(Fresh Brains!) (Grilled Brain Skewers, a buck a pop!) (Most of the setting is borrowed from John Wick.
If there’s a conflict, my version takes precedence.) Adrian Carter transmigrated.
He’d been playing that familiar Cleaner simulator, grumbling about how rude the local thugs were as he went about his work.
He’d just finished his fourth sweep of the room, hunting down that last one percent of completion, when his computer screen went black.
Then he woke up in a strange city.
Spotting some familiar landmarks, he quickly pieced together his location.
Unless he was very much mistaken, he’d gone abroad.
He was in America.
Adrian accepted the reality of his transmigration pretty fast.
After all, suddenly being white was a pretty obvious clue.
As someone who’d weathered the storm of the internet age, he adapted quickly.
His new name was William Stanley.
A white kid.
A white kid with decent muscle tone, wearing a cheap suit, and packing a Glock 17 on his hip.
Nine-millimeter, seventeen-round magazine.
He even had a spare mag.
Why was he carrying a gun?
Sure, he knew America was all about freedom and daily shootings, but this felt a little too free.
And William didn’t peg himself as some street punk.
No small-time thug carried gear this professional, complete with a magazine pouch.
Then he got a message.
“Welcome to the High Table.
You may now install the application.
Remember: you will serve the High Table and provide continuous service.
Please report to the Continental Hotel on XX Street by 3:00 PM for initial registration.
Code: 89-48-x-5196.” William’s blood ran cold.
Wait a second…
John Wick?
He took another look around, suddenly feeling a chill.
Was this some kind of promotional stunt for the movie?
He decided to check it out anyway.
A quick search led him to the Continental, a nondescript building with its doors wide open and two doormen standing out front.
Nothing special.
Inside, it looked like any other upscale hotel.
He walked up to the front desk, where a blonde woman in a tailored suit greeted him with a flawless smile.
“Welcome to the Continental Hotel.
How may I assist you?” William tore his gaze away from her striking looks, but his mind blanked on the code.
He fumbled for his phone and read it aloud to her.
Annabelle, the receptionist, recognized a rookie immediately but kept her smile perfectly in place.
She slid a gold coin, or rather a commemorative metal token, across the counter and gestured to her side.
“Through that door, to the end, turn left.
Take the elevator to B2.
Knock three times, give the coin to the guard, and proceed with your registration.” William nodded, his curiosity now thoroughly piqued.
He’d stopped believing this was some movie promotion.
Back home, in his peaceful world, nothing this exciting ever happened.
He followed her directions to a wooden door, handed over the coin, and found himself face-to-face with a bespectacled young woman covered in tattoos and sporting a lip ring.
She introduced herself warmly.
“Hi, I’m Book.
I’ll just need to take down some basic information.” Without waiting for a response, she continued.
“Name?” William went along with it.
“William Stanley.” “Age?” “Nineteen.” “Position applying for?” She glanced up at him as she asked.
“Position?” William looked confused.
“Yeah, position.
Most people go for Worker, though most people don’t get much of a choice.” Book’s tone softened slightly.
“So, do you have a voucher?” William licked his lips.
“A voucher for what?” Book’s smile faded a little.
His clothes told her what to expect, but she had to ask anyway.
Looking at the clueless kid in front of her, she felt a mix of exasperation and pity.
Once you walked through that door, there was no easy way out.
“Alright, I’m feeling generous today.
Let me break it down for you.” “Most people only qualify to be assassins.
We call most of those Workers.
That’s the standard path.” “But some people don’t have to start like that.
The Continental is under the High Table.
We operate under their oversight and provide safe harbor as a designated neutral zone.
Plenty of other organizations fall under the High Table’s umbrella too.” “Most work within those organizations.
But a few go through open recruitment, like you, showing up here.
And if they have a ‘voucher,’ you get it, a privilege, they can choose other roles.
Weapons dealing, desk work like mine, whatever.” “The rest you’ll figure out after you’re officially onboarded.” Book sighed, scribbling Worker on the form.
She felt a pang of guilt looking at this kid.
He clearly had no idea what he was signing up for.
Most newbies joined small crews just to get by.
She had no idea how he’d found his way here, and she doubted he’d even last through orientation.
“Alright, you’re all set.” Book fished a clamshell flip phone from a drawer beneath the counter and tossed it to William.
Her face went cold as she delivered the next part.
“Your first assignment will arrive within the week.
Complete it, and you’re officially in.
Fail.” She paused.
“Then per High Table protocol, your life is forfeit.
The moment you accepted and used that coin, you agreed to operate within the High Table’s jurisdiction.” “Good luck, Mr.
Stanley.” Her practiced smile returned.
“And thank you for choosing us.” William stood up, his heart hammering.
The adrenaline was almost suffocating, but damn, that was cool.
He stumbled back the way he came, giving Annabelle a weak smile on his way out.
His mind was reeling.
Then he heard her voice from behind the desk.
“Looking forward to your stay, Mr.
Stanley.
Best of luck on your assignment.” There it was.
Just like in the movie!
William nodded and stepped outside, finding the nearest coffee shop.
He needed something cold to clear his head.