Chapter 2: Highway to Hell

Arjan

“-And so that concludes my report regarding this week's incidents involving civil unrest. Any questions?” the presenter concluded. Well, how's THIS for a question: if you're gonna present information about riots and shit in front of a meeting room, can you at least spice it up with a bit of humor and expression? After all, no one likes listening to a monotonous (let alone butt-numbingly boring) monologue, regardless of the topic. The worst part? That was only the first presentation out of the many more that are about to torment me in this meeting. How long must I spend sitting down, listening to people ramble on about boring shit? Fuck this shit, man (relax, buddy. Just a few more minutes until you can go back to your room and go back to playing The Legend of Aldez on our- hold on, I hear footsteps outside the room. We'll continue that train of thought later on).
Suddenly the gargantuan double doors of the meeting room crashed open, revealing the figure of- wait, what the hell is a fucking CLEANER doing here? He obviously isn't here to sweep up the room (as evidenced by the noticeable lack of cleaning equipment), that's for damn sure. As soon as he got into the room, he stopped to catch his breath (he must've been running like a madman on his way here. Still, that doesn't give him a reason to barge into the room like he did), and the room went completely silent. Reasonable, given the fact that it isn't every meeting that some janitor barges into the room, panting like he's just spent the last few minutes running away from Torrefacium gas. After several seconds, I decided to break the awkward silence and discover what reason he could possibly have for unexpectedly interrupting the meeting; if you come here dressed as a cleaner and you're not here to clean up the damn place, then you'd better have a REALLY good reason to enter the room the way you did. Otherwise, you're just a waste of my time. Asshole.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked the cleaner, who was still panting from exhaustion.
“Emperor (pant, pant), need go (pant, pant). Teleco-(takes a VERY deep breath, then exhales) telecommunicator. Now (pant, pant),” the cleaner replied, barely able to speak in between all his panting and breathing. Eager to find a reason to leave the meeting, I humored the cleaner; better to follow the orders of some lowly caretaker than to slowly kill myself with this tedious congregation.
“OK, you insignificant little ingrate. Lead me to the fucker that wants to speak to me. Who have I pissed off THIS time?” I said, standing up from my chair.
“Better see for self, emperor,” the cleaner responded, now recovered from fatigue and speaking in a non-panting manner. I liked being called “emperor” or some other esteemed title; it makes me feel like I'm in charge, which I should be. If any motherfucker DARES to defy that rule, they'll have to answer to “Toasty” (in case some of you morons don't know who Toasty is, you must be living under a meteorite chunk or some shit, because everyone in the Nebo System knows about him. Toasty is a pocket shotgun that shoots Ignium pellets, which can severely immolate his victim, in the least sense of the word).
The cleaner led me to my quarters and pointed out the activated telecommunicator on my desk. “Person here want talk, sir. Say very important, or something,” the caretaker explained. I glanced at the device, and it has indeed been turned on, either by some unknown black hat motherfucker or the cleaner, who probably did it to fuck with me. I almost considered shooting him right then and there, until I realized that he WASN'T fucking around, and that there was an actual person that wanted to speak with me.
“Very well, you weren't lying. How astounding,” I commented, putting my hand away from my gun holster, which I originally intended to pull out to blow the cleaner's mind (literally), just in case he was lying to me. We've lost a few ten soldiers, five ministers and two caretakers due to their dishonest nature, speaking of which (gee, I wonder WHO might've executed them...). On the bright side, it helps thin out the truly loyal members of the Empire. After all, it's better to have a small yet trustworthy group of allies than a gargantuan amount of backstabbing loogies (goddammit, you're getting sidetracked again. Focus, Arj, FOCUS).
“Very well, you've shown me whatever the hell you wanted to show me. Now get the fuck back to work before I cap you myself,” I ordered the cleaner. The cleaner looked taken aback by my response, then proceeded to carry out my instructions and went back to cleaning my room. What did he expect me to do, give him a fucking COOKIE (shit, this talk about cookies is starving me. Dammit, see what you made me do? Luckily for you, I mentally promised myself not to execute you for giving me valid information regarding the telecommunicator. Had it not been for that, your sorry ass would be dead by now)?
