INTER-MISSIONS

The Left Hand was wearing a full-body military outfit that was all black, skin-tight, Kevlar-protected, and complete with a full mask. Of course, his guns, holsters, and massive utility belt blended into his outfit, and was hardly noticeable against the ebony material of his clothes.

It was the perfect ensemble to blend into the dark corners of the elegant twenty-four-seven whorehouse that was masquerading as a restaurant in the morning and a videoke bar at night. He found himself smiling as he kept himself hidden behind a group of large modern-styled statues portraying different sexual positions with the appropriate - or inappropriate, depending on who was viewing it - facial expression.

One of the statues’ faces was reminding him of Bren’s shocked look earlier on and he couldn’t help but go back to the memory while trying his best not to make a sound that might give him away.

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“But h-how… What did you… I mean, how can you be…”

“Standing? Walking around?”

“YES! And you can even…