His Viscerocranium

Unrusting the Guilt– A Past that Grasps Us Forever.

Cold Ashes. White Flames. Two Partners under a Thousand Stars, amidst a Hundred Bodies.

Yet We are Justified– Stripping Others’ Freedom, for Our Own.

8:23PM. Flick, Flick. The rust-wrapped lighter clicks aflame, the burning herbs and pungent smell of weed excite his brain– A first joyful sensation in hours despite dozing away in the midst of the rampant nightclub, its blazing neon lights, half-naked women, and pricey champagne– Never having cared about such vile, fruitless things absent of thrill.

“Ashes to ashes… Hm? You could’ve asked me to light it for you, you know.” A dim, cold kindle sparked from the skin of a young woman’s cheek as she rested on her palm, looking up and down the man’s pitiful, curled posture. “Too proud to rely on someone–” She leaned in. “Even when they’d do what you want… You’re an odd bird.”

“Call me that again… See what happens.” The man before her exhaled deeply before leaning back on the white leather couch, stretching an arm on its backrest whilst contemplating the ceiling. “Actin righteous don’t mean you are, especially not with what we’re about to do here.” He took the blunt out of his mouth and stuffed the lighter in his pocket before giving the woman an annoyed look– his beating heart slowly intensifying. “’And you really don’t need to reference our codenames when we’re not working… Tiff.”

“Come on, It’s just a play-on-words!” She smiled, twirling her dark, curly brown hair. “Besides… we’re still technically working. Waiting is a big part of the job– You’ve been in it with me long enough to know that.” Tiff glanced at the broad impassive figure garnished in black leather cheekily.

“Come on, am I wrong, Heron? I prefer that to your real name, anyway–” She continued as his bistre immediately locked onto her icy, blue-gray eyes. His gaze slowly lowered to meet hers as she avoided eye contact. “I’ll seriously rip those oval, donut… Ring-shaped earrings right out of–”

“Hoop earrings.” Tiff interrupted, biting her nail with a joyful smile, clearly satisfied with herself. “They’re called hoop earrings.”

Heron wiped his face down in silent exasperation, taking a deep whiff of the burning blunt after a moment in defeat before shaking his head, observing the busy nightclub. “Fuck this.” he muttered, suddenly standing from the couch and taking a step away from the woman. “What’re we waitin’ for? They’re all shitfaced, and we’re in Ly’eed anyway, there’s no cops or nothin’ coming– It’ll be ages before anyone arrives–”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tiff’s warm, unserious tone suddenly turned cold as steel. “We wait for Friend’s call, that’s the deal.” Her command immediately stopped Heron in his tracks as he looked back at her, listening: “The whole point is that we get paid. No witnesses– We do things clean, that’s how CHEEFRUS operates.” After a second of hesitation, Heron sat back down opposite his partner again.

“You’ve been in this far longer than me, and I’m still correcting you– Tsk. Your temper really needs working on,” She continued, inspecting the white-painted nails matching her ivory eyeliner. “Friend picked this spot for our assignment with good reason– No cameras, no security…” Tiff looked around with a light smile, seeing men and women alike gathered at roundtables, screaming from ecstasy with bleeding noses tattered in white powder, rubbing against one another’s buzzing bodies in the masses, with each detail causing disgust to replace her smile. “Just a band of junkies… I feel nauseous looking at them.”

“Remind you of past life?” Heron asked as he rubbed his cheek in a meek, understanding voice, glancing at the craving ashtray placed atop a glass table separating him and the woman.

“Yeah.” She replied, biting a nail lightly and dozing away into terrible memories. “I’ll never forgive myself– Her, For what she did to me.”

“All’s to blame.” Heron quoted, Tiff looked him in the eye with an affirmed, subtly unnerved look: “All.” So they both gazed away– Heron to the ceiling, and Tiff in vicious, unwanted nostalgia.

Can’t wait ’til this is over.

…I can’t wait ’til we get started, even. That makes me wonder– being here…

Maybe all this– What was n’ will be, ain’t for the money after all. The last time I was with my kids… With– I… Don’t even remember their faces anymore.

Just the smell of weed in a broken home. Maybe that was why I started working for Friend?

