Sometimes You Question Yourself On Whether You've Forgotten How To Count

Tarik

June 15, 10:30 pm, Paris, France

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRM!

Tarik groaned, the sound of the air horn way to close for comfort. He opened his eyes blearily, noting that his face was up against something hard and dirty.

It took a moment for him to realize that his entire body was lying face-down on the floor. He blinked, vision swimming slightly as the boots in his face came into focus.

Immediately, Tarik flung himself back, just in time to dodge the incoming kick.

The boot-wearer whistled, impressed.

"Reflexes fast as ever, Shadow," he grinned, casually flipping a small, silver knife. "You really haven't changed at all."