Ro-ro leaned back in the creaky chair, legs slightly splayed, his fingers tapping against his thigh.
"Alright, so who is it I gotta kill?"
Jerry smirked and tapped on a grimy touchpad embedded into his desk. A flickering blue hologram blinked to life above it: a rotating image of a man.
"Name's Janusz Smith. Age twenty-six. Five-foot-eight. Born 2140, died in 2160—well—soon, I guess."
Ro-ro eyed the hologram with disinterest. "Cute hair."
Janusz's profile spun slowly, his smiling face frozen in time.
Ro-ro raised an eyebrow. "So, what—he owe you a pair of shoes or screw your young girlfriend?"
Jerry cackled, wheezing between laughs. "Oh, if only it was that petty. No, no—he owed me money. Big money. The kind of cash that makes your grandkids rich before they're even born. And he tried to ghost me."
Ro-ro frowned. "So what, that's it? You want him dead over credits?"
Jerry leaned forward, voice hardening. "Money is everything, kid. People say it ain't? Those are the broke bastards dreaming about love and purpose and all that philosophical garbage."
He rose from his chair and paced behind Ro-ro, his metal foot clinking with each step. "Money buys food, power, safety, status. You can buy houses, cities, entire bloodlines if you've got enough of it."
He rested a cold mechanical hand on Ro-ro's shoulder. "Hell, if you're rich enough, you can even buy slaves."
Ro-ro tensed, then immediately slapped his hand away and stood up.
"Alright, alright—yeah, sure. Money is life. I get it. You're a walking capitalist fortune cookie. Just tell me where this guy is so I can end him and go home."
Jerry smirked, tapping his temple like a cartoon villain. "That's the spirit. No worries—I'll take you to him personally. I want a front-row seat when the lights go out."
Ro-ro rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
As they stepped out of Jerry's crusty office into the building's narrow hallway, the stench of sweat, metal, and burnt ozone hit Ro-ro like a wall. The entire apartment complex was crawling with the hollow-eyed and the hopeless.
They passed a guy twitching on the floor, his muscles spasming uncontrollably, drool trailing from the corner of his mouth.
Further down, two women—barely coherent—were jabbing their arms with glowing syringes, giggling as if they were somewhere else entirely. Another man sat in a corner with a VR headset clamped to his face, fondling the air and murmuring "oh yeah, baby" over and over like a broken toy.
Ro-ro winced. "This place is a damn zoo."
Jerry chuckled. "No, no, kid. A zoo has rules. This—this is freedom."
They reached the ground floor and Jerry paused at the threshold of the building's auto-door. He whistled sharply, two fingers in his mouth. From the shadows, a cyber-drugged man scuttled on all fours like a feral beast, his eyes bloodshot and glowing.
"Hey there, little guy," Jerry cooed mockingly. "Wanna make some credits?"
The man's voice trembled with need. "Y-yes! Yes! Anything! Please!"
Jerry pointed across the street, where a WW gas station shimmered under the neon haze of evening light.
"Go rob that place. Clean out the counter. You do that, and you'll be rollin' in creds."
The addict's eyes went wide, his body shaking with excitement. "Yes! Yes!" he screeched, then bolted across traffic, narrowly dodging a delivery drone.
Jerry turned to Ro-ro with a shit-eating grin. "See? With money, you can make gods out of ghouls."
Ro-ro shook his head. "You're twisted, old man."
Jerry simply laughed. "And you're still gonna do the job, killer."
Without another word, they climbed into Jerry's luxury hovercar, a sleek chrome beast that purred to life with a low whir. The tinted windows slid shut, and the vehicle lifted off the ground like a predator ready to strike.
As they drifted into the smog-choked sky, city lights flickering below like broken stars, Ro-ro stared out the window in silence, jaw tight.
Whatever this job was turning into… he already knew it wouldn't end clean.
A few minutes passed in tense silence before the hovercar coasted to a smooth stop above a glowing sign that read TOOTSIE HOTEL, each flickering letter wrapped in candy-colored neon swirls. Beneath it, a smiling cartoon tootsie roll gave a thumbs-up, as if this was all perfectly normal.
Ro-ro squinted at the sign. "Named after the candy? That's… tacky as hell."
Jerry leaned forward, tapping the console, then reached under his coat and pulled out a sleek, golden Desert Eagle. The weapon gleamed like treasure under the interior lights.
Ro-ro's eyes widened. "Whoa, what is that?"
Jerry smirked, holding it up like a trophy. "This, my bloodthirsty protégé, is the Desert Eagle. Single-action, semi-auto beast. Capable of chambering the .50 Action Express—largest centerfire cartridge of any mag-fed weapon out there."
He flipped it sideways and pointed to a small, glowing button at the base of the grip. "And this version? Special upgrade. Infinite ammo. Push the button, and boom—unlimited firepower. Costs a truckload of credits, but man, does it make you look badass."
Ro-ro whistled low. "You serious? You're giving it to me?"