At first, it might’ve been to forget. To walk another path, but now…?

Heron took the blunt out of his mouth and pointed its fiery edge his way, observing the ash dissipating into tiny flakes right above his eyes.

Now I’m just another junkie, like everyone here.

I’m starting to feel– I really, really need to take the edge off–

His peripheral view was suddenly invaded by two glistening high heels and a revealing pair of legs. He glanced leftwards, blinking slowly before lifting his gaze to see a topless woman with silky blonde hair and a smile like the setting sun holding a silver tray underneath a dozen fancy bottles. “Are you enjoying your night sir? May I interest you in our selection of–”

“Just…” Heron interrupted her bothersome, high-pitched suggestions and waved away her palm hovering over the crowded flasks before taking the blunt out of his mouth, sitting upwards, and shuffling in his pockets to withdraw three crumpled bills, handing it to the woman hastily: “Get me something strong… expensive.” And when she gladly took it all, uncaring to tell of the pricing, she set down the tray before him to continue blurting out useless, revised stories of each drink.

A sudden vibration emerged from his pocket, causing his vision to immediately turn hazy as the woman’s voice drowned beneath the beating of a rampant heart– Heron’s eyes darted toward Tiff, who held a phone with its screen pointing straight at him. On its bright screen, two words: ‘INCOMING CALL’, and under them, a name–

’FRIEND.’

…Finally. Heron’s eyes lit up– His vision cleared, displaying a sliver of thrilled, silver-coated teeth as he interrupted the woman again: “Actually… I’d like something more.” He presented another dozen bills discreetly near his knee, waiting for her to reach in impatiently, seeing the woman slowly peel away from the tray and into his cash as she leaned in: “Yeah…?” She bit her lip with seductive eye contact– Thighs wrapping around him like a python around their prey.

“What would you like?” she suggested, smiling.

“I want things to be beautiful.” Heron replied, subtly striking the woman, who replied, taking his cash in between two fingers: “Then… Let’s make this a night to remember.”

The warmth. The moment. I used to live for this– But now foreign lips make me sick, and the touch of another woman’s body sends shivers… I guess I’ll never really move on from who I once was– From who I loved.

Heron grit his teeth painfully as the worker’s romance closed in on him. I realize it now. It’s not just the weed I force myself to inhale, that I hate– It’s everyone that isn’t her.

“Let’s.” He affirmed with a delay, grazing his trembling, discomforted fingers across her warm, soft neck, taking it into his hand–

And wringing it like a towel.

An instant death. Heron seized her body and closed its eyes, laying the woman next to him on the couch before muttering under his breath, seething clear discontent.

“I’ll get to work, then–” Tiff stood with him as he brushed his hands against one another before interrupting the woman. “Not ’til I have a smoke.” Heron took another pack of cigarettes, as he signalled with his head at the dead girl. “Had to put my last one out, ’cause of her.”

Tiff laid her eyes on the fading blunt on the ashtray. “You’re just going to leave her like that…?” She crossed her arms with a raised brow. “Not exactly how we’re meant to do this. If anyone notices, Friend might–”

“We’ve already looked around– You and I.” Heron interrupted, walking past the woman with an oddly sour tone. “I don’t need to justify this any more– I’m sick of the smell in here, anyway. Some fresh air is bound to clear my head, especially with the rain outside… Join me or not, but don’t start the job alone.”

Soon they rested against the cold brick wall of the nightclub, trusting none would notice the girl they left behind. Tiff dozed off into the skies, unbothered by the darkness enveloping every street dressed in vandalized, mechanical lights, rusting steam-powered heat pumps and air conditioning tainting every nearby, half-ruined building.

Click, click, click. The rusty lighter sparked again, absent of flames to warm Heron’s fingers, who muttered with annoyance: “Shit… I really need a goddamn new lighter.”

Tiff turned her head at him in reaction, waiting for a reciprocation.

“What?” Heron asked obliviously before seeing her palm stretched out, handing her the blunt hesitantly after what felt like a minute’s silence. She took the cigarette in between her fingers and flicked its edge with a thumb, sparking an infinitesimal, white flame before returning it to him. “You finally caved.” She commented, smiling.

