We grow up learning to be disciplined. To make routines, and to stick by them. It is only when we grow up that we realize how dangerous routines truly are. It tells others where you are, where you were, where you are going to be, and I cannot think of any information more dangerous than that.
Dangerous for you, of course. For me, routines are a boon. They tell me where you are, where you were, where you’re going to be. In my line of work, this is necessary.
How else would I know when to shoot?
Now the thing is, I used to find assassin a very ugly word. I made me feel cold-hearted and cruel. When I first approached this job, I wasn’t sure if it was truly me. I don’t feel so now. I mean, not to boast or anything, but I’m just as efficient as a secretary. It’s just that instead of dispatching files, I dispatch people to the afterlife.You know, sort of like an anti-doctor
And somehow, I’m beginning to enjoy it.
Being an assassin has its perks. A new city every week, hotel life, no chores, no dishes, new clothes every week and a new name every day. They say you can only excel in job you love because then it doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like a hobby. And I love my job. I’m bound by certain rules of course, personal morals and those of the company I work for. If I fail to complete a mission I will be discarded. The Company will pull their hands of me. I would be completely alone with no protection. Although the very thought of this scares some of my colleagues, it thrills me. Imagine being on the run all the time. Running from the law and running from The Company. Money wouldn’t be a problem, I’ve earn enough since I began this job. A new name, a new life every single day. Sometimes I could work as a freelancer, or maybe just work for my own happiness. It’s a hobby, as I said before, not an assignment.
I have another kill tomorrow. All I need to do is leave it and run.
Who knows, maybe I will.