HUNTED. RETRIEVED. KILLED.

HUNTED. RETRIEVED. KILLED.
That seems to be the typical process of my new life, now-a-days. Three simple words that seem to go along with three different rules. Hunted, hunt the unwanted and bring them back, dead or alive. Preferably alive, though. Retrieved, retrieve them to the warehouse, for further prosecution. Usually tortured which is almost always. Killed, the last step that I’m always recruited to finish, killing the weakened. The only way to survive is to become one of us, that doesn’t occur often though. If you’re not highly trained that well, then we don’t want to waste time training others when we have a job to do and finish. The last rule is the only chance to live, the only chance of survival. That was my last chance, my last chance to show them that I was too valuable to die.