Chapter Text
“There is no way in hell I am going to Los Angeles in two days.”
Jean didn’t consider himself a serviceable person. He tended to rush into things. Like that one time he almost got shot for doing a cover of a major gang fight on Queen’s Boulevard about a month ago. God, that was a dick move. “Where was your goddamn backup?” Shadis had exclaimed, when he had returned beaten and bruised. “Busy” he had grunted. “Probably interviewing some nerd on the street about the Olympics, or a cat stuck in a fucking tree” Jean added. It hadn’t taken long for Jean to realize Shadis was a grade-a son of a bitch. Well, at least to Jean. Maybe Shadis was just harsh, but he sure acted like a prissy bitch to him.
“Jean, the assignment has already been given to you. Tough luck.”
Petra Ral was the head of Maria Newspress, where Jean worked. She was an angel. “Goddamit, fine. Okay, fine, I’ll go.” he hissed, inhaling sharply.
This induced a soft smile from his superior.
“Perfect, I’ve already booked your flight and lodging. You leave in two days, and your plane will arrive at five in the morning. Are we clear?” she inquired, passing Jean the plane ticket.
“Wait… you mean, this thing is free? Like, no money?” Jean stuttered. Petra rolled her eyes.
“Free usually entails no money, Jean.” she paused to brush her bangs back. “Yes, this is covered.”
Jean raised an eyebrow and stared at Petra, “If you had told me that earlier, well, I would have been so much more inclined!” he whinnied.
“You should have used that brain I assume you have to figure that out, Kirstien.” she teasingly scolded. “I expect plenty of notes.”
“Yeah, alright, alright. Lots of notes, got it.” Jean furrowed his brow. “What exactly am I covering? An event?”
“You’ll be covering Marco Bolt, a participant in the Men’s 100 meter.”
“Alright, alright. Gotcha”, Jean confirmed, giving a soldier’s salute. “I’ll do my best.” With that, he turned on his heel and stepped out of the office.
For two days, Jean had preoccupied himself with attempting to learn about an athlete he knew little to nothing about. He had discovered that this Marco Bolt, whose last name was actually Bolt, was both taller and older than him. He had achieved numerous awards in elementary school, and gone on in high school to place silver and gold in various running events from second year to graduation. Jean was sure to write all this down, not only to include in the report, but in the interview he was supposed to get as well. The only question Jean had conjured up before he left was ‘Why did you stop running for a year?’. Jean was, he admitted, a dick. However, he wasn’t an insensitive dick. He’d have to ask that maybe mid-interview, and make sure it was okay. There had to be some reason why an Olympic runner had suddenly stopped track for an entire year. Jean yawned, and gently folded his notebook, placing it on his nightstand, and called it a night.
Jean had the first dream he had dreamt since he was a kid. He was running, running, through a vacant and dark track. There wasn’t anyone around. It was cool and misty, and the giant stadium lights illuminated the entire area. The more he ran, however, the less tired he got. Jean squinted. He could vaguely make out a shadowy figure in front of him. The figure was much faster, much leaner, and much taller than he. “Oy!” Jean called to it. No response. Every attempt he made to catch up to the figure only resulted in him growing farther from it. It was then he began to pant. Now, he was tired. He felt his entire body collapsing, until his legs began to turn to mush and he was down. His immediate surroundings turned black, and his vision blurred. The shadow-like figure was nowhere to be seen.
Jean was awoken to the obnoxious ringing of his alarm clock. Somewhat aggressively whacking the object, he was quick to turn it off. God, his head hurt. What the hell was that dream he had last night? Jean rubbed his eyes, and stretched. Flicking the coffeemaker on, he glanced out the window. It was still dark, dark and foggy. Like his dream. That messed up, disturbing dream. Jean tried to forget about the dream. In any case, he had a train to catch.