The man sprawled around on the ground in his pool of blood, his limps twitched inhumanly before he finally died. Armone cocked his solar gun, the sensor brightened up as it was automatically prepared for the next blast.

A middle-age woman ran for him in a hurry, her stained apron flapping before her “Did you get him?” The food tender asked, still out of breath.

Armone pointed at the man he had killed “I believe I do.”

She gave the corpse a disgusted glance and turned back to him “Serve him right, stealing right off the factory, the nerve of some people.”

He nodded and kicked the corpse over, his white leather boot become stained with blood ‘I will need to get these washes later.’ Armone thought, as he tried to pry open the dead man’s stiffed fingers out and pulled out the thing he stole, a slab of salted ham.

“Shit, it’s covered with blood now.” The food tender complained as she received the ham back from him “I suppose we can drench it with some water and sell it in the damaged item’s shop. The head tender going to kill me.”

Despite all that, she gave Armone a polite nodded “Thank you, officer.”

“I’m glad to be of service, mam.”

As the food tender left the area with the meat, Armone kneeled next to the dead man and forced his lifeless thumb on the device on Armone’s wrist to scan his fingerprint, then tabbed on the headpiece that was fixed into his own helmet.

“Dane, delete this man data on the mainframe,” Armone told his overseer, or what some of them would more prefer to be called, the guy in the chair, working behind the scene and providing support to the legions of the guard.

“Theft?” Dane asked back through the headset.

“Yes,” Armone replied.

“Again?”

“Yes”

“And did he try to run?”

“That is why he’s dead.”

There was a sigh coming through the headset “They never did make our life easy, do they?”

He nodded, Dane had been his overseer for 5 years now, and Armone had gotten used to that careless attitude of his.

“Well, I did that now.” Dane reported a moment later “And I also sent for the scavenger to clean up the body, they should be there by sunset.”

“Thank you, Dane,” Armone told him, but didn’t get a reply; for Dane probably had moved on to help the other guard he was overseeing.

Armone glanced at the man he was lying on the ground, he was about the same age as he was, about 40, by the look of it. He wore a black simple garb, a uniform of a servant of the last stronghold, which confused Armone, servants were the last group of people he would expect to see stealing food, as they were allowed to eat anything that was left in the nobles share of food, which was nearly one-third of the city’s supply.

But then the answer hit him with as fast as the question, the man was probably stealing for his children.

While the city workforce was provided every day with the bare minimum of food they need, along with a few points to buy more for their good work, the children were not. So the parents of those children must split their own ration to feed them till they were picked for their own work in the picking day.

‘I suppose I must have created an orphan or two today.’ Armone thought, this was not the first time he killed someone on his duty, nor was it the second or the tenth. In his 25 years of work as a guard, he had inflicted some violence upon the people of the city for the sake of peace and order. When he first started, he was uneasy about the killing, but as he was trained to be a guard, he had learned to become indifferent on his work.

‘I did not feel joy from taking away someone’s life, but I feel no sadness either.’ Armone contemplated, wondering whether or not that made him a good or a bad person. He was about to contact Dane and asked him whether or not the man whom he had killed had any children, but decided that that would be a waste of everyone’s time.

‘Besides, it’s not like I can adopt them or anything.’ He continued his thought, scratching his chin through the brown beard on his face ‘I already had three to take care of.’

Armone gave the dead man one last glance and decided that it was the time to finish his shift back at the barrack. So he turned away and started walking back to the authority district.

He slithered along the wide pathway of the industrial area, coughing from time to time from the pollution the factory caused. At first, he meant to head for the smoke tower, so he could catch the railroad for the authority, but he later decided to walk to the barrack on his two feet instead, for the sake of making more patrol. Along the way some of the factory workers on their duty gave him a few unnerving glances, which was to be expected, a bloodied watchman is always a bad sign.

It was not until he crossed the street of Ivank did he felt more at ease, from that on it was not hard to find the great barrack, just looked up and go to the biggest building in the entire area.

As Armone went through the great arch of the barrack’s gate, he was greeted with a friendly face, a pair of guards off duty who was firing their solar gun on the outdoor targets. The two had taken their visor helmet off; letting Armone knew who they were instant, Sure-fire Paul and Three-finger Hedge.

Like his nickname, Sure-fire Paul was hitting the target thrice in the row when he noticed Armone “How your shift, Arm?”

Hedge glanced at his bloody outfit “Not very well, I assume.”

Armone nodded back, “A food thief.”

