I would like to officially put the following statement on the record: I fucking hate people.
Today, the Target's family decided to go on a family outing to a car show. A rather large car show, in fact. Held at the State Fairgrounds of Minnesota (yes, I'm still stuck in this frigid hell; Father doesn't appear to trust me to travel very far yet, and has gone so far as to close the Path to me). In other words, I was surrounded by hundreds of old, sweaty men parading around their 'rat rods' and middle-aged mothers suffering from empty nest syndrome who, no matter what they said, sounded as though they were trying to offer me a piece of fresh pie. Or whatever the hell they cook up here.
I apologize if I seem to be more animated than usual; most of my energy is being diverted to recovery (I have 36 to thank), so I have less of a filter between my brain and my hands at the moment. Like I give a fuck. I expect to be fully healed within the next week or so. By then I should have my full composure back.
At any rate, with the amount of people present, I soon lost my Target and her family. With so many people around, my Sight was seriously messed up. I suppose in order to give the full impression, I should explain what my 'Sight' is.
For those who are familiar with the graphic novel series Naruto and the video game series Assassin's Creed, this will be an easy explanation. Imagine the predictive powers of the 'Sharingan/Mirror-Wheel Eye' coupled with the seeking powers of the Assassin's 'Eagle Vision.' For those unfamiliar, I will have to try harder.
In the case of prediction, it is more a hyperattention to detail concerning the movements of my opponents or Targets added to an overactive imagination (for lack of a better term): I can detect small muscle or position shifts and, based on even such a diminutive motion, visualize the next possible move. With each subsequent shift or tensing of the Target's body, I can remove one or multiple possibilities. Simple process of elimination, really. Eventually, the next action is revealed, and I can react accordingly.
As for seeking, I have no real explanation. It's not as simple as Eagle Vision, where everything appears in different colors. If I had to guess, I would say it is a mental state where all my sensory input (the scent of the Target's shampoo, the taste of perfume on the air, the sound of the footsteps of a child walking rapidly away, a gentle current of air in the wake of a person walking by, and so on) is combined to paint a map in my mind of where the Target is, accurate to roughly a meter on a bad day. For all intensive purposes, we'll settle on hypersensitivity. Therefore, my Sight boils down to hyperattention and hypersensitivity.
Until too many people are gathered in one place. Then, the smells all coalesce into one nauseating stench, the air tastes like sweat, and I get a migraine from trying to listen for the small sounds in the maddening cacophony of polite housewives asking in their hint of a Norwegian accent if they can help me carry something, or hold a door. And I can only pay attention to every little detail for so long when every other person is an eighty-year-old woman wearing a tube top because the sun is finally coming out for once.
But, I digress. That's not a visual anyone needed. Eventually, I had to trek across the city to find the Target's car, and waited there for three fucking hours until they showed up, got in, and drove off. I followed in my own vehicle which, though not as fancy as those driven by the insects at the car show, gets me from point A to point B without drawing too much attention. Even with a body in the trunk.
Just to be sure this wasn't a repeat of 36 and his apparent ability to slip past my Sight, I watched the Target another few hours until I was satisfied, all of her actions fitting my predictions and so on. As a parting thought, as much as I hate people, I hate Minnesota more. Everyone is too damn nice.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a body to bury.