Bruce's Pov
I hadn't had a proper sleep in two days. My head felt like it had been through a storm, every step I took was slightly off balance. When I reached and sat on the sofa, I heaved a sigh of relief.
I looked over my shoulder to see the familiar man already making himself comfortable on the couch next to the sofa I was sitting on.
He gave me a faint smile. David.
That familiar face, though in this body I was trying to reconcile with the memories it carried. He worked with me now, well, the body I was inhabiting, but the connection wasn't clear to either of us yet. Not out loud.
"How's the mission going?" He asked, as I fixed my attention on him.
I shrugged, trying to act as causal as I could. "It's… fine."
His eyebrows shot up. "Fine? That's it?"
I gave him a half smile and repeated. "Yeah. Fine."
He leaned back, clearly skeptical. "Look, there's a better way to go about this. I know you're trying, but—"
I nodded awkwardly, my answers brief, clipped. I wasn't used to small talk anymore, not in this body, not with the weight of what I'd done pressing on me. My mind kept drifting back to that alley, the blood on my hands, the man I had killed.
"You alright?" David asked, watching me closely. You've got that look… like you hit your head or something."
I ignored the comment, flipping open the file he slid across the table. The documents were thin but detailed on locations, times, surveillance photos, instructions. I skimmed through them quickly, memorizing what I could.
"Don't worry," he said, noticing my distraction. "I'll leave the rest up to you. Check it carefully. If there's anything wrong, call me."
I nodded again, silent this time. David didn't press even when he noticed the weird look on my face. After a moment of watching, he stood, gave me a brief nod, and left. The door banged behind him, and the quiet returned.
I set the folder aside and reached into the bag I had brought in from the porch. Inside was the package waiting for me from the other agency. I tore the wrapping carefully and pulled out a uniform, a compact camera, and a note.
"You have to check the place today so the infiltration can be successful." My stomach tightened as I read through.
There was something familiar about the message, a sudden rush of memories that prickled down my spine. My mind spun back to the past, to what I was supposed to do. The uniform in my hands felt heavier than it looked.
I had a lot of thoughts, what the hell of a life has this guy lived that I could kill a man with my bare hands and these papers, they look like confidential information, was he a secret agent of some kind? But if he was why two different packages?
The questions kept pouring in before I could answer any. But from what I could gather, the person was a militant, maybe at some point in his life, because I saw a lot of medals sitting on the bookshelf opposite where I was sitting.
I held it for a long moment, my hands trembling slightly. The weight of everything I'd done began to hit me. Killing a man in cold blood, taking over a life I didn't fully understand, now it seems like I was going undercover again.
But buried under the fear and hesitation was something else, my anger, my pain, and a strange determination to see this through.
The rage from the life I'd lost kept me on my feet, the humiliation and assault from that day, that alley, the helplessness, being pushed me forward head first and abused by several of my kind until I lost my life.
I folded the uniform carefully, slipped the camera into a pocket, and then I left the house. I walked for a while, glancing around briefly and slid into an alley.
At first I froze, trauma gripping me by the knees, but I tried to shake it off and put on the clothes. Every movement felt mechanical at first, but as I adjusted the straps and buttons, I felt the resolve solidify.
I stepped out into the street, the evening sun casting long shadows across the city. My mind kept running through the events from the past week, the alley, the blood, the mission. Each step forward was heavy with memories I couldn't escape.
I kept my eyes open, scanning the streets, ears attuned to every sound. That's when I overheard them, two men from my side, several meters away and leaning against a wall, laughing quietly but with tension under the surface.
"Okay, okay. There's this one I heard." One of them said mid laugh.
"Lay it out,"
"So apparently, there was this idiot who called recently and threatened the boss. Not sure how he got the boss's contact but—"
"Wait, for real? You're not joking or anything right?"
"Joke? I was there when it happened. I don't know if this guy was dumb or brave, probably the first one. But news has it that he took out one of his closest men just to show he was serious. Can you believe that?"
I froze. My fists tightened by my side, knuckles whitening.
The man who spoke before continued. "Yeah, and now he's gone and made the boss tighten up security and everything else. Cameras, convoys, guards, nothing's getting to him now. This guy will be toast from a mile away if he shows up."
I kept my breathing even, forcing myself to listen. My mind raced. They were talking about what happened, I was sure. It had to be this boss. The same person I had been hunting.
A sudden roar of engines made me glance up. Ten sleek black cars rolled past the street corner, their formation precise.
They soon came to a halt in front of the men talking, and then the boss appeared at the edge of the convoy, yelling at one of the henchmen.
"I told you fifteen minutes! You failed me!" His voice cut through the street like a whip. A gun appeared in his hand, and he shot his henchman in the head, the sound muffled by the silencer.
The man fell cold to the pavement on his back, but the boss didn't stop, he shot him a couple more times, wasting lead on his lifeless body.
I gritted my teeth, forcing my hands to unclench. The rage bubbled up but I swallowed it. I couldn't afford to lose control now. Not yet.
The world seemed to slow for a moment. Engines, shouting, the sharp smell of gunpowder and smoke lingering in the air, it all hit me, but I didn't flinch. My body felt alive, fully aware, every sense heightened.
I had tracked him here, followed the trail, and now I had confirmation I needed. The threat to the boss, the chaos, it all pointed to the same person.
My instincts screamed at me, but I forced myself to wait, to plan. Rushing into this would only alert the man I was after, and cause him to flee.
The convoy disappeared down the street, leaving a lingering tension in the air. I stayed in the shadows, watching as other men scrambled, covering, securing the area.
A flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Could I really pull this off? The body I wore wasn't mine. The hands that had killed before weren't fully mine either.
The person I was hunting… he was alive, moving around as he pleased, dangerous. And now I had to step deeper into this game, pretending I was one of them, infiltrating, using a body that was still foreign to me.
But the anger, the pain, the memory of my own death, it pushed me forward. I tightened my fists, slowed my breathing, and reminded myself of the rules.
Observation first. Precision. Calculated action. Emotions, no matter how raw, had to stay in check.
I melted into the crowd, staying in shadows, moving silently as I followed the route outlined in the mission.
I had to play the role, wear the uniform, follow the instructions given. Because when the time came, I would be ready.