Chapter 8: Family Matters

The entire journey to the plane was in silence and tranquility. It turns out my client is quite skilled at driving. More than that, she's simply monstrous in terms of driving! Can you imagine a regular yellow taxi going over a hundred kilometers per hour, navigating through New York City during rush hour? Well, you can congratulate me. I got to experience that firsthand. Where do they even teach such extreme driving skills? Maybe I should enroll as her student? Ah-ha-ha, why not? After all, I've taken it upon myself to learn how to drive.

We ended up at some private territory owned by her acquaintance, who had a personal airfield with a bunch of planes. She provided him with money for the plane and the pilot. It was a small but quite expensive passenger plane for transporting small groups of people. Inside, everything was lavishly decorated with brown leather, seats, and various interior elements. There was a refrigerator stocked with fast food, fruits, a bathroom with a toilet, and a couple of insignificant details like family photos. All this expensive stuff and external beauty didn't appeal to Rose Wilson in the slightest. She sat in a leather chair, holding her black Beretta pistol in her hands.

"Maybe it's not my business, but it seems to me that you're rushing too much," I remarked.

"No," came her sharp reply. "I've been looking for him for too long, and I won't let him disappear again. Not this time."

"May I ask what actually happened?" I inquired. "I know, I know, no unnecessary questions, but I'd just like to understand why I'm risking my life here."

"This doesn't concern you," she said. "You can consider it a 'family matter.' You're just my insurance policy. I'm probably not the only one who found out about his whereabouts, and some 'smart' idiots might try to use me as bait to get to him. I don't want anyone to interfere with our meeting."

Her tone and the way she tightly gripped her weapon indicated that Slade Wilson meant much more to her than just a father. He held a significant place in her life. Maybe I couldn't read minds, but I'd learned to read people's body language. To notice details and construct an image of a person even before they spoke about themselves. Usually, when a person seeks revenge, they're impatient, aggressive, and unrestrained, especially if the target of their vengeance is nearby. It's possible to assume that her goal was indeed revenge for his selfish abandonment, but the most critical clue in her words was that she didn't specifically mention his death. She wanted to meet him, which hinted that what was really needed here was a heart-to-heart conversation. Perhaps with a slightly elevated tone. An attempt to shoot or beat him up would be welcomed.

"Alright, let's do it this way," I draw her attention once more. "How about I tell your story for you, and if you don't like it, I'll stay silent as a fish for the rest of our mission, deal?" I cleared my throat and began to gesticulate playfully, as if I were in some theater.

"Once upon a time, there lived a very famous, stern, and dangerous mercenary. And one day, he was given another task to protect some influential figure. That figure turned out to be a girl, both pleasant to the eye and quite pleasant on the inside. A kind shard of light that melted the heart of our famous 'anti-hero.' They both understood that their social status wouldn't allow them to be together, so they decided to keep their relationship a secret from everyone. However, an unforeseen factor entered their lives, and that factor was little Rose Wilson. She grew up in secret from her father, unaware of who her father was until the fateful day when her mother tragically died at the hands of mercenaries. Somehow, they had learned about them, and when there was no hope left, her father miraculously and heroically saved her. The world-famous mercenary, Deathstroke. The girl had reasons to hate him for being essentially the reason her life was now in ruins. However, she also understood that this terrible man was her only family, so her hatred overshadowed another feeling: pride. After all, he was the most potent man on Earth, the most famous mercenary. But despite all his attempts to make her stronger, he always remained... disappointed. It was evident in his gaze, in subtle changes in his facial expressions. Therefore, to prove that they were equals, Rose Wilson decided on a desperate act."

I paused my fictional narrative, which I had created based on her appearance and the reputation of the mercenary himself. The mere existence of Deathstroke's daughter didn't make sense to anyone, and there were several intriguing details here. First, her clothing. In some places, it simply copied her father's. Orange and black colors. Second, her equipment and weapons, specifically the most crucial thing that caught my attention: swords. In the 21st century, no one in their right mind would use swords in close combat. The only one who uses them with the utmost efficiency is... right, Deathstroke. Again, this implied that her teacher in this field was none other than her father.

"Keep going..."

