Marcus leant against the sink and let out a sigh.
He wasn’t going to look in the mirror. Wasn’t going to do it.
They took a freelancer on this run. Just to try her out.
He started the tap, running the water over his hands trying to work out if there was a difference between the NuFlesh and his evolved Original Skin. People could go mad trying this, which is why the marketing department of NuFlesh goes to all the bother of telling how obsolete skin was.
He did his best to wash the freelancer off his face.
He sighed again.
The freelancer.
He reached round to his shoulder and started to unclip the NuFlesh to get to the security bolts below. His arm went offline. He slipped it into one of the machines that took up most of the space in his small apartment. With a twist and a pull – left the arm snug in its casing. The machine started its comforting hum as it started working.
He ripped open his velcro pants and stepped out, throwing them towards the washing pile in the corner of the room.
The freelancer was good. It’s why they took her. He was going to protect her, he told her. The Big Man. As long as she stayed close to him, real close, she’d be safe.
He felt for the flap of NuFlesh at the top of his thigh, unhooked, and removed his leg, which joined his arm for the tune-up.
Then he collapsed back into a chair. As his eyes closed he saw the bullet tearing her neck open.
He let his head flop to the side, chin resting on his shoulder.
The job was a bust. The money they had made have been blown trying to save the freelancer. And then disposing of her.
His eyes felt heavy. He was tired.
Tried of it all.
Something moved outside his window. He struggled to get up an made his way, hopping slowly, across the room.
He rested his head on the cold glass, letting it soothe his hot forehead.
He didn’t have to do this any more. He could retire. One last run and it’d be over.
He looked out the window. He was right – something was moving there.
It was snowing.
He smiled, staring out over the city.
It was snowing.
