POV Gale
At home, there was no one waiting for me, sadly. It was a small, one-bedroom apartment overstuffed with all kinds of beauty products. I had some unused face masks still in their package in front of the door, some special oils, a bunch of perfumes, and even more stuff in the bathroom.
I immediately threw myself on my bed, pushing away the hair dryer still plugged in, a bunch of spare phone batteries laying under my pillows, and a bunch of keys located near my feet. I checked our target a couple more times, and no matter how much I looked, it seemed weird—a seven-star old that possessed no scars or augments of any kind—what kind of organization was he leading?
'Well, even I reached five stars thanks to my sixth sense, but that at least stays within the realm of supernatural abilities. He looked like the average ninety-year-old grandpa who was just a few months away from dying.' I complained while suffocating my frustrated screams with a pillow.
