There is a bitter perfume that hangs upon the cold springtime breeze, the babble from the crowded plaza below turns to meaningless static as it reaches my ears. The year is 2163. I am a mere 16 years old. A fledgling assassin still attempting to make a name for myself amongst my peers. It is a task I have been managing to perform exceedingly well. When given a task I perform it as instructed, and it has seen me well on my way through the ranks. My name and image stand out when presented to our masters. I intend to keep it that way.
There is much riding on this contract, and though I am nervous I do my best not to show it. I am well aware of how to perform my job, I have the utmost confidence in my abilities. Now all that remains is to carry out the deed. But still I cannot cease the subtle shaking of my hands.
The target is not aware he has been marked for death by the Primacy, but there are many innocents present. An infinite amount of variables, all unknown. An endless list of things that could go wrong, none of which I can afford.
My partner alerts me to the presence of our target across the plaza, and I settle in to a firing stance as I shoulder my rifle. It takes only a moment to aim, a single controlled breath to steady myself. My targeting laser dances a brief pattern of impending death across his skull. The opportunity is perfect, best to take it while it presents itself.
When I pull the trigger, I do not miss. The bullet makes its mark without issue.
The screams of bystanders do little to perturb me as I watch their panicking through my scope during the brief hesitation needed to confirm my kill. A younger woman who had the unfortunate luck to be standing within arm's reach of the target, her bright blue scales now spattered in blood and golden eyes widened with fear, catches my eye for only a moment. But only a moment. She will surely recover from the resultant psychological trauma given time. She was unharmed, my kill was clean and precise.
I will never see that particular woman again, and her existence all but dissipates from my mind as I lower my rifle. All involved, willingly or not, will move on from this day eventually, despite that our kind are physically incapable of forgetting it. Her image becomes nothing more than another memory to be catalogued amongst all the rest.
I collapse my rifle and am on my way, back to the care and praise of my masters for another contract well-completed. It is a familiar routine I know well by now. I always complete my contracts and make habit carry them out precisely as instructed. Quick, clean. Efficient. Minimal loss of innocent life if it can be done. I never take a life besides that of my target. I do well for myself in keeping to this largely unspoken code, and in the years that follow I find myself trusted with increasingly critical and sensitive tasks. Often more complicated, and dangerous even on occasion.
I never leave a contract uncompleted, no matter the stakes. I do not walk away from each entirely unscathed, but my life remains intact despite odds often not in my favour. Some of my cohorts are not quite so lucky. Our ranks thin over time, old familiar faces friends replaced by the fresh visages of newer recruits. Such loss wears on even the most enduring.
Still I remain with the Compact as the years pass, even as friends and comrades take their leave for other endeavours. Some seeking to pursue families, others fortune and future. I see no reason why I should attempt to follow their example. The Compact is all I have ever known, and my skills are appreciated within its confines. As such they are my only skills. Even as I age, I am still the best; the one called to handle the most sensitive of issues. I would not have it any other way.
I take on additional, new responsibilities as well. I am not immortal, and I am becoming increasingly aware of that fact with the passage of time. Service has taken its toll on my body and there will be a need one day for my place to be filled too, just as all others who have come before me.
The responsibility to train the new recruits eventually falls to my hand, and it is an assignment I take on with great enthusiasm. It was not so long ago that I was all too like them. Young and apprehensive, but so full of promise. Potential incarnate in mortal form. Perhaps I can bring them what little comfort I can offer them as I guide their hands to become as mine.
The year is 2186. I have taken the opportunity to lead my students in a practice outside the dome of our city. We are suddenly covered in shadow as though a cloud has blotted out the sun. It is always overcast on Kahje. One of my protégés lets out an uncharacteristic scream, pointing an accusatory finger to the sky. I suddenly find myself part of a war I had only heard rumors would arrive.
Survival is an uncertain outcome.