I stepped in view of the telecommunicator, and was greeted by the face of Elmer Tascot Abraham himself. Despite being a lowly chink, Elmer had been a considerable pain in the ass as of late, in the least sense of the word (which is definitely not something I would've ever expected to come from a gook). Colored people have always irked me for some reason; I've caught a few micks doing illegal trade, and I've seen more than my fair share of niggers carrying out theft throughout the system, both petty and grand. Life has become harder for people like me in this new age; a long time ago the minorities knew their place, and we treated them as they deserved. Now, people are rambling on about equality and how everyone “deserves a slice of the pie” or some shit. And then all of a sudden, the lowlifes are being treated as if they have the right to the things normal people have. We're creating a new, fresh start here on Mars, and people will finally learn their place on this prosperous planet: face-down in the dirt, where those fuckers belong. In a world filled with misinformation and false beliefs, someone has to stand up for what's right, and that person's gonna be me. John Wilkes Booth was killed by those misguided American bastards for taking down that manipulative despot Abraham Lincoln, and I don't give a shit if I share the same fate; I'd rather die fighting for what's right than live in a world where society's ideals have been perverted by fake leaders and ideas (Goddammit, I told you not to stray away from the main topic. Focus on the story, for fuck's sake). OK, back to Elmer.
Anyway, as I was saying before I interrupted myself, Elmer is... special. You might think that he's just a worthless yellow piece of pond scum (like every other Asian shithead out there), but don't underestimate him; there have been many outlaws who have attempted to rise against my glorious empire in the past, but no one has ever been as persistent and unrelenting as this motherfucker (yes, not even the infamous Maniac Rebel Team, who still threaten to dethrone me from my position as ruler of Mars up to this day. Why does the military have to be so goddamn useless?); he's broken into the maximum-security prison on the Kletka moon and freed several dangerous convicts from captivity (who knows what they're plotting against me now), took every single credit from almost every government-owned vault in the system (the American banks also got hit, but so did the Russian-owned government vaults, which technically belong to me.
As a man who keeps his belongings close and his money even closer, it should probably come as no surprise to you that this REALLY pisses me off), and did committed many more atrocious actions against my empire, whilst evading capture from the Americans, Russians, and hundreds of other people that he pissed off. And yet, despite all that shit crawling up his ass, he somehow manages to hack into my telecommunicator, probably just to rub the fact that's he's still on the run in my face (Chinaman like him, I'm also genuinely astounded that the bitch ain't blind)
“Well, well. If it ain't the hyperactive tyrant himself,” Elmer remarked. “Have you ever considered using your fancy-ass suit for something other than jerking off, or are you too brain-dead to come up with something that ain't completely useless?”
Outraged by the insult, I slammed my fist onto the item closest to my telecommunicator, which happened to be a gold-plated coffee mug with the words “I LOVE ARJAN” embossed on it. The mug flattened upon impact with my fist, and for half a second I felt bad about damaging the costly container, but shortly went back to being mad after remembering that I could just tell my staff to re-mold the mug.
“Riiiiight, just keep on smashing random shit in your office. Who knows? Maybe smashing a certain appliance will open a black hole in my location that'll suck me into oblivion,” Elmer said.
“Motherfucker, you are lucky I can't reach through this thing and choke you myself,” I replied.
“Well, EVEN if that was the case, I'd choke you first, considering your oh-so-agile reflexes. I mean, look at you. Technically speaking, you aren't even ALIVE, you lethargic dickhead,” Elmer bit back. Ouch. That was a low blow. And the worst part of it was that it was true, but pragmatism has been playing a major role in my life ever since, well, ever since I got the option to think for myself, I guess (in other words, you're a fucking lazy-ass piece of shit who sits on his ass not doing squat every second of his life. And he's right, by the way: controlling your body's physical movements with your mind is the equivalent of being in eternal sleep). I glared at my nemesis, who I could tell was thoroughly enjoying the sight of me getting enraged.
After a few seconds of silence, I decided to cut the crap and get straight to the point.
“What the hell do you want?” I asked Elmer.
