Since he was in the lower district, he didn't need to keep his guard up, but him letting his guard down was what put him in his current predicament. So, with that thought in the back of his mind, he wore his baseball cap; opting to sling his coat over his shoulder, and made his way to his temporary abode.

As he got to the entrance of the rundown apartment, he saw the now familiar sight of the old homeless man by the broken stairs. Through his greying scraggly beard, you could see him smiling with his chapped lips as he sang Take on Me by a-ha.

"Talking away...

I don't what...I'm to sayI'll say it anyway..."

A small smile rested on Whyte's pale face as he stood for a while to listen. Content, he patted the old man on the shoulder and he walked up the stairs.

"Today's another day to find you

Shying away...I'll be coming for your love, okay?"

He heard the rodents scamper away to safety at the sound of his footsteps. The floorboards creaked with each step. It may have been dark but he knew his way around, since he had spent quite some time there.

He opened the door and remembered to hold it so it wouldn't topple over. Someone was lounging on the dusty, worn-out couch. From the person's frame, he could tell who it was.

He threw his coat over the person casually and took off his baseball cap, while said person sat up quickly and waved around frantically. "Oh... it's you," the male person said after noticing him.

"Yeah...it's me. The fuck are you doing here?" Whyte asked in irritation. A few locks of his long hair fell across his eyes so he moved them behind his ear. The locks fell back across his eyes as he moved so he decided to tie the dark hair back in a bun.

"Uh, well, when you're out of town, I uh... I crash here sometimes?" the person said as he dropped Whyte's coat on the couch.

Whyte finished tying his hair and he walked over to the light switch. He flicked it on and the broken room was illuminated by a pale-yellow light. Being a gangster meant he got electricity; even if the gang was a measly one like The Red Bishop.

He turned to face his unwelcomed guest squarely, making sure he glared daggers at him. Said guest started to feel uneasy as Whyte walked menacingly towards him. He went behind the couch and started explaining himself.

"I-It's not what you think. I'm only crashing here b-because I got nowhere else to stay!" Whyte rose an eyebrow and sat slowly on the dusty couch, dropping the baseball cap by his side.

"What are you talking about?"

He didn't know everyone in The Red Bishop but he knew the person hiding behind the couch was a mid-tier member. He had the tattoo of a bishop chess piece somewhere on his body. Heck, when they were unlawfully detained by the cops some months ago, Whyte noticed how the other Red Bishop gangsters revered him as he relayed the message to everyone.

"I know it seems like I'm this top-dog but the truth is, being a gangster doesn't pay well; 'specially when it's The Red Bishop. I asked Boss for some cash to pay rent but he laughed me out of the room. So... I got kicked out," he said with a wry smile on his sunken face.

Whyte looked him over for a few more seconds before he laid down completely on the couch. He was a bit uncomfortable so he removed his phone; still with a broken screen, from his pocket and dropped it by the baseball cap.
"You can stay for a while. But you gotta pull your own weight around here," he said with his eyes closed. He was a good kid. He didn't deserve to be homeless at his age.

"Really? Thanks, Whyte. I owe you one," he replied.

Plus, he was the only one who called him by his name; correctly.

"Buddy... I broke you out of jail. You owe me a lot more than one," Whyte told him. The boy waved him off nonchalantly as he sat at the edge of the couch.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You won't shut up about it," he said with a roll of his eyes. Whyte rose his head slightly to look at him. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought," the tattooed man said before he went back to his previous position. He enjoyed the brief silence before the boy broke it.

"So... how was the delivery?" he asked.

"Same old, same old," Whyte replied him, trying to get some shut-eye. The boy was silent for a while before he asked, "What did Boss say?"

Whyte groaned silently before he reached into his back pocket and removed the roll of cash. He showed the boy and said, "He let me keep the cash."

"Oh man! We're set! Say... can I borrow like a hundred bucks?"

Whyte shook his head and went back to closing his eyes. The boy seemed to think it was a lot of money. Matter of fact, the roll of cash could be exactly $100.
"That's not happening. I have things I could buy with this cash," he replied.

"Wait a minute. Did Boss specifically tell you you could have the cash?" Whyte noticed how the boy's tone turned a bit serious.
"Well... not exactly. I tossed it to him and he tossed it right back."

"Yeah, you don't want to do anything with that cash," the boy told him, crossing his arms.

"What do you mean?" Whyte asked him.

"Boss will most definitely ask for the money. The last person he did this with... well, let's just say the person spent the money and went missing a few days after."

"Wow... thanks for the heads-up, Buddy," Whyte said sincerely. Boss was already out to get him. He didn't want to give the man another reason to be after his head.

"Consider that my payment for the first year here," the boy whose name seemed to be Buddy replied. Whyte didn't say anything after. He returned back to trying to get some shut-eye. And of course, Buddy just had to say something else.

"So... what do you do for fun around here?"

"Okay! Rule number one: Do not disturb me when I'm trying to sleep. If not, I'll throw you out faster than you can say 'Hey.' Maybe you can sing-along with Bob downstairs. That fun enough for you?" Whyte sat up with an annoyed expression on his face.