“Yeah…” He agreed, inhaling the fumes before breathing out roughly. “Guess I ain’t so proud after all, huh?” Yet hearing no reply, he turned to her after a moment to see she hadn’t reciprocated his humor, seeing Tiff gazing into the shallow puddles perforating the streets of black quartzite. “What’s up?” he asked, to which she replied with a sigh,

“You know, you’re usually excited to fight and kill those who bear ill will toward us, but today you were clearly gloomy about it– Like I usually am alone, in places like this.” Tiff finally turned to him, with a half-joking tone, “Don’t tell me you’re rubbing off on me… What happened? Working for Friend suddenly not so fun anymore?”

“Huh… I don’t know…” Heron took the blunt out of his mouth, seemingly bothered by the look on his face. “I was just… ’reminiscing’ about my–past. The weed and cigarettes probably brought back some memories of who I used to be, before all this. Maybe. I don’t know… I guess I was wondering what the point of us being here really is, apart from getting paid. To be frank, it was my second time killing someone I actually thought… You know–” He looked at her, unnerved. “Did that girl really do us harm…? I did what I did, because of the opportunity, but… I’m thinking– All those people in there, do they really wish us harm?”

“Heron… Friend never lets you into the office– let alone the headquarters, so you wouldn’t know, but every guest in these buildings is a supporter of O5, whether they know it or not. What we’re doing is justified. It’s your– our right to do what we do. It’s not just the money we’re after… There’s no reason to pity those people.”

Tiff scoffed lightly. “Friend told me that the owner of this firm– C.L. Nightclubs, is a major political and economic advocate of those who try to eradicate CHEEFRUS– Us. These assignments aren’t arbitrary– They’re a necessity, even if they require another couple dozen corpses.” She uncrossed her arms and made eye contact with Heron. “Waiting is a big part of the job… But finishing it is far more important.”

Heron contemplated a while, quietly enjoying Tiff’s company until his cigarette puffed its last dying breath. He flicked it into the puddle before them, nodding himself: “Yeah… You’re probably right.” A subtle smirk formed on his expression.

“Guess it might’ve just been the weed talkin’ after all.” He gently tapped her shoulder with the back of his hand and a transformed, new look. “I’ll be having the rest of that champagne, though.”

“Fine by me.” Tiff replied with a lively wink, pushing herself away from the brick wall and shaking her wet coat, “Glad I could’ve helped.”

“Don’t get it all wrong now… It weren’t you or your damn storytelling that changed my mind. It was all me.” Heron walked confidently as he slicked back his wet, barbed cardinal red hair, brushing off the lie.

“Just remember…” Tiff rolled her eyes in dismissal, almost skipping right behind him, full of joy for what was to come. “After Friend’s boss is finished with The Five Overseers, we’re free.”

Heron wiped his chin, bearing the silver-coated teeth once more: “Great… Freedom– Then let’s pay off our debts.”

AUTHOR NOTES

Thank you so much for reading the very first chapter of HisViscerocranium! I hope it was a short, pleasant read.

The world is far bigger than it seems—with O5 as the leading priests of creation, whose roots tear through the continent of Made’on, beneath the seas, and reach even Varvi’ec, there is much more to know and discover.

Friend—the leader of CHEEFRUS.

Just what kind of person is he, to use Tiff and Heron as the catalysts of what is to come next chapter? What will happen to the rest of the nightclub-goers?

Heron and Tiff—Two loving fruits in a basket, whose woven links are held by chains.

Is what Tiff said true about O5? What are the debts Heron mentioned that he and his partner must pay off?

I hope you’ll tune in for Chapter 2!!!

I had no job during the summer except for working the equivalent of 4 bucks an hour (occasionally) doing drywalling and laying floorboards– when that job was finished and I couldn’t find another, something kinda ‘clicked’. I slept 5/7 days a week in a small kitchen because my mother’s apartment didn’t have another room for me to be in, and I guess I kind of ‘locked in’ on this– It wasn’t long before I spent 8, 10, 14, sometimes even 15 or 16 hours a day drafting like crazy (take that Brandon Sanderson!!! It won’t be long before my speed soon surpasses yours!!!)