Cold Blood?

Motomoto never quite knew when he had grown so mean. Killing for him had become seamless, petty, a walk in the park…

Before, he had felt bile rise in his gut when he took a life; when it was a senseless one, when innocent blood was spilled, his heart grieved and he felt sick to his stomach.

Now, he didn’t think twice. Orders were no longer to shoot to scare but to kill. He adjusted his gun strap to the back and helped carry the lifeless body of a woman off the main highway in Kansana. ‘Damn, she was heavy,” he cursed under his breath. The bullet had caught her square in her extended belly, both unborn child and mother would not see another day. He smiled at his marksmanship. Still, he wondered about his callousness…maybe it was the growing resentment with his job; was it the delayed payments of a meagre salary that had made him cold or was it that he had never gotten any promotion in his 23 years of service yet other recruits he had joined with had been quickly elevated. Could it be because his wife had abandoned him and their still suckling three month old kid in the squalor of their shared unipot? 

He grunted as he straightened himself up from the effort. There was a healthy pile of copses he had piled; his commander would be happy…maybe he would toss him some of those brown notes he so carelessly splashed. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, sucking hard at the butt but calm didn’t come this time. When had he changed..he mused…