Buddy chuckled nervously and nodded his head before he replied, "Got it, roomie. It is fun enough for me, actually. You know, word on the street is Bob once auditioned for Crestville's Got Talent. He didn't get in though."

"You're an idiot."

«»

He read through the paperwork for a second time before he picked up a pen and signed at the bottom. He straightened it out and put it in a folder. As he moved to drop the folder with the pile to his right, a solitary piece of paper caught his eye.

He grabbed it and stared for some time. He wondered how he'd be able to persuade the recruit-in-training to move to California. He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

He looked up and saw a somewhat old man standing before him. Over the past month, he looked like he aged a decade. His wrinkles became more defined and his grey hair had started thinning. One thing that hadn't changed was his position as "mouthpiece of the council."

"May I have a word, sonny?" the old man asked politely.

"It's late, Councilor Horatio. What is it?" he replied as he put the transfer slip under the pile of folders. He didn't offer the councilor a seat. Instead, he rose from his seat so both of them would be standing.

"Very well. You're right. It is late. So, I might as well cut to the chase," Councilor Horatio said, mostly to himself. He turned his back to the councilor so he'd stare out the window of his office. He ended up staring at his reflection though.

Over the past month, his short low-cut hair had grown a bit full, reminiscent of how it was when he was just a young recruit. He had a light beard and his eyes looked tired. His dark skin didn't glow and glisten like it once did. He had been so busy keeping The COSP afloat that he let himself go.

"The council believes you're making a mistake. This plan of yours is bound to fail, sonny," Councilor Horatio said. He turned to look at the councilor. He wanted to be pissed, but he didn't have it in him.

"Councilor, please. Not now. Not today," the dark-skinned man replied with a sigh.

"If not now, then when, sonny?" the councilor's voice was slightly raised.

"Alright, Horatio. You want to talk? Let's talk. Let's talk about how I'm trying to keep us alive."

Councilor Horatio scoffed and replied, "You're not trying to keep us alive. You're trying to get us exposed! You came to us so we'd think of a solution."

"Yeah! I remember! You guys came up with nothing. So, I came up with something," he said with his hands in his pocket. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the various scars on his exposed arms.

"But this -" the councilor gestured around; "- this isn't a solution. It's suicide!"

"Ugh! For the umpteenth time, it's not suicide! For once, Horatio... for once in your life, open your goddamn eyes!" This time, he yelled outrightly, "The COSP is expanding. It has to. The number of evos coming out all around the world is alarming. The other branches can work it out 'cause they have agents. We don't! So, we can't afford to operate in secrecy effectively like the rest of the world. This... is our only option!"

Councilor Horatio shook his head in disappointment. "It's not and you know it. When you came to us and asked for our help, I thought, 'Finally...you've come to your senses. You've come to realize that you need the council.' And then the first chance you get to undermine us... you take it, in a heartbeat."

The dark-skinned man looked on unimpressed as Councilor Horatio spoke in a level tone. He just wanted the old man to say what he had to say, so he'd leave. He could already feel his brunette girlfriend in his arms as they both slept soundly.

"And to involve The President no less. That... that just helped me confirm what I already knew."

"And what is that?" the dark-skinned man asked.

Councilor Horatio smiled thinly at him. He turned around and started to exit the office made entirely out of glass. "Do have a lovely evening, Director Gray," he said before he left.

The director rose an eyebrow as he watched the retreating figure of the councilor. A tall brunette in a pitch-black pantsuit emerged from a corner and turned to see the retreating figure of the councilor. She hurried over to his office and shut the glass door behind her.

"What did he want?" she asked seriously. Director Gray shrugged his shoulders and sank into his seat. "He was unusually vague. I think he's getting too old for this," he replied.

"I know, right? Have you seen his wrinkles?"

"Tell me about it. And his posture?"

The brunette walked around the office, imitating the slightly slouched councilor. Director Gray burst out laughing and she joined in. They both calmed down after a while and smiled at each other.

"I thought you already left, Kat" Director Gray told her.

"I want to sound responsible and say 'You're my boss. I can't possibly leave when you're still in the office.' But the truth is -" she rose her manicured hand to show him her leather purse, "- I forgot my purse."

The dark-skinned director shook his head and chuckled a little. "Well, I'm done for the day. Can I drop you off?" he asked. Her smile turned a bit forced but Director Gray didn't notice.

"Uh...there's no need, really. I wouldn't want to keep Mary waiting. Plus, my boyfriend will pick me up."

"Boyfriend?" Director Gray asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah... boyfriend. You do know I have a life, other than being your secretary, right?" The director of The COSP chuckled once more and rested his hand on his chin.

"I know. I'm... happy for you," he told his secretary.

"I'm happy for me too," was her response, a forced smile still on her face. They stared at each other for a while before it became awkward and uncomfortable for both of them.

"Well... uh... yeah, I-I better get going," she said, breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, me too," Director Gray responded, standing from his seat and clearing his throat.

She opened the glass door and turned to look at him one more time.
"Goodnight, John," she said.

"Goodnight, Katherine," he replied.