Jerry grinned like a game show host. "Of course. You're like my little killer machine now, ain't ya?"
Ro-ro took the gun, feeling its weight. It was heavy, powerful, and beautiful. He smirked. "Ha. Very funny. And you're just giving it away for free?"
Jerry shrugged. "I've got more. Being rich means never having to reload—or care."
Ro-ro chuckled and looked down at the hotel entrance. "So how the hell are we supposed to get in? The door's like... fifteen feet below."
Without a word, Jerry opened the door and stepped out—onto nothing. Ro-ro's jaw dropped as Jerry strolled through the air like it was solid ground.
"What the hell?"
Jerry looked back over his shoulder. "Proximity effect. Get close enough to any building in this zone and your body becomes light. Anti-grav field. Whole strip's wired with it. You're basically walking on air."
Ro-ro slid out of the car cautiously, and sure enough—his feet touched an invisible surface, soft and springy. Below him, neon cars zipped through traffic. Above, other pedestrians casually walked to shops, restaurants, and balconies, suspended in midair like it was Tuesday.
"This city's insane," Ro-ro muttered.
"You're just now figuring that out?" Jerry snorted.
They strolled through the sliding doors of the Tootsie, met with velvet carpets, flickering chandeliers, and holographic bellboys offering complimentary candy shots. The place smelled like burnt sugar and expensive cologne.
As they climbed the staircase, they passed groups of guests: a couple arguing in three languages, a tall woman in a mech-dress laughing into her wrist, a child juggling a live lizard. Nobody paid them any mind.
Jerry led the way, moving like a man who owned every step.
At the top of the stairs, he leaned in and whispered, "Room thirty-seven. Janusz is in there. Now, get ready to pop his ass."
Ro-ro nodded, gripping the golden Desert Eagle tightly.
Ro-ro and Jerry stepped toward the faded metal door of Room 37. Ro-ro's foot snapped forward with a loud CRACK, the door swinging open with a jolt, smacking into the wall behind it.
Inside, the smell of sizzling eggs filled the air. A man with dark, graying hair and tired eyes stood over a small kitchenette. He didn't flinch. He just calmly turned off the burner, then turned around to face them.
Janusz Smith.
He glanced at Jerry, then at Ro-ro.
"So," Janusz muttered, setting the spatula down, "you finally brought one of your damn lackeys, huh?"
Ro-ro scoffed, stepping forward. "I ain't no lackey. I'm just doing this for the credits."
Janusz looked at him with a strange softness in his eyes. "Figures. Another desperate kid sold on Jerry's poison promises."
Jerry let out a mocking snort. "Spare us the sermon, Janusz. You think this is about morals? I gave you money. You ran. That was your action. This—" he gestured around the room "—this is the consequence. That's how the world works. You screw me, you pay. Ro-ro, blow this lowlife into a memory."
Ro-ro raised the golden Desert Eagle with trembling hands.
Janusz, still calm, stepped forward slowly. "Kid... you don't have to do this. You don't even know me. You got a choice—take him out instead. That fat pig'll rot the world worse than anyone ever could."
Jerry cut in sharply, voice dripping with venom. "If he kills me, Ro-ro, he'll be dead before sunset. I'm rich. You know what happens when someone kills a rich man? Everything. Execution. Black-site VR torture. Forever. Ro-ro, you kill me, you don't die—you live in hell. So let's keep it simple: Kill him. Get paid. Or walk away with nothing. Your call."
Ro-ro's hands shook harder. The golden gun felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. His breath hitched in his throat. He looked from Jerry… to Janusz… back to Jerry.
Janusz took one more step forward, voice softening. "I can help you. Whatever this is—whatever you're in—I swear, kid, I can—"
BOOM.
The bullet ripped through Janusz's neck.
He staggered, coughing blood, collapsing against the kitchen counter. The eggs splattered to the floor.
Ro-ro's teeth clenched. His finger squeezed the trigger again. BOOM. Another shot. And again. And again. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Until the Desert Eagle clicked empty, its infinite ammo feature disabled—Ro-ro never pressed the button.
Janusz's body slumped to the tile, silent and still.
Jerry clapped a hand on Ro-ro's shoulder. "Not bad, kid. You've got a good trigger finger. And cold blood. You'll go far."
He walked to the corpse, crouched down, lit a cigar, and blew a thick stream of smoke into Janusz's lifeless face. He dropped the cigar onto the chest.
"See ya, corpse."
He turned back toward the door. "You coming?"
Ro-ro didn't move at first.
Jerry exited, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Ro-ro was about to follow—until a soft voice broke the air.
"…Daddy?"
He froze.
Ro-ro turned slowly toward a hallway leading deeper into the apartment.
There stood a child.
Barefoot. Clutching a worn-out teddy bear. Hair messy. Eyes wide.
"Daddy…?"
The world stood still.
Ro-ro's heart sank into his stomach.
His pupils shook as he stared at the kid… the kid whose father he just shot to death over a payday. His hands, still holding the gun, now felt like stone.