"Rose Wilson deprived herself of her eyes to prove their equality. Exhausting training, constant stress, and her self-doubt took their toll. Her father was shocked and... scared? It's hard to say what a person can feel in such a situation. I don't know the tragic end of this story, but one thing I know for sure: Rose Wilson was subjected to the super-soldier serum, as a kind of parting gift from her father, and he just... disappeared."

"Who. Are. You. Damn. It?!" the gun barrel stared me in the forehead. Oh-ho-ho! I never thought that my story, based on assumptions, facts, details, and some imagination, could turn out to be true. "Where do you know all this from?"

"Honestly? I didn't know. I just voiced the most likely outcome of events, noticing some important details of your appearance and behavior. By the way, I wouldn't advise you to shoot in an airplane. This is not the most pleasant way to commit suicide."

"Believe me, I won't miss," her alertness and tension were understandable. After all, I had exposed all her cards and now represented an unknown variable.

"Another mercenary hiding behind who wants to kill Deathstroke through me?" — that's what she's thinking right now.

"I want to hear your full story. If you're so clever, tell me: why did he leave me?"

"Hmm... everything I'll voice is just my theories, conjectures, and notions about a person's reputation. Let's suppose I'm World Mercenary No. 1. I have a daughter who will surely be a target for mercenaries to get to me, so the only way to protect and save her from trouble is to make her stronger. But seeing that the girl depends too much on me, I would decide to leave. Not because I understood that it's not my style or because I don't love her, but to give her a chance to live her own life. To give her the opportunity to gain her own life experience in the real world. Why wouldn't I worry about her safety after that? Hmm... maybe it's all about the serum. Self-confidence? Who knows," I shrugged, turned around, and, taking orange juice from the fridge, decided to pour myself a glass.

"Are you saying that this is all for me... ?"  I seemed to have confused her even more.

"I'm Not Deathstroke, and certainly not your father. This is just a theory and nothing more."

"This is..." her gun trembled and lowered slightly.  "This is a damn plausible theory. Especially for someone who has never met him. And you still haven't answered the question."

"Just a rookie mercenary. Only a month of experience! I'm not a big fan of arguing over trivial matters for no reason! Honestly, honestly!" I implored in a prayerful gesture for her to believe me.

"Argh..." she sighed wearily and holstered her gun at her waist.

"Since I've told such a wonderful story about your touching and sad past, would you like to tell me your interesting stories?" I grabbed a straw for my juice and entered her personal space, perching on the edge of her chair.

"Interesting stories?"

"Despite being given the nickname 'Snake,' I would describe myself as more of a cat since I'm curious and interested in observing things that would have been unattainable for me if I were... well... I don't know... 'ordinary'?" I shrugged on the last word and took a sip of juice through the straw.

"Interested in how I killed someone for money or about how my father once threw me into a forty-meter deep well?"

"Ha-ha-ha! I'd definitely love to hear about the latter!"

"You're insane..."

"Just stating a fact," I shrugged. "Speaking of me, I've also been through some not-so-pleasant moments in my life. I reevaluated some of my views on the world, which made me stronger. I found my truth."

"Truth...?"

"It's quite a complex concept. In short, it's what you enjoy doing in life. If you find it, then consider yourself stronger."

Her father always said, "Never trust anyone. It always ends badly. Rely only on yourself." This rule had saved her life more than once, but on the flip side, it resulted in constant loneliness and anticipation of a stab in the back. All smiles seemed fake. All good intentions felt like they were just for the sake of achieving one's own goals.

That snake-like smile. That abnormal eye slit that made her wonder how he could even see. It all felt fake. A game and nothing more. However, there was something else, something she couldn't quite understand. Despite all the fakery, she believed in his abnormal motivation and in the sincerity of his desire.

"What's your real name, 'Snake'?"

"Alex T. Keeper. For close acquaintances, just Alex or Al. Whichever you prefer."

"Alex, when all this is over..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. First, work, and only then plans for the future. Who knows what awaits us after all this, right?"

"Right."

Rose Wilson +100 (Interest)

Madagascar Island was quite large, and finding one person in such a place was problematic. I didn't want to waste time on an extensive search for her father, so I decided to share my compass with her. To locate a specific item, you needed to concentrate on it. I felt a bit hurt by her doubt and skepticism, but to my surprise, she decided to believe in its functionality.

