Sanction barges his way out of a local bar, gulping down the rest of his whiskey before throwing the glass to the floor. Heading out to the middle of the street, the commotion already gathering up curious stares from the surrounding people. He takes off his coat and lays it on the floor before turning towards a local market man that seemed fixated on him.

"Why don't you take a fucking picture mate? It will last longer."

The man stuttered and moved along, however most the rest stuck around... Waiting to see what his problem was, wondering if he had finally lost the plot. Sanction lit up a cigarette and smirked whilst inhaling, still feeling the piercing gaze from the onlookers. 

"Have you all nothing to say? Is it not clear what I want? Day in and day out I walk these streets, I can sense to concerning looks I receive, I can feel the judgement. I keep my head down and ignore it, I give a smile and a nod to the local small business men and women, I do what normal people are supposed to do. I have all the money I need, I have my family, yet something was still always missing. Feeling empty, feeling undersold and judged. I finally realized what it is I've been longing for, and that is a challenge. I mean a real fucking challenge, not a crossword or a puzzle. I want to be beat, I want to lose, I want to feel second best. Even if it's the last thing I feel. Every stare I get that lasts a split second too long fills me with hope, a momentary state of euphoria where I believe that maybe they are going to give me the challenge I desire. However it never comes to fruition."

Sanction takes a long drag of his cigarette, making eye contact with as many people as he can, trying to gauge their standpoint. Picking up his coat he flings it over his shoulder.

"So? Has anyone here got a challenge for me? Make me feel alive, even if its through death."