Incompatible Means (Completed)

Chapter 3 Part 1

          The truck I had used for the mission stayed in Jack's downtown garage while I grabbed my bike to ride to Daniel's dojang. The black and red Honda NC700X was waiting for me where I left it in the garage. I started riding motorcycles when I started this job since it made getting in and out of places a lot easier, plus I enjoyed to the solitary feel of a bike. This particular one was less than a year old, I liked how the quick shifting made the stop and go traffic in the city bearable.

          Being early fall in Spindale the trendy stores that lined most of downtown were still busy with mostly young hipsters. The university was only a few miles on the other side of the loop which kept most of the small businesses on this strip open. Clearing my mind of all things that bite in the night I let the five-mile ride take care of the rest.

          By the time I walked through the dojang door my body was relaxing and my mind began to quiet. Daniel's Dojang was very modern, the room Daniel and I usually spared in had a bright white ceiling with recessed lighting that reflected off the shiny cerulean matted floors. To my surprise, sitting in front of the large Korean flag painted on one wall was Hugo. He sat in a stiff waiting room chair with his head down working on the tablet in his lap. Across from him on the other wall hung black and white photographs of Kuk Sool Won forms, the red and black padding of the walls broken up with white scrolls decorated with Korean calligraphy.

          Assuring myself that we were alone in the room I looked over Hugo, who hadn't acknowledged my presence yet. Despite my many efforts to get Hugo to train with me, he always adherently refused. Although he seemed allergic to exercise he still somehow managed to maintain a lean frame which he buried under gamer shirts and loose, worn out jeans.

          Today his shirt had a triforce, at least that's what he told me, adorned with a hole near the collar. Wearing a shirt with holes in it made some question the success of Hugo's life but I know how much I paid him for information and specialized weapons and items. He had to be the richest bum in America. Hugo still didn't bother to look up as I walked in, even though the slap of my now bare feet on the mats echoed throughout the mostly empty room. He was obviously transfixed on whatever he was working on. I wondered if the bright lights messed with his ability to see his tablet screen. When first walking in it might seem too bright as if you were on display or about to be examined. But I had discovered that the bright lights brought my mind into a shaper state of focus, I would think an operating theatre might feel similar for a surgeon.

          Listening to the slap of my feet centered me, dislodging whatever tension remained in my body and slowed down my breathing. I couldn't hear Daniel in the other room giving instruction to the current class because each room was soundproof, but I know he would be wrapping up soon. So I began to stretch in case Daniel wanted to spar. Even though the room was remarkably clean it still smelt like a gym as I took in deep breaths with my stretches. Though the predominant smell was disinfectant, reminding me of a pool locker room, I could still smell the sweat underneath it. It wasn't an unpleasant smell though, it was the smell of determination and hard work. I reflected that I was probably biased since this place was where I first started crawling back to living again.

          When my stretches led me to glance over to Hugo he was watching me through his thick buddy holly glasses, his expression puzzled.

          "Why you taking this job Aisling?" he asked directly. Hugo remained the only person to call me by my given name as opposed to my call sign, Ace.

          "It's just a job Hugo," I responded not even pausing in my stretches. He scoffed at that and returned to his tablet, open skepticism on his face.