2 Sponsor

The organization—known as MSGR—supplied only jobs and packages. Technically, they aren't allowed to operate in the legal aspect, but bureaucracy within Hell's government is quite the mess. Everything from the police force to the janitorial division is in shambles because all the qualified people for those things are no longer in the city.

Hell deals with leftovers—scraps from the table above—and Heaven—its polar opposite in space—dines on the great meat from below.

There's a hole; a bottomless abyss that demands to be filled. MSGR and its members can barely fill it, but they do try their best.

Fortunately, Akane is one of the lucky few with a "sponsor."

In the world of hyper-speed shipping, a sponsor is a much-needed friend. MSGR is just the platform for freelancers and company employees alike. They pay the members, but that's just about it. A sponsor provides Messengers gear, manages jobs they do, and handles pretty much anything that isn't delivering the actual package. Sponsors are just glorified agents for fledgling or celebrity Messengers.

Most Messengers are too lazy to handle the logistics side of their profession, so they might hire or get hired by sponsors. A good sponsor tends to be a hard thing to find, so most people either sell themselves out to a corporation funded sponsorship or resort to other unsavory measures.

Akane's sponsor was there when the girl was thrown off her bike and set on fire. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and was the first to try and call an ambulance when he saw the girl. It was sheer luck, an act of whatever god still lived, for him to be there. Brig they called him, a former member of Heaven's navy who fell to Earth and landed in Hell. He looked aged for a genetically altered super soldier. His face—softer than most—was pale and discolored. He always looked as though he was losing blood. It turned out to be true. Altered genes decided eating blood for strength was a good thing. They kicked him out from Heaven because of this reason. There was, after all, no place for the sick in paradise.

In the mornings, he swallowed two pills and injected a serum into his beer belly.

The morning after the bike incident, he was going through the routine when a head blew a hole through his door. Akane had charged into the door from a distance like she was a human battering ram.

"What the fuck!" shouted Brig.

He jumped in shock at the same time as Akane's head popped through. The box of syringes he had next to him tipped over.

"What the absolute fuck?! Doors are fucking expensive you fucking idiot! What the fuck are you doing out of the fucking hospital!?" he yelled.

Akane looked up from the hole she had made in the door. Behind her, a crowd had gathered and stared at the metal spine and futuristic pegleg sticking out from the entrance. The Messenger pulled herself out with a little bit of effort and waited outside of the doorway. Brig could still see her standing outside from where he was sitting in the room.

"Why are you still in a gown?" he asked.

Answered by silence, he grumbled and crawled on his knees to get to the door. Upon reaching it, he turned the knob and was blasted backward by a sudden force. Akane closed the door behind her with a grand slam.

"I'm glad to see you're alright, but why the fuck are you back at my fucking apartment. You know fucking Messengers don't hobble around on a fucking peg leg and… Is that a hook?"

He pointed towards the prosthetic hook the hospital had attached to the girl. Akane looked down at it for a second and looked back up.

"You fucking know what? What fucking ever." the swearing, former sailor of the stars would say.

"You're not fucking giving up on the fucking game, are you."

The Messenger shook her head.

"You got blown up, by stars know who, and now you're fucking going to hunt them down. Let me fucking guess? You need my help."

She punched Brig in the face, hard, with her normal hand and nodded politely.

"Fucking Hell, you still punch like the Mag-rail."

She nodded to confirm this fact.

"I didn't sell you out on that job. Kay? I have no fucking clue what happened, but… er… glad you're-"

Akane lifted her fist.

"Okay! O-Fucking-Kay! I sold you out! I was running out of juice! What. Things like this happen all the time! I needed the meds!"

A lot of sponsors did sell out their Messengers for a quick buck.

"So what if it was the fiftieth time I sold you out. You should be glad none of the other times blew you up and turned you into a fucking crippled starfish."

Akane knocked a tooth out of his mouth for that comment.

"Wait!"

She raised her fist slowly to threaten him.

"I-I'll get you your fucking stuff! I got a bike, and your arms and stuff! Just fucking chill!"

She did, for now.

"What are you even doing this for? Why am I even fucking asking you? You don't even speak. It's a fucking job! Messengers don't do most of them all the time! I'm sure you don't even need to-"

Akane kicked Brig this time, knocking him over and spilling his pills and a bag of assorted snacks.

She took his wallet, left the building, and set out on the warpath.