This story follows a young marksman, Donto, as he is contracted for his first job by a mysterious cartel. Taking place in Sacarac, a failing metropolis full of corruption and crime. Equipped with a sniper-rifle as lengthy as he is tall, the mysterio...
I live by four principles. Trust your senses. There are no limits. Effort equals reward. Power is all. The hard part is never following your rules, it's keeping them.
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1987 Sacarac, Aleuzenev
The sun hangs low over the Citlant Grey, setting ever so slowly on Sacarac's horizon. Bathed in blankets of red and orange, the city bleeds in shades of dying daylight. My name is Donto and I graduated from high school today. My white complexion contrasting against a sea of brown and black, I walk past the other seniors dressed in their ceremonial gowns. A full three dozen in total. Ecstatic, the academy celebrates the occasion with an outdoors barbecue on the dewy grass of it's dilapidated soccer field. Not since the school's founding in the 1960s, had so many students graduated at once. For in Sacarac, education was a skill rarely nurtured.
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"Smile for me!" a feminine voice behind me says in a faded Naysen accent.
*Click*
I flinch at the camera's flash.
"I don't remember buying a camera," I tell her, giving her a hug.
"But you remember giving me money, yes?" she asks playfully, holding me tight.
It was my mother, Kuna. Or at least, that's what she told me her name was. The woman was half a foot shorter than me, around five eight. Her dark brown hair, meticulously combed, flowed in the wind. The naysen's long nose led down to her full red lips. And her kind brown eyes displayed a torrent of maternity for the boy. Seldom did caring eyes ever fall upon Donto, let alone ones with such overbearing affection. So he was lost in uncertainty, unsure on how to react to his mother's great love.
