The Trickster

•Clean up•

Making a dramatic entrance, I burst through the front door of my factory but there's nobody on the main floor to see it.The night shift ended about 45 minutes ago, that only leaves me 15 minutes before the staff of the morning shift arrives. I softly close the door behind me, blocking the cold air from coming in and letting the warmth of the heaters warm up my body, most importantly my feet, which have become ice cubes.

I collapse on the ground, dropping my shoes next to me. I lean my back against the metallique door. Removing my gloves that are stained with blood, I hold my feet with a tight grip. The warmth of my hands transfers to my black socks, which in result warms up my feet. They are freezing but not at the point of irreversible damage.

-"Sigh'' In weather like this I should really put on thicker socks. I make a mental note to myself.

My droopy eyes wander around the factory. The rays of the rising sun help illuminate the place. It brings a certain warth to it. Suckes that my workers can't see the beaty of it. Well at least they can feel the rays of sun hit their skin. That's something that most fail to appreciate.

Most people that have able bodies, fail to use the full capacity of their senses and limbs to experience life.

Ironic isn't it?

For a long time I was one of those that sees the rain just as bad weather, another reason to stay in bed. Growing up, the people in my entourage made me realise how different people perceive the world. It opened my mind on what I was missing out on. For example, rain is not just water falling from the cloudy sky, it's the smell of moisture, the feeling of droplets hitting your skin and making your cloth weath. It's the automatique motion that your legs do to get out of the situation. Finally, it's the sound of the water hitting the window of your room. Nowadays, I don't take for granted the privilege I have for being an able bodied person. I thoroughly experience every aspect that life has to offer.

I hear many footsteps approaching the entrance.

-"Has 15 minutes already passed already? Daym.''

I scramble to get my gloves and my shoes into my arms. In one quick but wobbly motion I'm on my feet and dashing in the best of my abilities to my office. I enter my work space just in time because a couple of seconds later I hear the morning shift enter the building. I drop the cargo onto the floor, switch the lights on and proceed to slowly make my way to the wooden door that is situated to the right of my office. With every step, I can feel the weight of my body on my numbed feet. It's not necessarily painful but it does give me a feeling of... heaviness.

When I get home, I'm gonna take a well deserved nape but before that I have to clean up. I open the wooden door to reveal a properly designed washroom. Inside there's a white ceramic sink which is supported by black drowades. The handles are naturally in a goulden couleur. The mirror above the sink is a simple triangle. To the left there's a toilet made out of the same material then the sink. Next to that, there's a black toilet paper holder attached to the wall. In front of the throne, there's a large shawer. I speachilly demanded the designer to add a rainforest fichter to it.

The first thing I do when I step foot into the washroom is slowly remove my mask, revealing my face in front of the mirror. With a fearm yank I remove the bald cap. The combination of my messy bun and dead expresion on my face really gives me the look of a university student that just pulled an all-nighter.

-"I really have to manage my sleep schedule, this shit's getting out of control"

I place my guns next to the sink and proceed to strip myself out of my work uniform. Some of that bastard's blood leaked through the fabric of my pants onto my skin but that's about it. There's no new scars or bruises to add to my collection. Of course there's a red mark on my ribs the size of a fist but by the lack of pain in that area, I'm guessing there won't be any bruising or very minimal at least.