Chapter 2: A new gig.
Dante closed his eyes and let the cold water wash over his face. His morning shower lasted longer than usual, a sign of his struggle to get his thoughts in order. Not that it helped—he still spent the next ten minutes staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Light blue eyes stared back at him, faint dark circles surrounding them. The cuts littering his pale skin had long since faded, leaving behind barely noticeable traces. His bright red hair gathered in sharp spikes the instant it was rid of its dampness. That part was a lost cause as no amount of combing would fix it.
A sigh escaped him when he finally noticed the stubble on his chin. He reached for the razor on the sink and froze at the sight of his hand. A scene from the dream he had earlier flashed in his mind.
His skin appeared to be torn around the same spots, but unlike that time, the gaps were more uniform. Glistering metal plates covered his knuckles and lines traced the gaps between his joints, dividing his skin into elegant geometric shapes. Months had passed since he got his fists reinforced yet it still surprised him every time he saw it.
He shaved and brushed his teeth then trod to the next room where he put some clothes on, making sure to equip his armpit holster and gun right after. He hadn't done his laundry in a while so his options were limited, to say the least. A couple of minutes later, he was looking at the nearly empty interior of his refrigerator. He hadn't shopped for groceries as well.
Another task to the list of stuff he didn't feel like doing. Just when he thought he would have to eat his breakfast outside, his OAM -Optic Augmentation Module- came to life, showing him a notification of the message that had just arrived.
Dante's left eye twitched. He stared at the notification, superimposed over his field of sight, and pressed his lips into a thin line. A single thought summoned a translucent window showing the rest of the message.
[Gaspard: Get your ass here. We got a new gig.]
Not a single person alive would be thrilled to hear from their boss first thing in the morning, not that any other time would be different. Dante made a habit of turning off his OAM whenever he was home so it was only now that he noticed it was already 11:17.
Left with no choice, he grabbed a half-empty nutrient pack, slammed the refrigerator door shut, and walked out of his apartment, but not before putting his jacket on.
The door automatically locked behind him. Walking to the southern end of the corridor, he composed a quick message while trying to ignore the sugary taste of the jelly he squeezed out of the pack. He sent the message out with a thought then turned off the AR interface, leaving only the small digital clock at the top corner of his field of sight.