I know I've been gone for several months and I know I have stories pending and I know I said I wouldn't start a new one 'till I finished the ones I have in waiting, but I CAN'T STOP! I'm sorry! I do promise that I have NOT given up on any of my other fics, however, I just really really like writing and Suits and it's impossible for me NOT to start a new story every couple of hours... It's like a disease. One of the H/C slash varieties.

Don't own Suits; warning, this contains violence and cursing and bad-ass Mike, AU, but only character wise...they're all still sexy lawyers.

One.

Most days, it was preposterously easy to keep it up.

His cover, that is.

Naïve and kind-hearted—words often used to describe him as of late.

Every now and then, though, it was almost as if people were just asking for it…

Mike shook his head; enough of that, he wasn't in the streets anymore. He worked for a prestigious law firm now. He was Harvey Specters' dutiful associate. The only thing right now reminding him of that was the ridiculous stack of papers piling up on his desk. Mike grimaced. Every time he'd managed to make a sizable dent Harvey or Louis would stroll by and add to the avalanche—the young associate was starting to get suspicious and form sinister conspiracy theories in his head about the probability of those two having set aside their differences for the sheer fun of torturing him.

Harold came over to his bullpen, completely disregarding the mountain of work on his desk, and started ranting very animatedly about the tattoo he'd gathered the courage to get during the weekend with the mini bonus Louis had handed him for getting rid of a particularly violent ex-girlfriend last week.

Mike couldn't help but roll his eyes in distaste—albeit discretely. Spending money on something so frivolous—Jesus, he could remember off the bat the countless times he'd nearly starved growing up, because he didn't have enough pocket change for a measly piece of bread at the Spanish Paneria on the corner of Grove. It was hard to fathom a lot of the time that people actually went off and bought all these superfluous things knowing kids not two neighborhoods away, were eating scraps out of garbage cans in the ghetto to survive.

"Hey, are you listening? It cost one-fifty to get the outlining; the guy said to let it heal over the week and to come back and get the color done next Saturday. I felt so bad-ass going over there. The guy who did my ink had a dragon on the side of his face, can you believe that? If I weren't a lawyer I'd have gotten that too, you know. But yeah, back to my tattoo, I actually—"

Mike easily tuned Harold out, focusing instead on the paperwork he had to get through if he wanted a chance to sneak out for a hotdog and a can of coke during his lunch break.

"Mister Ross, if perhaps you could stop distracting my associate from doing his job," this was Harolds' cue to go running for the hills. "I would appreciate that a lot, seeing as how you still haven't finished the paperwork I gave you this morning." Louis was a complete snob, and Mike abhorred having to deal with him on a regular basis. The man could turn a nun to sin given enough time.

Contrary to popular belief, Mike was not a people-person. He didn't particularly care what others did outside of work, so long as they didn't bother him about it. Louis was constantly trying to brag about his sexual conquests to Mike and anyone who feared him enough to stick around and listen to the nasty details. Mike was glad Harvey wasn't like that, didn't feel the need to share his personal life with his employees.

Two gruesome, tedious hours later Mike hung his worn bag over a weary shoulder and set off to lunch.

Harvey was starving. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been hanging out with his associate a little too much lately, but the thought 'I could really go for a hotdog right about now…' popped into his head, on his way out of the office.

Mike was such a predictable kid. A constant need for approval, all that puppy-dog enthusiasm for the job, and that ridiculous naivety only a child would hang onto. Yep, Harvey had his ditzy associate pegged, all figured out. Too friendly, too trusting—he was the boy from Suburbia who stopped on his way to school to say hi to the old folks next door, the boy in school who would try to reason with the class bully. All that sweet garbage. How dull.

Harvey devoured his chili-dog on the move, a bottle of Pepsi in the other hand; he wondered momentarily how he must look to others around him. Sharply dressed, hair combed back to perfection, stuffing his face with something so uncouth—then again, Harvey thought, Mike was right, you weren't a real New Yorker 'till you ate one of these on the run.

Speaking of Mike, Harvey thought, where the hell is the kid? If he was right, he'd only left a few minutes after Mike, for his lunch break, and on most days, they had pretty much the same schedule, unless a case was present.

