for the Agency.
We arrived in the lobby of the apartment building about twenty minutes later and the entire lobby was adorned with shimmering crystals that reflected the lights in the ceiling. I came across a mirror that rested between two elevator doors and I couldn't even recognize myself anymore. My cheeks were sunken in and my raven black hair rested in an unkempt fashion atop my head. The image actually made me realize that I was hungry and hadn't taken the opportunity to eat anything since yesterday. Kara had mentioned the fact that she felt that there was something wrong with me, like maybe I was depressed and starving myself. I had assured her that was not the case, assured her, not myself.
"Are you all right?" Thom interrupted my self loathing as his reflection stepped closer to mine. He looked much healthier than I did, with his plump cheeks and red hair that was combed back and held in place with product. We looked like opposing sides of the same coin. Our black jackets hung off of us and dangled at an angle behind us. It was the fashion of the day, but it was a useless design beyond that. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, drawing my attention to the fact that I had been staring at our reflections and failed to answer Thom's question.
"I'm fine," I lied. The truth was that I was tired of waking up each day for a job that I hated. I knew that I should not have those thoughts about my job, not because it shouldn't be true, but because my programming was supposed to have removed those types of thinking from my mind. A certain amount of fear resided because of that knowledge, something I would have to take to the grave, I figured. No need to show the Agency that I was flawed or else risk losing everything, which wasn't much to be honest. I only had my sister, Kara. It was a cardinal sin within the Agency to maintain contact with our families. I did so in secret and kept it to myself. I had only shared my secret with one other person. Thom, whom I trusted most.
We entered the elevator and I watched as he pressed the touch screen and typed in the number sixteen which would lead us to that floor. I could feel the gentle rise of the elevator beneath my feet and if I struggled to listen I could hear a slight whirring sound that emanated from outside pulleys and cables guiding us to our destination. The stop was just as subtle as the rise had been and the doors opened automatically to reveal a lavish hallway adorned with framed paintings of the men and women who had owned the apartments, I was certain that more than one of them had been members of the Syndicate themselves. I wondered how many of them had died by a policeman's gauntlet?
Those questions would have to wait until later.
We moved through the hallway to the door that led into the suite where Ms. Taggert was reported to live. I noticed instantly that the door was slightly ajar, this had not been the case a few hours ago when we originally scoped the area. I made a nod towards Thom to silently alert him to what I had seen and he shook his head in acknowledgment. This could mean one of two things, either she was home and neglected to close the door properly, or another policeman had been assigned to the case. There were only a few times that I could recall multiple policemen being tasked with the same target, usually that was reserved for severe cases where the Syndicate feared the person was a flight risk. Usually a single policeman was assigned a job and was only relieved if he could not get it done.
I reached down to the silver gauntlet that resided on my right wrist and used the touchscreen to adjust the dial setting. The gauntlet was powered and controlled through small needles that were injected into my skin which connected to the nearest nerve endings in my muscle tissue. This allowed me to control the rate of fire much like a person can control their grip on an object, the nerves would receive stimuli from the brain and trigger whatever effect
We arrived in the lobby of the apartment building about twenty minutes later and the entire lobby was adorned with shimmering crystals that reflected the lights in the ceiling. I came across a mirror that rested between two elevator doors and I couldn't even recognize myself anymore. My cheeks were sunken in and my raven black hair rested in an unkempt fashion atop my head. The image actually made me realize that I was hungry and hadn't taken the opportunity to eat anything since yesterday. Kara had mentioned the fact that she felt that there was something wrong with me, like maybe I was depressed and starving myself. I had assured her that was not the case, assured her, not myself.
"Are you all right?" Thom interrupted my self loathing as his reflection stepped closer to mine. He looked much healthier than I did, with his plump cheeks and red hair that was combed back and held in place with product. We looked like opposing sides of the same coin. Our black jackets hung off of us and dangled at an angle behind us. It was the fashion of the day, but it was a useless design beyond that. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, drawing my attention to the fact that I had been staring at our reflections and failed to answer Thom's question.
"I'm fine," I lied. The truth was that I was tired of waking up each day for a job that I hated. I knew that I should not have those thoughts about my job, not because it shouldn't be true, but because my programming was supposed to have removed those types of thinking from my mind. A certain amount of fear resided because of that knowledge, something I would have to take to the grave, I figured. No need to show the Agency that I was flawed or else risk losing everything, which wasn't much to be honest. I only had my sister, Kara. It was a cardinal sin within the Agency to maintain contact with our families. I did so in secret and kept it to myself. I had only shared my secret with one other person. Thom, whom I trusted most.
We entered the elevator and I watched as he pressed the touch screen and typed in the number sixteen which would lead us to that floor. I could feel the gentle rise of the elevator beneath my feet and if I struggled to listen I could hear a slight whirring sound that emanated from outside pulleys and cables guiding us to our destination. The stop was just as subtle as the rise had been and the doors opened automatically to reveal a lavish hallway adorned with framed paintings of the men and women who had owned the apartments, I was certain that more than one of them had been members of the Syndicate themselves. I wondered how many of them had died by a policeman's gauntlet?
Those questions would have to wait until later.
We moved through the hallway to the door that led into the suite where Ms. Taggert was reported to live. I noticed instantly that the door was slightly ajar, this had not been the case a few hours ago when we originally scoped the area. I made a nod towards Thom to silently alert him to what I had seen and he shook his head in acknowledgment. This could mean one of two things, either she was home and neglected to close the door properly, or another policeman had been assigned to the case. There were only a few times that I could recall multiple policemen being tasked with the same target, usually that was reserved for severe cases where the Syndicate feared the person was a flight risk. Usually a single policeman was assigned a job and was only relieved if he could not get it done.
I reached down to the silver gauntlet that resided on my right wrist and used the touchscreen to adjust the dial setting. The gauntlet was powered and controlled through small needles that were injected into my skin which connected to the nearest nerve endings in my muscle tissue. This allowed me to control the rate of fire much like a person can control their grip on an object, the nerves would receive stimuli from the brain and trigger whatever effect
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