Merciless
2
Mercy lay peacefully on the stretcher. She gazed boredly at the dim lights as she inflated the blood pressure cuff she had on her arm. Curiosity made her wonder how much she could possibly expand it before it began to hurt her. “That is not a toy, Mercy.” An older EMT scolded.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sarah.” Mercy arched her eyebrow.
“Everything can become a toy when you’re bored. I’ll bet I could have a hell of a time with that defibrillator over there.” Mercy sat up and slid the cuff over her arm.
“Be serious. This is a job, not a game.” Sarah took the blood pressure cuff from her and placed it back in its drawer.
“It would be a job if there were murders being committed, injuries being dealt out, blood being drawn.” Mercy pulled her hair out of its braid, only to carefully redo it. Having her hair down outside of her home was considered suspicious behavior.
It had been this way since the second Civil War. Since then, art was not allowed that wasn’t educational. Same went with movies and literature. There were revolts at first, but the murders dealt out by Dictator Haine’s personal police force quickly calmed those down.
“You shouldn’t say those things, Mercy.” Sarah hissed. What a bland name. Sarah.
“I know. I should be a good girl. But what kind of good girls staunch the blood flow of dying people.”
“This is what you were born into, Mercy. I remember working with your father. At least he knew how to act like a professional.” Bland Sarah glared at Mercy with her bland brown eyes.
“I will be a professional when the situation calls for it.” Mercy said roughly. “But right now I don’t believe I could summon the energy it would take to be practiced.” She could recall having a previous argument with Zane just yesterday.
“You are hopeless.” Sarah sighed. Mercy watched Bland Sarah go about her bland business, scratching her bland nails on her bland shoulder.
“Not yet.” Mercy yawned and closed her eyes, lying back on the stretcher. Her hands tucked snugly behind her head. “Not quite yet.”
Mercy dropped her bag at the door as she entered. Exhaustion wore through her bones and she collapsed on the ivory couch. It matched the rest of her furniture, which consisted of a chair, a tiny TV and its stand, a table and four chairs, a counter for preparing food, a fridge, a cabinet, and a dishwasher. Ivory was a very neutral color, and one of the few colors that were allowed to be used in decoration. Only colors like beige, taupe, and ivory were to be used. Colors that didn’t stimulate the mind, that didn’t provide any creative flow. Mercy often felt the need to coat the walls in the brightly colored spray paint.
Mercy heard a soft meow come from her bedroom. “Hey Charlie.” She smiled as the tawny cat trotted to her. The cat pounced up on Mercy’s chest and proceeded to mash his face against her own. “Did you miss me?” Mercy smiled and kissed the kitten. As she stroked the feline, a soft purr started up in his chest. As the clock struck ten, the TV flicked on. Mercy did her best to ignore the news program, but Charlie stared intently at the screen, confused by the sounds. The program never actually broadcasted news, only happy little stories meant to ensure good feelings and mute rebellion. Her assassination attempt would not make the news. “You hungry baby? I’ve got some tuna for you.” Charlie meowed as Mercy got up. He trotted after her into the kitchen. As she opened the tuna can, there was a gentle knocking on her door. She lured Charlie into her bedroom with the food and closed the door behind him. Mercy trotted over to the door and pulled it open. A familiar face stood on the other side of the threshold “Hey, Camilla. Good to see you.”
“Hey Mercy!” Camilla stepped in, hugging Mercy tightly. “I feel like it’s been ages!”
Mercy arched an eyebrow as she pulled away. “Cami, you were literally here last week.”
Camilla laughed, “You say that as if that makes a difference.” She peered around. “Where’s Charlie?”
“In the bedroom.”
“I’ve got a nice bottle of milk for him.” Camilla said as she went to open the bedroom door. Charlie raced out, winding himself around Cami’s feet. She dipped her hand in her purse and lifted out a small bottle of milk. She grabbed a saucer from the cupboard and laid it on the linoleum floor before uncorking her bottle and dumping the contents into the dish. After placing the bottle in the sink, Camilla turned to Mercy. “I brought you something too.”
Mercy raised her eyebrows, “I’m thrilled. What’s the occasion?”
“Weeell, Roger heard from Hunter that your mission didn’t go so well.” Mercy frowned. “So I brought you some chocolate!” Cami whipped out a chocolate bar covered in tin foil.
“Where did you get that?” Mercy looked the chocolate from Camilla.
“I made it! It’s not that hard when you cook for a living.” Cami winked.
“How are you and Roger?” Mercy asked, popping a piece of chocolate in her mouth.
