About
I been seein' lots o' people putting up their UPC stuff in their profile. So here's mine.Hikoru sat behind the gleaming metal surface of his store's front desk, finishing up polishing his latest shipment of rifles and ammunition. God he loved how it gleamed. His usual creepy smile was plastered across his face, it never seemed to go away. It was big enough to notice, but not big enough to catch lots of attention unless you were looking right at him. For many, that had been the last thing they'd seen. His eerie smile. No one could explain it. Oh well, what better was there to do in a world full of pain and hatred to smile? Ironically, he dealt in pain. He set his newest weapons up on their racks, and kicked back in his chair, setting his feet atop his desk, and whistling merrily to himself.
He heard the tell-tale creak of the door, and quickly leaped to his feet. Durem wasn't very busy this time of night, especially up in the northwest corner where his shop was, so someone coming in usually meant that they knew what they were doing. He quickly fixed his mussed hair, and adjusted his clothes, just in case it was a lady, always had to look good for the ladies. He was let down, but He was still smiling, hands resting on his desk as the customer made his way in. His usual fair, tanned, shifty eyes, wearing a lot of black, obviously trying to hide something. Really. You'd think all these assassin types would learn something. The less suspicious you look, the less you'd get found out. He rolled his eyes briefly, his smile never faltering.
"Welcome to my Shop, how may I be of assistance?" He asked, still smiling. The man obviously was not happy that someone was so happy in a room filled with guns and other assorted weapons.
"You're the guy right? Mr. Death-Dealer?" Hikoru blinked, then grinned even further.
"Oho! So you've heard of me then, why, I'd KILL to have a reputation all over, but alas, such is the woe of a weapon dealer, I'd get put away if everyone knew my name." The double-entendre was lost on the man. Obviously not one of the brightest customers. He was all smiles and kindness on the outside, but inside he seethed. Such vermin were those that came to his shop. None of them were worthy of his precious weapons. C'est La vie.
This was for Round 2!
Hikoru sat at his desk yet again, his two usual guns laid out before him on his desk. His holsters were laying beside them, and one of his guns was in pieces. He was in the process of cleaning them. It had become a daily routine for him since he had obtained the guns, and began carrying them around regularly. He could barely believe it, he had been doing this same process, every day for three years. Three years, since he’d lost everything, including himself.
He’d woken up from a coma, sitting in the hospital nearby. But he’d had a problem. Neither the hospital staff, nor himself had any idea who he was. And the hospital staff had refused to disclose anything on the condition of his brain. Unfortunately, this made him a ward of the hospital, and he wasn’t allowed to leave. Soon, two representatives from G-Corp had arrived at the Hospital, claiming that they were to take full responsibility for him from that day forth. They took him from the Hospital, and brought them to G-Corp headquarters.
He was told soon after arrival that he was an employee who had lost his memory in an incident at the lab. They couldn’t explain why the Hospital wouldn’t tell him anything, they just said it must have been some kind of weird policy. Unfortunately, with no past, and no memories to base things on, he was forced to take their words at face value. And so, with no further ado, he rejoined the ranks of the G-Corp scientists.
They immediately put him to work on a project called DA, which had originally stood for Developing Android, but it’s meaning had shifted. Now the project was designed to build very advanced Robots, both intelligent and dangerous. They were building a multitude of them, and they had built 27 of them already. Incredibly, he found he had an affinity for it, apparently skill can bypass amnesia. Soon he was tinkering away at the DA Robots, and improving them. He had looked over both 0025 and 0026, who he found out later that he had been a key person in developing. When he’d awoken, they’d gotten on to developing 0028, and his only job with them was to check and double check systems, mainly weaponry. Apparently he was the best around in that division.
However, his luck quickly ran out. As soon as 0028 was finished, he found out he was no longer needed. He collected his pay, some files pertaining to parts of his past, and a decent sum of money for being fired in such a way. Unfortunately, none of the files told him his name, his age, who his parents were, nothing. He was left with a rather convenient hole in his life. A very large one. There was nothing he could do however, so he did what he could.
He moved to Durem in an attempt to make a living, but he couldn’t find anyplace that would take someone with such a large lack of credentials. So he took a chunk of his money and bought himself a small building up in the northwest corner of Durem, far from the mainstream society, but close enough that you could get there if you knew where you were going.
