RUN.

03: DRIVE

The sun had set long before, leaving me to drive in the dark. I've always hated the dark, ever since I was a little kid. I had decided to switch the radio on, just because I didn't want to be in complete silence. The volume was low, but I could hear a familiar tune playing.

The headlights lit up the road before me, creating an aesthetic panorama. The cold wind blew in from the broken window, and I regretted not taking my time to pick the lock instead of smashing the one thing that would keep the breeze out. Desperate, I had fished around for cigarettes minutes ago to keep myself warm, and luckily this guy was smart enough to stock up on two packets in the glove box.

With the cigarette between my lips, and the puffs of smoke dancing in front of me, I felt like I was finally able to relax. The long day filled with fights had taken a toll on my body, and I was beginning to feel the ache in my muscles.

Thankfully, I came across a rest stop—a bar of some sort—by the side of the road. Maybe if I got some sleep, it would help me relax a little. Get my mind off of things so I could focus on my cover better.

The exhaustion got the better of me and it made me swerve and pull up right in front of the building.

When I walked in, I was greeted by a welcoming rack of various alcohols. The bar was almost barren, with the amount of people being close to nothing. But, I figured that was better, considering the fact that I was here to relax, not to mingle.

"Just a (your preferred alcohol), please." I ordered, plopping down on the dusty red stool. The bartender was surprisingly fast, serving my drink in less than a minute. I thanked him, raising the glass to my lips with a sigh.

I didn't know where to go next.

Truth be told, I had been almost all over the world, under various identities. I've run out of names to steal, and lies to come up with. Where would I be off to tomorrow?

Usually, I'd just pick the first location that popped up into my mind. But, this time... I was experiencing an emotion I rarely came across.

Confusion.

Instead of dwelling on my thoughts , I signalled to the bartender for another glass.

————

"Again."

My foot slipped, and instead of landing a kick on his chest, I landed on my back.

"Again!"

Startled, I scrambled to regain composure. Balance. All I needed was balance. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, kicking where I thought it mattered , when I opened them he on the ground. His lips were in a straight line. Was he impressed? Was it enough to let me take a break?

"Again."

I frowned, but I kept it to myself. I've got to stop fucking around. He never appreciated my efforts. Training was always like this. Repetitive. Endless. Silent.

Sometimes I felt as if it was all a waste of time. What was it they wanted me to be prepared for?

My frustration took control of my body, and my foot connected to his chest with a louder thump than I had expected it to. He fell with an equally loud noise. My chest heaved up and down, waiting for his dreaded reply.

But it never came.

He stood up—quick as lightning—and leaned in close to your face. You looked straight ahead, not daring to raise your eyes up to make eye contact with the man.

"Emotions." He huffed. "Are bad."

I blinked, waiting for him to back away.

"Again."