The Deceiving Demon

Evil Doesn't Rest

Damian's POV
The night was odd, to say the least. No interruptions, no late night training, no morning spars, no league missions, just sleep. And throughout the night, sleep was the one thing I couldn't do. I tossed and turned in the giant bed. I felt as though the heavy blankets were pushing down on me with extreme force and the mattress was trying to wrap around me in a death grip. The light soft pillows were suffocating and the huge sized bed was intimidating. I wanted to go back to Mother. I wanted to sleep on a small cot without blankets or pillows. I wanted to have the nights where I was going on adrenaline just to complete my training and was exhausted afterwards, but I'd have to force myself awake because it was already time for morning spars. I wanted to go back to the only place I knew as home.

After many sleepless hours, I decided to go train instead of waste my time struggling to sleep. I was unaware of what time it was, but that didn't really matter to me. I sat up in the monstrous bed and grabbed my dagger I put under the pillow. I'd be a fool to not sleep with a blade near my reach. When I attempted to get out of the bed I ended up being tangled in the blankets. Rolling around in the bed, I fought the blankets off of me. It was a hard battle and my enemy was merciless. I guess gravity beats us all because both me, and the notorious blankets, ended up rolling onto the floor. But without the interference of the mattress, I was able to get out of the blankets and safely stand up. I didn't dare touch the blankets on the floor, and left them there. I slipped on my black combat boots and placed the dagger in my left boot. Now, I have to try to find the training room.

Walking out of my room, I stuck to the shadows. The hallway seemed long and never ending, but it's like that with Mother too. I made my way passed many closed doors but never tried to open them. I knew they couldn't be a gym because of the small space the room takes up. The doors probably just led to closets or guest rooms.

I continued to go through multiple hallways and walk down many stairs. Finally, I got to a room at the end of a hallway. It had two closed doors leading into it which increased the likelihood that the room was very spacious . It was in the back of the house, perfect to avoid suspicious press. My prediction was that this was the gym. I may be wrong but there was no other room that seemed to fit. Of course, even if this was a gym, I'd still have to be stealthy when first opening the door, I don't want to intrude on someone working out. Then again, it was in the middle of the night, or maybe early morning.

I opened the door ajar and peeked in with one eye. Yep, this was definitely a gym. Mats on the floor, punching bags in the corner, weights stacked up alongside barbells with dumbbells on a rack next to it, and for some odd reason there was a trapeze set on the other side of the room. Also, lucky for me, there was no one in the room.

I pushed the door open, slid in, then closed it up again.

I started warming up with some pushups and situps. Then, I moved to the pullup bar and did more exercises. After about a half hour of those workouts, I began stretching out my legs to run. I jogged laps around the large room. Increasing my speed with each lap until I was in a sprint around the gym. When I felt as though I couldn't sprint any longer, I slowly eased myself back into a jog.

My run came to an end and I really regretted not having a water. Oh well, it's too late now. I don't even know where the kitchen is, or if I'm even welcome in it.

To get my mind off my parched throat I decided to go to the barbells. Weights always seem to clear my head. I started to bench press twenty pounds and increased it by five each time I completed three sets of fifteen.

A while later I found I couldn't lift anymore so I stopped. I worked up quite a sweat by this time. My grey and black assassin attire was drenched with sweat near my chest and back. Even my black hair was sticking to my forehead. Looking around the room I decided on what to do next. My eyes lingered on the trapeze but I decided against doing such a thing. I knew my limits and was aware flexibility wasn't one of my top skills.

Instead, I decided to go the punching bags and practice my combat skills. I soon developed a rhythm varying my punches, uppercuts, and kicks. Then, I brought out my dagger from in my boot and began practice with that. Sometimes I'd throw the blade in the air and changed my hand to catch it in order to differ my fighting style. Swiping the air, coming close to the punching bag, but never trying to break the material, I continued training.

I must have done that for at least an hour. On my final slice, I turned myself all the way around, facing the door once again. Only this time, the doors weren't closed, and I wasn't the only one in the room.

An ebony haired man leaned on the doorway. His blue eyes looking straight into my own and a smirk growing on his lips. Well, shit.