Prologue
MAY
I am a trained killer. One of many. I kill for a living.
My mission today was Jonathan McClain, the head of National Security for the Northern Border. He interferes a lot with our group's plan so we have to get rid of him.
He's dead now, I just killed him together with his men, 32 of them in total.
I single-handedly breached his office using only my Maxim 9mm suppressor handgun and KA-BAR knife. That may sound so easy but its not. It took me and my team one full month to carefully execute this plan. In fact, that is the longest tactical planning we've made so far. We took down the National Security after all.
This is my 15th mission and in each mission, I at least kill a dozen or so. We've been taught not to feel a thing, so it's no wonder I didn't feel any remorse on Jonathan and even on my very first kill. And so, as I walk through the hall, seeing all the people I've killed, does not bother me at all. Although, I cannot help but feel respectful to their remains. I am careful not to step on the bodies and I, at least, close the eye lids whenever I can as I did to Jonathan's. I try to justify this action of mine but the only thing that comes to mind is that they are necessary deaths to achieve our goal and its my responsibility to execute it properly.
My handgun is still emitting smoke as I tuck it inside the holster and climbed down the fire exit.
As I step outside the back door of the building, a motorcycle stopped in front of me. Billie handed me the spare helmet and I hopped on the back. She's a member of my group and a very skilled getaway driver. I'm lucky to have discovered her on the ruins of Ahskefeil.
I barely remember how I got into this whole killing thing. All I know is that, it only brings me pain every time I try to remember it. So, I chose the easiest way. I chose to forget. My mind seems to cooperate with me though, probably protecting itself. The memories used to come every night. Haunting me, torturing me, killing me slowly in the head and leaving me with nothing but pain in the morning. The cycle goes on and on and on until my consciousness left me.
I was reduced to nothing, a breathing hollow. How long was I like that? A week? A month? A year? Two years? Can a human even lasts for a month without eating or drinking? I certainly don't know even if I have a first hand experience, not that I care though.
Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, Avery found me. She said that she saw me at the side of the road while she was making her way. I vaguely remember our encounter because I was a wreck, what hat once a nightmare becomes a slight headache