The climate of the island was quite unfamiliar to someone like me. Tropical trees, heaps of foliage, plants, and unusually large insects. I had to change my traditional attire to a plain white T-shirt and shorts, swapping my hat for a white bandana. Rose, who was leading the way, didn't seem to experience any discomfort in all of this. Her breathing was steady, and there was no hint of impending sweat. A typical side effect of the super-soldier serum? Out of curiosity, I checked her stats and was surprised to find that her physical parameters were slightly higher than Batman's. Nothing else appeared super-amazing. Only her "Intuition" stat was off the charts at 300! Even Batman only had a 250! Although I should have expected this, as it was the essence of the super-soldier serum, providing ordinary people with superhuman strength, speed, and reflexes, where you literally had the ability to dodge bullets.

Rose Wilson suddenly stopped and raised her fist, which apparently, according to her beloved father's teachings, meant "stop." A gunshot rang out, and I instantly deflected the bullet with Talos' dagger.

"Scatter!"

I didn't argue and went into Stealth mode. Our attacker was a lone individual shooting at us from somewhere in front, and he clearly saw us as clear as day. What's more, even in Stealth mode, the bullets were aimed directly at me. So, does that mean our opponent has a tactical thermal visor? Otherwise, I simply couldn't understand how I could be so easily detected. I reached him first. It was Him — Deathstroke. His equipment matched his image perfectly. Black and orange armor with the same black and orange mask, with a single eye hole. In his hands, a modern sniper rifle capable of firing in bursts. I closed the distance abruptly, and even with my speed, he managed to draw his sword from his back and block my dagger strike. I wonder how he managed to block it, considering the unique feature of my dagger? I guess it's inappropriate to ask.

"Looks like she found me after all," he vocalized his thoughts, paying no attention to the current situation, as if I were just some extra. It was somewhat hurtful. "Who are you, and what connects you to my daughter?"

I decided to gradually remove my invisibility and reached out somewhat offended, saying, "Do I have to answer? You didn't even consider me a threat and left your back open for a surprise attack."

Right after my words, Rose, with two swords crossed on her back, lunged at us, leaping out of the bushes. I allowed her to kick me aside intentionally, and then she crossed swords with him.

"Rose, listen...! Now is not the time to sort out our relationship! The mercenaries, they...!" It was amusing that even during a fierce series of attacks with her swords, he found time to speak.

"Talking during a battle is an unaffordable luxury. Wasn't that what you taught me, Father?" Rose slightly shifted back and drew a pistol from her holster. Bullets were deflected by his sword into yellow sparks in a fraction of a second, and immediately after that, a full-fledged flashbang grenade flew toward him. I would have watched them a bit longer, but I had to urgently stop time and appear between them, using palm strikes to push them apart, as some explosive projectile was coming straight at them from above.

"Mortar? Seriously?" I returned time to its usual flow, and Rose looked at me in amazement, then glanced around in confusion. The explosion and the noise of the projectile didn't even give her a chance to ask about what had just happened. Before she could rush back into her dear father's arms, I grabbed her by the shoulder and prevented her from getting up from our position behind the rocks.

"What are you doing?!"

"I won't let you die in vain. I can imagine what you're going through, but I can't allow you to throw your life away. After all, it's my 'job.' To protect you," I took her hand seriously without my usual smile, indicating that I wasn't joking in the current situation.

Rose Wilson +50 (Warmth)

"What's it to you...? I have to... have to make him beg for forgiveness. I... I have to prove to him that I'm not weak."

Oh, poor girl. Despite her superhuman abilities, she still can't step out of her father's shadow. I couldn't help but feel sympathy for her.

"You're not weak, but right now, you're letting your emotions get the better of you. You did say at the beginning that we should talk. Sort things out between us. But right now, some overly clever people are trying to take advantage of our differences."

Rose didn't reply and simply nodded begrudgingly.

"Alright, let's hunt some rats."

"Well, it's time for me to join the fun a bit," my usual smile returned. "I was getting bored."