“Oh, you're gonna play dumb, huh? OBVIOUSLY you weren't involved in sending a Nayemnik strike team to hunt me down, because I'm CLEARLY not a pain in your goddamn ass,”
I felt a surge of optimism surge through me after hearing Elmer say this. So THAT'S what this was all about: he was apparently bothered by the Nayemnik troops I sent after him, which I honestly never thought would be able to work, being the legendary badass that he's cracked up to be (it was worth a try, though). So now I have leverage over him. (to a certain extent, at least) I struggled to hide a triumphant smile for the rest of the conversation.
“Really? NAYEMNIK managed to somehow piss you off? The ever-elusive Elmer Tascot Abraham, bothered by a mere private military company? Wonder how they managed to attract your ire,” I said in genuine amazement.
“Well, first of all, your Royal Sluggishness-”
“If you say ONE MORE lethargy-related insult to me, I swear I will-”
“You'll what? Reach through the screen and choke me with your hands? Yeah, yeah, I know, you've said that already. You can't change the facts, compadre. Just live with the fact that you're-”
“Can you please just shut the fuck up and tell me how and why Nayemnik managed to piss you off?”
“Fine. In a nutshell, let's just say that they managed to track me down. I discovered this when I had a one-night stand with a prostitute who turned out to be part of a Nayemnik strike team. She managed to catch me off-guard and hold me at gunpoint, but I eventually stunned her to the point of unconsciousness... quite literally, in this case,” Elmer explained.
“Riiiiiiight, and why the fuck would you be narrating this event in gruesomely accurate detail to me, out of all the people to be telling this story to? Don't get me wrong; as much as I enjoy listening to information that could lead straight to my nemesis's execution, I find it rather perplexing that you would ever think of sharing this shit to me in the first place,”
“Oh, don't get me wrong, Emp (“Emp”? Is this like, your new nickname now or some shit?). The only reason i'm telling you all this stuff is because I believe you've gone a step too far, and that unless you offer me a deal to get these mercenary assholes off my back, I might as well just go to your palace and 'wrap up' the deal with the contractor himself,” Elmer threatened, using his fingers to form air quotes when he said the words “wrap up”.
“Heh. I'd like to see you try, babe (“babe”? Seriously? What the fuck is he, your boyfriend? If you're gonna insult a motherfucker, you might as well- ah, forget it. You aren't even listening to me, are you?). This palace's security systems can spot an Adaptine-covered rat coming from a mile away. You won't make it past the palace gate, even with the help of your pathetic little excuse of a cloaking device. Once we catch you, don't blame me for tossing you in the shark tank. Fish gotta eat, buddy,” I countered, although in truth I felt a little shaken by Elmer's threat. The guy's broken into a fucking Caelestis TREASURE VAULT, for Chrissake (Seriously? You don't know ANYTHING about the Caelestis? Wow, you guys must be neanderthals or some shit, judging from your miniscule knowledge about this universe. Put simply, the Caelestis are a race of highly advanced alien lifeforms. There. If explaining in that way still isn't enough for you dumbasses, I think it'd just be better to move on with my story. Can't have you morons interrupting all the time).
“Fine, so be it . I shall certainly look forward to this mission, judging from the charming personality of the target I'm about to eliminate. You might think that I'll end up sleeping with the fishes, but believe me, when I'm through with you, I can and will cut your tongue off, shave your head and send you to work in one of your own stinkin' mines on the Palit moon,” And with that, he got up, presumably to turn off his- well, whatever the hell device he was using to communicate with me. For a split second, time froze as I wondered whether I've fucked myself or not. I was neither confident nor scared of my predicament, but in that very split second, I also realized that there was a much better alternative than to have us both working on opposing sides.
“Wait, I think I might have another idea,” I said suddenly. Elmer paused, as if he was intrigued in whatever the hell I had to say (as he should be. Anyone who doesn't pay attention might as well be executed, insulting their magnificent ruler like that).
“Well, let's hear it,” Elmer replied, sat down once again to listen to my proposition.
