Prologue - Getting Comfortable
He gazed at the letter he had received for his new job. Smiling, he decided to let it pass for now. It was his first day on his new job, and receiving a request at the same time he got a job was a bit too much for his end. He knew he'll be allowed to work as he wish to do. There was no rules about consulting the client right away. Besides, he needed time to accept his fate right now.
He was now a nobody. Stuck somewhere that no person can go to. It would be the start of his lonely days, but he was okay. He took the chance to live longer, to still feel the essence of being alive, although not completely. He got off from his soft, comfortable office chair and walked to his simple futon. It was grey, dull and bland. No matter, it was more comfortable than his previous bed. He laid down, made himself comfortable, and drifted into a slumber.
But he didn't manage to sleep right away. The pain was still there. Reality was brutally honest. His life will have no chance of returning back to normal. He could still remember the event that led up to this point. How he managed to get this unusual job, and must complete the objectives to have his wish granted. It was silly to be given this job for an average person like him, but there was no point in complaining.
He felt his neck, brushing his dog tags replica attached on his neck. Ah, it was still here. Thank God. It would serve as a bitter-sweet reminder of his own past. A motivator to do his job with his best, too. Sighing, he rolled to his side and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was the start of his new beginning.
"Max..." He was trembling. How could this happen to his younger brother? He was embracing Max's dead body as his body moved back and forth, shaking from crying.
A police officer approached the devastated man. "Sir, you need to get moving," He placed a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. "I know it's hard, but you need to go."
"Few more minutes, officer..." His voice was weak and trembling. He struggled hard to get his point across.
The officer left without a word as he returned to his previous duty. The guy was surrounded with sounds of people interacting, camera flashes and the annoying sound a police car made. In his arms lies the late Max Crewes, his younger brother. He caressed his hair, sticky with blood. Max's face was peaceful; he died protecting him. The scene was still fresh in his mind. Max running up to his front and used his self to shield him from the bullets. How could he let his guard down? It costed him his younger brother, and it was too late.
He got up and placed his body on the ground. Goodbye, Max. He left the scene as the police continued doing their duty.
He woke up from a rather peaceful slumber. Sitting up, he let out a small sigh. He was expecting some painful memory to arise, but it seems that he was relieved of such moment. Not going to argue with that. He got out from his futon and went to his chair to sit down. The monitor was off, and he could see his reflection. His skin was pale, his hair lost its volume and rich black colour, and he was still wearing the top he wore when the incident happened. He looked down to see no sign of any injury.
He switched the computer on and decided to do his new work. The letter was still there, and all he needed was to open it.