“Another one?” Paul asked in a rhetorical fashion “This is why I don’t want to have kid, man, the hassle you had to go through on feeding them.”

“Wanna try on Paul, Armone?” Hedge asked, waving his left hand, which was missing two fingers “He is beating me by three to one; you participating might even the odd.”

Armone shook his head “I afraid not, I had to buy somethings in the trading square for my wife today.”

Paul shook his head “A pity, I was hoping for some competition.”

“See you tomorrow then.” Hedge finished, and then turned back to Paul “I show you competition.”

Armone moved on from his two brother-at-arms, Sure-fire Paul was the 15 years younger than him, and was vain and proud as anyone of his age, especially because he was the best of his year. Another was Hedge, a brave man of the same age as his, who earned his nickname when he assaulted a small rebel base and they had bitten his ring and little fingers off in their attempt in escape, but Hedge still managed to capture them all, and now he was able to fire his gun like he still had all of his fingers.

When he finally reached the great barrack, he made off to the locker room. He placed his gun into the holder and attached a cord into its barrel to recharge. Though the solar gun had its own self-charging system, it would be incredibly stupid to leave a lethal weapon lying around outside to recharge with the sunlight, so the barrack had the holder which connected to the solar panel at the roof instead.

After that was done, Armone moved to his locker, pulled the scanning device on his wrist and attached it to the hole on the locker, then pressed his thumb into it. After a moment, the locker swung open.

Unlocking multiple straps and holders, Armone stripped off his white armor off layers by layers, the one that wasn’t dirty he dumped into the locker, the one that was he threw into the basket in the other corner in the room, to await washing by the washers. When his body was left with only his undergarments, he searched through the locker for a cloth to change to, and picked a grey polo shirt and a blue jean. He also swung a backpack over his shoulder, which he kept in his locker as well, for it was part of the protocol that guard could carry only a gun.

When that was all done, and Armone walked out of the locker room, he noticed a man he had never seen before walking through the hallway, he didn’t seemed to be wearing uniform of a guard, and his outfit was simple, but of great quality.

‘A noble on inspection’ Armone realized suddenly, and bowed down. A noble who was not assigned to a ruling position in the workplace rarely came to inspect the said place, the one who was assigned only from time to time. So it was a rare sight to see any of them here.

The noble nodded in appreciation for the gesture “Please, went on your way.”

Armone did as he commanded and made for the reception area, which was strangely empty. So he was able to quickly come to meet the distributioner of the lower barrack, Eve.

“Ohi” She greeted him, her head lying relatedly on the reception table “Working hard or hardly working, Army?”

“The former, I think.” He replied with a smile, Eve was quite a delight for the common watchmen.

“Armone the boring, that ought to be your nickname.” She replied, smiling back.

“Whether or not I play your banter game or not doesn’t sum up my existence.” Armone told her “Now can I get the today’s provision, I had a family to get back to.”

“You are no fun.” Eve grumbled but still handed him a box packed with food that could last him till tomorrow’s afternoon “Your points already transfer, by the way. Your daily weigh plus stopping a thief gives you right about 20 points in total.”

“Thank you, I guess.”

“One more thing before you goes.” She continued, as Armone was about to go.

“What is it?” He asked, starting to become annoyed.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you this…” said Eve, leaning closer for the sake of secrecy, even though they were the only two people in the area “When I was moving you stinky lot’s provision here, I hear the higher-up talking…”

“That happens when you eavesdrop.”

“Shut up and lets me finished my story. They are discussing who to replace officer Jacob, and you are the most prominent.”

“Really?” Armone asked, skeptical.

“I swear on my mother’s grave.” She said, which wasn’t really promising because her mother had passed away in the execution pit, thus did not have a grave “They are talking about giving you a course on commanding and made you into a sergeant.”

“Sergeant…” He repeated the word, the promotion meant more consistent point, respect from other guards, and better equipment. Not to mention, sergeant Armone had a nice ring to it. But it would also mean more work though, and less time to spend with his family. “Thank you for the information, I suppose.”

She grinned “And when you become that, don’t forget on who you got the new from first.”

“I will try.” He promised, and took his leave from the building, and make off to the trading square.

Following back up the Ivank Street led Armone to the trading square. As the order of guards inspired fear and sometimes hatred in people, he had found that being out of uniform is sometime quite relaxing, but it could be unnerving too, as he was now without a solar gun or any other weapons, and leave him with only his hand-to-hand combat ability to defense himself, which he was quite bad at. But an officer cannot carry a weapon outside his duty unless, for practice, that is another of the protocols.

