There was an unattainable aura that Apollo just couldn't place his finger on. When he had exited the office, the streets were bright and cumbersome. Los Angeles's typical residents hurried to work or bustled to their next destination with intentions of their own. He escaped through this mess with an objective just as those around him had - to go to their next destination, to complete their daily tasks or obligations. Cattled together, they merged into a giant systematic unit of mindless travel.

Exiting the foyer and out of the hotel with Ms. Fate on the other hand, ripped that mirage and broke away the illusion entirely. The world had a contrasted hue and clear image. The traffic of people passed by around them, schools of fish floating absently in the water with the mere intent and goal of surviving. That's all. The position was unique and jarring, in the spot of a juror, watching and waiting as the trials go on all sides of the court to place their input. He may have been a spectator in this scenery, but this imbuement of faculty made everything appear dwarfed and paltry. An intangible potential that could pluck one out of the numerous rows like a mature dandelion and blow it away with no consequence. Unlike the woman standing next to him, they were considered sheep and with her clothing, the shepherd would rather leave the flock as sacrificial lambs for necessary abated cruelty than to suffer along his own.

"Are you always so…" She drawled on the last vowel. "Merciful?"

"What do you mean?" Apollo removed his reverie from the ocean of people.

"You let Mr. Waters off the hook quite easily." Fate had a minor look of astonishment. "Not entirely uncommon for an attorney, but if the older staff were still in charge he would have been dismissed very quickly."

"I don't exactly know all too much about the hotel business, but," Apollo peered downward in thought. "It's not entirely his fault, you know. Not all of the blame should be directed towards him."

"True." She digressed objectively. "But he is still in charge of the staff at the Imperial hotel. It's his duty to keep in line all of the staff and employees. He had ample amounts of time to inform not just me, but numerous guests about their floundered entertainment. This is pushing beyond excusable."

"It does sound like a bad misconduct or offense, but he could have a good excuse to why it happened." He gave a determined look. "I try to hear people's claims before judging."

Her brow quirked, skeptical albeit tickled. "You have much to learn, Apollo."

She took him veiled by the shoulder, spinning him to look once more at the building. A sheen glare cut the windows in half midway high. "In business, there is a hierarchy. The foundation must be strong and well established before you can build upward. Respect those that work at the bottom. They were the employees that ground the name in the first place. The investment of others reinforces it so the business can scale higher. The middlemen such as Mr. Waters, makes sure that the signal relayed from the top goes to the bottom and vice versa. If any of these pieces were to be out of order, consider the whole thing collapsed, brick by brick. This week, lots of the reinforcements, including me, were to have special occasions."

She released him, unrequited on dire news. "And to put it lightly, the investors were not pleased."

"Ack… that's not good…" His upper lip dangled.

"No. It's not. My party was the most decent one." Her mouth in a line. "I tried not to look at the emails and calls, wails and all, but I have no choice."

Her hand wavered in an unpleasant gesture, but she didn't appear upset directly at him. He was grateful that none of the displeasure seethed him as a target. He could only imagine the innumerous amount of fops and upperclassmen bombarding her like entitled children about how such a vacuous decision of placing time, effort and money into a ruckus called a hotel. He second guessed for a fraction of a second whether or not he should have let out the manager maintain his position despite him being nowhere near an authorized figure. He just advised.

"We try to have these get togethers to bring about the collective minds of those who want to invest or make donations towards the city outside the office. Once in a while, we do it to find potential in others for our benefactors." The intentional redirected at the intentioned.

Apollo shuffled in his spot. He peered left then right. He twirled around to see if there was anyone behind him before searching for confirmation. His finger prodded unbelievably at his chest.

"Yes." The utterance was not as strong as she'd just watch him twirl. "I believe I have found my next potential group."

She cut him off mid fist pump.

"But!" She pointed in a scold, "you must be careful. Like I said, I want to trust you. I will be putting my resources and time into you. Consider this… a test, a trial, but don't let that trepidation fool you. I do believe you can do it."