We had a lot of targets. More precisely, there were about two hundred of them surrounding our territory. Even some rival groups had agreed to join forces to get rid of the Wilson family once and for all. However, they didn't consider that this would be a one-way trip for them. Fear is a powerful weapon in the right hands – it can paralyze and disarm an enemy. Perhaps some of them had experience in assassinating people, but none of them had the knowledge or experience of how to fight against superhumans. Deathstroke and Rose were well-versed in killing, and they could predict the course of a battle. What motivated these people to so easily throw away their lives? Money, a thirst for glory, or both? Anyway, they chose their fate by coming here, and it wasn't my place to pity them. Let them regret their idiotic decision.

I wasn't interested in wasting bullets on this rabble. I wanted to participate as if it were some kind of Olympics: "who can kill more enemies." Behead one with a swift strike, disappear into invisibility, and deliver a blow to the next.

For the sake of fun, I decided to try out a new time-related ability. Here I stood near the sole survivor of the group of mercenaries, spreading my arms with a smile on my face. He yelled furiously and hysterically, unloading his entire magazine at me, while I, like an Agent from 'The Matrix,' blurred slightly with distorted movements, rendering his attack completely useless.

Learned Ability: "Shift." OD Cost: 10 per second. At the moment of an enemy's attack, you accelerate your body several dozen times and distort it in space, making it intangible to physical attacks.

Warning!!!

If the character is near death, this ability has a small chance of erasing you from existence.

So, better be careful, right? I noticed that in this state, I had to be extremely focused on the desire to "evade," and if I couldn't control it mentally, the consequences could be extremely dangerous. Up to my disappearance. I kept this in mind.

I casually passed by the last surviving mercenary and tossed a dagger into the air. Spinning, it suddenly stopped in mid-air and, with a whistle, impaled the poor guy in the forehead. I beckoned it back into my hand with a flick of my fingers.

This was what they called a "battle." It didn't last too long, somewhere between ten to twenty minutes. It was incredibly difficult for me to call it a battle, mainly because any witness to this scene would have seen it as a blatant one-sided slaughter. Where the hapless mercenaries were desperately trying to resist us, the monsters. It was the most vivid example of how humans couldn't surpass us in numbers. It was futile. Silently and calmly, I watched as the remnants of the mercenary groups danced in deadly synchrony, destroying everything in their path. Even with their own contradictions and mixed feelings, I couldn't believe that his daughter hated him so much anymore.

When everything was over and Slade Wilson finished off the last mercenary with his sword to the back of the head, I expressed my utmost admiration for these people with applause.

"You guys really know what you're doing. I'm impressed."

"Your friend...?" he asked sternly, while removing his steel mask. Externally, he resembled a middle-aged man, but I wouldn't have given him more than his early forties. A strong-willed face, a black eyepatch, ash-colored hair, braided into a single strand, and a well-groomed beard.

"Not quite. I just helped track you down."

"I see. So, what do you want from me? I heard you were looking for me. Seeking revenge? I'll tell you right now that none of that concerns me."

"I'm looking for answers! Why did you abandon me when I needed you the most?!"

"Because I didn't want to raise another version of myself. You're young, passionate, and you have your whole life ahead of you. You shouldn't become like me, so I gave you a chance to escape from this cozy little nest called 'Family.' You needed to meet the reality of this world. To realize that people like me can only live with one purpose - to kill. Not for money or respect, but to prove themselves as the pinnacle of human capabilities. Only those who have killed, survived, and continued to kill can call themselves the best of the best."

"So, you describe yourself as a living weapon of mass destruction? A 'sport'...? Is that why you abandoned her? To prevent her from becoming your copy?"

"Exactly. She has a choice. I no longer have one."

"So, you really don't care about me...? Why did you even train me and give me this... 'gift'?"

"I was naive and foolish. I won't repeat my mistake."

"Then I'll just take your title of the world's greatest mercenary and make you acknowledge my existence!" The swords clashed together.

"Don't interfere, Alex!" Slade warned.

"I had no intention to," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'll be rooting for you, Rose!"

"Rose?" Deathstroke repeated with clear mockery and a hint of interest. Rose just rolled her eyes and sighed wearily.

"Just... don't pay attention to him."

