64 Hours

32 h0urs

~the thirty-second hour~

"Psychotic a three syllable word for any thought too big for little minds." -Lex Luthor, Batman vs Superman.

The thought of killing a man instantly brings chaos into my world.

But again, my world is my family. 

In an hour I've already drove to the Military Base. It's called St. Peterson, where men fresh out of uni come to train to protect and kill. I never enjoyed it, especially being forced to come here when I was eighteen. I wasn't because I was dumb - no, I was a straight A student throughout most of the years and had plans to go to University and study architecture. But then my father, who was had been in the military himself, refused to believe in outlandish education and wanted me to carry on his damned legacy here. 

My father died two years ago. But I couldn't care less. I never dwelled on it, and neither did Mom or Aria. 

It was 6:30, so that mean training started in ten minutes. I was standing outside the camp, glaring at the fence that divided me and St. Peterson. Through the spaces of the fence I could see the pale brown ground that I used to run and sweat on, the indoors shooting area at the far corner, and the huge heliport on top. 

It had been an hour's drive to get here, but it felt like a year. The more time I had to think about it, the more anxious I got. Was I really going to...hurt someone at someone I didn't even know, Unknown's, expense? How far was I going for him now? 

My insides wobbling, I approached the security gate and glanced at the code. I still remembered it and typed in the familiar numbers. What was I doing? I couldn't barge in a kill a man. It's a crime - I could go to jail for fifteen years. For my sister. For her daughter. For my forsaken Mom. 

I was just about to turn around when the gate automatically slammed shut behind me. I wailed inwardly, but tried to steady my shaking limbs as I faced  the military base again. There was no turning back now. 

 I checked my watch again, shivering in my thick jacket even though the sun was just going up. I already memorized Mr. Lakes - the captain's - schedule by now. At this time he would be sitting in his office with the fan blowing on his sweaty face from his morning workout, with a brewed cup of black coffee sitting on his desk. 

To confirm my theory, I started towards the main building where Mr. Lake's office was. The closer I got to the terrifying structure, the more I slowed down. As I trotted on the thick path, I got curious stares from other soldiers. My heart ached for them as some of them were jogging around the field, faces read and damp patches of sweat under their arms. It reminded me of how difficult military life was.

At the base of the office outside, a tall broad-shouldered man was shirtless, heaving as he lifted what seemed like a 60 KG barbell. He grunted when he saw me walking by, and I instantly remembered him. Who could forget that one large man with a six-pack, the one that always worked the sweat and blood off himself everyday at 6 AM? 

It was Louis Thunderberg, the man who hated me most because I outsmarted him in fights. 

Suddenly Louis dropped the barbell, the weights landing with a thud. Then he gave me a shark-like smile, sweat gleaming on his forehead, his height hovering over my frame. 

"Well well well," Louis said with a delighted edge to his voice. "Browning is here. Who knew after all this time that he would come back from the dollhouse?" 

I bit back my anger as usual. When I was still included in training Louis had an undying hatred directed towards me, and he would always try to provoke me into a fight so that he could either win or I could get in trouble for starting it. And several times I landed in a fist fight with him, Captain Lakes would come in and punch me more times that Louis did.