On some mere 62 kilometres from the border of Mexico<a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=6&amp;t=42284&amp;p=205376#p205383">Sebastián</a>remained on the American side. Currently he was residing in a rundown motel, which was far from charming, with mouldy white-ish walls and strange spots on the almost black carpet that had been light brown once. Surely, this wasn't his kind of place. The proud Hispanic was used to quite some higher standards, which his royally paycheck allowed. He was relatively grossed out by the situation of this motel. But the fact was, he needed a place for the night and as he had only travelled over non-important roads, this was the only motel in the neighbourhood.  His other choice would be sleeping in his car, at the side of the road, surrounded by a spacious and gloomy forest..<br/><br/>Hesitatingly he glanced around. The room was small, it had a single bed, a chair, a small night-stand and another small closet with a television on it which was easily twenty years. The room had one door to the hallway, one door to a miniature bathroom and one to the very small balcony on which one could just take one step outside, before being restrained by a waist length metal fence. The miniature bathroom had a toilet, a sink and a small shower. It looked all too dirty to use. The only thing which seemed decent, was the bed itself. Apparently no one had found time to clean anything here, but the bed. Of course, he was glad that at least something seemed safe to sit on..<br/><br/>Seba wandered around the room for a bit. Actually, he had been wanting to continue travelling north-east for his mission, but his mission required him to be fully concentrated. As Seba had been driving almost non-stop for the last sixteen hours, it didn't seem sensible to continue now. Though he didn't like waiting. Not just because the mission was waiting for him, not because people were counting on him.. No..  He wasn't sure yet what it was. As he thought about it, he  rubbed over his chin. Lately he had the feeling he was being followed, on several different occasions.  He didn't know whether this was his own organization, just checking him or testing him and his skills. Perhaps it was even the human side, trying to spy on him.<span style="font-style: italic"> Ha, spying on the spy</span>, he thought to himself as he shook his head, wondering whether it was all just plain paranoia or whether this was his gut feeling.<br/><br/>Of course, his line of work wasn't the safest either. Though he had gotten away numerous times without any harm done to him, and though he would like to believe that was simply because he was such a goddamn fine spy, inside he knew he had been terribly lucky many a times, for the simple fact that humans don't suspect shadows. Surely, they'll glance at  shadows many times, but mostly they blame it on their own feeling of paranoia, on their own insecurity. Not on the fact that someone could actually reside in the shadows.<br/><br/>Sebastián sat down onto the bed, glancing around in the room. Some minutes ago, when he had entered, he had first taken care of the windows. Throughout the years he had easily learned that it was important to know escape routes first, and secondly, always close the curtains to make sure one wasn't an easy target. Though walls and ceilings were no limitation for him if he suddenly needed to get away, he had to try to look human if something went wrong.<br/><br/>Numerous thoughts were running through Sebastián his mind.  Like how he was annoyed by having to wear these plain no brand clothes for the mission, as brand clothes were easier to remember and they were easier to recognize. And because he was on a mission, he couldn't really wear any accessories or shoes either. All he could wear, was his small silver cross, but only for as long as it remained unseen underneath his plain blue shirt. His trousers were almost black, his shoes were black, completing the completely uninteresting look. Though he perfectly understood the reasons why, it didn't mean it bothered him less. His looks were his pride most of the time, as one could obviously see in the way he walked.<br/><br/>Sebastián lay down his dark sunglasses next to him on the bed. He only wore them to hide his red eyes, but as he was alone in here and the door was locked anyway, it was safe to put them off. He lay back on the bed, thinking about this mission. It was all in his mind, as no one was allowed to take any proof of the mission with them. He was supposed to  spy on what one or another executive of a large company was doing, as there had been rumours the executive was having some strange 'side jobs', potentially  human trafficking, though his organization suspected this was actually<span style="font-style: italic">un</span>human trafficking.  Seba would only be there to gather information and then return, so others could decide what to do next, based upon the information Seba had provided. Though he'd love to be a fighter and solve these whole missions himself, till thusfar, he had only been permitted to spy, because that was what he did best. Regardless of how much Sebastián would deny it (and get angry doing so), everyone knew of his  temper and pride, and everyone knew those were too dangerous personality traits to allow Sebastián any other job than spying.