She tapped his chin upward lightly, paying heed to follow on her walk. The sea of people separated from them to walk, subconsciously or paid little mind to the minor inconvenience. Her hands folded over each other calmly. "Thus, I have to teach you how to manage certain assets and liabilities."

"Business wasn't my major, but I guess I can learn a minor." He adjusted his tie smugly. At least he won't be the lone person in the firm to not have a secondary education. Athena whips out her analytical psychology like a person who just got their driver's license. Mr. Wright does have a secondary study, but the usefulness of its properties did not assist in anyway around the office. He was once an art major, but the handwriting of Mr. Wright's paperwork begged to differ. With having the questionable print or maybe it was cursive, p's looked like g's for some reason and j's looked like l's. Perhaps the art he majored in was on the abstract forms. More notably where he had no qualms on Trucy's props lounging around with their colors and oddly propped decorum.

'What's with the floating spaghetti?'

At least with a founding understanding with an applicable academic, the firm could branch to gain more than one floor and his own proper office room. A nice chair like Mr. Wright's would be cool to have also.

"Brushing up a few details with the head lawyer of your firm may get you a little notariety." She eulogized into a whisper. "Stretching your knowledge and network gets you places and connections. Just so you know."

"It's who you know, not what you know." He flatly responded. "I'm not exactly a money bags, Ms. Spectre."

He slumped, "I won't exactly fit with that crowd."

"Even the greatest were once seedlings." She waved in disagreement, "It is not only about wealth. Any fool can have resources. Doesn't matter how many ladders a person has if they can't vault over the wall correctly, there's no point."

"Stepladders…" Apollo adjusted.

"Don't start…" She stopped.

"Point taken."

"The point, Apollo, is about talent and skill. Those are the ones you do not lack." Her eyes rounded about. "There are hundreds of firms out here, but yours is quite unique. You are a good start and representative."

Her lips made a line, thrown back into thought.

"Or I could simply speak with your boss about improving your firm." She poised flatly.

The dejection did not land subtly at all. It was only in the morning after a relatively chaotic, but borderline normalcy for the office that he was already rut once. His partner of the day, which they had wholeheartedly competed in their daily routine, had automatically dismissed him without a second thought and ran after Blackquill with not so much as politely saying farewell. Now, the philanthropist that had happily catered to him this morning with keen interest swayed her inclination and affluence onto his boss. Mr. Wright was already known to be the Comeback King. Athena already had a setup of becoming a Revolutionary with her analytical technology. Where was his limelight? He could come out with his own title besides being loud like a clarion and abused by samurais and rockstars. She deliberately handed out his chance in a silver platter like she had this morning. There's no way he will have this chance rut from him, too. He'd devour it just like he did, except for the greens.

"NO!" He yelled more impulsively than he wanted to. "I mean!"

He fixed himself a bit more presentably and puffed his chest. "I'll be your man… or lawyer for that matter."

'Ooooh… Cheshire is going to h̷a̷te̸ this!'

"Are you okay, Ms. Spectre?" Her face went blank for a moment.

"I am very excited actually. Perhaps you are better off for the choosing. Let's see if your case holds water." She corrected softly. "Let's be off then. There are numerous things in my agenda that have to be complete for today. Some are quite mundane so you won't exactly get the full introductory package today. Maybe a taste or two or some acquaintances…?"

She juggled with absent weights.

"I'm pretty sure we can handle it." He tested the waters by stepping in.

"I'm more than sure WE can." Her reply landed him comfortably in a shallow, but comfortable water. "Now… a moment to enjoy some peace and quiet... only for a moment though… I must check some of the damage."

Her phone was scoured across once more. The dangling arbiter mascot swung back and forth like an aggravated bee just as her eyes read through.

"Great…" Her tone not so.

"What is it?"

"A recall on my phone."

"What gives?"

