Agent 3142 reporting, 31 March 1989, target killed, mission accomplished.

I typed nonchalantly into the typewriter, as I did for the past decade, reporting to duty every week. My job was an assassin, blatantly speaking, I killed for no reason, I was born to kill which was why the organisation was in favour of me very much. The typewriter typed itself.

Roger that, will send you further details.

However, I was skeptical of my life’s purpose, why is it just to kill people, innocent people? Are they necessary to be killed for our grand scheme to take place? I stared at my hands, they were covered in crimson, the typewriter was overflowing with its black ink, the compunction was building up in me.

A daunting yet familiar figure appeared in front of me, he was covered in ink, I knew it was my brain which was playing tricks on me, my fingers found my thigh, giving it a twinge of searing pain, casting out the hallucination, darting back into reality. I got out of my seat.

I had to put up with this constant battle within myself, the good, the bad and the ugly, three at the same time, I wished that I could kill myself to redeem from the evil that I had done, but I knew that if I killed myself I would be replaced with someone else just to carry out their grand scheme, I had to remain here, to be staple, and to act out when times were right.

SLAM! “AGENT 3142! You are compromised!” the nonentity suited in full battle armour pointed his anti-matter gun to me. “One shot and we would be gone forever.” his tone was stern, almost robotic. I deftly flung the typewriter into his face, he was quick, he caught the typewriter in midair, exposing his, its robot arm. The soldier was a robot, an artificial intelligence sent by the organisation.

Recognising that I was no match for him, I wasted no more time to throw myself into the window, hoping that I would be in time to get myself out. A strong grip held me down, it was not perplexed at all, it did not even flinch as he shot me with the anti-matter gun. Everything that came to my savvy was erased instantaneously. I got up, everything reverted back to the way it was, including me, the assassin.

Agent 3142, reporting to duty, what is the next mission?



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Redefining Pain, Life, Stress.
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Mind Over Matters

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

6 thoughts on “Typed

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