Aryan Menon

My mud-caked boots sat in the corner of the room, decorated with brown cracks that spread around the sole like a fungus. The sight of my possessions lying undisturbed often induced this state of thoughtlessness. It was comforting, juxtaposed to the constant drone of industrial and mechanical noises that continued outside the tinted window of my apartment. The days were long and draining. Being on alert throughout took a toll on your mind, although it prevented any potentially fatal slip-ups. Moments of tranquillity like this were rare and treated like a luxury. There were people everywhere, inhabiting every corner of the vacant earth, reducing the concept of privacy to a myth. It disgusted me.

I heard the ping from my target disc and saw the holograph of my next target. I let out a sigh of defeat muddled with frustration, and headed for the door. I collected my keys, my HUD watch and my gun. The cold metal of the barrel comforted me to a degree that helped me stay sane during the toughest parts of my job. I holstered it and stuffed the armour disks in my clothes. This small practice had evolved into a routine after countless bounties and granted me the peace of mind required…read more on NOPR