"Looks like the phone company wants to recall the phones because of some technical issues: Signal disruption? Glitches on Internal hardware and quick battery usage. That explains a lot."

"Does it have a lifespan faster than a fly?"

"I really wish it did. The typical house fly has a span of 28 days. Unless you're speaking of the adult Mayfly, then you're correct." She flicked over several more emails, a tad less annoyed.

"The mailbox is full. Must be all the excited reviews from previous guests..." She ended the possible oncoming flood by storing it away.

"Appears I will be visiting Java's the Nutt to look into this problem." She explained after witnessing Apollo's face contort on the questionable establishment. "It's a nice NetCafe."

"Those still exist?" Apollo flinched.

"Very few with their own computers, but mindful for those in my predicament at the moment. It does not only supply nice drinks, but technical support of all types."

"The hotel doesn't have any computer lab?" His thumb pointed back towards the direction of Gatewater.

"It does, but I am unsatisfied at the moment… It's better than being taught the REAL corporate punishment." Her stance crossed, but relaxed when addressing him. "Your pampering is all I will give them for now."

"How close is this place?" In all honesty, he had to see this place for himself. Such relics were of the past, before his time on earth.

"Not too far - a nice walk's length." She directed in strides.

"I don't mean to insinuate, but I'd figure someone like you would have a nice swanky car to ride around in." The red attorney rode a ghost steering wheel in his grip.

"I do, but humility is important. Strangely enough, I was just about to say the same thing about you…" Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Eck! Well… you see…!" He could almost taste the faux pas leather of his shoe at the back of his tongue. "I can't exactly afford one comfortably at my current salary."

Her hands reached the heavens. "A lawyer who can't afford a car… what a recession…"

The decision of laughing or crying wagered equal options, but neither had the pride to go ahead and let it out in front of the only possible person who could assist with the financial struggles of living in the city of Los Angeles. Or maybe that could drive her cause further?

"Such as to be expected when you live near the heart of the city." She caroused, "the rent itself is like the charge those accused that come to you - murder."

"You don't say…" He slumped. It's always about location. Closest to convenience, the office was near walking distance if he woke up early, but a cab ride would get him there at the utmost expense.

"Now now. This is only the beginning," she spoke. "Perhaps, you may get to see one of my rides."

'One of them?' He definitely had to see this for himself. "You have more than one?!"

Her grin answered. They traveled through the turbulence, but did not endure the ricketiness of it all. Strangely enough, the people unconsciously divided a path despite the greed of the walk came from Ms. Spectre and him alone.

"How was your time at work this morning?" She pulled him from his thoughts.

"Same as usual. I go to the office, organize some files, a little maintenance here and there." He paraphrased, keeping out the chores vaguely.

"Besides your boss and your other coworker, Ms. Cykes, what other employees do you have?"

"We have Trucy. She's cool, but she's a magician, not a lawyer. There's also Pearl, but she's a spirit medium who visits once in a while."

"I met Pearl at Medium Valley." A warmth in tow. "She's promising and very helpful."

"She is." He blurted, "she helps me clean around the office."

He bit the inside of his mouth. The duty of playing the maid of the office was meant to remain off limits.

A small scoff escaped her from his wince. "You have variety in that office. I see why it's called the 'Anything' Agency. Beforehand, if my information is correct, it was once called Wright & Co. Offices?"

"That was before Mr. Wright's false disbarment," Apollo's brow furrowed to the once dark times. "He worked with Ms. Maya Fey years ago before Athena and I showed up. Pearl was there, too."

"How did you ever find yourself working at the office?"

"After having to throw away my previous employer, I had to find another job." He informed tapered. "I went to Wright's office and it was not exactly pretty."

Her head tilted curiously.

"In a way, I had to rebuild the office from scratch at the time as the only practicing lawyer."

"Really?"

"I did get some help from Mr. Wright and Trucy." He added, 'if it didn't involve me in parlor tricks…'

"Then you have some experience on revamping an establishment." She tapped her chin, "this is good. How did you do so?"