I, on the other hand, tried to draw even more attention to myself and completely kill the serious atmosphere by pulling a large plastic cup of lemonade with a straw and a bucket of popcorn from my inventory. I comfortably sat on the corpse of an anonymous mercenary and began to watch their fight attentively. Their facial expressions were simply priceless.

Have you ever seen a battle between two samurai? Something similar is what I witnessed now. I expected the battle to be intense and prolonged, but in reality, it ended before it even began. Both of them stood in their combat stances for what seemed like a whole minute. They didn't blink or seem to breathe, like statues. It was a psychological battle in which both of them were planning their moves in invisible chess even before the battle began. I could even feel the invisible pressure and thirst for blood between them in the air. 

As expected, Rose was the first to move. With a battle cry, she closed in on him swiftly, attacking with her right hand from above and setting up her left hand for the next strike. However, Slade Wilson had no intention of meeting her attack. He simply lifted a handful of dirt with the toe of his boot and hurled it straight into her face. A second of blindness and disorientation cost her the battle. With a swift approach, he was already behind her, delivering a horizontal cut to her abdomen that caused significant bleeding. She barely managed to stick her swords into the ground to avoid collapsing completely, using them as support.

"I've told you before, there are no rules on the battlefield. You've certainly grown stronger and gained some experience, but your emotions played a cruel trick on you," Slade remarked.

"Enough, just... come back to me," Rose pleaded.

"I won't do that. You need to grow up and find your own path. For now, you're just a selfish child to me, nothing more," he said, and with a powerful strike of the hilt to her temple, he knocked her out cold. Despite his coldness towards her, he caught her before she fell and carried her in my direction.

"You're her ally, right?" Slade asked.

"Something like that," I replied.

"Does she trust you?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you trust her?"

"I'm just trying to understand who's standing before me. It's not about trust; it's about fulfilling my duties. She initially tasked me with her protection and escort, and that's all that's required of me. I had no hidden motives, and even if I wanted to, I could have killed both of you. I had plenty of opportunities."

"Yet you chose to remain a bystander."

"Is that so strange?"

"Yes. Strange indeed. Especially with that appearance. You remind me of an unpleasant clown no one wants to deal with."

"Even you...?" Slade questioned.

"Right now, we're not talking about clowns," he amusingly shifted the topic. Was the great Deathstroke afraid of the Joker? Well, I better not troll him or laugh at him, or he might actually try to shoot me. These questions had a clear purpose. Could he leave his wounded daughter with me?

"Are you connected to the organization and carrying out its assignments?" Slade's tone made it sound more like an assertion than a question. "How long have you been with them? What's your codename?"

"Oh, I'm flattered that one of the most famous mercenaries is interested in me. I'm Alex T., codename Ghost Snake. It's been a month."

"I've heard that name. A Cleaner-class mercenary with a record number of completed missions without leaving a trace."

"You're well-informed. I didn't even realize I was that popular," I replied, playing it a bit dumb and scratching my head sheepishly.

"Do you like pretending to be a fool? Such tricks don't work with me," he quickly saw through me. "What's your real goal here? Mercenaries are usually willing to do anything for money, but this is different, isn't it?"

"I dream of exploring the world and becoming the greatest mercenary! Have you ever watched One Piece or Naruto? Isn't that a cool goal?"

"I won't get anything sensible out of you, will I?" he sighed wearily, shifting the focus back to his daughter. "Why can't you just be honest with me? Usually, mercenaries are straightforward about their motivations."

"I just wanted to keep you entertained," I said playfully and added with a bit more seriousness, "And yes, you're right; this is different. But let's not get into that. I'm here to ensure her safety."

"Even if you don't need her, I can't just leave her alone because I don't have any acquaintances here to entrust her to."

"What's stopping you from staying with her until she wakes up?"

"In that case, she'll try to stop me again and ask me to stay. I've had enough of this conversation," he grumbled and gently placed Rose on the ground next to me. He then took a medical bandage from his belt and a flask of water, carefully cleaned her wound, and applied a bandage.

"I'm entrusting her to you not because I trust you, but because if anything happens to her, you'll automatically become an enemy of the organization."

"So, it's a safeguard against a backstab?"

"Call it what you want. An experienced mercenary should always plan their moves ahead and expect a backstab."

