The Evilmen do

Chapter 1: The Perfect Job Kai never thought of memory theft as a crime. Not really. To them, it was a service — a business. Some people wanted to forget. Others wanted to remember. Kai simply made sure the right memories found the right buyers, for the right price. The city they lived in — a sprawl of neon-drenched towers and perpetually humming airways — had no shortage of customers. It was a place that never slept, because too many people had nightmares. And nightmares were valuable. You could bottle fear and sell it to adrenaline junkies who craved the rush. You could package joy and feed it to the wealthy bored, who had already lived through everything and wanted more. Kai had made a name for themself not just as a thief, but as an artist. Their work was clean. No trace left behind. If you hired Kai, you knew your target would wake up the next day feeling normal — maybe a bit hazy, like they’d forgotten where they put their keys, but never enough to suspect that something precious had been stolen. And that morning, as they sat in the backroom of a memory exchange bar called The Mind’s Eye, they were feeling good about business. The previous night’s job had gone smoothly. A desperate father had paid well to have his child’s trauma erased — the memory of a terrible car accident, gone like mist burned off by the sun. Kai sipped their coffee — black, strong, and slightly bitter — when the bar’s old-fashioned doorbell rang. Someone had entered. Not a regular. Not the usual jittery buyers looking for a rush or the sellers wanting to pawn their pain. This person wore money. Not just the cheap, flashy kind, but the expensive, understated kind that screamed power. A black coat. Polished boots. A sleek interface panel on their wrist that glowed softly as they moved. Kai tensed. Corporate. Nobody liked dealing with corporates. They had too many cameras, too many strings attached. But the figure approached anyway, stopping at Kai’s table with a confident smile. “You’re Kai,” the stranger said, not asked. Kai leaned back in their chair. “Depends who’s asking.” “Someone with a job you’ll want to take.” That was always how it started. Bold, simple, bait dangling on the hook. “Sit,” Kai said finally, gesturing at the chair across from them. The stranger did, sliding a datachip across the table. Kai didn’t touch it yet. “What’s the memory?” The client smiled faintly. “Not what — who. You’re going to extract a single memory from a very important man. One that he doesn’t even know he has.” That was unusual. Most buyers wanted something specific: a first kiss, a secret password, a moment of joy. This was vague. “And who’s the mark?” Kai asked. “Elias Roan.” Kai almost choked on their coffee. Roan was not just anybody. He was one of the wealthiest men in the city — the owner of Roan Dynamics, the company responsible for half the neural tech implants in circulation. “You’re insane,” Kai said flatly. “You know what his security is like? Even his coffee is probably guarded by drones.” “Which is why we’re paying you.” Kai’s eyes narrowed. We. That meant this client wasn’t working alone. “What’s the pay?” Kai asked, finally sliding the chip toward them and scanning it. The number that appeared on their lens display nearly made their heart stop. “Half up front,” the client said smoothly. “Half when it’s done.” It was more money than Kai had ever seen. Enough to disappear. Enough to get out of the city, out of the life, out of the danger that always hung over them like a blade. But that was the thing about blades — they cut both ways. “You know what happens if I’m caught,” Kai said. “Yes. That’s why we chose you.” Kai stared at the chip. The sensible part of their brain screamed at them to walk away. This was too big, too risky. There were easier jobs. Safer ones. But another part — the reckless, hungry part — saw this for what it was: their ticket out. Finally, they pocketed the chip. “When do I start?” The client’s smile widened just slightly. “Now.” --- Kai spent the rest of the day gathering intel. Roan Dynamics was notorious for its security. Every executive was implanted with proprietary memory locks — neural firewalls that scrambled unauthorized access attempts. Breaking into a mind like that wasn’t just hard; it was lethal if you got caught. But Kai wasn’t just anyone. They had spent years perfecting their methods, building their own black-market tech, customizing memory siphons that bypassed most commercial locks. This would require their best work. As night fell, Kai sat in their workshop, a cramped space littered with half-disassembled neural rigs and glowing holoscreens. Their hands moved with practiced precision as they tuned the siphon. Every detail mattered: the frequency calibration, the neural sync delay, the feedback filters. They thought about the memory they were supposed to take. A single memory. Not data. Not secrets. A memory. That was personal. Memories were the last truly private thing a person owned. Stealing one was like carving out a piece of their soul. Kai had always told themself they weren’t hurting anyone. People sold their memories willingly. People paid to forget. It was just a service. But this was different. They were about to take something Elias Roan had never agreed to give. And they had no idea what it was. --- Two nights later, Kai stood outside Roan’s private penthouse tower, disguised as an elevator maintenance technician. Their pulse thudded in their ears as they watched the security drones float past, scanning for intruders. Everything about this job screamed too dangerous. But the client’s money burned like a promise in their pocket. Kai took a deep breath, activated the siphon rig, and stepped inside. This was it. The perfect job. The one that could change everything. Or end it. --- Analysis: Why This Chapter Works Chapter 1 introduces us to Kai in a way that immediately establishes their moral ambiguity and skillset. The world-building is efficient — we understand that memory theft is a thriving black-market business, that memories can be bought and sold, and that this future society commodifies emotion and experience itself. The mysterious client serves as a narrative hook. Their vague yet high-stakes offer creates instant tension. Readers know Kai is walking into something much bigger than a normal job, which plants questions in their minds: What is this memory? Why is it so valuable? Who does the client work for? The promise of danger and the temptation of freedom are classic motivators that make Kai relatable despite their morally gray profession. The chapter ends with Kai stepping into the first major risk of the story, a perfect cliffhanger that propels readers forward into the next installment. Kai had always said the hardest part of any job was the waiting. Waiting for the security grid to cycle. Waiting for the patrol drone to pass. Waiting for their heart rate to stop trying to punch through their chest. This job was no exception. Standing in the service corridor beneath Roan Dynamics’ private tower, Kai felt the weight of their siphon rig pressing against their back like a loaded gun. Every sensor in this building was designed to catch people like them — corporate espionage was punishable by indefinite neural detention, which was just a polite way of saying memory erasure. One slip, and they wouldn’t just lose their freedom. They’d lose themself. But Kai was calm. Calm was what they did best. They waited until the maintenance system cycled its cameras for a software update — exactly 7.3 seconds of blind spot, according to the datachip the client had given them. Then they moved, slipping through the door into the restricted wing. The vault was three levels down, protected by biometric locks and an AI overseer. But Kai had come prepared. They pulled a slim device from their belt — an illegal neural spoofer — and pressed it to the first lock. A quiet hum, a flicker of light, and the door slid open. No alarms. Good. Kai’s confidence built with every step. This was what they were good at: walking where they weren’t supposed to be, making invisible paths through places that were meant to be impenetrable. When they reached the vault, Kai had to admit — it was beautiful. A glass chamber suspended in the center of a titanium cage, lit by a cool blue glow. This was where Elias Roan kept his most sensitive memories, stored in encrypted neural nodes that could only be accessed when he was physically present. But tonight, Roan was a