"Only one person and you didn't even manage to kill him?! I didn't pay you a lot just to slack off! He lowered his head, apologizing to their boss. If he were not able to catch the perpetrators, his credibility and reputation would be gone, kaput and would force him to quit the job or worse his boss would kill him."

He deeply breathes and composed his thoughts, expunging the anxiety.

“I am so sorry if I haven't caught them, sir! Give us one more chance and then we will show you results.” To the least, he already had the trust of his boss, in the past few years, he was able to accomplish many tasks without fail. It is just now that he failed in the attempt. Unlike he had faced before, he could daringly deal with them with only the use of guns. But now, their enemies were able to use magic, and this bothers him. Someone must have hired those mercenaries.

Even though his boss wears formal attire, his rotund figure still transcended and seemingly his belt cannot hold the plumpness.

"It is beyond my anticipation that those bastards can conjure magic."

His boss snorted, "Enough with the excuse. It looks like you are just squabbling now. Where did the best of you go, eh?"

Again, he defends the honor he once held, "It’s not true. I can still fight just like before." He bit his lips, stopping the tremble overtaking his reasons.

"If that is true then, what are you doing right now?! Idling like a fool. To hell all of you! If none of you would be able to return those items, I'll hire another gang and make them kill you all!" He warned, his beard filled with sweat.

Ɵ

He loitered down the sidewalk, bitter. It was early in the morning; the sun would rise at any moment. He strolls down the alleyway. Further down, he could see the wooden door and the fluorescent tube twisted into forming letters, Dove Alley.

He pretends to be surprised and shows an energetic attitude to the kids who tried to scare him by wearing a Halloween mask. The last time he checked the kids, they were thin as if a single blow of wind may knock them down but now, they are healthy and energetic. Together with his friend – who is running the bar, they were able to help the kids.

"Oh, I see you kids must've been playing a lot." Even though he is worn off because of what happened he was still able to joyfully respond to the kids.

"Hmm, I thought you were going to visit this Saturday. Why early?" It was his friend who talked.

He kneeled, down to the level of the child, and greeted them with a tired smile.

"Hey, why don't you guys play over there, me and your uncle Henry are going to talk. Okay?"

"Adult stuff again?" One of the kids replied his face changes into a grumpy one.

"Uhm, yes, don't worry. The next time I come here, I would bring a gift to all of you." He spoke.

"Really?" They said in-sync.

"I promise." He reassured.

"Okay then. Bye." They have left him and continued to play tag somewhere else. He sighed and could not be able to hold the tiredness anymore.

"Listen, the reason why I came here is that I need my weapons." He responded to Henry 's question.

He stopped in motion and gave a serious look at him.

"Is it serious this time?"

"The prey can use magic and high combat skills; I might need to be serious this time."

This time he could not be careless as he had already faced him and underestimated his capabilities and that is why he must be in top-notch condition. Henry gently raised his right hand and waved, gesturing to follow him. In the underground basement, there, Henry pulled the horn and the wall vertically opened revealing a lot of weapons and armors.

Out of concern, Henry asked him, "Port, what kind of enemy are you facing now?" Port does not know who they are, but he must secure the items that his boss wants, or he wouldn't be able to feed the kids he had taken care of or worse than that they would become the target of his boss' wrath.

"I don't know who they are, but I'm sure that they're mercenaries, hired to steal items that my boss obsessed." He grabbed a giant case and then started to choose weapons.

"W-When are you gonna stop this job? I know it’s not my concern." Asked Henry.

Port shows a wry smile and says, “You know I can’t leave this way of living. I've grown with," in the last phrase Henry synchronized with him, "and I die with it." Henry let out a sigh as if he already anticipated his answer, but still, he wished that it would be different this time.

"Besides, I have a debt on him. I cannot just waltz away. He might target you guys. Just do not worry about me, take care of those kids."

“You can still go back.”

Port heard it but he ignored it. Henry let out a sigh, he did not want to start an argument with Port. He already knows what would happen and does not want to have a stain in their friendship. He strolls back to the counter, entertaining the customers.

