The Liberal Assassin

The Invitation (1)

Loud rapping on the desk jolted me back to the present. Just when I was getting to the good part too! Biting back an exasperated sigh, I looked up. The lady with dark hair, thick-rimmed glasses and a much-wrinkled face with a grumpy expression scowled. I grinned in return at the familiar face.

“Hello, Mrs Peterman! How are you doing?” I gave her one of my thousand watt smiles. It always did well to play dumb. Sociology 101 – when someone expects less of you, you tend to get away with more - made up by yours truly.

Mrs Peterman was the Academy’s grouchiest head librarian in all of New-Man history. What luck to have been caught by her! Donning my luckiest pair of underwear today didn’t help much. Lady Luck must have been jealous by how good I looked in red briefs. What a prissy existence!

Before I had time to scowl, Mrs Peterman’s high pitched keening had me cringing.

“Titus Crowley! How many times must I remind you that students are not allowed to access the physical archive without a visit pass?”

Ending the dramatically long sigh with a guttural groan, I mustered the best pout I could. “But Mrs Peterman! Alicia wasn’t there when I came in again… You know just how much I hate waiting too, don’t you? All my darling books were crying out to me and I just had to attend to them. I’m really sorry about it so could you please overlook it this time?”

A practised abandoned puppy look was thrown in to ensure effectiveness. My plans never fail. Despite the grouch she was, the old lady was one of the people I adored. She could’ve been my grandmother if not for her constant need to nit-pick on my habits.

Narrowing her eyes, the shrewd woman studied me. I didn’t back down and met her scrutiny without letting up my abandoned puppy look. I pleaded with her once more with a tiny voice that I knew would tug at her heart strings. Her hard stare wavered for a moment and I bit my bottom lip a little to appear as meek as I could. Mrs Peterman closed her eyes with a soft sigh in resignation. I knew I had her where I wanted – hook, line and sinker. Grinning widely and hugging the dear woman, I pecked her on the cheek. The librarian only swatted at me with annoyance as I dodged it.

“Thank you, Mrs Peterman! You’re the best!”

The old woman shook her head and rolled her eyes, well aware of my antics. “What was I expecting?” she sighed. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her plight. She was up against the almighty Titus Crowley and the battle was decided before even it began.

“So?” she asked. “What are you reading this time? Dantalion’s Sixteen Strategies to Understanding New-Man? Marsalow’s Theory on Pantiumite Efficiency? Minavo’s Secret to Becoming Top Twenty Per Cent in Thirty Days? Or is it Shirtile’s report on After Crystal Existence?”

I huffed. Did she really think I would have left those babies sitting on the rotting shelves forever? 

“You do know that I have gotten my accreditations through official testing, right? Chemistry by eight, System Administration Science by twelve, Medical by fourteen, Law, Business and Sociology at fifteen. I couldn’t have possibly taken those tests without having touched these precious gems.”

A rare smile graced Mrs Peterman’s features when she saw my frown. “Well, I’m not very surprised young man. You are by far one of the brightest students I know. What are you now? Seventeen? I have never met someone like you before, especially not the first person to use the physical archives in the library in centuries. Kids nowadays like to stay in the comfort of their rooms and browse through the system archive, no appreciation for ancient art and works whatsoever.”

I giggled at her indignant huff. “Well, those kids who prefer wearing Orion Glasses to read don’t know what they are missing out on. I very much prefer the weight of a physical book. The smooth paper and rough edges combined with the unique smell of aged pressed pulp… they are simply collectibles to die for! A real pity these babies are covered in yuck from the years of disuse...”

Mrs Peterson was about to comment on my low-key jab when a loud and obnoxious voice announced that there was a mail for me. Swearing colourfully, I fumbled for my Orion dialler while earning looks of disapproval from Mrs Peterman.

“You’ve got mail! Pick it up! You’ve got mail! Hurry it up! What’s taking you so long? The mail is here!”

“Shut it, Kevin!”

After fumbling around with some settings I gave Mrs Peterman a feeble grin. “Updates,” I explained lamely. She looked unconvinced as if I just told her parellel universes didn’t exist. It wasn’t my fault… not really. Sometimes these newer and ‘more intelligent’ virtual assistants need to learn how to take it down a notch even if I did meddle with them a little. I still like the old beta version best. Maybe I should tweak Kevin’s program when I get back. For now, I should check the mail he was talking about.

Mrs Peterman turned around and left without another word while I pretended to fiddle with the Orion dialler and muttered apologies. A sigh of relief escaped me when she was no longer in sight. Turning my attention back to the task at hand, I retrieved the mail and scanned the contents briefly. 

What’s this? It appears that Felicity Reds, the crazy dog loving heiress to Burnet and Partners - the biggest law firm in Inner City, was hosting a dinner party at her mansion tonight. I chuckled then stopped abruptly to see if there was anyone nearby. Absolutely certain that the room was empty, I scrolled down to read the rest of the invitation. 

“Huh? Nothing fanciful, just another flashy revenge party…” I had half the mind to delete it but my finger hovered across the delete icon at the last moment. 

Yes, the party was a complete waste of time and I had better things to do like making tweaks to Kevin’s program. However, being the infamous playboy of the Academy meant that I had to attend meaningless events as such. If there was a way to travel back in time, I would smack my past self on the head for coming up with such a dumb idea. I could have chose to become a social recluse or even a loony but no… I had to choose the playboy image as my alter ego.

Just two nights ago I was at Tracy Fong’s dinner party to celebrate her nomination as the Inner City’s fifth most beautiful woman in a magazine poll. Scrolling back up to see Felicity’s invitation list, Tracy’s name was nowhere to be found. How predictable. One thing is for sure, tonight’s party will be a good source for drama and gossips.