"Big-shot lawyer over here's kinda' clumsy, dontcha' think, Ron? Spilling his lunch all over his fancy ass suit." A tall, broad shouldered hooligan sneered, as he smeared ketchup and mustard on Mikes' white dress shirt.

"Hey Al, how'd you know this Suit's a lawyer type?" Ron questioned in a taunting voice. He, Al, and another man the size of a pro wrestler on steroids, cornered Mike.

"Saw the little prick comin' outta' that firm a few minutes ago." Al responded, coming forward, a nasty smirk on his face.

Harvey was just finishing up his drink when he spotted a familiar blonde head among the crowds of people, surrounded by what looked to be three menacing football quarterbacks…

"God damnit kid." He growled under his breath. There were so many things wrong with that scenario. The first being it was broad daylight. The second being, how in the hell did they manage to shove Mike into that alleyway? The third being that Harvey was starting to think he needed to sit his associate down after this was over and explain to him that no matter how much candy was offered, you were never supposed to follow strangers…

Had he not been looking, Harvey probably wouldn't have even spotted the kid in the first place. As far as he could see, there were only three guys. Yeah, they were pretty huge, but Harvey was pretty sure with just a threat to call the police from an authoritative voice, the three hoodlums would be scurrying off before he could even count to three. With that, Harvey took out his cell phone and started making his way across the street, and toward the secluded alleyway.

"Just take what you want and leave me alone." Mike didn't need this. His lunch break was over in a few and if either Harvey or Louis walked by his desk and found that he wasn't there, he could already imagine the earful he'd be on the receiving end of. He wanted to make this situation as painless and quickly as possible—like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Al got a dark look on his face, "Trying to act tough, you little fuck?" he cracked his knuckles and took a step forward.

The largest of the three grinned and followed the leaders' flow, while Ron, the smallest of the three, but still a few inches above Mike, and at least fifty pounds heavier, took out a pocket knife.

Harvey underestimated just how crowded it was between where he'd been standing and that tiny alleyway on the other side of the street. It wasn't like he was worried for the kid all that much. In fact, the blonde dunce deserved a couple of well-aimed blows. "Would serve him right for getting himself into such a cliché situation." He muttered under his breathe, as finally, he managed to pass the flock of people.

"Holy fuck!"

Harvey was more than a little shocked to have two of the men he'd seen from a distance shove past him in a frenzied scurry, panting like mad, and disappear into the crowd behind him. "What the hell…" now with caution, the senior partner slowly approached the abandoned alleyway. But in a million years, Harvey wouldn't have been prepared for what he set his eyes on next.

Back turned to him, Mike stood in the lone path, hovering over someone. Harveys first thought was 'Oh, he's okay, thank God; I should grab his skinny-tie wearing butt and get him out of here before something does happen to the kid.' But for some reason, his legs weren't cooperating with his mind, and he stood stock still, knowing Mike still wasn't aware of his presence.

The man underneath him, sprawled across the dirty pavement, whimpered. "P-please, oh God, please don't kill me. I'm sorry, so sorry, please."

This man, this incredibly tall man with muscles on his muscles, gang tattoos splattered over his body, like some rigid canvas, this man who looked like he could go a few rounds with the Hulk, was scrambling on the floor crying. Harvey couldn't wrap his head around this image at all.

Mike crouched down very slowly, tilted his head, and Harvey saw it. A twisted grin, accompanied by the dead, calculating eyes of a snake.

Fear took hold of the attorney at the sight. Fear and Harvey had never really been introduced to one another until this very moment. "….M-Mike…" the name got caught in his throat.

And in that instant, this stranger was gone, and the Michael Ross who had stumbled into his office a few months ago and spilled his guts out to him, was back. Mike stood up, took hold of the frightened mans arm, and pulled him up with unnatural ease. He patted the large mans' shoulder very lightly. "You can go now…"

Not hesitating even a millisecond, the man fled, as the others in his group had been fortunate enough to do not ten minutes ago.

Mike frowned at his stained suit. Blood and food condiments sullied the front of his shirt. "Pretend this didn't happen." He said, in a very off-handed manner, as he walked past a stunned Harvey.