Ɵ

Alastor tilted the doorknob of the wooden door, what lies behind is a man, standing, gripping hard and caressing a hammer and slammed it to the hot rod, forcing it to form its desired shape. The clanking sound continued for a little longer and once drawn to halt, he proceeded at the near large barrel that is full of water.

His unusual height broadens around six to seven feet making him a considerable easy to be recognized, also his bulky body is well-formed, currently his shirtless and the six-pack abs towering before him.

He wipes his forehead and to his grizzly-beard as he used the metal handler to hold the hot rod on the water, steaming. His sullen eyes narrowed. The smoke slowly trails outside the windows. The hotness did not bother him as though he's already used to it considering that he's in this job for many years. He walks toward the desk and puts the rest of his tool at the metallic desk far side of the workplace.

Without looking back and to confirm, he already knows who the guest is, "Kid, didn't I tell you before that knock before you enter and where the hell is your pass card?!" He shouted in a gruff voice.

"Sorry, I forgot." Alastor tiredly replied.

"I told you that if you want my service, leave a card at the postal before you come here!" He yelled again.

Alastor sighed, tilting his head at the woolen counter, proceeded, and leaned his back resting. Alastor also brought a long-wrapped white-clothed hiding his sword on his suitcase. His eyes darted at the entirety of this place.

The place is quite a mess, their few papers laying off the ground far from the workplace, blueprints he created and plates that haven't been able to wash indicating how busy he had been for the past few days.

It is only natural that this place would be unkempt since he is busy playing with his tools. Such swords, medieval armors, different kinds of weapons were hung on the other side of this workplace while only a few were displayed in this part of the room.

"Meil, why bother leaving a card when I can just directly visit here?" he questioned him.

"Because I don't want to be bothered by the police - you dumbass!" Meil snapped, his voice flared while reaching the rag, soaking it to the water and dump it and he began to clean the desk.

"Hmph, ya already know what I mean. I heard that you guys have gotten pretty cocky these days, eh?" Meil smirked while he shoves sideways the damped rag in the counter.

"Cocky?" Alastor formed a strained smile, almost a smirk while crossing his arms.

"Yeah, cocky-bastards. The news spread quickly as fast as lightning about you guys being a pain in that fatso ass." Meil replied and laughed then stopped, continuing, "And also, all of you are dead meat." He quickly changed from a serious attitude.

Alastor's expression did not change as he had already anticipated the quick spread of the news and thought that other gangs will come after them, seeing the quality of the tech they had possessed.

"That's not surprising." Alastor flatly replied.

"Hey, be serious. You never know who you might bump with, ya guys might want to lay low for now."

"That's what we're currently doing."

Once Meil finished doing his bid, he grabbed a cigar laying off under the desk and walked at the furnace, arraying the tip at the fireplace. He took a puffed and gently released the smoke, dissipating in the air.

Alastor's hands swayed the smoke out of his face. His eyes scanned at his workplace,

"Probably others were already asking this to you, but how many years have passed since you quit the Glade?"

Meil narrowed his eyes, pupils straining to focus for a second as if he was thinking deeply.

"Hrm. I think it has been fifteen, maybe sixteen years."

"That long, huh."

"That long."

Alastor wonders how Meil started to move on, to be precise it is about things that happened to his past. Meil hands leaned on the desk and sat on the wooden stool near Alastor.

"How did it go?"

"About what?" He throws his cigar at the fireplace.

"This business. I mean it has been pretty rough for you."

"You bet it is!" He cackles. Meil seems to enjoy their conversation and continued, narrating, "At first, bitches won’t stop bugging me. Maybe because they see me as a rich guy. When I first came here, I had no connection nor reputation, just me and my bucket full of Haz."

"And I guess beating their ass gets your deserving respect?"

"Ya got that right." He proudly said.

Meil decides to change the topic to Alastor.

"What about you, how's the Glade doing?"

"Hmm, same as always. Damn training programs."

"Haha, Holm knows how to make a damn professional mercenary, eh." He chuckles. But Alastor disagrees about his compliment and says,

"Professional? No, I wouldn't consider myself as a professional, even now I am still learning."

"Even if you already passed the Glade?"

