have been briefed on my usual routine, then? You’ll ensure I am uninterrupted?” he pushed.

Violet smiled reassuringly. “Absolutely! My predecessor was very thorough in walking me through everything. Like nothing in the world mattered more to him.”

“Jack the Bruiser” was still mildly irritated. He’d been promised updates if anything changed. He hadn’t gotten a call about a new employee managing his routine. It wasn’t a significant crime, but frustratingly, what he was doing was still a crime. He preferred to know who was going to be a witness to such things before committing them. Whatever the injury was for the usual kid, it must have just happened. He’d have to pay the girl at the desk a visit later. To make sure she understood how serious he was about secrecy. Once he was given all of her information. Like he should have been before she was assigned to this shift. 

Truth be told, he would prefer a key and no employee at all. But he wasn’t stupid enough to use this equipment with no one to hit the emergency shutoff if something went wrong. He was stronger than many lower greens. But the equipment was made for the entire category. It would kill him if he put the wrong setting in.

When he was changing, he’d also smelled something burning, which didn’t improve his mood much. Thankfully, the rest of his workout went smoothly. The new girl didn’t bother him. Whenever he glanced at her desk, she was dutifully watching the cameras and had the shut-off switch ready to go. He didn’t want anyone scrolling through the archives instead of doing their job. The small girl looked like she might get crushed just looking at one of these machines. She also had the energy of an airheaded teenager. But she was actually paying closer attention than the previous kid. He wondered if she had a crush. That would be annoying in a different way. But at least she was paying attention.

He moved on to bench presses. He missed free weights. They worked for smaller muscle groups than the machine he was using. But he needed a spotter for that, and he was forced to work out after hours. Which meant using the clunky machine with the giant block over his head. This had about a dozen safety precautions so it would shut off if he couldn’t manage that last rep. But it worked well enough—until he would finally break into green. Of course, that would come with a pay raise, a new group he would be sent to collect from. And sooner rather than later, the need to use a cyan facility. Those were much rarer, and far smaller. A similar deal would be difficult. But he’d worry about that when the time came.

In fact, he’d have to worry about everything later. He’d apparently been more tired than he thought, and he realized he’d set the weight on the machine too high. He grunted in renewed irritation, as he hadn’t managed even two sets yet. But he slowly eased on the bar he was holding, expecting the machine to recognize this as it usually did. It was designed to act as an automated spotter, and he trusted that it would.

Instead, it lurched down, and he had to react before it crushed his arms next to his side. This was wrong. He’d been letting go, and the sudden reaction had ruined his form. As a result, he had far less leverage. Even worse, it seemed to be getting heavier.

“SHUT IT OFF!” he screamed.

He was more relieved than ever that the new girl was watching him so closely. In this instance, he almost hoped it was a crush. She would probably act faster. He just had to hold on for a few seconds.

The weight increased.

“I said shut it off, what the fuck are you doing?” he screamed. His hands slid on his own sweat, and the block above him closed in more.

He activated all of his talents that would help. Muscle Reinforcement. Iron Grip. He couldn’t use his attribute buffs, since they only worked on other people. But they let him push the weight up a little more and slide his hand back into a place with better leverage. 

Still, the weight increased.

“What the fuck are you doing, you stupid bitch? Hit the emergency shut off!” he repeated.

Finally. Finally, he heard the scratching sound of an intercom activating. It worried him, because she wouldn’t be using that before the switch if it was working. But she could come and adjust the machine in person if she needed to. She wasn’t supposed to touch it directly, but lowering the weight would be easy and safe enough.

“Watch your language, Mr. Debt Collector. Profanity is the resource of a small mind, after all,” her cheery voice announced over the speaker system.

Jack’s arms were trembling as he fought the slowly increasing weight. He couldn’t throw it up and try to escape. If he let up for even a second, he would die. He was certain of it. The machine was at least set to a green five, based on how much pressure he was fighting. He needed this idiot to help him, and she was lecturing him on his language?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he gasped.

“Language.”

The single word, in a harsher tone, was the only response he got. He grit his teeth and pushed. His muscles were on fire. It was getting heavier. His talents were failing him. His hand slipped again, and the machine fell a few terrifying centimeters. Sweat was running down his face and leaving the taste of salt on his lips.

“O–Okay! But please! You have to shut this fu— you have to shut this thing off!” he begged. 

“Don’t you have something to say to me first?” the voice responded. It sounded like a mother talking to a disobedient child. Holding a cookie she would only offer once he’d proved his obedience.

“What? Yes? No? I’ll say whatever you want, just turn this thing off!” he pleaded.

“You called me a bitch,” the voice lectured in a disappointed voice. “You don’t think you owe me an apology?”

It was too much. Jack’s talents were failing him, and his base strength attribute was far from enough. He felt skin tearing as he tried to enhance his muscles more, but all this did was send blood running across his chest and down his arms. He was crying. He didn’t even know when he started. But he’d understood what was happening, finally.

There was no workplace accident. He didn’t want to think about what had happened to the real employee. He would have been told. He knew that. This girl… she must have been a higher category than she looked at first glance. It was impossible to tell, but she was so young. Either way, she’d been sent there to kill him. An angry target, perhaps? Or by a rival operation. It didn’t matter. He was going to die. But… But he would try anyway.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn—” he was cut off as the weight increased. He’d been fighting it as he spoke, but it was closing in on him. It was pressed against his chest, and he felt his sternum start to crack. He couldn’t speak anymore. Blood was filling his lungs. He could only hope he was wrong, and she really would let him go after the apology. It was a feeble hope. But it was what he had.

“Thank you,” the voice said. It sounded fuzzier. The pain was making it hard to focus on her words. “I appreciate the apology. And I am sorry that it won’t change anything. Just… consider it a debt come due.”

As he understood those final words, his strength failed him.