The heart of the city, where the trading square was located, is an orderly arrangement of shops and stores, for the common citizen to spend their points which were earned from extra work, and was used to buy products like clothes, foods and household items. There was good stuff that requires a large number of points, and bad stuff, which only costs one or two at most. Armone went over to the product store and brought a few loaves of bread, a slab of pork and chicken, a few lectures and a few pieces of fruits. He also brought treats as well, for Marthos he bought a thick chunk of jerkies he like to chew on, for Markis a bottle of sweet brown drink he often praised on the taste, and for little Beth a sweet caramel covered apple she loved. All these three things costed him near half the point he received today, but he did not regret it at all.

With all the things packed up neatly in a bag, Armone decided to make his way home, but he suddenly noticed a poor ragged boy no older than 10 was eyeing the food in his hand, and hungrily.

“Get away kiddo.” Armone told the boy, as he had a bad feeling about him “Stealing is a capital offense.”

Despite that, the boy still stared at the bag, and Armone realizes that the boy wasn’t stealing, but begging.

‘Parents couldn’t feed him properly, no doubt, or maybe just a hungry boy from the orphanage.’ The thought went through his head, but why should he give the boy his food? He had his own kids to feed.

“Fine” Armone muttered after the boy’s eyes pried into him. He gave the boy a small piece of bread, and he didn’t even give him any sigh of thanks before running away.

Armone shook his head, wondering why he did that and went back home. H went through the street of Ballon and after the twisting alleys around the great church of Faith where he sometimes took his family for prayers; he finally finished his little journey.

Armone put on a smile and pushed open the door “I’m home.”

“Welcome back, dear.” His wife greeted him from another room, so he followed the voice through the entrance room and into the kitchen, where Silva was still in her electrician uniform of baggy grey trouser and similar colored shirt. Armone gave her a small kiss in the cheek as a sign of affection.

“Stop it.” She giggled, her tired but beautiful brown eyes stared at him, her long black hair tumbled around her shoulder, her homely face, even though was growing wrinkled, is still beautiful as ever.

“Did you get the groceries?” She asked.

Armone raised the bag of food “What kind of a man you think I am to forget such a thing?”

“The man I married” She jested and took the bag away from him and dumped the content on the table, Armone went and help her arrange the items into the shelf.

“Where are the kids?” Armone asked as he pushed the bread into the upper cabinet and hiding away his gifts to keep it a surprise.

“In the living room.” Silva replied, unpacking his and her provisions and arranging it on a plate “I think they are studying, at least that what I hope.”

“Picking day is coming soon.” Armone remembered, searching through the drawer for utensils “But before that came the great test, isn’t it?”

“I just hope they do alright,” Silva said, with a sound that was half-worried. She stopped for a few seconds and shifted her head back at him. “Go get the kids to the table, I almost finished here.”

Armone nodded and gave her another light kiss on the cheek, then left the kitchen.

He found Mathos and Markis in the living room like Silva said, sitting next to each other on the cushioned chair covered with a blanket, staring at the school-issued Stalus, which was just a flat that displayed rough image of their textbook.

“Studying hard?” Armone asked them from behind.

“We are doing homework, but I didn’t understand a part in this.” Markis explained to his father “And it seems that Mat didn’t either.”

“That isn’t true, at least understand it half-way.” Mathos refuted his brother.

Armone squirted at the question, remembering that he had failed these types of questions when he was his boy’s ages “You can ask your mother about it after dinner, I’m sure she can help you.”

His two sons nodded.

“But first, dinner.” Armone said and started to look around “Where your sister?”

“Here,” Markis said smilingly and pulled over the blanket, Beth was hiding under the chair, in her hand was the family Stalus, which she staring deeply into.

“Beth” Armone called her name, in a half commanding tone “Put that thing down and go eat dinner.”

She nodded and scrambled out from under the chair and ran toward the dining room, her hands still clutching to the device.

“Beth!” He called his daughter and strode after her, followed by Mathos and Markis who were chuckling quietly.

Their family’s dining table was already arranged, Silva’s and Armone’s provision was in the center, his slab of cooked meat and salad of lectured and corn, and her roasted fish and potato. Serving with it was a few pieces of bread, sauces and a handful of chopped pork.

The five family members took their seats, with Silva and him on the opposite side, Markis and Mathos next to each other and Beth on the last, who was still playing with the Stalus.

“That’s it.” Armone decided and snatched the device right out of her hand.

