Endzone: Simulated Apocalypse

"Swift and flawless as always, Cyanide," Luna complimented, holographic face displayed on the screen of the car they were in.

Cyanide, who was driving, ignored the compliment and instead instructed his artificial intelligence companion to do something else.

"Confirm the target's death, Luna."

"Hm… you ask me to do this every time. Are you still not confident in your own abilities, even after 572 assassinations with an 100% success rate?"

"Checking twice never hurts."

"… All right." Luna fell silent and began tracing the signal of the device that had been attached to the target's clothing before the operation began. It was what allowed Cyanide to track the target's location.

Normally, assassins would work in teams to track their targets down with ease, but Cyanide preferred to be alone. Luna, the highly-advanced virtual AI he had programmed himself, capable of performing dexterous tasks like controlling a vehicle and hacking into encrypted databases, was his only companion.

Because of this, all of Cyanide's operations were split into two parts — tracking, which was when he attaches these nanotech tracking devices onto his targets, and assassinating, which could only occur when the target had least defenses.

"He's dead," Luna said after a while. "From… well, cyanide."

"I see," Cyanide said briskly, coming to a stop before a red light.

He already knew his target was dead — that's why he left the building — but it was a habit of his to always ask Luna to double-check like this. As for his method of killing… he preferred poison — they were the least traceable and messy. Of course, his hand-to-hand combat skills and weapon dexterity are both extremely advanced as well, since they were both core parts of assassin training, but 52% of his kills were executed using poison. Of that, 87% was done with cyanide.

"Are we going home to rest first, or heading straight to the guild?" Luna asked as the car began moving once more.

After some thought, Cyanide answered.

"… Straight to the guild. My due payment from the past five missions are still uncollected."

"Understood. Setting GPS course."

*****

About half an hour later, Cyanide parked his car in the back parking lot of what seemed to be a convenience store and headed inside. He walked up to the counter, where an old man smoking a cigarette sat.

"Welcome," he said, eyeing Cyanide's shady outfit up and down. "Anythin' I can get for ya?"

Rather than answering the question, however, Cyanide made sure no one else was in the store, then said something seemingly completely unrelated.

"… When the leaves fall, the moon shall rise again."

The old man, hearing this, curved his lips up into a grin.

"Heh. Welcome home, Cyanide."

Saying this, he activated some sort of hidden mechanism, causing a secret corridor to open up in the bathroom.

Cyanide gave a nod and slipped past the old man into the bathroom, entering the hallway that was revealed. It was a staircase leading down into the underground level, but it wasn't just any basement. No—this was the Japan headquarters for the most infamous assassin guild, The Nighthawks.

Beside him, Luna's figure was displayed holographically via a floating spherical device that followed him around and came with the highest quality speakers possible. It provided additional light for Cyanide within the dark hallway, since a few of the lights were broken and no one has bothered to fix them since they first began malfunctioning years ago.

Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, Cyanide made sure his mask and cloak were both on tightly, then pushed open the rusty metal doors before him.

CRREEAK.

As soon as they opened, Cyanide could hear loud electronic dance music being blasted at full volume, whereas it had been muffled before. As soon as people noticed his arrival, however, the music went dead silent.

"It's him…"

"Cyanide, the number one assassin in the world…"

"K-Keep your distance from him…"

As the crowd made way to let Cyanide pass, the person in question paid them no heed. Luna, who was already used to this, sighed.

"It seems your reputation precedes you yet again, Cyanide."

Cyanide ignored this remark and continued onwards, hands shoved deep into his cloak pockets. He kept his guard up at all times, remaining mindful of his surroundings and being ready to strike whenever needed. Although these people were technically on the same side on him, in the underground world, there were no such thing as allies. Anyone could backstab anyone; it was a daily occurrence. And those who wanted to replace him as the number one assassin… will have more than enough motivation to do so.

After all, that is the exact same thing he had done to the previous number one—Anthrax, his former teacher and mentor in the ways of assassination. He knew the dangers all too well.

Walking past the crowd and up some metal stairs to a higher floor, Cyanide pushed opened a door without bothering to knock and strode inside before shutting it behind him once again.

"Ah… how many times have I told you, Cyanide?" A woman in a scientist outfit and glasses asked, swiveling around in her chair. "Knock before you come in."

"Sorry, I forgot," Cyanide replied briskly, walking closer.

"You forgot?" The woman cackled, nearly doubling over with laughter. "You, who can memorize the sequence of an entire deck of 52 playing cards in a mere minute, forgot? Please, if you're going to not care about what I say and then lie to me about it, at least come up with a better excuse."

"Noted," Cyanide said, completely nonchalant. "But I'm not here to talk to you, Elizabeth. I'm picking up my due payment for the past five operations, then leaving."

"Mm, yes, you've never been one for conversation. Now, let's see…" The woman, whose name was Elizabeth, typed out 'C-Y-A-N-I-D-E' on her keyboard, then began scrolling her mouse while keeping her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her.

