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Soulless

Eric Napolitan

    Damon Raventon started his day like every other, but little did he know it would turn to shit so fast. He worked the same IT job for the past five years, which was great for a twenty-seven year old, who survived the economic downfall that his generation went through. The job wasn’t glamorous, paid very little, and had no stability, but it would do. All that didn’t matter, it was a job, and he was happy to have it. Everything went normal that sunny morning from the drive to the finishing three projects before lunch. After a delicious lunch, the bottom fell out. Laid off after five years with the company - was the worst slap in the face that someone could receive. The company claimed profits were down the last few months, and they could not afford the position anymore. That did not stop the CEO from having a new Jaguar, like the rich entitled prick he was, and his ditzy bitch trophy wife from having designer clothes. Damon was a professional, and restrained himself from telling them how he really felt. He made it back to his car with his head hung low. He rested his head on the steering wheel in agony, then slammed his fist into it with rage, and screamed. He jammed the car into drive, and sped away.
    The next month, Damon spent hunting for the next great job to start a new chapter in his life. He knew he had great skills, and assumed it would be easy, maybe a few days. He went on interview after interview, and received every typical lame excuse in the book.
    “You’re over qualified for this position.”
    “We are looking for someone with more experience.”
    “The boss’s nephew, the corn dog eating crack head is a better fit for our culture.”
    “We decided to go with an underqualified dumbass who will work for pencils.” He heard it all that month. He sat at the kitchen table in his small apartment, a full glass of whiskey in front of him. His suit draped over the chair next to him, as he was either at an interview, or stuck at home looking for work. The process was getting old, his bank account was wearing thin, and his expression screamed of a man at his limit. The job section of the paper was open in front of him as it was every morning. His eyes scanned every listing, searching for a gold nugget among the countless shit, then he stopped. His eyes got brighter, and he circled a listing with a bright-yellow marker. The ad stated, “EARN MONEY QUICK, DETERMINED SALES PEOPLE NEEDED, NO EXPERIENCE REQ., APPLY IN PERSON: $5,000 A WEEK”
    He figured it was all a scam, but at this point it didn’t matter, nothing better had come along, so it was worth a shot. He grabbed his blue suit off the chair and raced to the bathroom to get ready.

    Damon parked his car outside an old abandoned hotel, it once was a grand luxury hotel when it was open decades ago. Now, the windows were boarded up, paint was peeled off, and weeds grew out of cracks in the decrepit parking lot. He checked the newspaper listing, the address matched. He exited his vehicle. Every step he took towards the building, his mind screamed at him to turn around, “You might get raped by meth-head psychos”. He kept going, driven by pure curiosity.

    Damon persevered, and made it to the main entrance. He went inside. The interior of the hotel was as bad, if not worse, than the outside. It was a total mess with various items scattered about, holes in the walls, small dead animals, graffiti covering the walls. He made his way down a long hallway trying to avoid broken bottles on the floor, and other disgusting objects in his path. He stopped at a door marked CONFERENCE ROOM, took a breath, and turned the knob. Rows of dirty old chairs filled the room, faced a podium that was burned black, one of the many things in the room that was vandalized.
    Six people were randomly seated in the room. A man with a worn-out baseball cap, a teenager wearing baggy clothes, an elderly gentleman with an oxygen cart, a business man, a twitching drug-head, and a very beautiful young woman. Damon took a seat in the back to observe everyone in the room.

