Dante's Abyss 2007 Sign-Ups

[Bojack]

His scouter swam with a cascade of sporadic nonsense. The data began to compress, compact, and condense, compiling into a vague blob of image. Soon, a face flickered across the emerald quartz; a primal brow and a gruff, black mane. A Saiyan... Bojack's current employer and financial spine during his stay on the planet Vegeta.

"Yeah," Bojack grunted, "it's done."

"How'd it go?"

Bojack surveyed the macabre massacre with a heavy breath. The body of a Saiyan politician lay beheaded in a crumpled mesh of limbs and regal attire. Encircling it was a gentle slope of a massive crater, the lip of which nearly caressed the setting sun. Scattered about were more dismembered Saiyans. Their peasant rags slapped steady against the breeze. Guards... or innocents... he didn't have the time to figure it out.

"This one was quite worthy of my mettle," Bojack said, "I bled gallons. But he bled more."

"Yer quite the merc, Bojack."

"Aye," he said. He spat a sloppy stream of blood and snot. He spasmed and coughed, a gargled cough that drew more blood and snot from the pit of his misery. He spat again. This time his teeth rattled. "I know."

"So what now? You gonna get started on the rest?"

"I'm going to need a few days in a regeneration tank first."

"That can wait."

"No it can't."

...

"A'right," the Saiyan said, "wait there. I'll send somebody to come get ya."

"And what of the zenni?"

"I'm a man of my word. It'll be right here waitin' for ya."

"I have another request."

?

"I need a vacation."

***3 Weeks Later***

"Your name."

"Bojack."

"And how did you find out about Dante's Abyss?"

"My employer. He gave me some time to enjoy on my own."

"Wait, what did you say your name was?"

"Bojack?"

The boy behind the desk nodded, retreated his hands into the giant bureau, and pulled out a manilla folder. It was thick and it sounded of thunder as it was dropped on the desktop. Bojack tilted his head to get a better look.

"What is this?"

"Your rap sheet. Heists, hits, wanted signs, weapons of choice, fears, ambitions... what you had for dinner two months ago, it's all here. I didn't believe there were profiles so thick on you mercs, but I guess I was wrong. Your 'employer' sent it over, so you're pretty much good to go."

Bojack knew of the profiles. When you shop for a murderer, you want to know all the ins and outs. He wondered what nostalgic memories and bloody nightmares awaited him if he were to read it. It was an unofficial memoir of his life and the lives of those he destroyed. He found it rather funny... of all the people he killed and bamboozled and stole from, they all could be summed up in a folder of papers and ink. It comforted him, to think of those men and women and children as nobodies, because then he could hold back the tears. But hey... no regrets, right? He knew what he was doing, and he knew he'd most likely be doing it until he himself was a snippet of a page of a profile of a horrible man that killed for zenni.

"That's about it," the boy said, "just step inside the teletube there. A camera inside will take a picture and send you to the residences for the pre-show."

Bojack walked towards the teletube, it's interior glowing a cyan neon. He slowly stepped onto the platform, and as reality began to transmute into fragments of space, he heard the boy cry after him with a final piece of advice:

"Have fun..."

I plan to...