The red digits on the Orion dialler flashed four in the afternoon. It’s about time to get myself smartened up for the party if I wanted to arrive on time for the main entertainment. I’m betting everything on Tracy’s unexpected appearance just because. Victory is sweet but revenge is sweeter… all the better for a juicy article. Now the Inner City Daily will owe me one! Insert evil laugh here for dramatic effect if you will.

Snorting at my own thoughts, I made my way out of the library via my favourite exit – the window. On my way back to the dormitory, I sent Tracy a text. How I managed without a typo I wonder. It didn’t really matter when the reply came in a matter of seconds. Snorting in amusement, I sent her a short reply.

“Wear whatever you want,” I murmured. “I’m not the one who threw a party without inviting her ‘best friend’.” Frankly, I didn’t care what she would wear since my natural beauty easily outshone her ugly personality. The female friendship is a truly complex thing. How they could afford to hang out with each other willingly while plotting ways to defame the other remained a mystery to me.

Placing my palm on the scanner beside the door for half a second, it let out a soft beep and the door clicked open. I paused and scanned the overly familiar room while the door closed gently behind me. The tidy bed and small desk sat at their usual places and nothing was out of place. It might seem like a completely uneccassary and overly paranoid behaviour but ever since Nash’s lesson in the Slums, I’ve learnt to be prudent.

Moving over to the built-in cabinet, I pushed a button. The clothes rack dropped down, ready for me to browse through my collection for tonight’s event. Praise the creator of smart storage! Without this genius invention, the floor of my room would be buried under the countless party clothes serving my playboy image.

Skipping black completely because Titus Crowley had the reputation of an ostentatious party animal, I scrutinised at the colourful range. Green looked too sickly against my blond hair that I usualy wear in a mid-length ponytail by my nape swaying in time to every movement. I really ought to get it cut but procrastination was king.

I glanced at the yellow suit and recalled what happened the last time I wore it. The lovely polka dotted tie that usually went with it was ripped to shreds by one of Felicity’s A-59 Blue Terriers. Those new models were full of bugs! I cant believe that monster got aay without demolition... Apparently it was protected under the manufacturer’s insurance. That’s another reason to hate dogs. Yellow was out of the question since there won’t be a good tie to match. That leaves me with either red or orange.

Matching the red suit with the black-striped tie I normally go with, I looked at the reflection in the mirror. The image made my stomach twist in an uncomfortable manner. The resemblance to a walking hazard sign was so uncanny and my intuition was usually never wrong. Setting it aside, I moved on to the next colour.

Orange wasn’t bad but it didn’t quite fit the image of an innocent playboy out to have fun. I sighed heavily. For a playboy, I have a rather pathetic collection of party suits. I could wear one of these suits but something didn’t feel right. I resigned to the only other solution that I knew was going to cost me but it had to be done. Already I could see the credits in my account depleting.

With much reluctance, I called for Kevin to order me a new suit pronto. “Get me Lisa. I want a pink suit with lavender tie, same measurements. Agree to her price and tell her I that I need it in an hour.”

“On it!” Kevin chirped before dialling for Lisa on my behalf.

I swear I needed a new hobby… one that is preferably less expensive. A tempting alternative was to learn how to make my own suits. Lisa knew of my taste in Haute Couture and charges exuberant rates – something I would rather do without if possible. Thinking about clothes reminded me of Mia. I haven’t seen her in months now. As a master of embroidery, surely she would know how to make suits! I’ll have to ask Nash to help me arrange a meeting with the seamstress the next time I see him.

A shower sounded great while waiting for my expensive suit to arrive. It won’t do good to wear something so new whilst covered in yuck from the library. Normally that yuck felt pleasant like the physical proof of my efforts in the pursual of knowledge. Today however, that yuck had to disappear if I wanted my playboy image intact. Nobody needs to know how much of a nerd I was… nobody…

Undressing quickly and jumping into the shower, I twisted the knob and a stream of hot water hit my skin. An embarassing yelp tore from my throat and I hissed once the shock was over. The scalded area was already turning light pink, a sign of cell regenration. Being a third generation New-Man came with benefits. The light pink soon disappeared as did the pain. Rapid regeneration was handy like that but it didn’t mean my body was immune to physical harm. We’re no Gods, just really advanced and improved humans.

The wounds I sustained from Nash’s last lesson were still recovering. Looking at the faded marks from the cuts made by throwing knives on my sides and faint scars on my arms from long swords sent an unwilling shudder down my spine. That old man enjoyed himself far too much during the ‘review’.

The system bell sounded, indicating my new suit’s arrival. It was about time too.

I stepped out of the quick shower and looked at my reflection. The beautiful blond hair, pale skin, taut stomach and lean muscles would make any men jealous. The only thing I wasn’t too satisfied with was my mediocre height. However mymost strikingfeature made up for it. While it was common for New-Man to have blue eyes from genetic modification, I had a shade that was one of a kind. Cerulean blue eyes must have been an inherited trait that wasn’t overwritten by the modification. In any case, it easy to see how I’ve been blessed with good looks. Wearing pink tonight was only going to enhance it, sure to make the ladies swoon.

Five minutes later, I glanced at the mirror satisfied with the well spent credits. Although my hair was still damp, I was ready to leave. There was no need to tie my hair and restrain the beauty of every strand. I preferred them to flow long and proud like how the ladies would cake on makeup to accentuate their finest facial features. 

“Kevin, prepare to depart.”

Without hesitation, the virtual assistant booked an Inner City wheeler that was due to arrive in exactly twenty-eight seconds. I cursed at the overly efficient assistant and promised to make tweaks once everything is over. 

Without wasting another second, I left the room.