He grinned widely. "A little sweat, a few tears…"

"You missed the fun part," her eyes glided to the corner.

"Some blood that wasn't mine…" He trailed. "Eventually, Mr. Wright did get his license back. Athena came along later. Then it became the Anything Agency."

"How would you describe your relationship with your coworkers?"

"Mr. Wright is my boss, so he gives out the jobs sometimes. He advises and gives us some help with incoming cases. Trucy is also helpful, but she is in her own gig. Sometimes she likes to shove me in a box for target- I mean magic practice," he corrected. "Like I said earlier, Pearl helps around the office when she visits. From what Mr. Wright tells me, she delivers letters from Ms. Fey."

"What of Ms. Cykes?" Her eyes slithered to the corner.

"Huh?"

"Your most recent bunch of the primary color troupe?" Her stare directly pointed at him. "How is your relationship with her?"

"We're cool."

"Just 'cool'?" She smirked.

"She helps out with the office too and other clients."

"Nothing more?"

"We've… co counseled a few times."

"There's something else, isn't there?" The question deviously curious.

"No." He deadpanned.

"The spirits tell me your little pants are on fire." The narrow of her eyes unashamedly intrigued. "A colleague, a coworker? A friend?"

'A little trip to Medium Valley and you can hear Casper, too?'

"We are friends." For some reason, the term left dryly.

"We lie to ourselves first before we lie to others." Eyes were sealed, striding defiantly to the road blindly.

"Fine, I'll play as your conduit." She acquiesced to a stop, turning her heel to him. "Look at me and tell me there's nothing more."

He sighed, willing to make it clear. He made eye contact, "there's nothing... more…"

"Ooooh… that's nice…" She sizzled like a skillet. "For a lawyer, you're a horrible liar."

"The point to a lawyer is to uncover the truth, not lie." His arms folded defensively.

"Uncover this for me: What was that little dance she threw you into?" Her tone lecherous.

"She forced me!" His hands were thrown forth. "She did it for Mr. Wright because he needed a push to dance with Ms. Fey."

'Great! I escaped a medium pan and landed into Fate's fire!'

"I like your glass house." She laughed, "my party may have been messy, but nothing was as entertaining as watching you both. You couldn't even look her in the eye…!"

Apollo shuffled uncomfortably in his shoes. His finger brushed his collar, that cyan tie becoming closer to a noose, squeezing the air and sweat. He did not have any sort of infatuation with his coworker. Athena worked along with him in the office, practiced their routines, been through thick and thin. She was a friend. Yet, the thought itself made him frown. It didn't place right - forcing a puzzle piece where it did not belong. Was she placed somewhere higher? Lower?

No. She was definitely not lower. Yet, at the very moment, he could not elevate her higher. She was stagnant in one place. He was stuck holding her there. He wanted to, despite his better judgement.

"It's okay…" She plucked him from thought, "but that's not what's bothering you…"

"Nothing is bothering me." He defended, paying attention to the cracks of the ground.

"Such dishonesty… such lies…" One half of her lips curved unpleased, the other amused. "I sense a feeling… displeasure akin to abandonment…"

"We see each other almost everyday when we're working…" The argument was mostly valid when he heard himself. "How can I feel abandonment?"

"How do you pursue clients?" Her hand skated the air elegantly.

"They come to us most of the time. Sometimes the troubles search for us outside the office."

"Do you normally go on your own in search for clients or accompanied?"

"I normally have someone with me." He shrugged quickly. The sentence left a bitter aftertaste. "It could be Trucy or Athena… these are the few times I went out on my own."

"And where are your partners in travel?"

"Trucy is at school. Mr. Wright is watching the office with Ms. Fey and Pearl."

"And…?"

"Athena is working on her own right now."

"And you did not accompany her?"

"No."

"Why?"