“I've been after this really sweet alien relic lately. Obviously you've heard about the Tempus Artifact? (once again, shame on you for not knowing about such basic stories about history)
“Of course I've heard about the fucking Tempus Artifact. Do you know how many people sent me to search for that thing, only to end up going insane after being exposed to an Artifact piece for three goddamn seconds? (Not many people know this, so I'll forgive you for being oblivious to this fact as well. The Tempus Artifact tends to drive whoever gets near any of the Artifact's pieces batshit insane, for a reason even the system's top scientists are still trying to figure out)”
“Well, boo-fuckin-hoo for them. So anyway, here's my offer: you get me all pieces of the Tempus Artifact, and I'll wipe your criminal record clean of all your offences against the Martian Empire. Sound good?”
“Oh is that so? No catch? I've heard tales of the phenomal trustworthiness of the generous and humble Emperor Arjan, and most of those tales end up with your former ally's remains being found down a river somewhere on the planet. What makes you think I'm ever gonna believe in ANYTHING that you say? Oh, and speaking of allies, I wonder what you're gonna do to Nayemnik once they've outlived their usefulness. You've always been good at figuring out some dastardly method to get rid of whoever you work with,” Elmer rebutted.
Shit. About that.... as much as I hate to admit it, that bit about me is actually kinda true. After all, I tend to see other people not as equals, but more as...assets. Hey, don't blame me; in this world, it's every man for himself (yes, every MAN. Women don't count, because they're naturally lower in the social hierarchy than we men are. Hot chicks are an exception, but aesthetic appearance doesn't automatically mean that you can amount to anything if you're female). I mean, is it really my fault if I love my money (tell that to the tens of vaults that you own throughout the system)? Either way, I had to find a suitable response to Elmer's inquiry, or at least one that's satisfactory enough to lure him into a false sense of security so that he can carry out my job before I dispose of him.
“Tell you what,” I started. “Why don't I send, say, fifty percent of the payment to your account right now, and send the remaining fifty once you've completed the contract?” Elmer lowered his left eyebrow in response to my offer, which was either his non-verbal way of asking “is this for real?” or his way of expressing disbelief at the sudden generosity of a (normally) penny-pinching politician.
“Well, things have taken a turn, haven't they? This is the first time I've ever spoken to you, and all of a sudden you're being amazingly generous. Not gonna question it, but I think that if you wanna make a deal, you should throw in just one...more...thing,” Elmer replied after a few seconds of (presumably) recovering from my sudden pang of kindness.
“And what might that be?” I replied instantaneously.
“This job of yours would be much, MUCH easier without the intervention of your barbaric minions, so tell Nayemnik, the MMA, the pigs-”
“The POLICE, you retard,” I interrupted. As dumb as the Martian cops were, they make sure that the people know their place in society (at the bottom of the social hierarchy, as they should be). In addition, the police also put on a rather entertaining show when some civilian moron steps out of line (police brutality be damned. As long as you guys keep the peace, I'll be completely fine with whatever methods you utlilize). In a nutshell, don't talk shit about the 5-O, because they've done a lot of good in the past (for me, that is. Then again, as I've previosly said, if it's good enough for me, everone else's opinion on the matter is irrelevant).
“Fine, genius, tell your forces along with the 'POLICE' (this guy REALLY loves using air quotes, doesn't he? Five hundred credits says that he's watched those classic Austin Powers flicks) to turn a blind eye while I undergo this contract,” I took a few seconds to consider this choice. It honestly didn't sound like too much of a big deal. Then again, nothing sounds like a big deal when you're just gonna end up breaking your promise at the end of the day. In fact, I'm so confident about the outcome of this arrangement that I bet I could wager my fucking PALACE as a reward from this job and still get to keep it after Elmer's finished with the assignment and I feed his corpse to the fishes (yes, I insist on the idea of feeding my pet sharks. Once Elmer's time has come, I might as well utilize his resourcefulness by other means).
“Fair enough. I'll order my troops to ignore the fact that the Mars's number one most wanted suspect is cruising around space, but as long as you get the job done, so be it,” I replied. I was making a lot of promises here, but fortunately none of that shit is gonna matter once this crap is all over. I would sympathize for the fate this dude is about to suffer, I really would. Alas, this “guy” is my archnemesis, so he can go drown in melted Ignium for all I care. Elmer paused and bit his lip, obviously not believing that he's hearing such words from the ruthless ruler of Mars. After a few seconds of pause, he finally spoke. “Your negotiating skills must be lacking, Emperor; I've heard stories of you making deals with major corporation leaders and similar professionals, and yet you agree to such a lenient deal from lil' ol' me. You must be losing your edge, eh? Or maybe there's something you aren't telling me,” he responded.
