Inside a Porsche Cayenne

Now with a neatly trimmed beard and a bald head, I plotted my next actions, grumbling about the miserable street-light condition as my Porsche Cayenne slid smoothly through the darkness.

"Use the darkness as your ally," I absentmindedly mumbled, reciting my cunt of an instructor during the SEALs' training.

Yet with the rush of agonizing, bone-rattling memories came a pleasant smirk, knowing damn well that I persevered through all the hardships.

Just like I would again in a couple of days.

A figure on the street, illuminated by a red light, attracted my attention. And as I looked at the fluorescent sign above her, I understood that she would be my date for the night.

Driving into the shady alley, I stopped the engine and pondered for a moment, whether this was really the path I desired.