The Watchman

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Jon Corderoy wasn't a good person.

Long ago, he did unspeakable things. He stole, murdered, and abused the corrupt systems he lived in. Even after the end of the world, nothing changed. He still was the same piece of shit he had always been. If he was honest though, he didn't care.

But none of that mattered now.

"Blinking!", his radio exclaimed, to which he responded: "All clear!"

Even though no one wanted this job, it had to be done. He looked onto his right, where the next watchtower was situated. That one was Jeremy's. The bastard was even worse of a person than he was. But then again, no one "nice" ended up as a member of the Watch.

Jon Corderoy wasn't a good husband either.

Long ago he cheated, hated, and had no love for the one he married. Neither did she, to be exact. Even after the end of the world, nothing changed. Jon remembered the day it all began. Or, rather, the day it all ended. He came back from work if you could even call his profession "work." The TV was on. No matter what channel he chose, every broadcast possible was about one thing. “The sculptures," they called them, "SCP-173." At first, Jon didn’t believe it. It all seemed just like a dream, as nothing like that could ever exist, right?

But he was wrong.

The moment they attacked his home town he left everything and everyone behind — the only thing that mattered to him was his own life. And now the town he guarded is all that was left of two continents.

But none of that mattered now.

"Blinking!" This time, he was the one to repeat this mantra. "All clear!" came the response. Now, Jon had only one purpose in life — to watch. As the Watch guarded the town, humanity could flourish. Even though people such as Jon were useless to society, the society they hated so much found them a new goal. To watch over the city, making sure that the Sculptures won’t decimate what was left of humanity. No one here knew if there were any humans left except for them. If Jon was honest though, he didn’t care.

However, Jon Corderoy was a good guard.

Now, he was useful. Now, people respected him. And now, people needed him.

Jon didn’t know how long it has been this way. Three years? Six? Maybe even twelve? If he was honest though, he didn’t care.

But there was one thing that Jon Corderoy cared about. His duty as a member of the Watch. It was something more than a job. It was his entire life. As long as they, the outcasts society hated so much, watched over the borders of this city, they were safe. As long as murderers, burglars, and rapists survived, so did humanity. As long as they watched, everyone was safe.

And that was all that mattered now.

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