    Soon after, a man entered wearing a black suit with a tie that was cut in half - tattered like it was burned off. He strolled up to the podium carrying a briefcase, and spoke in a low raspy voice.
    “Welcome, to the greatest opportunity of your life. You can call me, Mr. Graysen.”
    There was an uneasy silence upon the room - the rats fornicating in the walls were louder than the six people in the room.
    Mr. Graysen broke the silence, “I am sure you are all eager to find out how you can earn five-thousand dollars a week.”
    “Yeah let’s get on with it!”, screamed the man in the baseball cap.
    “The proposition is simple. You will collect people’s souls for me, with this device.”
    Everyone in the room chuckled with disbelief.
    Mr. Graysen took out a small silver pen like device.
    “I will demonstrate.” He snapped his fingers.
    A fat bald man walked into the room - stopped, and looked around the room as if he was expecting something different.
    “What the hell is this,” He shouted. He ran for the door, but Mr. Graysen grabbed him. He looked into the fat man’s eyes, and spoke softly.
    “If you place your finger on top of this, all your troubles will fade away.”
    “Bullshit!” The man screamed back.
    “I am telling the truth, give it a try - see for yourself.”
    “Whatever.”
    The man snatched the device from Mr. Graysen’s hand.
    Damon fidgeted in his seat - he had a bad feeling about what was about to happen to that man. It brought a wave a memories back - a time when he watched a neighborhood kid attempt a magic trick that he had seen on television, which ended up almost blinding a lovely young girl. Damon averted his eyes, and opted to fix his gaze upon the beautiful woman in the row in front of him. He noticed a blue punk star tattoo on her neck and a ring piercing on her luscious lips.
    The fat man placed his thumb on the top of the slender device. His eyes twitched violent. Then in seconds it was over. He stood with a blank gaze, as if everything that made him who he was - got sucked into that device leaving him with nothing, only the most basic of human functions.
    The watchers gasped at the spectacle.
    Mr. Graysen smiled with a sadistic grin. “Simple as that, his soul is stored in the device, which can later be deposited for payment. He will still be able to function, and have a normal life, but with no personality, and no desires - other than the basics.”
    The teenager in baggy clothes stood up - pointed a finger at Mr. Graysen. “This is a fucking joke!” He walked off and left the room.
    Everyone else followed him out, besides the woman, and Damon.
    “Consider yourselves the lucky ones.” Mr. Graysen looked straight at Damon, and the woman.
    “Please come forward.” He signaled for them to approach.
    They walked up to the podium, slow, and unsure. Mr. Graysen extended his hand - greeted them.
    “You made the right choice.”
    “What’s the catch?” The woman spoke in the most innocent sexy voice.
    “Gather souls, and make money, simple as that.”
    Damon starred at Graysen with mixed emotions. Part of him wanted to trust him, and go for the easy money while the logical part believed this man belonged in a room with padded walls.
    Graysen opened his briefcase, and pulled out two silver pen devices. He handed one to each of them.
    “These are called, Catchers, you can -”
    “Lame.” The woman interrupted.
    “Collect five souls in these, then take it to a drop off location to collect five-thousand dollars.”
    They were speechless, stared at the odd devices in their hands.
    Graysen snapped his briefcase closed. “We’re done here.” He handed each of them a business card. “The address for the drop off, is on that card.”
    Damon tucked the card away in his pocket, left the room.

    Damon and the woman walked towards their cars half in a daze from what they just experienced. He sprinted up to her.
    “I think we should discuss this.”
    “I don’t fucking know you.”
    Damon extended his hand in her direction. “Damon, nice to meet you.”
    “Molly.” She shook his hand in return.
    “Want to go somewhere and talk about what just happened?”
    Molly was not eager to meet any new friends that day. Money was tight and the debt was piling up, which was all that mattered to her. However, deep inside she knew it would be better to go at this with a partner. She was tough and could easily handle herself, but this was beyond anything she had ever encountered.
    “I know a place where we can talk,” she responded.

    GRIMM’S DUNGEON, was a gothic bar on the edge of town. Not exactly the place Damon had in mind. The tables were sleek black, walls were red with various gothic decor, and on each end of the bar there were cages in which half-naked girls were dancing. Damon and Molly sat at the end of the bar near one of the cages. Damon eyed the girl in the cage, amused.
    “You like what you see?” Molly broke his trance.
    “Yes, but they’re not as beautiful as you.”
    Molly chuckled, “At least buy a lady a drink first.”
    Damon ordered them two beers from the bartender. He was not a stranger to women, but Molly struck him like none other. Her beauty was mesmerizing with a sense of mystery and danger - due to a lip piercing, punkish style, and small star tattoo on her neck.
    “Mr. Graysen was pretty fucking crazy, right.” Molly said.
    “Yeah, seems like a total scam.”
    “My broke ass is willing to try anything at this point.”
    “What happened?”
    There was a long silence. The bartender placed beers down in front of them. Molly quickly grabbed one - chugged down half of it.
    “If it’s too personal you don’t have -”
    Molly wiped her mouth, and responded. “No - It’s been a long time since anyone cared.”
    Damon took a drink of beer, waited to see if she had anything else to say.
    “I was in school to be a nurse, but couldn’t handle blood. I wanted to be an accountant, but hated math. I ran out of money before I could try anything else, so I ended up working here - in the cage, then found out having guys fondling me was worse than everything else before it.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” Damon touched her hand to comfort her.
    “It’s fine.” Molly took another long swig of beer. Damon finished his off.
    “If you are going to try and do this crazy soul stealing thing. How about as partners?”, Damon asked.
    “I’d like that, as long as we get equal pay.”
    “Definitely.”
    Molly smiled in relief to finally have met an honest person that she felt she could trust. Damon was not sure the idea would work, it was still the craziest job he ever heard of.
    “I got the perfect person we can try this soul stuff on,” Damon informed her.
    “Whatever you think.”

