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Debt to the Trust
My door opens with a hiss that should have awoken me if I had actually been asleep.
“9036, report!” Shouts the first of the two men who are now standing in my room. I stand and hold a firm stance, the one taught to me when I was 6.
“Yes, sir!”
There’s a pause, “Follow us.”
I don’t ask questions. They lead me down the familiar metal halls I have known since birth. We turn left, then right twice, then left again. 108 steps in total we walk until we reach a door down a deserted corridor. The guard presses his finger to the small circle outside the door, which dings from the recognition of his pad, and we enter the room.
It’s dark in here compared to the blindly white light of the hall, the only light comes from the HAS’s that line the room. My eyes adjust to the dim room quickly as I take in the picture the HAS’s are streaming. They seem to be a feed overlooking a big, white house at different angles. From the foliage, architecture and surroundings it appears to reside in the hills of Province 6, but these shots are more in depth then the usual surveillance in this area.
A man stands in the center of the room, arms held behind his back, dressed in Defense stealth with the exception of the white Commander’s band around his upper bicep. The two men from earlier assume positions in front of the only presumable exit in the room. It’s not for my own protection; it’s more to prove the point that they are always watching me, ready to intervene if I step out of line. I could and would kill them in 6 seconds flat if given the order; I’ve done it before. I plan escape/combat strategies every time I enter a room, anything less and I would have died long ago.
The Commander brings up a three dimensional replica of the house on half of CPH table in between us, on the other half is a image of a man. The man appears to be in his late forties or early fifties, has a slight build, glasses, and curly brown hair with flecks of gray, “This is your target Michael West.” States the Commander, “He lives in Province 6, Location number 20184 of the City of Trust. The location is fairly secluded with rocky terrain and dense foliage surrounding the house. His wife has been granted permission to leave the city with friends so she will not present a problem and there are no other residents of the household. We will leave for the drop site immediately and you will be monitored remotely at 1 kilometer distance from the house. Our scouts believe the target will be in the study facing west sideat the time of the operation. If you do not report at 0200 hours we will take desertion protocols and electrocute you using your LM chip. If you do not complete the operation you will also be electrocuted, do you understand?”
I do not hesitate, “Yes, sir.”
+
I shot that man with a Trust issued Sniper 15 rifle from .6 kilometers. He died instantly. I didn’t question what I did for an instant. I didn’t lose a wink of sleep wondering what he had done to deserve this or what his wife would think when she got home and he wasn’t there. If the Trust wanted him dead then he deserved to die, who was I to question their reasons? They have given me a purpose when I was cast aside by my parents for what I was: a mutant. The after effect of a Nuclear disaster 150 years ago that tore down a crippled society and replaced it with a stronger one that we could trust, one able to deal with things like me. Now I am in debt to them for saving my life when I could have been executed like so many others. So when I pulled that trigger, I didn’t hesitate.
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I realize that the genocide of mutants isn't an origanal idea.