The Company

A Tool

Just another bruise earned,
One more lesson learned.
Just another kick from behind,
Just another punch in the eye

- Jinjer

2.

I'd been with Rumor Star since I was sixteen years old.

Before then, I was born and raised within the confines of The Company, trained to be a tool for whoever would pay for my services. This was a fate I was born into, my mother having been born into servitude, and her mother before that, and so on...

It's not like I'm unhappy. It's more like I'm numb. I left any ambition for myself behind a long time ago.

I used to have this dream, like kids do, about finding my father and escaping The Company, but that never happened.

"Mom?" I asked one day, stirring the last remaining piece of cereal around in the sea of milk left. "Who... was my father?"

From the couch came a laughing cough in response and the clank of a bottle. More bottles littered the floor around our cheap trailer, and more stuffing fell out of the old beat up couch as she shifted herself into a sitting position, taking a long gulp of whiskey. "Now, why the fuck are you asking that? I'm not good enough for ya?" she rasped, throat hoarse and eyes glazed over from all the alcohol.

"I was just asking."

She pointed at me with her bottle, her arm drooping drunkenly. "Lisssten here, Asbell. Your daddy was some sonnabitch I fucked once. He doesn't know about you and he doesn't care to know either. I can't even remember his damn name. You don't need parents anyway-- you're just a tool, 'kay? A tool...just like me." She chugged down the rest of the bottle hungrily, some spilling down her chin. Then she tossed the bottle against the wall, not even bothering to watch it shatter before plopping back down on the couch, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Now shut up and eat your breakfast."

I have few memories of my mother, but any that I do have all play out in some variant form of that interaction. She had dedicated what life she did have to Rumor, and died protecting her.

I was prepared to live my life out the same way. To go on until I expired as Rumor's Attendant. Somewhere along the way, I tricked myself into thinking that she started to feel like family to me, and I suspect that I even came to love her in that foolish way.

but I wasn't the one who got a letter.

That was Wanda Baker, some skinny-ass weakling who cost Rumor her life.

I remember that day, when I was assigned to deliver the letter and Rumor's will to her. I remember how Wanda immediately began to sob into the paper, soaking it with a stream of tears, the fresh pink scars on her wrist glistening in the sun.

Rumor died because Wanda was weak. She only knew Wanda for a little over two years, and of that, they weren't even close until the end. But I was always there for her, and no one sees me crying like that.

Rumor loved Wanda, but never me. I know that now.

So, after a year, it's time to get over my past client. However, I'm not thrilled to hear that the one meant to replace her is a Demon...

Demons only mean trouble, mean taking lives and getting your hands dirty. Anomalies only want to blend in, like Rumor did.