"I don't need your head or your daughter's head, for that matter. I'm actually a peace-loving guy and don't like fighting," I said, folding my palms together and bowing my head like a monk, with a crooked smile on my lips.

"It's time for me to go. I don't want to repeat this lesson. Rose has always been a smart girl. Either she'll understand, be angry, realize, and move on, or she'll drown herself in blood just to measure up to me," he said, slowly walking away towards the dense forest.

"She's unstable," I added calmly, without my usual smile. "And you can break her by subjecting her to these trials."

"Sometimes, by breaking something, you can create something. It's the first step to self-improvement. The foundation. Every time a person falls, they must rise, for that's life," he concluded.

He had left, leaving me amidst the dead bodies and burning vehicles, along with Rose Wilson. There wasn't much to do, so I decided to carry her in a "bridal" style and head towards civilization. About fifty kilometers away, there was a small resort town. We would stop there. I didn't forget to stow her swords in my inventory; she would probably be upset if she realized she had lost her toys. In the small town, I booked a room at a hotel. Once in the room, I gently placed her on the bed. Before that, I had persistently explained to the hotel owner that we were "good" people, and to prove my words, I gave him three times more than we would have paid as regular customers. I asked him not to disturb us or allow his staff to bother us for the next 24 hours, and in hushed tones, I warned him that if anyone still decided to disturb us, I couldn't guarantee their safety. Luckily, the hotel owner had a good command of the English language and understood the situation well. He nervously nodded, looking like a bobblehead, assuring me that everything would be fine. The room was divided into two parts, with a bedroom and an entrance area with a toilet and bathroom, and it wasn't particularly large. Sinking into a comfortable armchair, I turned on the television. With nothing better to do, I simply played in the room with my semi-transparent dagger. I spun it in the air, balancing its sharp tip on my index finger. On the TV, the latest news was being broadcast. After the recent dramatic events on the island, the local authorities had closed access to the airport, and the only way to leave was by ship. They explained this decision by the fear of a terrorist attack, fearing attacks by terrorists on ordinary, innocent citizens. The local port was packed with tourists, and no one wanted to stay in a war zone. Well, they would worry and calm down, and everything would return to normal. I didn't think that after such a commotion, mercenaries or contract killers would want to make even more noise and attract attention to themselves. However, it was still essential not to let my guard down. Why hadn't they closed the port, though? Most of the ships didn't belong to local companies and had no connections with the government. They were taking advantage of people's fear and the citizens' situation to charge a hefty sum for their "cruises."

I had become so engrossed in my game that I didn't notice when Rose woke up and now, with some curiosity, she watched my actions.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A dagger," I replied with all seriousness and simplicity.

"I can see that, Captain Obvious. Why does it fly and look so abnormal?"

"A gift from the Specter," I shrugged. "I entertain myself with it. It even has a name: the Spectral Dagger Talos."

"I see," she sighed wearily, apparently realizing that she wouldn't get any substantial answers from me. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Do you really need to know?"

"I think not anymore," she said, sighing again and falling back on the bed. I got up from my chair and leaned against the room's wall, curiosity in my eyes.

"I was... naive and foolish," she began, "I thought I had enough strength to defeat him. I believed that all we needed was to talk, and he would just come back to me, and everything would be as it was before. But it turned out to be in vain," she said, a short, sarcastic smile on her lips. "And now... I have no idea what to do! Tell me, what should I do?" She suddenly got up, half-squatting, and looked at me with her vacant eye. Ah, that terrible look. It was as if she was begging me to turn her into a puppet. I hated that look. It reminded me of the past. Slade Wilson had killed her personality, and it annoyed me. Maybe it wasn't too late for her to become something more than just a weapon. I just needed to guide her, and the rest would depend on her.

"Me? Should I tell you what you should do? Ah-ha-ha, you've come to the wrong person for that. I just do what I want," I said, spreading my hands. "People like you are like naked blades, waiting only to be used. They don't feel remorse, they don't feel anything about killing one person or another. They're satisfied with the thought that they're needed... by someone. That's what they were taught. That's their purpose."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, Rose Wilson, that you have never lived the way you wanted. All your decisions were made for you by your father, and when he disappeared, you suddenly lost your sense of purpose. Rose, if you truly want to become stronger and move forward, you have to step out of your father's shadow and do what you want," I spoke with a serious tone throughout the conversation, and only now, towards the end, allowed myself a smirk. "At least, that's what I want."

