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body div#devskin0 hr { }

The sound of his steps sent sharp clacks thumping heavily along the hard concrete walls, ascending into a dark chorus. He didn’t even need to look to find his way here anymore. He had memorized every nook and cranny of every floor; he knew the position of every crack and scraped mortar by heart; he knew there was a small stain of dirt just around the next corner – the cleaning company always seemed to miss that spot.
He had heard about a so-called ‘dream profession’, but he had, through experience, learned that there is no ‘dream profession’ – they only affected you differently. Some invigorating, some annoying, and some even infuriating, but most, if not all, were manipulating. His was, at least; his holstered Glock was evidence enough of that. A heavy burden. How did he know? Elementary – experience, the fruits of life.
The familiar sound of rustling down a descending stone staircase filled his ears. Steps reverberating off the small space like the rap from a riding crop. His heart didn’t beat as fast anymore, his stomach wasn’t churning. All he could see were words on a screen, signed forms, bloody soil, and the flat underside of a judge’s gavel. A fulfilling career, they said. For some, like him, that was a load of bullshit.
He reached two steel doors. Shiny and sturdy. He didn’t slow down, simply held up his hands. His palms pressed against the freezing metal. A shiver went up his spine. That hadn’t changed. He pushed. A small gap opened between the doors. Shimmering lights flooded his field of vision like neon signs of sleazy clubs and passing cars. He stepped inside. The cold crawled up his skin. Then came the bombardment of smells – the smell of guts, blood, tempered flesh, sterilized tools and latex-gloved hands.
The words were tradition at this point - seven of them: “What do you have for me today, Doc?” And he continued with his part, though more varied, “Jane Doe, age unknown. Cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation.”
He cursed roughly, his voice dripping with professional, emphatic fury. Just a normal day at the office for him.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

The sound of his steps sent sharp clacks thumping heavily along the hard concrete walls, ascending into a dark chorus. He didn’t even need to look to find his way here anymore. He had memorized every nook and cranny of every floor; he knew the position of every crack and scraped mortar by heart; he knew there was a small stain of dirt just around the next corner – the cleaning company always seemed to miss that spot.
He had heard about a so-called ‘dream profession’, but he had, through experience, learned that there is no ‘dream profession’ – they only affected you differently. Some invigorating, some annoying, and some even infuriating, but most, if not all, were manipulating. His was, at least; his holstered Glock was evidence enough of that. A heavy burden. How did he know? Elementary – experience, the fruits of life.
The familiar sound of rustling down a descending stone staircase filled his ears. Steps reverberating off the small space like the rap from a riding crop. His heart didn’t beat as fast anymore, his stomach wasn’t churning. All he could see were words on a screen, signed forms, bloody soil, and the flat underside of a judge’s gavel. A fulfilling career, they said. For some, like him, that was a load of bullshit.
He reached two steel doors. Shiny and sturdy. He didn’t slow down, simply held up his hands. His palms pressed against the freezing metal. A shiver went up his spine. That hadn’t changed. He pushed. A small gap opened between the doors. Shimmering lights flooded his field of vision like neon signs of sleazy clubs and passing cars. He stepped inside. The cold crawled up his skin. Then came the bombardment of smells – the smell of guts, blood, tempered flesh, sterilized tools and latex-gloved hands.
The words were tradition at this point - seven of them: “What do you have for me today, Doc?” And he continued with his part, though more varied, “Jane Doe, age unknown. Cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation.”
He cursed roughly, his voice dripping with professional, emphatic fury. Just a normal day at the office for him.