“Oh, we’re doing extremely well. We’ve been talking about having a baby, but I’m not sure if I’ve decided whether or not I’m actually ready to commit to a child.”
“You’re only twenty-two, a child is a big responsibility and you don’t have to have a baby until you’re thirty.” Camilla nodded and scooped up Charlie while Mercy placed the chocolate in the freezer.
“Speaking of commitments, when do you think you’ll take your aptitude test?” There was a coy curve in her voice.
Mercy stared at the fridge, unmoving. “Saturday. I’ve scheduled it for Saturday.” She glanced down.
“Everything will be okay, Mercy. It’s natural to be nervous.” The coy tone was gone, replaced by a tone of gentility.
Mercy walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. “I don’t want to get paired, Cami. I’m extremely worried that getting married will end my involvement in the Resolution.”
“Why don’t you just wait a few years until you’ve put more work in?” Camilla said as she wrapped an arm around Mercy, who was beginning to chew on her lip anxiously. Cami narrowed her eyes, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Well, Hunter-”
“I should have guessed.” Cami’s voice was soft, not filled with it's usual teasing undertones
“I just feel like him and I are so similar that I thought if we had our appointments on the same day, we might be… well, put together. But it’ll be good for both of us!” Mercy added hastily. “We know each other so well, and we wouldn’t have to stop doing our work for the Resolution, and it would be so easy…” She trailed off.
The TV snapped off abruptly, causing the pair of girls to jump. Nothing was said between them for a few moments. Finally, Camilla broke the silence, “I should get going. If I’m out much later, I’ll become a suspicious person.” Cami’s weak smile wasn’t doing much to soothe Mercy’s erratic nerves.
“Alright, I’ll see you soon though, right?” Mercy rose from the couch.
Camilla stood as well. “Of course! You’re going to call me as soon as you finish your aptitude test, and tell me how you feel about it.”
Mercy laughed as she walked the brunette girl to the door. “Of course, Camilla. Thank you so much for the chocolate and for the advice.”
Camilla pulled open the door. “Of course. Goodnight, Mercy. Good luck.”
Immediately after the door closed, Mercy’s smile faded. Her thoughts flowed seamlessly into her mind, swarming like a hornets nest. Each stinger brushed off was replaced by ten more digging themselves fervently into her head. As Mercy moved into her bedroom, she hoped that sleep would be the formula to remove the stingers from her head.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sarah.” Mercy arched her eyebrow.
“Everything can become a toy when you’re bored. I’ll bet I could have a hell of a time with that defibrillator over there.” Mercy sat up and slid the cuff over her arm.
“Be serious. This is a job, not a game.” Sarah took the blood pressure cuff from her and placed it back in its drawer.
“It would be a job if there were murders being committed, injuries being dealt out, blood being drawn.” Mercy pulled her hair out of its braid, only to carefully redo it. Having her hair down outside of her home was considered suspicious behavior.
It had been this way since the second Civil War. Since then, art was not allowed that wasn’t educational. Same went with movies and literature. There were revolts at first, but the murders dealt out by Dictator Haine’s personal police force quickly calmed those down.
“You shouldn’t say those things, Mercy.” Sarah hissed. What a bland name. Sarah.
“I know. I should be a good girl. But what kind of good girls staunch the blood flow of dying people.”
“This is what you were born into, Mercy. I remember working with your father. At least he knew how to act like a professional.” Bland Sarah glared at Mercy with her bland brown eyes.
“I will be a professional when the situation calls for it.” Mercy said roughly. “But right now I don’t believe I could summon the energy it would take to be practiced.” She could recall having a previous argument with Zane just yesterday.
“You are hopeless.” Sarah sighed. Mercy watched Bland Sarah go about her bland business, scratching her bland nails on her bland shoulder.
“Not yet.” Mercy yawned and closed her eyes, lying back on the stretcher. Her hands tucked snugly behind her head. “Not quite yet.”
Mercy dropped her bag at the door as she entered. Exhaustion wore through her bones and she collapsed on the ivory couch. It matched the rest of her furniture, which consisted of a chair, a tiny TV and its stand, a table and four chairs, a counter for preparing food, a fridge, a cabinet, and a dishwasher. Ivory was a very neutral color, and one of the few colors that were allowed to be used in decoration. Only colors like beige, taupe, and ivory were to be used. Colors that didn’t stimulate the mind, that didn’t provide any creative flow. Mercy often felt the need to coat the walls in the brightly colored spray paint.