    The parking lot outside of Damon’s old work was empty besides two cars. Damon knew the one very well. His ex-boss’s black Jaguar. He and Molly waited behind a dumpster, and watched the car. She fidgeted impatiently, and lit a cigarette. Damon grabbed it from her mouth, then stomped it out on the pavement.
    “Let’s not alert everyone that we’re here,” Damon barked at her.
    “I’m just so fucking bored.”
    “You asked for this job.”
    “It sounded so much more fun at the bar.”
    Damon’s boss exited the building, walked towards his car. Damon nudged Molly in his direction.
    “That’s him.”
    “I got this.”
    Molly hurried to her feet, and ran at Damon’s boss. Damon shook his head in disbelief. Damon caught up to her, but she was already on top of his boss attempting to handcuff his hands, but he knocked her off with ease. Damon rushed to help - punched his boss in the face, which he dreamed of many times before. They worked together to handcuff his boss’s hands behind his back. They got him to his feet, dragged him away.

    Damon’s boss was tied to a chair in the center of a dusty old warehouse. Damon and Molly faced him with their silver pen devices in hand.
    “How do we do this?”, Molly questioned.
    “Since I am the expert,” Damon responded.
    Molly walked up to Damon’s boss - grabbed his hand, then forced it down on the silver pen device. Nothing happened as it did in Graysen’s demonstration. Molly looked at the man confused, as if a spectacular firework should have exploded, but failed.
    “What went wrong,” She shouted.
    Damon shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe you have to ask him to place his finger on it. Mr. Graysen asked, in his demonstration.”
    She looked into Damon’s boss’s eyes, “Would you please place your finger on top of this pen?”
    “Fuck you!”, Damon’s Boss screamed.
    Damon’s eyes flashed with rage, as he wanted this over quick as possible. Being in the presence of his boss again filled him with anger. Damon grabbed him by his head, “Do it now! Or we will kill you!”
    Molly screamed in his face, “You can go back to your life soon as you do as we instruct or maybe I should utilize some of your fortune.” She held a debit card out for him to see.
    There was a long silence, everyone waited for the other to speak. “Fine.”, Damon’s boss broke the silence.
    Molly held out the silver pen like device. He placed his finger on it. He screamed in agony like no one should ever scream. In less than a minute it was over. He stared back at Damon and Molly with a blank soulless gaze, like the man in Graysen’s demonstration. He walked off in a trance like state. His entire personality was stripped away, only a shell of himself remained.
    Molly grabbed Damon - kissed with passion, full of lust.

    Molly and Damon woke sweaty - between cheap motel sheets after a night of celebrating their victory. Damon stared blankly at the chipped ceiling not feeling like he should. His mind screamed at him that he punished an asshole, and won the girl - that nothing could be better, but his heart felt heavy - concerned with what he had done. Molly slept next to him, dreamed peacefully, while he laid in torment. He got over this feeling, learned to accept it for what it was, and enjoy the ride.

    The next week, Molly and Damon spent filling their silver devices with souls. It was surprisingly easy how people would press their finger on their device without knowing why. There were many ways to convince them, money, threats of violence, pain, tricks of future wealth. Since their devices were full, they headed to meet Graysen, and collect payment.

    Graysen picked an abandoned meat plant - the floors stained with years of dried blood. The three of them spoke in the center of the room. He greeted Molly and Damon with a devilish grin, while his breath smelled like sulfur. Damon sniffed the air, held his ground and made sure he didn’t gag at the smell. Amazed, he did not notice it the first time they met.
    “Do you have the devices?”, Graysen asked.
    “If you have payment.”, Halley responded.
    Graysen opened his briefcase, took out two wads of money that contained five-thousand dollars each. He handed them to Halley. She flipped through a stack to make sure it was all there, then gave the second to Damon. She handed the silver devices over to Graysen. He pulled the end cap off the device, sniffed the contents inside. “Souls smell so sweet.”
    Molly smiled, then spoke. “We need more.”
    “I have as many devices as you need,” Graysen replied.
    “Five each,” Molly said.
    Damon eyed her as if she was crazy. It was not too bad taking five souls each, but now they were going to have to obtain twenty-five souls each, which was biting off a huge chunk before their skill level was past intermediate.
    Graysen gave Molly the devices as she requested. Damon fidgeted uncomfortable. Graysen closed his briefcase.
    “Our business is concluded.” Graysen walked off.
    Damon blinked and he was gone. Molly grabbed his arm.
    “Time to have some fun,” Molly expressed with a gleam in her eyes.

    The pattern continued as it did before. Grabbing souls during the day - sex and partying at night. Every time Damon looked at her, he had feelings for her - stomach would flutter, he had fallen for her. Damon hated it - it made his mind weak, and clouded his judgment, but it was impossible to avoid.