"Were you in my shoes...?"

"Not quite. Our positions are similar, but the situations are completely different. It was... easier for me to let go of my past. But you, you keep chasing yours."

"But I don't know what I want to do or should do; all I can... is kill."

"That's the whole point! The entire essence of our lives!" I flopped down on the bed next to her and stretched out, waving my hands. "It would be so much more boring if we could know in advance what awaits us. Who knows, maybe you'll decide to become the leader of an assassin organization, open a little shop in a bustling city, or maybe even embark on the path of redemption and become a champion of justice? There are so many options and possibilities. You've just never really thought about them or considered them."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise as she slowly moved closer to me and was literally in a "rider" position.

"Um, Rose...?" I felt a certain insecurity and embarrassment. This was the first time I was so close to someone. Someone I liked not only for their looks but also for their personality.

"Don't you want to...?" she asked quietly.

"I..."

"What?! Are you serious?!" I wanted to ask, but I was simply speechless. I had never even considered doing *that* with her, and here she was asking about a little... game between us.

Your subsequent actions will determine your future relationship with Rose Wilson...!

It seems like the system also wants to hint at the consequences of my decision. Mentally, I quickly close the panel.

"Is it because of my one eye or am I just not to your taste?"

"I wouldn't want to take advantage of my position."

"Hmph... it's not about gratitude; it's a way to relax. If the thought really bothers you, then..." I think, maybe I should reassure her, or she might get offended.

And since when did I start worrying about her?!

"No, it's just, it might sound awful, but I've never done this before, and... it was a bit unexpected for me. Zero experience in such matters."

Rose Wilson +50 [Total: 200] (Attraction)

I feel like some faceless character in a dating simulator.

"I'll guide you."

Her long ashen hair cascades toward me and lightly tickles my face. She covers my lips with a gentle kiss. Slow and sensual, it lasted no more than a minute, and then she leans back slightly. Sliding her hands under the edge of my t-shirt with a silent gesture, she asks me to get rid of this part of clothing. I raise myself slightly and run my fingertips from top to bottom of her suit, raising an eyebrow, silently asking a question.

"The clasp. At the neck."

I find her straight and take her down, revealing a view of her perfectly formed body with abs cubes for... and how old is she anyway? I think it's inappropriate to ask her now. And will it stop me now? I don't think so. I'm too excited right now to look at the situation from the ethical side. I liked her breasts. I wasn't some kind of expert in terms of breast size, but I would definitely give her a confident "two".

"I have a small request. It may seem strange to you."

"Go ahead."

"Allow me to see the scar."

She knew which scar I meant, and this request puzzled her a bit. Apparently, she just didn't understand why I wanted this. She slightly shifts the bandage with her index finger, revealing a view of the neatly drawn vertical line. I gently touched the scar and ran my finger along it; she flinched slightly at my touch.

"Does it hurt?" No, I knew that scars of this kind don't cause pain upon touch. Her reaction was just too sharp. A psychological wound...?

"No," and she adds almost inaudibly, "...not anymore."

"Let's not dwell on the sad stuff. We need to finish what's already started."

It was a bit awkward to let Rose take all the initiative, but alas, I was still a "rookie" in this regard and was afraid of messing up. After all, my impenetrable mask couldn't save me in such situations. Here, it's all about experience and understanding your partner. Without words, understanding from body language whether you're moving in the right direction.

...She still occupies the dominant position of a rider. She leans on my shoulders and sits on my penis every time, changing the pace of thrusts every time. She had a terrible habit of teasing me when I was practically at my peak. She took my warnings with the expression of an experienced sadist. It was like I was trapped by an experienced predator. A terrible feeling...!

And yet I didn't understand Rose Wilson. Sexually, it was as if she had a split personality. At some point, she asked me to become "tougher" and not limit my imagination. To put out of mind such concepts as tenderness and caring for a partner.

"My client's wish... is the law?"