"She can go on her own." A restless puff deflated his chest, "I don't have to babysit her like Mr. Wright told me when she was just a rookie."

"Mmhmm… your companion is occupied with something?"

"Yes."

"With someone else?"

"Yyyyes…" The word stretched far enough for fabric to rip.

"Oh no…" She sighed, "Clientele or closer?"

"Closer."

"How close?"

"They've known each other for years. He's come to us with problems before. It's no biggie."

"Such small things can escalate quickly," she contrived. "It's alright, Apollo. At the end, she'll always come back to the office. Or at least, hopefully."

The grin on her face ever teasing and lofty. He didn't have to worry about Athena and Simon. That samurai was emotionally constipated. That has a far away chance of ever happening. Right? Athena was emotionally volatile and they had lots of catching up to do since he was released.

Maybe.

'No no!'

"Okay! Okay!" He bellowed louder than he'd like.

'Stop reading me like a book! She'll come back. Right?'

"What about you?" Apollo regained his footing.

"What about me?" She asked, remnants of levity.

"You're an investor, right?" He threw the first thought that he could comprehend in his brain and hopefully redirect it at her.

"Yes, that is one of my specialties."

"What other specialties do you do?" He hoped the question would throw her off and give him a breather.

"Learning about me comes in increments." She wagged her finger. "The more you wish to accompany me, then you may know more."

"I thought you stayed home."

"Like I said, I could, but I don't want to." She defied flatly, "I can sit back and let the racks stack, but I refuse."

"So you half lied?" He smirked, but dropped it quick when he realized she phased right through one of his greatest fortes.

'How did she do that?'

"I never lied. I just held back some truth. What I told you was never false."

"You ever walk around alone?" He decided to rebound.

"I used to, but I try not to." She stated, "like you - I like having a companion."

"Like one of those two men that were back at the hotel." He averred than pressed.

"Yes, but like you today… I am alone." She explained, "with good reasons, of course."

'What you tryin' say?'

"I'm pretty sure, Athena had good reason for leaving." He bit his tongue with self detest. He's becoming what he constantly questioned, the guilty.

"Yes…" She drawled impishly. "And so do your other coworkers…"

The lower half of her face teased as the top half displayed ample pity. Apollo cleared his throat, less haled, "so you were saying about your usual people."

"It's not only them. I have numerous clients all around."

"Like who?"

"It's a range, a wide spectrum of people," her finger looped in the air.

"Are they all fops?" He cracked.

"Not all. I have met some with humble backgrounds," Ms. Fate emphasized respectfully. "We might meet a few today."

"Good. I don't want to meet any of those, you know." He juggled. "Showy, flashy and froufrous..."

"I wouldn't want to punish you with those either…" The remark carried scorn, "those people usually lack integral pieces of their being. I could teach you to exploit it - to put them in their place."

"I doubt you can ever hurt those people unless it involves their vanity." He rubbed his fingers together in empty mula.

"Aah, my poor mite, their weaknesses tends to fall right out of their own mouths. As long as you tweak just at the right subject." She cooed. "Have you ever thrown another's words back at them?"

"Plenty of times," he roughly waved the air, throwing himself off their in synced walk. "Especially in court. During questioning and pointing out evidence and contradictions, people kind of just throw themselves out there. Definitely a perk when it comes to the job."

"Putting people in their place…" Low lids fixated, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"I won't lie. It does." He puffed, reintegrating with her pace.

"Now you don't lie about how you feel?"

"..." Apollo was on the verge, but quickly shut his trap. His smolder finished quenching and appeasing the Lady's crude appetite.

"Yes." She breathed exaggeratingly deep, "it does feel good."

"I'll get you later!" He pointed competitively.

"I'll be waiting." The tips of her fingers gilded against each other like harp strings.