Soon he’d set himself up comfortably with some decent furnishings, and the essentials. Fridge, Bed, Table, Chair, things like that. But he couldn’t decide just how to make a living. However, he’d run into a problem, he wasn’t sure how to make a living. He needed a steady source of income, and the only skills he new of were the ones that he had reaffirmed at G-Corp. And he couldn’t exactly go into the android business. So he decided to go for the next best thing. Guns.
He called in a few favors from some friends at G-Corp, and managed to find a good supplier. Soon he had his shop set up, now he just needed to go about collecting customers.
He decided to use one of his other re-discovered talents. Extremely good Marksmanship. Over the course of a month or two, he managed to work himself into some underground channels, and soon was working as an assassin, one known for quick, clean kills. Using his reputation, he would spread news of his shop to everyone who hired him. With knowledge of his shop, and his reputation as an assassin, he soon was referred to as the “Death-Dealer”
Shortly after solidifying his reputation, he stopped fighting all together, swearing to himself that after all the blood he had spilled, he would never take lives needlessly. And so, he changed. He put on a smile to hide the frown that creased his mind, and he shrouded himself in kindness to protect his now wounded conscience. But he never could explain why he was as strong or as fast as he was. He had already realized he was no ordinary human. But hey, count your blessings right?
He’d woken up from a coma, sitting in the hospital nearby. But he’d had a problem. Neither the hospital staff, nor himself had any idea who he was. And the hospital staff had refused to disclose anything on the condition of his brain. Unfortunately, this made him a ward of the hospital, and he wasn’t allowed to leave. Soon, two representatives from G-Corp had arrived at the Hospital, claiming that they were to take full responsibility for him from that day forth. They took him from the Hospital, and brought them to G-Corp headquarters.
He was told soon after arrival that he was an employee who had lost his memory in an incident at the lab. They couldn’t explain why the Hospital wouldn’t tell him anything, they just said it must have been some kind of weird policy. Unfortunately, with no past, and no memories to base things on, he was forced to take their words at face value. And so, with no further ado, he rejoined the ranks of the G-Corp scientists.
They immediately put him to work on a project called DA, which had originally stood for Developing Android, but it’s meaning had shifted. Now the project was designed to build very advanced Robots, both intelligent and dangerous. They were building a multitude of them, and they had built 27 of them already. Incredibly, he found he had an affinity for it, apparently skill can bypass amnesia. Soon he was tinkering away at the DA Robots, and improving them. He had looked over both 0025 and 0026, who he found out later that he had been a key person in developing. When he’d awoken, they’d gotten on to developing 0028, and his only job with them was to check and double check systems, mainly weaponry. Apparently he was the best around in that division.
However, his luck quickly ran out. As soon as 0028 was finished, he found out he was no longer needed. He collected his pay, some files pertaining to parts of his past, and a decent sum of money for being fired in such a way. Unfortunately, none of the files told him his name, his age, who his parents were, nothing. He was left with a rather convenient hole in his life. A very large one. There was nothing he could do however, so he did what he could.
He moved to Durem in an attempt to make a living, but he couldn’t find anyplace that would take someone with such a large lack of credentials. So he took a chunk of his money and bought himself a small building up in the northwest corner of Durem, far from the mainstream society, but close enough that you could get there if you knew where you were going.
Soon he’d set himself up comfortably with some decent furnishings, and the essentials. Fridge, Bed, Table, Chair, things like that. But he couldn’t decide just how to make a living. However, he’d run into a problem, he wasn’t sure how to make a living. He needed a steady source of income, and the only skills he new of were the ones that he had reaffirmed at G-Corp. And he couldn’t exactly go into the android business. So he decided to go for the next best thing. Guns.
He called in a few favors from some friends at G-Corp, and managed to find a good supplier. Soon he had his shop set up, now he just needed to go about collecting customers.
He decided to use one of his other re-discovered talents. Extremely good Marksmanship. Over the course of a month or two, he managed to work himself into some underground channels, and soon was working as an assassin, one known for quick, clean kills. Using his reputation, he would spread news of his shop to everyone who hired him. With knowledge of his shop, and his reputation as an assassin, he soon was referred to as the “Death-Dealer”
Shortly after solidifying his reputation, he stopped fighting all together, swearing to himself that after all the blood he had spilled, he would never take lives needlessly. And so, he changed. He put on a smile to hide the frown that creased his mind, and he shrouded himself in kindness to protect his now wounded conscience. But he never could explain why he was as strong or as fast as he was. He had already realized he was no ordinary human. But hey, count your blessings right?
Comments
View All Comments
I'm planning on one hell of a New Year's. I'm easy when I'm drunk.
I never hear from you anymore!
What have you been up to?