by Unkle Bonehead
AI generated image
I sat in the shadows, my platinum blond hair spiked from the wind, my eyes scanning the crowded streets. My left eye, a constant reminder of my past, was now a high-tech camera, a gift from The Boss. It saw in infrared, gave me distances, and recorded everything. I wore a dark military coat, a trench that was both functional and stylish, over a plain white shirt and black pants. My sunglasses covered my false eye, a clever disguise that few would suspect.
I had been tasked with watching Maya, a young woman with a look of intensity that was both intriguing and intimidating. I knew nothing about her, except that she was a target, a potential asset for The Boss. My job was to observe her movements, her interactions with others, and report back to The Boss.
As I followed her out of the electronics store, I couldn’t help but think about my own life. I had started in the military, where I had honed my skills in covert operations. But after leaving, I had fallen into a life of crime, doing jobs that were both lucrative and morally dubious. I had done things I wasn’t proud of, things that had left their mark on me.
But I was tired of that life. I wanted out, wanted to leave the darkness behind and start anew. The camera eye had been a turning point for me, a reminder that I didn’t have to be defined by my past.
Maya seemed to sense my presence, and she turned, her eyes locking onto mine. I knew I had to act fast, to lose her in the crowd. I followed her, weaving through the streets and alleys, my heart pounding in my chest.
We chased each other through the city, Maya leading me on a wild goose chase, dodging and weaving through the crowds. I was a good tail, but she was a skilled evader. I could feel my breath getting shorter, my legs starting to tire.
Finally, I called it quits, letting her go as she disappeared into the night. I pulled out my phone and dialed The Boss’s number, reporting my failure to her.
“She ditched me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “She’ll try again tomorrow.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then The Boss’s voice came back, cold and detached.
“Good work, Watcher,” she said. “But next time, you’d better be ready.”
I ended the call, feeling a sense of unease. I knew I had to be better, to be more vigilant. The game was on, and I was ready to play.