Typical L.A. traffic whizzed by at the intersection. Many accumulated in the corner at the crosswalk like a clot. It was no alien sensation of having shoulders bump, purses collide and backpacks shunted to the side when he decided to walk around the boisterous city. Today, however, there was no such presence. For the few blocks they had traveled, as water in lipid, the people coiled absentmindedly away like second nature. A respectable gap with enough elbow room for urban life. There's no doubt in his mind that he was grateful to have a breather in this hectic concrete jungle, but this had to be a coincidence. Maybe there was something around the people who did not want to touch? There was no off smell besides the burning motors and cloudy pollutant musk of Los Angeles.

'I didn't step in anything, right?'

He peeked briefly. Nothing other than clean and bedazzled by the hotel assistant. He veered around, skimming over a few faces down on their phones or waiting for the accursed green light to turn red already to attain some false sanctity of safety when crossing. Experimentally, he shimmied a fraction unhurriedly away from Ms. Spectre. To his surprise, the civilians unnoticeably scooted a snippet, compensating for his new bounds. He resorted back to his pull, once more by her side, the polarity of it all brought the interrupted shape from the shroud back to equilibrium. His head shook. He attempted one more test on the people in front. The people on the side could possibly see him in their periphery. The ones ahead had no chance of awareness if he were to take the approach. One small step forward did not yield the results he expected. They divided away from his path. He could not believe it.

"Are you alright?" Ms. Fate uncrossed her arms innocently.

"I…" He shuffled back where she was, watching in disbelief as the crowd huddled like penguins back in place. "Yeah…"

He felt her hand pat at his shoulder, bringing down the tension he had no idea amassed there. The light had finally changed to red, allowing the stream of people free.

"When it comes to finding the trustworth, growing a way to determine the truthful from the deceitful takes time and the blunts from lots of backstabbing." Ms. Spectre began.

'I know how that feels…'

"In actuality, that's something that cannot be afforded constantly. It's exhausting on the overall wellbeing, but," she paused. "I've gained a knack from distributing the worthy to the non."

"How do you do that?"

"Instinct and intuition. I can see. Not like you, but in a sense. A deep look into one's heart and to see if it is ill intended." She poised.

"Oh yeah? What does mine say?" Apollo asked, genuinely curious.

"Loud. Very very loud…," she deadpanned. "But the loudness tends to be unfiltered and honest. The rest is just to see where that honesty is directed."

She gazed determined, "What shall your voice burn? What shall your voice spare? But its echo could reverberate beyond whom it was used on."

"How?" Apollo curved unconvinced.

"You spared Mr. Waters. Financially risky, but your action of forgiveness may rectify his behavior. Evidently he has. I checked my dues this morning with a negative balance and an informant has told me that the other guests were reimbursed via policy. Reputably, the hotel has adjusted its respect on the customers, but the lingering doubt of trusting the establishment again is compromised. Especially with such a detrimental problem that could have been easily fixed if spotted earlier. Your voice in the matter may also see you as one of respect and compassion. Word may spread that you have saved his career and outlook towards you as a whole. I would also advise you to be careful with that stand. One may abuse that kindness in turn. On the contrary, had Mr. Waters been justly reprimanded for his lack of duties, your stand may be one of justification and one that the shareholders could see as opportunistic and revered. Removing Mr. Waters could be seen as excising liability. Saving me most of the punishment for keeping him and partially damaging my hold on the hotel would also have been prevented. A well deserved and more respectable manager that has been waiting years for the position would have replaced Mr. Waters. Would you still have given him the same mercy if I presented both sides of the story first?"

"I think I'd have a harder time…"

"Justice is blind. In this situation, I left you mostly blind. Still there are details that were left out. But don't fret on it too much, Apollo." She placed a hand on his shoulder. Her analytical gaze softened.

"Can't this affect your business a whole heap?"

"This was just a small obstacle that can be easily swept. There was no true long term financial consequence to your decision. I wanted to see what you would do with such power - to have the decision and impact on many lives. There are no right and wrong answers. Sadly, in this world, there is no black and white - a muddled grey with different branches of lighter and darker shades in the mix. Use the notions carefully in your decisions."

