A Frustrating Death

It was just another dull day at his job. As a civilian with no kin and no government to care for people like him, civilian #3207 got used to all the trashy things that life threw him. He worked at a restaurant as a cook and fed people on an empty stomach. The restaurant didn't pay him very well, but it helped him cover the rental of his shitty apartment in the shadier part of the town.

It wasn't uncommon to see a body or two lying around somewhere in the alley. The residents here knew better than to meddle in the affairs of the underworld. If they lived in a claimed territory, the easiest thing to do was send a report to the protecting family and wash their hands off the case.

Today, it was colder than usual. Winter was arriving, and civilian #3207 sighed. The grey skies mirrored his mood very well. As usual, the customers were being difficult. How could there be roaches in soup? Someone must have put it in deliberately as an excuse to start a fight. However, because of petty tricks like this, he had to suffer another pay cut. Life was unfair, but there wasn't much a powerless one like him could do.

"Mew!"

The familiar cry from the alley made civilian #3207 smile. He might not have a name, but that didn't mean he couldn't name others.

"Hello, Celine! I'm sorry I don't have much for you today. I just got cheated of my pay again by some troublesome customers who put roaches into the soup I spent six hours brewing. Here you go!"

He placed some dried sardines that he saved from getting thrown out as leftovers on the ground. Celine might be a stray, but she was better cared for than a person like him. The calico beauty attacked her food immediately as civilian #3207 watched. Sometimes, civilian #3207 wondered if his life would be any different if the mafia didn't rule the world or if he was born into one of those criminal organisations that ruled society.

Celine ate happily, and civilian #3207 felt his stomach growl. He hasn't eaten anything since morning and had a long work shift. Thankfully, he was a cook and even with leftover ingredients, he could whip something up.

Halfway through feeding Celine, civilian #3207 heard something moving.

"What's that?" he asked and carefully got up. It sounded like dinner. Celine turned around and quickly ran away, making him laugh.

"You're a cat! Why are you so afraid of rats in the alley?" he shook his head and walked over. He might be lucky today. There was no meat in the leftovers, but he could still make it a nice meal if he managed to catch this rat in the alley.

As civilian #3207 walked closer to where he last saw movement, the smell of trash and something metallic grew stronger in the air, stinging his nose. The cook frowned. This didn't smell normal.

As he got closer, he squinted. It was getting too dark to see anything, but when he tripped over something, civilian #3207 cussed. He felt like he sprained a wrist trying to break his fall and cursed his luck. A cook's hands were his life! That rat was definitely stew tonight after going through all the hassle.

The light in the alley was dim. Many clouds were covering the rising moon. Yet, a chill breeze blew the clouds away, and under the dim moonlight, civilian #3207 finally understood what caused him to trip. Lying in a slippery pool of blood, the leg that the cook tripped over belonged to a corpse. Civilian #3207 put a hand over his mouth to suppress his screams automatically. While it was common for corpses to be found in this district, he'd never really encountered one before.

Slowly regaining his wits, civilian #3207 moved over hesitantly and held a finger beneath the man's nose. Shakily, he withdrew it and looked at the man's torso. No, the man wasn't dead. The mysterious stranger had one foot in the grave, and his injuries were severe, but he was still very much alive.

"I should not get involved," he told himself and was about to leave the alley. Logically, this was the best thing to do. He should also report the suspicious man to the authorities.

However, his feet would take him no further when he reached the alley entrance where the abandoned dried sardines were. Celine was no longer here, and he couldn't find the rat he thought he would catch for dinner. His clothes were covered in blood and filth from the fall, and his wrist had to be sprained. It was a shitty day for him, but it would be an even shittier day for that man in the alley if civilian #3207 left him there.

Growling in frustration and back-tracking, civilian #3207 went back to the alley and carried the unconscious man, taking a secluded route back to his dumpster of an apartment. Call him naive or stupid, but civilian #3207 just couldn't pretend to not know. Since fate brought him to this man, he might as well do some good and earn some good karma points. Who knows if they would be helpful in his next life?

Once he was back at his apartment, the cook dug out some bandages and alcohol from under his sink. He was no stranger to injuries and had all the basic supplies. Yet, this man looked like he needed a little more than first aid.

"Whatever. It's up to him if he makes it. I'll only do what I can."

Messily, civilian #3207 got to work and cleaned the critically wounded man up. He looked like he was stabbed in the chest. The knife wound was starting to fester, and the cook cringed. Desperate times called for desperate measure. The man was already starting to develop a fever, so he heated his cooking knife with his lighter. He would have used the stovetop, but he hadn't paid his gas bills in three months. Thankfully, he had a salvaged induction cooker that the restaurant no longer wanted because of a spoiled non-stick coating.

"I'm sorry. This is going to hurt for a bit but please bear with me!" civilian #3207 apologised and stuffed the man's mouth with a rag before pressing the red hot metal onto the man's wound.

The man screamed and passed out from the pain as the smell of burning flesh filled the apartment. Civilian #3207 wasted no time and worked quickly, cleaning the wound and bandaging the stranger. For now, the man was out of danger.

It was way past dinner time, and after the adrenalin faded, the cook started to feel light-headed.

"Better make dinner then take a shower," he sighed and got to work. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to catch any rats earlier. He didn't know if this stranger would be waking up soon because of how much blood he lost, but the cook didn't want to overthink.

Expertly, civilian #3207 whipped up a meal and took a shower.

While in the shower, the sound of running water woke the wounded guest. At first, the man couldn't understand where he was. Then again, it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Some poor naive civilian must have found him and taken him in. The civilian must be in the shower by the sound, and the hitman checked his gun. The bullets were still inside, and his phone was still working. It hasn't been that long from the time he was stabbed and the time he was saved. After the blood loss and the hellish pain of searing his flesh close, the hitman felt weak. Yet, there was unfinished business. His saviour must have seen the tattoo on his chest when he seared the wound shut. It didn't feel right killing a good man, but it was better to be safe than sorry in the underworld. This man had to go. He couldn't allow the secrets of the anti-mafia forces to be revealed.

Civilian #3207 hummed a merry tune. Even if today hadn't been the best, he felt happy knowing that he did some good for this crappy world. What he didn't expect was to be ambushed in his own home in nothing but a towel on his waist after a shower.

The cold barrel of a gun rested on his head, and the cook froze. In all his 24 years of life, Civilian #3207 never thought that doing good would result in such a bad ending.

"As a parting gift for saving my life, I'll teach you one last lesson," the hitman held his gun firmly even though he was having difficulty standing. "Do you know why the cat who had nine lives still died in the end?"

No. No! This shouldn't be happening!

"I saved him! Why is he trying to kill me?" Civilian #3207 made a dash for his door, but his shaking hands failed to unlock it.

The sound of the gun getting loaded in the background made the cook regret everything. In a desperate attempt to escape, his eyes darted to the window, and his legs were already taking him over. Sadly, no man could outrun a bullet.

BANG!

The dull sound of a body dropping to the ground matched the timing of the fallen bullet shell as the hitman sighed, slumping onto the floor with a sheen of cold sweat soaking his bandages. He still looked deathly pale, but that didn't stop him from moving or talking.

"Because curiosity killed the cat. Arrivederci. Sleep well and pray to the God who'd forsaken us that you'll be in a happier place. You're a good person."

With difficulty, the hitman inched his way over to where the body was, closing the lifeless eyes as a sign of respect for his unfortunate saviour. Once he recited a quick prayer for the civilian's soul, the hitman pulled out his phone. There was still work to be done.