“Well, if you want to turn down the offer, I'm sure I can come up with a less-”
“It's a deal,” Elmer interrupted. Crap. I was about to come up with a witty remark, but it was too late for that now. The deal was made, and I had to keep my promise. On the bright side, I still get to keep my “insurance policy” at the end of all this (yes, I'm pretty sure you've made the reader well aware of that fact already, Arj. Now please stop wasting the story on unnecessary remarks and stick to the point). “So, where's the fifty percent you promised me?” he continued.
“It's being transferred to your account now,” I said, selecting the “finances” tab on my exosuit's HUD and transferring the promised payment to Elmer. Praise be to whoever the hell made this thing, speaking of which. It's like an built-in computer and an exoskeleton in the same package, controlled by your fucking BRAIN (that's EXACTLY what it is, you idiot). “Aaaaaand there. Transfer complete,”
Elmer looked away from the screen momentarily (presumably to check on whatever device he used to manage his finances on), and then looked back at the screen. “How astonishing. That exosuit of yours must come in handy for a lot of things, Emp (yep, there it is again. That's the second time today, mind you). Too bad you only use that baby to support yourself sitting on your ass all day in that sweet crib of yours,” he commented, naturally infuriating me. Before I got the chance to come up with a retort to Elmer's insult, he continued speaking. “Before I begin my search for this precious, long-lost treasure of yours, do you have any leads on where the fuck these artifact pieces ARE?”
“First of all, don't insult me,”
“Pfffffft, whatever you say, boss,” Still offended, I decided to just move on with telling Elmer the information, because I knew that as much as I wanted him to apologize for being an inconsiderate douchebag (well, well. Doesn't THAT sound like somebody we know...), I also knew that the less time I spent in this surreal conversation, the better. I groaned, and coninued speaking. “Right. Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted (sigh from Elmer), a little birdie told me about one artifact piece that's being moved to the Museum of Interplanetary History on the Priroda Moon, and the bad news is that the museum is owned by those goddamn Americans, so I can't just use my veto power as Emperor of Mars to confiscate-or should I say, 'liberate' (huh. No air quotes this time? Wow, you both  really ARE different) the piece from the museum. And as if THAT wasn't enough, you probably already know how much the Americans LOVE me, as evidenced by the constant battle for supremacy they're having against my empire here on Mars,”
“OK, then,” Elmer replied curtly. “So it's a good old-fashioned museum heist, just like in those movies where the robbery starts out carefully planned then goes tits-up all of a sudden,”
“Got a problem with it? I can always call of the contract and tell my forces to continue hunting you down,”
“Nah, this job's right up my alley (that probably wasn't sarcasm, as much as it sounded like it was). Well, that'll be all, I guess. Thanks for the info. Never knew a guy like you could provide me with such information, honestly. I always thought that you'd be the type of person who'd just tell me to fuck off and figure out the location of the artifact myself. Glad to see that that's not the case,” Elmer said. Oh, man. If only you knew, brah. If only you knew. “You know, Arj, maybe you're not so bad after all. Unfortunately, that doesn't change the fact that I'll kick your ass if you double-cross me,”
“Likewise, mercenary. Now stop wasting my time and get the fuck to work. You've got one week to find the Artifact, or I'm calling off the contract,” I cut in, determined to end the conversation.
“Of course, your snobbiness,” Elmer said, bowing his head in a mocking fashion. “I'll be seeing you real soon, Emp,” And before I got a chance to chastise him on how to properly address the Emperor of Mars, he ended the call. Sonuvabitch.
Guess I gotta start getting used to Elmer's outrageous attitude if we're ever gonna continue this arrangement. Maybe somewhere down the road, I'll teach him the finer points of treating such a legendary leader as I. All in due time, Arj. All in due time (and until THAT happens, I guess it's safe to say that we can add “Emp” to your ever-growing list of nicknames).