2. Damn Supers (Patreon)

Levi knocked on the door of the run-down apartment. The wind whooshed by, spraying him with the damp from the rain pouring down just on the other side of the apartment’s outdoor walkway. He shivered and knocked again.

Seconds before his hand landed, the door was yanked out from under him. An angry, overweight woman scowled at him, looking him up and down in disgust.

“What are you thinking? Two hours late? Two hourslate! I already canceled the delivery and re-ordered it, and received it since you were supposed to be here! Are you insane?”

The door slammed n his face. Levi stumbled back, still holding the bags. “Your groceries…”

Fucking supers. Bought me a new shirt and left me at the store, miles away from my scooter and the job. He looked from one bag to the other, then shrugged. Whatever. It’s my food now.

His phone rang. Juggling the bags into one arm and wincing as he jostled his burns, he lifted it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Your vehicle has been impounded for impeding a roadway. If you want it back, please—”

“Mother fucker. I can’t even afford dinner, and now this?” He slammed the hang-up button and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He’d barely put it away when it rang again.

Yanking it out, he mashed the answer-call button and screamed, “I get it, my scooter got impounded. Shut up!”

A low, malicious voice answered him. “Shut up? My, my. The mutt learned to bark.”

Levi stilled. His whole body tensed. The grocery bag crinkled as his hand tensed. “I—I didn’t realize it was you, sir.”

“No? And did you also not realize it was the due date?”

“One more day. Please. I almost made it, I just got fucked by a super and—”

“And forgot to ask them to pay you after?”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so damned literal. I got kidnapped by Jet Engine in the middle of his ability-hunting rounds. How the fuck was I supposed to plan for that? Listen, just one more day. I can do it, I promise—”

“One more day, one more day. I’m out of one more days. And that means you’re out of time. If you can’t pay on your own, you’ll pay with your body.”

Levi paused, then shrugged. “Okay, sure. Who do I have to fuck?”

“Not that kind of pay. The kind that starts with a harvest of all those wonderful, useful things inside of you.”

“No, no no no, listen, please, I can make you so much more, just give me a chance!”

“A hundred thousand for your liver. A hundred thousand.”

Levi fell silent. “Okay, so I can’t make that much, but—”

BAM!

A bullet pierced through his skull and blasted out the other side in a spray of blood, brains, and bone shards. He flopped to the ground. The phone fell out of his hand. A puddle grew under his downed face.

Men in ragged clothes appeared from around the corner of the apartment. “This the one?”

“You see another guy with a bullet in his brain?”

“Wrap him up, quick. Bossman said we had to bring him back fresh.”

“Yeah, yeah. Chopman’s just downstairs. He’ll be fresh enough.”

-

Any price for peace. Any price. But when that peace is only skin deep, what kind of peace is it? When filth crawls around freely under the surface, when there’s only peace for those in power, is it peace at all? When even those who live peacefully, tremble and duck their heads…

Ah, well, look. I just got shot in the head. I’m not at my best.

But listen. It’s fucked up, right? It’s fucked. ‘Peace.’ But no one tries stopping actual crime anymore. Sure, the heroes will stop a purse-snatching, or make an effort against blatant robbery, but serious, organized crime? It’s too hard to wipe out. Too hard to get a win. So why take that risk, when a single loss means getting absorbed by Alpha? Better to keep your head up and pretend everything’s fine, be a sycophant for that madman, and report that crime is eradicated, rather than wager your life to save a few low-lives who made mistakes and fucked themselves up to begin with.

Guess I can’t throw stones. Like everyone else, I’m just trying to survive.

Then again, if Alpha finds me…

-

“It’s healed?”

“He has some kind of healing factor. Don’t worry about it.”

“You carried him downstairs, and a bullet to the brain healed? With that kind of healing factor, he’s lucky to be alive, what with Alpha going nuts for healing skills a few years back.”

“Means the organs’ll be fresh, though.”

“Now that’s true. Let’s cut him open and put him out of his misery.” The scalpel dug into his flesh.

Levi struggled. Handcuffs cut into his wrists and ankles, restraining him to the operating table. “It hurts!”

“It’s gonna hurt a whole lot more in a minute.”

“Should we keep him? I mean, if his healing factor is that intense, we might have an infinite loop of organs…”

“And flood the market for everyone looking for his bloodtype? Look, what we provide is a white-glove service, okay? If they want mass-produced organs, they can go to Alpha. The ones he produces are good enough. Will probably last you five years, at the outside, and then you can buy another. We provide those special, rare-type organs. The first harvest, the ones fresh out of a real body. You want to sully our reputation for producing fresh, real, high-quality organs, far superior to Alpha’s mass-produced scum?”

“Yeah… point.”

“Can you shut up while you’re cutting?” Levi requested.

The organ-harvester turned to him, face obscured by a surgical mask and glasses. “You shut up. How come you aren’t screaming?”

“I got tired of it. Take my organs and go. Fuckers.”

The organ harvester turned to his assistant and shrugged. “You heard him. Let’s get moving.”

The assistant hesitated, then raised his scalpel.

“So, I take it this isn’t your first time?” the organ harvester said.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“Humor me.”

Levi snorted. “No. It’s not.”

The harvester shook his head. “Healing factors live a hard life, huh? But on the other hand, you get out of your debt alive.”

“No. This is too much. It’ll kill me,” Levi told him, looking him dead in the eyes.

Blood spurted. Horrible squelching sounds came from his abdomen. Fierce pain shot up his spine, followed by a deep sense of loss and an overwhelming wave of nausea. He pressed his lips together.

“He’s not healing,” the assistant murmured.

“Pity for him, then.” The harvester raised his scalpel again.

Levi swallowed. Cold welled up, the pain fading as sensation left his body. He bit his cheeks, staring up at the ceiling. Stay awake. Stay alive. A little longer. Just a little longer.

“Oh, and here we go. We’re pretty much done here. Next one’s your heart. So, any last words?”

“Don’t cremate me. I believe in burial,” Levi requested flatly.

“How’s acid sound?”

“Like shit.”

“Excellent.”

The scalpel flashed again.

[Lives: -1]

[Lives remaining: -52783 ]

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