    Molly and Damon were driving through an upscale suburban neighborhood searching for the first soul to take of the day. Molly drove, wore a low-cut tank top and shorts. She knew that the hotter she looked, the easier it was for their clients to say yes. Damon looked out the passenger side window at the various sights of suburbia. It was not the first time they took a soul in this neighborhood, and it felt strange to be back - if all eyes were watching their every move.
    While stopped at a stop sign, Damon noticed the house from which they took the soul of a man. He watered the grass with a blank soulless gaze - no sign of any emotion. His three lovely children ran up to him, hugged him. His gaze did not change at all - not a glimmer of humanity remained. A beautiful woman ran out of the house, pulled the children away from him. Screamed at him with all she had, but he continued to water the grass unfazed.
    Molly drove onward, eyes darted around, searching for someone to be the next soul taken. “There has to be someone around here to take,” Molly stated.
    “Sure.”
    “What’s your problem?”
    “Not feeling it today, maybe we should do something else.”
    “Maybe you should quit talking like a wuss, cause there is a lot of money on the line.”
    After seeing what they did to that man, Damon had no interest in causing any more pain. He knew all along that what they were doing, was not good, but it didn’t hit home until that single moment. Blinded by her beauty, booze, sex, and fun was the excuse Damon came up with to live with what he had done.
    “Let’s pick a different place,” Damon spoke after a long pause.
    “As long as we each fill a device today.”
    Damon nodded in agreement as Molly drove to their next destination.
    Damon and Molly walked through a crowded mall. Happy people laughed, and smiled - while they searched for the next soul they would take.
    They walked into the food court. Filled with people sitting at tables enjoying savory mall treats - the typical food that every mall in America has inside. Molly looked around the vast sea of people.
    “Who shall it be today?”, Molly inquired.
    Damon gazed at the various people in the food court. A young woman and her three children ate pizza, young teen lovers shared an ice-cream cone - no one in the entire court deserved what they were looking to do to them.
    Molly gleamed as if she found someone to her liking, and hurried towards the other end of the food court. Damon followed close behind her. He no longer wanted to be part of the soul stealing business, but he didn’t want to lose Molly. Damon grabbed her by the shoulder. “Let’s do something else.”
    “Why are you acting this way?” Molly fired back.
    “I want to spend time with you, forget work.”
    “We can do other stuff later, we need to make some cash.” She continued towards a young woman, who was eating a salad.
    Damon stepped in her path, took her by the shoulders. “I want to be with you, go away with me.”
    “I need the money. Sorry.” She punched him in the gut, pushed him aside. He braced himself on a chair to keep from falling. His heart hurt more than his stomach. He wanted things to turn out different as he cared so much for her. The fact that she would not take a day off, made him want to go postal.
    Damon regained what was left of his manhood, rushed into the center of the court, stood on top of a table, and screamed. “There’s a bomb in the trashcan!”
    Everyone stopped what they were doing, and looked at him.
    “I am fucking serious! We’re all going to die!”
    The mall patrons panicked - darted in all directions to avoid the blast of the bomb that did not exist. Once the food court cleared - only Molly remained. Anger burned in her eyes as she approached Damon. “Very clever, asshole.” She screamed.
    “We need to take a break. We’re the ones losing our souls.”
    “Bullshit. We’re having fun, I know you love it.” She crept closer towards Damon.
    “We need balance,” Damon rebutted.
    “We each only have two devices full.”
    “It’s not always about money.”
    “With the amount of debt I have, and the fact that my last place of residence was my friend’s couch. I have no choice.”
    “I want to be with you, but I am done hurting people.”
    “Thanks to you, we didn’t take a single soul today. Be happy.” She sat down at a table, disappointed.
    Damon joined her. Took her by the hand to ease the situation. “There’s other ways to make money.”
    “Since I have so many skills.”
    “I can help you figure it out.”
    Molly jolted up out of her chair, grabbed the napkin dispenser off the table - tossed it. It clanked on the tile floor, the sound echoed around the empty food court.
    “This is the perfect job for me. End of story,” Molly screamed.
    Damon stood up. “I can’t live with hurting people. I thought I could, but I was wrong.”
    “I am going to continue on. I hope you understand. Shake my hand, and forgive me”. Molly extended her hand towards Damon.
    He smiled, and shook her hand. The hope drained from his face. He tried to pull his hand away, but she held it tight. The silver pen device was in her hand when he took it. His soul was sucked from his body. He now felt what so many others have.
    “I am really sorry.” She spoke with remorse, and sadness in her tone. She pocketed the device after it finished. Damon stared back with a lifeless gaze.
    “I had fun. But I have needs.” She walked off, leaving Damon standing there in the empty food court. Soulless.

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