[MASQ]

"That's it. Picture whoever you hate the most in the world. Anyone at all. You could picture me, for Christ's sake, as long as you don't kick me that hard in real life."

"That's...just the thing," I managed to say between breaths and hits. "I'm not sure if I really hate anyone."

"What about that dick we killed a couple days ago? Doesn't he make you angry?"

"No, it mostly reminds me of how I failed on our one opportunity in that neighborhood."

"Fair enough."

Hodek had finally taken me to what he unsurprisingly called the training room. Right across from where he slept, in a hallway he disappeared off to every day was where all of his real equipment was. By equipment, I'm talking from bench presses to a wall that held three different rifles and a machete mounted just above. I asked him why he had all this, to which he simply responded, "not mine, but I'm not complaining." I couldn't get much more out of him than that. So I let him teach me the basics, which was just a nice way of saying I knew next to nothing about how to actually kill someone.

First, he dragged a large, old flour bag to my feet and told me to beat the shit out of it. Specifically, don't use any kind of strategy. Don't think about if this'll actually hurt it. Just use my fists and feet and whatever else and hit it as hard as I could, for as long as I could.

He really just had to pick the area where I'm most weak.

For the first couple of minutes, I tried my best, I really did. But I couldn't muster any kind of blinding rage that Hodek seemed to have when he tried demonstrating for me. It was scary how much he could hate a flour bag, for no good reason other than show. It really made me feel like crap.

I took a break from my second attempt to be angry and sat down on the floor in defeat. Jeff scoffed and toyed with one of his sweater sleeves.

"God. It just had to be you. You just had to be one of those people who are so..." he couldn't seem to find the word. I didn't say anything, just stared at the ground and pick at a stray thread in the bag.

"...why do you kill people, anyway? You're kinda touchy about it, it's not like I'm going to report you to someone about it."

"Why should I tell you? You don't tell me much about yourself."

"So that I know why you're like this," he said, gesturing to the lightly molded flour bag. "You can't even beat up a bag with your bare fists. It's not like you're hurting it! What, were you completely sheltered all your life?"

"I'm done with my break. Let's go back to training." I stood up quickly and scratched at my arms, not willing to look him in the eye. He sighed after a while.

"Fine. But you'll have I give me something to work with sooner or later. As far as I know, we could be stuck with each other for the long haul."

"I wouldn't prefer that to anything. Maybe death."

"Gee, thanks. Do you really want to go back to this? You don't look that up for..."

He stopped when I turned around. I wasn't sure why. Maybe I seemed different. But he just raised his eyebrows and held up his hands. "Okay. Fine. Do what you will."

This time, I didn't need that much assistance or "encouragement" from Jeff. I didn't even need to think. I was just annoyed at all this, at everything that had led me here. I was annoyed at the Elder for not telling me anything useful on how to find them again. I could kill to get a clear path back. I did kill. But it didn't feel like it counted all those times.

Now, as one little thing at a time tipped me over the edge, I felt like I really could make it count.

Now I was angry.

Apparently, still not enough.

After I'd torn apart what was left of the poor bag, I waited for a minute to calm down and see what Hodek thought of that.

"...alright. Now we're getting somewhere. But I don't think you'd be very good as the unhinged beast type."

Fine by me!

I didn't reply, only turned around and rolled down my sleeves. Jeff's face had turned just the tiniest bit paler, which was almost impressive. He sighed and walked out of the room, pausing at the doorway. "Class dismissed, I guess."

"I'm looking for my family."

I'd managed to stop him by saying that. I wasn't sure why but I really didn't want to be alone like this, with my brain wired and my blood still coming down from boiling point. I didn't want him to go just yet.

"...what?"

"I kill people because I'm looking for my family. Anyone could have information. I can't afford to be seen so I ask around. And if they don't have what I need, then they die. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

I didn't mean to let much more slip, but I couldn't take it back now. Besides, what was he going to do with that, anyway?

"Well?" I found myself asking. I realized my hands were clenched into fists and I settled on holding myself. Hodek seemed confused, but satisfied.

"Okay. Uh...good luck with that."

I gave him a seething glare, which he probably saw behind my mask. He furrowed his eyebrows and tapped the wood of the doorframe.

"Hey, I mean that. If you really want to get back to them, you probably will."

What?

"You do?" I asked quietly. He just nodded and left me alone to my thoughts.

A couple more days passed without us talking to each other that much. I knew he wasn't scared of me, but it felt like he was of something. Maybe he was worried that I wouldn't actually be able to help him. He didn't really test me on my ability to strategize, though, so that would be unfair. For a while, I was starting to believe that he was worried for me. Maybe he knew something about where they could be, or he heard that they were...

No. Don't think like that. You've gotten a rest, and now you need to get back to work.

"I'll believe they're dead when I see them in hell," I said to myself one day, not even noticing that I spoke out loud. Jeff was eating some dry cereal when he heard me. He fixed me with a funny look from across the room, shrugged, and continued with his breakfast. That's when I crossed the thought out of my mind that he could have anything to do with this.

We continued "training" at least once a week, if you could call it that. But our schedule didn't mean shit when I couldn't even tell whether it was day or night and he didn't own any sort of calendar. Nevertheless, he insisted that I at least try and build some muscle because "brains mean nothing if you can't even stand up, unless you're Stephen Hawking." Despite having no idea who that was, I took his words to heart. Kind of. My body was sore by the end of every day we spent in that room, and I felt like my actual skills were being wasted. Maybe he just can't help you with that kind of strength.

Weeks had gone by before he even mentioned he had a brother.