",000… ,000… ,000… ,000… and the most recent one you completed just earlier tonight, 00. That adds up to ,000 in total," Elizabeth said, then began typing away on her keyboard once more. Several seconds later, she smiled and flashed Cyanide a thumbs-up.

"All done. It's been sent to your card."

"… Thanks." Cyanide turned around and began walking away, but Elizabeth wasn't done yet.

"Hey, Cyanide."

"… What?"

"Do you… ever get bored?" She asked. "Of assassination, I mean. You've taken on hundreds of jobs already… is this still fun for you?"

"I do this for a living. Whether it's fun or not… doesn't matter."

"I see. Well, I'm starting to get bored," she said, kicking her feet up onto the desk and folding her arms. "Maybe… it's time for me to quit all this, find a husband, and settle down, huh?"

"…" Cyanide didn't respond and instead merely walked away. Elizabeth, staring at his disappearing figure, smiled.

"Heh… 'doesn't matter' my ass. Anyone can tell you're bored of this, you know."

*****

After leaving the underground headquarters, Cyanide circled around to the back of the convenience store, where the parking lot was. He reached his car and prepared to open the door and get in, but then-

"Greetings, Jace Silverdale."

"…!" Cyanide immediately drew his pistol, turned off safety, and spun around in one swift motion to see a hooded, masked man standing there, seemingly having appeared out of thin air.

"Please don't be startled. I am not here to harm you."

Of course, such words were meaningless to a professional assassin. Cyanide did not lower the gun and instead kept his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He narrowed his eyes at the masked man wearing a dull grey jacket and pants, shadow highlighted by the single street lamp in the parking lot.

"… No one has ever managed to sneak up on me before in my life. Who are you… and how do you know about my real name?"

"My identity is not important," the man said calmly, spreading his arms and revealing the pristine white gloves he had on. "I am merely here to offer you an invitation."

"… An invitation?" Cyanide echoed, furrowing his brows. "I don't recall ever asking for one."

"Perhaps not on the surface, but your heart seeks it," the man continued, voice distorted by the mask he wore. "Sixteen years. 572 assassinations. 573, counting your teacher. You are now the number one underground assassin, standing at the summit. But there is one thing you have never told anyone, not even your most trustworthy companion, that artificial intelligence robot. You, Cyanide… are bored."

'The same words Elizabeth said to me…' Cyanide thought. 'Is this person her? No, the height doesn't match… an accomplice, perhaps?'

"Bored?" Cyanide tilted his head. "And what of it?"

"You are unlike most. Others seek money, fame, power. But to you, who has already reached the peak, such things are superficial and useless. You want something more — something that can satisfy that thirst of self-actualization in your heart."

Self-actualization — a tier in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, a motivational theory in psychology that describes the things needed to drive a human forward in life. Self-actualization essentially means the sense of fulfillment gained by achieving one's maximum potential, which is the stage Cyanide is missing. The world he is currently in cannot let him realize his true potential, so he must turn to a different one.

But despite knowing this full well deep in his heart... he chose to play dumb.

"… Self-actualization? What are you talking about?"

"You know full well what I am talking about, Mr. Silverdale. You believe yourself to have reached the summit of all, hence your boredom. But what if I told you… there are higher mountains out there to climb, ones you cannot even imagine? Does that burning curiosity for adventure in your heart call out to you?"

"…" Cyanide fell silent, contemplating the man's words. Normally, he would've just thought this was a crazy person, but he knew things about Cyanide. Things that should have been private information known to no one else but himself. Things that should've been discarded, disposed of a long time ago. An identity that had been long abolished.

This man was dangerous — he needed to be gotten rid of. No matter what or who he was, if he knew Cyanide's real name, he needed to die.

"You have already conquered this world, this mountain," the man continued, reaching into his inner pocket and pulling out a small rectangular paper card of some sort. "And so, to you…"

He set down the small piece of cardboard paper on the hood of Cyanide's car.

"… We offer a new world. A new mountain to climb, a new summit to reach."

Cyanide pulled the trigger.

The silenced bullet struck the masked man straight in the forehead, but no blood came out. The body collapsed to the concrete ground of the parking lot, and Cyanide hurriedly walked closer to inspect it. Due to the darkness of the night, he couldn't see very well, even with the street lamp. And so, he bent down and slowly reached in for the man's mask.

But what he saw… was completely out of his expectations.

"What…"

Beneath the mask, there was no body. The tuxedo, pants, and gloves had all deflated as if the body that once wore them had vanished into thin air as suddenly as it came. Cyanide narrowed his eyes and stood back up, staring at the strange black plastic mask he held within his hand. It had no eye slits or holes to breathe from, and no straps either to secure it in place.

Cyanide then glanced at the piece of cardboard paper the man had set down on the hood of his car, and slowly walked towards it. He picked it up, flipped it around, and saw a Tokyo phone number written on it:

[(05) 144-261-5145]

"… A new summit, huh?"