Fetch
In the dystopian industrial future of Europe, ghouls, far from being the graveyard shades of old tales, travel proudly in their stretch limos and live in their high rise apartments.
You’d be surprised how little the poor and ultra-wealthy meet. The rich live in their own little world just beyond ours. A world just behind steel and glass. A world where the rich only meet their own kind. I guess their arrogance is our only saving grace. The only thing that saved the world, if you can call this saved.
No one really knows who released the plague. A retrovirus. Something probably from the old Chinese war factories before it split into the present-day states, each trying to hold on to their newfound wealth. The plague changed them. After, they could only feast on the living. No zombies, that’s crap from the movies. They’re still human, if you want to call them that. Bad breath, bad attitude, the world is still their plaything. But now they can only feast on living flesh. Anything else they just vomit right back up. They’re spending their money all on finding a cure, but sometimes I think that they like it a little too much. After all, they’re still doing what they’ve always done, surviving off the lives of others. But like anyone, they can get bored of the same thing all of the time. “Fast food” from donors and the recently dead. So these epicures of their fellow man have us. We acquire their sweet meats, to order.
Hawaiian with natural blond hair? Tall order, but we’ll find them. Bodybuilder who likes to pickle himself with too much vino? Gotcha. Life is cheap. Most people are scum. But children? No way, but some agencies don’t care. They’re out there and they will get anything you want, for the right price. But us? We have standards.
Here at SG Limited (Soylent Green. A private joke. It doesn’t matter, no one reads anymore.) we fulfill any request no matter how strange. Oh, our employees, you ask? How do you get into something like this? Something so… wrong? What’s wrong anymore? Like I said, people are scum. They’ll kill you just as soon as look at you. And this… profession? Somebody is gonna do it, why not get paid for it and do it right?
Take Abraham there. He’s our net-rider. He does the searches for the… “acquisitions”. He does this because he makes sure that kids don’t get taken. That and he prefers to target people who really deserve it. Ask him some time about that photo he keeps on this computer’s desktop. It’s his kid sister. Some of those Baron Samedi slime broke into their house a few years ago and made off with her. It was back when the plague was fresh, people were scared, and they didn’t have a recovery system to strip the recently dead for eats. After things quieted down and these rich bastards started wanting special takeout, he wanted to make sure things were done right. Oh, and you’ll notice that there aren’t any more of the Baron Samedi gangs around anymore. Abraham started a net rumor that all that mystical crap they did made them “brain food”.
Oh, you want to know more about me? Well, I’m afraid I do this because I really don’t have any choice. You see, I like my fare fresh and bloody too. No, don’t worry. Just like it says on the net, the plague goes non-communicable after awhile. Everybody is safe. No, I was a bodyguard for this rich bitch. She and I were an item. I guess I caught it from her while it was still viable. Naw, I don’t snack on the produce. But I’ll tell you, sometimes I do get a hankering for some fat Mafioso types or lean Yakuza. Steeped in all of that coke, booze, and high-class food.
Them’s good eatin’.