...This time I took a confident pace from behind and wrapped her ashen hair in my fist. At this point, I allow myself to grin. Remembering in my past life how I first saddled a horse. Father always said: "Keep confident, don't be afraid and move at a pace with the horse." What a strange comparison that somehow strangely suited the current one

I don't know about Superman or other superheroes, but even with my endurance, I couldn't go on for more than four hours. And my partner was also completely exhausted, almost in a state of Nirvana, despite her superhuman endurance due to the serum. I think she wouldn't have been very pleased if I had ended up unsatisfied and able to continue. So, we both were satisfied with the results of this... act. Was there love here? I don't think so. It was more like she just wanted to relax after everything that had happened to her in the past day. However... I felt that there was a slight sympathy between us. We understood each other, and not many can do that. I couldn't tie her to me for several reasons. First and foremost, she is still at a crossroads and hasn't found her own path. If I were to recruit her, I would simply replace her father, which I really don't want to do. The second reason is that I didn't want extra worries. I didn't want anyone holding me back. Maybe constantly avoiding close relationships is foolish, but for now, I can afford it. Maybe in the future...? I don't want to get ahead of myself. She knows it, and I know it too.

"...You were almost right." We lie in bed under the covers, completely naked. Her head rests on my shoulder, and my arm is wrapped around her.

"About what?" I didn't quite understand and moved my hand to her hair. They felt very pleasant and soft to the touch. You could tell she took good care of them... or was this another property of the super-soldier serum? I didn't know. I loved this part of her appearance and ran my fingers through them as if pampering a cat.

"My mother was killed in front of my eyes, but they planned to keep me alive in order to attract the attention of Defstroke, but before that they decided to have a little "fun" with me. In your story, my father miraculously saves me, but in reality he arrived too late. Drugged, I watched with bleary eyes as he destroyed this garbage one by one. As naturally as a professional would do it. Clean and fast. He did it with extreme cruelty and hatred. I wanted them to pay and suffer for all that they had done. And I found in it some kind of abnormal... admiration. It was like I was looking at someone who would never be defeated. I wanted to be like him."

This revelation finally solidified my impression of her.

"Thank you for your trust, Rose."

"You're welcome, Alex. I don't know why, but somehow I feel like you won't betray me."

"Phew, you really put me in an uncomfortable position! You've told me everything about yourself, and you know almost nothing about me."

"You don't have to..."

"No, you see, I want everything to be fair!"

"You sometimes seem so much like a child."

Argh! Where did she get this insight from?!

I told her a brief story of my birth, training, and escape from the laboratory. Afterward, she was already aware of the events.

"They betrayed you too..."

"Yes, but he wasn't my real father, and this experience taught me to look at the world from a different perspective."

After we took a bath, with Rose's connections, we left Madagascar on a ship. We were dropped off in North America near Bermuda. Upon arrival, Rose began talking about a reward and was ready to deposit cash into a bank vault, but I hastily decided to decline them. Not because I was a gentleman and not because I didn't need them (which was essentially true), but because I wanted something from her—specifically, driving skills. My request puzzled her slightly, but despite that, she agreed. After about two weeks, mostly thanks to the system, I managed to learn how to drive a regular car.

"Driver" Level 6 (34% to the next level)

Requirement to unlock the "Extreme Driver" skill: Complete ten driving scenes close to "Fatal."

My driving skills improved rapidly with successful... driving? It sounds silly, but that's how it was.

I realized that if I stayed with her any longer than necessary, parting ways would be extremely difficult. So, on the fifteenth day of our joint training, I decided to leave her.

"What? Not even a hug goodbye?!" I pouted with disappointment and crossed my arms over my chest. "And here I thought we were friends."

"We're not friends. We're partners."

She certainly had an interesting way of defining our relationship.

"Well, come here already!" I reluctantly pulled her into a hug and whispered, "Good luck, Rose. If you run into any trouble, you know how to reach me."

"Thank you, Alex. I won't forget the time we spent together."

On that somber note, we parted ways, and my phone had several missed calls, mostly from my "Work." It seemed they were already aware of the events in Madagascar and were eager to introduce me to their leader. Well, let's not keep them waiting any longer and meet the leader of this mysterious organization in person.