"Yeah. Learning does not stop being passed or being a graduate. The world is a big place, you know, some things can be learned that you can’t read in the book. I didn’t even know that cake exists, not until now I'm out of that hellhole. Alastor couldn't help but smile, and besides, I'm not a fan of listening and following instructors’ directions when I was in the Glade."

"Ha-ha-ha, that attitude, you remind me of someone I knew before."

Alastor raised his brow, "Who?"

Meil stares down, thinking deeply.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Nothing. Shaking his head and standing up, Alastor had noticed the change of mood."

"Meil?"

"Nothing really, I just remember something Anyways, I'm sure you didn't just come here to have crappy cringy chit chat with ya old bro, aren't ya?"

"Of course not, there's a favor I would like to ask."

"What is it? If it is not related to your job, I'm good to go." Meil clarifies with no intention to intervene with their mission.

"It's about my sword, it got pretty rusty since my last fight."

"Oh? Lemme inspect."

Alastor opened the suitcase, and he removed the white-clothed, revealing the cherished sword. By looking at it, the hilt is broken and few scrapes’ marks at the sword, the blade – based on Meil standard is considerably dull, "Oh damn. The hilt will only be broken if used against a hard thing, also considering the dull blade that I had just sharpened last month, cutting the flesh could have also caused the dullness." Meil stopped at talking as he already realized what is the cause. He turns his way around preparing the tools. "Ya want me to reconstruct it?"

"Do as you please, just make sure it’s not that heavy and it should be comfortable to handle."

"You can get it back tomorrow."

"Okay, I'm just gonna leave my suitcase here."

Alastor locks the suitcase and was about to leave when Meil's words reach him.

"Hey," His deep voice reached him, his voice tense down.

"Yes?"

"How are you holding your teammates?"

"We're just doing fine. Is there something that we shouldn't be fine with?"

"No. I’m just a little bit worried about you."

"Me?" Alastor questioned and looked at the ground. "Yes. I was wondering if your relationship with them is okay. Since we know that, you know what I mean."

"I know. Don't worry we're fine." Alastor shows a wry smile.

"Just making sure you are. Ya could be rough to talk sometimes."

Meil smiles, but his eyes tell a different story. He had known Meil when he was a child. He had made Alastor feel that he is not lonely and keeps his smile bright when times get rough. He is genuinely worried and could feel that there's something behind it.

Meil broke the silence. "Just remember kid, they're the only one who you can rely on – if you want to survive in this kind of business."

"Hey, stop it. You are being weird. I am not used to cliché sayings." Alastor almost chuckles but stopped as Meil's contemplation has become serious.

"Kid, just make sure you hang tight with your friends, they're the only ones you can rely on."

"You got that being tight is right, but the wrong thing is that they're not my friends and I rely on myself." Alastor protested.

"It's not always about yourself kid."

Alastor murmured, "I know that. Sometimes I wonder how I can get rid of the other side of me, the one that always distrusts."

"All you have to do is to open yourself to them."

"Maybe if I feel like it." Alastor considered his advice, but at the same time, quizzing him. Thinking that it might not work for him and them. He always tended to do things on his own, add to it that he was an orphan. Left him unwanted by his parents, which thinking about it makes him feel lonely and undesirable.

Alastor showed a wry smile.

"I don't think it will work."

"You just think that it wouldn't work, I mean look at us. We became best buds. How come you aren't able to see and treat them the way you’re fond to me." Meil elaborately explained, convincing words spurted out of his mouth.

"It's different when it comes to you, you had taken care of me since I was a child and taught me things until you quit the Glade."

Meil fell in silence, leaning and gave a heavy sigh.

"Alright, if I cannot change your mind, suit yourself." Meil gave up as he rubs his spiky hair. He leaned at the rough wall for a second, then he stood up continuing his work.

Alastor turns his direction at the door, slowly walking with the sullen expression. Dragging the solid wooden door, Meil said something that catches the attention to his ears.

"You gotta also be careful. I heard that the Canaries are here in town." The words spurt out in his mouth worried him but shows no reaction, only a contemplation that would eventually bug him for the next few days.