Liam Vicarman

1689 Words
Liam Vicarman, 33 years old, Residence: Wall 55, Occupation: Researcher He had been a waller ever since he can remember, maybe that had to do something with his father being an military officer. That is when he was still alive. His caste ranking dropped multiple levels after his father’s death but because of his keen observation, he landed a job at people researching. One can say he is a genius at reading people. He had the ability to draw out their inner self. That’s how he landed a good job as researcher, but in the pre apocalypse world his job is more like Human Resource. He is looking for a potential talent for a client, an upper caste ranker, to be exact. Whether the request is for decent or indecent manners he really doesn’t care. It was all good, the satisfaction of hitting all the marks. At first, it was a fun and nice paying job. It pays well for all necessities and the neighborhood but after years of doing it. It started to bore him. He reached the point where he can already tell in just one glance and a few words what kind of person he is talking to. It’s always been the same routine. Going in the wall districts, observing residents and documenting it. One day, he received a letter, an invitation with a slip of Key Card. “Liam Vicarman, We heard about your talent in scouting people, would you like to hear of an opportunity. If you are interested, go to…” The rest are the date, time and place of the meeting. Usually he would ignore these kinds of invitations but maybe out of his boredom he went. Arriving at the walls of 50, he swiped the keycard given and then the guard on the wall, looked at him with a funny face with his eyes wide open. The guard greeted him with courtesy. ‘It’s another request from an upper rank again huh?’ He walked confidently to District 50. It was like stepping on a different world. The streets are clean, the mapping, residential and commercial areas are properly arranged. There are also some buildings but they don't exceed the walls in height. The inner district walls resembled most in the ruined world. Steady supply of electricity, water, fresh food and residents are all dressed well. An escort is waiting by after he finishes the inspection. “Sir Liam Vicarman, Master is waiting for you.” He said and opened the fancy car door. “I wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” Liam said with a smile as he make way inside the door. There are three types of people in the inner city. First, who both have authority and money. He can guess the ‘master’ , the escort/ driver is one of them. Guards bow in the presence of a mere card and he owns a car. That’s authority and money respectively. They basically rule the rules. Looking out from the tinted window, several restaurants opened, some agencies and offices established. They are the second type, the businessmen hold little influence but they have the money. They are placed inside the inner walls to cater the daily lives of the upper ranks and their family. Third and last are people like these drivers. They are the slaves. Liam laughed at himself, the third was not really called slaves but, their function is the same. They bow and work for other people and don’t have the freedom to choose. If that is not a slave, what is it? One can call them whatever they like, worker, helper or employee… the fact that if their rights are compromised, they fall under the category of s*****y. They just call it by a different name under the name of ‘Civilization.’ Going around a corner, Liam realizes the driver is wearing a gas mask. “What–” *Swooosh Attempting to get out but the door was tightly locked. He tried attacking the driver but his consciousness lost the battle against the sleeping gas. “Ah.. these shits…” he muttered last. When he came to be, he found himself sitting on a chair with paper and a rectangular box. *Bzzzzt “Welcome, Liam. We apologize for our rough ways. You must understand our situation.” Liam looked at the speakers spewing robotic voices. It was obviously a person behind with voice alterations. “Perfectly understood.” He said as he dust off his clothes. It’s not like this is the first time he had encountered an upper rank concealing his identity coming to him with a request. ‘But really? k********g?’ He asked himself. It sparks his curiosity by a tiny fraction. “So how may I be in service with you?” *Bzzzz “We only want you to do one thing for us…” ‘We. us? He is not alone.’ “... We are holding a game. We need players.” Liam’s curiosity died down. This is not the first time he had been requested to do this. A certain establishment in inner walls, had been in touch with him to gather interesting individuals for their little games. ‘Is this some kind of new ploy the cook came up with? I clearly told them I can just send them the files.’ He clicked his tongue at this hassle. “...” “...The only requirement is people with a high survival rate.” “...?” Something is different. Usually the client he is in touch with has a specific theme. Like pitting brother against brother or so… it was sick to know the details so he said just give him the requirements and spare him the details but this kind of requirement is itching him to ask. “Survival against what?” “...” The pause made him feel bad. As if the person behind those speakers is smiling. “Survival against the apocalypse.” **** It’s been a day ever since that day. Liam is sitting at a cafe observing people pass by. Sipping his iced coffee under the shade he is tapping his pen on his notebook. “I don’t think I’ll find one here.” He said and walked out leaving his iced coffee melt under the sunny weather. He went to the parking lot and drove his car to the gates. At one tap the gates opened for him without questions. He went out from gate to gate and more gates until he reached the outermost wall. District Wall 103. He had his expensive looking coat removed and parked his car several walls before coming here and acted like he was one of them. Already noticed the drop in living quality as he passed by many walls and if the inner walls have spacious living space, the outer walls have huge populations. The quality of living is poor but he didn’t hesitate to take alcohol and food there. “Oy, Liam, it’s been a long time!” Said the bartender, welcoming him. “Hey, Yeah. Work was busy.” he flashed a warm smile on the bartender. They had small talk as he prepared Liam’s meal. There were several customers that greeted Liam. “Aren’t you still Mr. Popular, Pretty boy?” The bartender teased him. “Stop calling me that.” Even if Liam said it like that, he still smirked on the side. “Fine. Fine. So what brings you to these shabby walls?” “I’m just looking for people to talk to, Hey Uly, You are Outlander, before, right?” The bartender slid a drink to the customer before he answered. “Yes. I was outside for a short time… If only my leg didn’t… I would be in the military and spend my time in luxury in the inner walls.” “Yeah. Too bad.” Liam agreed but not entirely. Ulysses Kirkson. 46 years old. Outlander. Bartender. Person with disability. His leg was decapitated due to undead bite, during the apocalypse. He checks all Liam’s check boxes of definition of survivor in apocalypse. Too bad his leg is in that state but it doesn’t mean he is useless. “What do you think is the most important quality to survive during the apocalypse?” “Most important, you say…” Patiently Liam waited. When the mysterious clients drop the cannot be kind of people it dissolves almost all of his potential recruits. [The players must not be in active or retired military soldiers] “In the apocalypse, of course it matters if you have the strength, intelligence or other surviving skills… but the most important quality one should have and watch for is ‘Self-preservation’.” It was an unexpected answer. “Self preservation, you say…” “For those who are longer out in the apocalypse the more selfish they become. You will be shocked to see how humans are worse than any other monsters out there.” “I see.” It was still vague on his mind but he gets the point. “Anyway, What’s with the heavy topic? You said, you are looking for people? How about I introduce you to someone new.” Ulysses, tilted his chin to the side and pointed at a barely cloth girl who is shy around and keeps on tugging her dress down. Liam looks at her head to toe while drinking his alcohol. “She doesn’t look like she belongs here.” He said to Uly. Observing the fair maiden being spotted by several drunk men. Her long luscious blonde and olive color eyes really feast on the eyes. She looked like she is on the verge of crying “Of course you’ll notice. That new girl is from the (wall) 60s. Apparently her father died of a heart attack. She was left to feed her family.” Liam and that girl meet eyes. Her eyes looked like she was looking for help. “Isn’t she perfect?” He smirked and let down his drink. The bartender also smiles as he polishes the drinking glass.
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