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“I’ll sure be back soon.” She promised and flashed him a bright smile. Aban smiled in same and waved her goodbye.
The day had been great, in Aban’s opinion. He woke up without sore muscles today and nothing went wrong in his morning routine. Breakfast had been pleasant and the traffic wasn’t as heavy as it used to be on Tuesday mornings. His employees came into the coffee shop on time and even decided to greet him. Aban not only felt lighter than he used to be, but also very pleased with everything.
The part he liked best about when he opened the Mean Bean is just making coffee. Although he would love to clean as well, he still had to manage the counter and making coffee was the only available activity if he wasn’t counting change or talking to regulars. Though, he missed it when someone would take the offered coffee and looked down into it to see what latte art was offered that day.
The day had come to a close, and now he had to clean up what messes were left behind before he went home. Walking to the backroom and hanging up his apron, he took out the janitorial tools and equipment and went back outside, making sure to scrub even the most stubborn of stains. He wanted to give his customers the finest experience he could offer. Sure, it was nothing like a five-star restaurant and the task was extremely exhausting, but he had seen what went down with the coffee shop that was previously stationed here.
After he had finished his tasks, he picked up his bag and went outside, enjoying the night air for just a moment before locking up. Even at this time, he could see cars and other vehicles driving around on the dark but LED-lighted roads. It gave him a solemn feeling; the type you would get while pretending to be a noir detective. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it made him recall many memories. Some he would prefer to forget.
Reaching his fingers up towards his right eye, he felt just beneath it before hopping onto his bike. Yes, it was a great loss to him, not to mention extremely painful and alarming. He knew that kind of injury would render him useless to them, and even if it didn’t, he would never be allowed on the field again unless it was a special case. He didn’t want to stay at a desk all day, organizing projects, events and delivering important documents to important higher-ups. It would have been monotonous. So he pulled out. Luckily, he didn’t have to get his own prosthetic eye as the doctor created one. Even after learning about him pulling out, he still insisted that he kept it.
‘Maybe I should visit someday.’ Stone thought as he drove quickly pass a green light that was on a five second count down towards yellow then red.
His apartment complex was nothing to speak of or to show off, but he particularly liked the fact that it was close to a nearby park where a lot of birds seem to gather there. He liked going there on weekends when he didn’t have to assist his employees on their shift, just sitting there and reading books. Sometimes, he thinks he was becoming those old ladies that feed the birds there.
He greeted a few of the tenants within the complex as they walked past him. He didn’t know a lot of people, but the fact that he often offered them help in the elevator, so he quickly became acquainted with them. But, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t like talking to them a lot. Them and their small-brained ideas.
“I’m home, little one.” He greeted the small white cat on his couch as he entered, sighing and dropping his bag somewhere.
After leaving G.U.N. and earning his civilian status back, he made more time to take care of things he wouldn’t usually. Animals, plants, unfinished projects from hobbies that he dropped in favor of doing his job efficiently and competently. He was glad he got that back.
The cat meowed and jumped off the couch cushions, immediately walking up to him and rubbing her little head on his pants leg. Aban chuckled lightly, picking up the fluffy creature and showering her in affection. She wasn’t a particularly spoiled cat, but he liked to think him loving her made her protective of him.
~~~
“Fuck!” Aban strung up from under his sheets, hand shoved under his pillow and pulling his gun out, pointing in random directions in his room.
It was empty. There were no men holding guns, there were no snipers pointing their nozzles at him. no blood, no deadly machines, no dead bodies anywhere. There wasn’t a single tall, imposing figure dressed in black in front of him.
It was…just another dream. Another terrible memory.
He was really in it now, screaming out of nowhere and probably scaring his neighbors to death. He sighed with disappointment in himself and shoved his gun back under his pillow and laying back down, arms spread on either side of himself. A thin film of sweat covered his body, but his covers were luckily not damped in it. he raised a hand and wiped away some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
He sometimes wishes he was back in G.U.N., back to shooting morons he could care less for and protecting the doctor. He could clean and lick at his wounds after he was done protecting the person that mattered to him the most, and said person could patch him up while scolding him like he was a misbehaving child. He looked over towards the prosthetic eye he had left in a small container to keep it safe and away from dust. It looked similar to his old eye, expect the sclera could switch from white to black with the latter color being its original form. The middle part that was supposed to represent the iris was, well, red, because that was his signature color, but he made sure that it could also go back to that dark brown of his own.
He sighed again and closed his eye for just a moment, trying to pick up that fading phantom pain in the socket of his eye. It was there, but only if he focused just enough. He couldn’t remember how he was shot, how a bullet or something had pierced right through it. all he remembered was holding an injured Robotnik in his arm while shooting at enemies, waiting for G.U.N.’s backup crew to come.
Aban opened his eyes, looked up, and saw a beeping red light in between the tiles of the ceiling.
“I’ll visit next week.” He whispered weakly to the light, watching it blink, representing the fact that it had received and processed the information it had gathered. “I promise.”