Mercy heard a soft meow come from her bedroom. “Hey Charlie.” She smiled as the tawny cat trotted to her. The cat pounced up on Mercy’s chest and proceeded to mash his face against her own. “Did you miss me?” Mercy smiled and kissed the kitten. As she stroked the feline, a soft purr started up in his chest. As the clock struck ten, the TV flicked on. Mercy did her best to ignore the news program, but Charlie stared intently at the screen, confused by the sounds. The program never actually broadcasted news, only happy little stories meant to ensure good feelings and mute rebellion. Her assassination attempt would not make the news. “You hungry baby? I’ve got some tuna for you.” Charlie meowed as Mercy got up. He trotted after her into the kitchen. As she opened the tuna can, there was a gentle knocking on her door. She lured Charlie into her bedroom with the food and closed the door behind him. Mercy trotted over to the door and pulled it open. A familiar face stood on the other side of the threshold “Hey, Camilla. Good to see you.”
“Hey Mercy!” Camilla stepped in, hugging Mercy tightly. “I feel like it’s been ages!”
Mercy arched an eyebrow as she pulled away. “Cami, you were literally here last week.”
Camilla laughed, “You say that as if that makes a difference.” She peered around. “Where’s Charlie?”
“In the bedroom.”
“I’ve got a nice bottle of milk for him.” Camilla said as she went to open the bedroom door. Charlie raced out, winding himself around Cami’s feet. She dipped her hand in her purse and lifted out a small bottle of milk. She grabbed a saucer from the cupboard and laid it on the linoleum floor before uncorking her bottle and dumping the contents into the dish. After placing the bottle in the sink, Camilla turned to Mercy. “I brought you something too.”
Mercy raised her eyebrows, “I’m thrilled. What’s the occasion?”
“Weeell, Roger heard from Hunter that your mission didn’t go so well.” Mercy frowned. “So I brought you some chocolate!” Cami whipped out a chocolate bar covered in tin foil.
“Where did you get that?” Mercy looked the chocolate from Camilla.
“I made it! It’s not that hard when you cook for a living.” Cami winked.
“How are you and Roger?” Mercy asked, popping a piece of chocolate in her mouth.
“Oh, we’re doing extremely well. We’ve been talking about having a baby, but I’m not sure if I’ve decided whether or not I’m actually ready to commit to a child.”
“You’re only twenty-two, a child is a big responsibility and you don’t have to have a baby until you’re thirty.” Camilla nodded and scooped up Charlie while Mercy placed the chocolate in the freezer.
“Speaking of commitments, when do you think you’ll take your aptitude test?” There was a coy curve in her voice.
Mercy stared at the fridge, unmoving. “Saturday. I’ve scheduled it for Saturday.” She glanced down.
“Everything will be okay, Mercy. It’s natural to be nervous.” The coy tone was gone, replaced by a tone of gentility.
Mercy walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. “I don’t want to get paired, Cami. I’m extremely worried that getting married will end my involvement in the Resolution.”
“Why don’t you just wait a few years until you’ve put more work in?” Camilla said as she wrapped an arm around Mercy, who was beginning to chew on her lip anxiously. Cami narrowed her eyes, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Well, Hunter-”
“I should have guessed.” Cami’s voice was soft, not filled with it's usual teasing undertones
“I just feel like him and I are so similar that I thought if we had our appointments on the same day, we might be… well, put together. But it’ll be good for both of us!” Mercy added hastily. “We know each other so well, and we wouldn’t have to stop doing our work for the Resolution, and it would be so easy…” She trailed off.
The TV snapped off abruptly, causing the pair of girls to jump. Nothing was said between them for a few moments. Finally, Camilla broke the silence, “I should get going. If I’m out much later, I’ll become a suspicious person.” Cami’s weak smile wasn’t doing much to soothe Mercy’s erratic nerves.
“Alright, I’ll see you soon though, right?” Mercy rose from the couch.
Camilla stood as well. “Of course! You’re going to call me as soon as you finish your aptitude test, and tell me how you feel about it.”
Mercy laughed as she walked the brunette girl to the door. “Of course, Camilla. Thank you so much for the chocolate and for the advice.”
Camilla pulled open the door. “Of course. Goodnight, Mercy. Good luck.”
Immediately after the door closed, Mercy’s smile faded. Her thoughts flowed seamlessly into her mind, swarming like a hornets nest. Each stinger brushed off was replaced by ten more digging themselves fervently into her head. As Mercy moved into her bedroom, she hoped that sleep would be the formula to remove the stingers from her head.