“Daddddd” Beth complained.

“Daddy will keep the Stalus with him until we finish eating,” Armone told her in his commanding voice and put the Stalus in front of him. Beth sniffed and grabbed her fork.

Armone gave a relaxed smile as he slicing the meat apart and handling them to his family. He was an orphan who did not even know his parent’s names, so he took it as an achievement of the sort that he was able to start a family, and had a decent house of their own. It was in much help of his wife, and fellow orphan of the Sadness shelter, that he managed it.

He took a short glance at his twin sons, Mathos and Markis, hitting their fourteen just last month, the two had taken Armone’s look. All three of them had the same curly brown hairs, the same squared face and the same deep black eyes, not to mention, the two twins looked nearly identical, except for a few different. Mathos was trying to grow a beard, so a few wisps of brown hair was starting to develop on his chin, and Markis was a little bigger in size, as he was the elder of the two of them.

He then glanced at Beth next, a girl of no more than six. She did not have his look, or his wife, as she was not theirs. Her mother was a younger co-worker of Silva from the dam, her father’s unknown, she was still young and wasn’t able to support Beth, so their family took her in. She had pale blonde hair, an adorable little face, beautiful grey eyes, and a cute squeaky voice. Though she was shy and a little selfish, Armone and Silva had loved her like she was their own daughter.

“So, are you boys ready for the picking day?” Silva asked their sons, which pulled Armone out of his head.

“If I said yes, that would be a lie.” Mathos admitted, “Heck, Mark and I weren’t exactly sure what we want to be.”

Armone nodded grimly, as to join in the conversation. The two once had the prospect of their own future, in truth, but they said that about a year ago there was someone who told them not to expect anything, so they wouldn’t be disappointed. That was all well and good, but doing so made the two did not have a focus on their study, and just determined to do well in every subject on the great test.

“The new supreme leader will be there too, right?” Beth asked, excited.

“Maybe,” Armone told her, the last supreme leader did not grace the city with his presence for the last few pickings, so Beth’s only knowledge on him came from a few propaganda posters with his face on around the street. If the new one did show up, he would only require to make a few speeches and looked on the ceremony from his gate castle, so there was a large chance he might come.

“Speaking of him” Markis picked up the conversation “There is a talk that he makes a girl he plucked off a street his personal courtesan.”

Armone’s eyebrows twitched on that “I had heard.” He replied it was the talk of the great barrack for a few days, after the two who had escorted that girl themselves had recounted the story.

A silent bestowed upon the table, with the only sound was the bread Armone was spreading.

“And?” Markis continued the conversation.

“And what?” Armone said, an irritation started to form in him.

“Father,” Mathos said too “Didn’t you feel anything…off, about that?”

“What type of…companion, he prefers is none of our concern.” Armone said decisively, trying to end the talk before it got out of hand.

“But…” Both of them tried to say.

“Enough!” He said right there and then “Any more talk of the supreme leader and you two go to your room.”

Their face displayed obvious discontented, but they stopped nonetheless. Leaving Armone wondering whether or not he was being too harsh on them.

The rest of the dinner went on in utter silence, to Armone regretted. After it was done, he handed his children the gifts he had bought them earlier, hoping that it might be seen as an apology from his outburst, but if it worked, the two boys didn’t show it.

Afterward, Armone retreated to his own bed for a rest from the long day work, but he couldn’t manage to sleep. The sunlight outside his window came and went when Silva joined him in the bedroom, and he was still restless.

“Are you okay?” Silva asked Armone, as she laid beside him.

“It’s just…” Armone started to say “What the boys said.”

“Oh come on now,” Silva said as she put her hand on his chest “It just a random conversation.”

“What they said, bordered treason,” Armone told her, questioning the supreme leader is a capital offense, he left the rest unsaid on what that meant.

“Even you should know that that was a ridiculous law.” Silva countered “And what are you gonna do? Take them to the execution pit?”

Armone turned his head to meet hers “I’m not that heartless.”

“Relax, I was just joking.” She reassured him “Just make it up to them tomorrow, that should be fine.”

“I hope so,” Armone told her and threw the blanket over both of them. Silva gave him a light kiss and went to sleep.

After some time, Armone managed to do the same, but what he dreamt of was a nightmare. The face of every person he had taken life away came back and haunted in his sleep. He tried to focus on his relished memory to ease his mind, like how happy Beth was when he bought her to watch the firework on the new year celebration of the nobles, but her face kept turning into the blond girl he had taken to be executed…