He wobbled lightly on his heels, hands deep in his pockets. "So, if you were to say there was a right or wrong in this situation, did I pick right?"

She jingled the small mascot dangling on her phone. "I am the arbiter… I cannot tell you whether you're right or wrong at this moment. I have no bias or judgment, just assessing. At the very end, I will let you know."

"... there are going to be more of these…?" He winced.

"Everything you do has an impact, it's not restricted to these instances. Ready to enjoy a bit of the butterfly effect?" Her hands clapped, "eventually, all roads lead to a point despite it seeming linear."

"Well, yeah…" He rubbed his horns down. Fixing himself, he spoke seriously. "But I don't want to be messing around with your business or clients negatively. I don't want to cause any problems."

"Wheels are already spinning, but a whole business won't tank. You won't cause anything undesirable." Her tone mollified. "That power of yours makes it easier to detect if one is inconsistent with their claims. This could cut down your list by a long shot and save many interviewing hours. Use that powers of yours wisely. It makes you have an edge amongst the rest."

"It does have its perks when I'm investigating." He rubbed his wrist contemplative, just below his armband, "I think you're putting me too high up."

"No!" She flashed before him.

"Ack!" He stopped on a dime with very little grace.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end as she nearly towered over him. Her aura itself cemented him from pulling away. Her face was irate and fierce, but her violet eyes lied. They displayed something else deeper and solicitous.

"You're not putting yourself high enough!" She grasped him tightly. Her eyes darted frantically around as if he were covered in insects. "Why?"

"It's not something I'm used to," he mumbled loudly, his face concaving backwards away from the living bomb ticking before him. "And… I'm kinda trying to be humble…?"

He trembled like a leaf in her clutch. Spectre dropped him back on his feet, her head along with him. That intangible shackles broke.

"That's going to have to change…" She tapped the bottom of his chin pappy, her temperament restored cooly, "what can we do to bring it out?"

'How do you go from zero to a hundred real quick?!'

Digits wiggled under her chin, contemplative, "that power of yours, did it react with any of Mr. Waters's tells?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, wary of what she might want to hear. The band adorning his wrist did not constrict nor did Mr. Waters seemed tense outside of the context of becoming imminently terminated in all sense of the word. A white lie would not pass by her in the slightest.

"Nope, sorry... Nothing," he delivered truthfully.

"Then he may have spoken some truth." She concluded, veering and drawing details he could only imagine.

"The meeting… sounds consistent… it's valid… no… there's something else…" The words tumbled.

He craned around like a confused cockatoo. He hoped he answered correctly. It was honest. It doesn't mean it's always right. The mumbles garbled many topics into a mess as if more than one person was talking at once.

She stirred after witnessing the deep concern etching from company. "I apologize, there's something on my mind right now."

"Was it about Mr. Waters?" Apollo drawed out.

"Yes. It's about the meeting I was in this morning," She waved, "and something else."

"What?"

"I'll find out."

'The machinations of your mind are an enigma...'

"Well, no need to cry over spilt milk," she pointed. "This is the place I was talking about."

Apollo jerked excitedly, heading turning like a surprised owl. The NetCafe was larger than he thought. The exterior was dark roasted coffee brown with light gray trimmings dotting along the modern aged square design. The front was elegant, rose gold doors with the name of the establishment embellished above it with a golden outline of a breakfast bean. It was the personification of a handcrafted masterful latte concocted by a guru barista, but made of painted brick and concrete. If he were not previously informed, he would just surmise it as a regular cafe. A one hoopla establishment that only rockstars would be allowed in.

"This place looks awesome!"

"It's not only looks, but the personality on the inside." She signalled, "come. I want to show you."

A tall doorman in a creamy beige top and rich wood color held open the rose gold seals. He bowed respectfully as they entered. The beginnings of the interior shared the same color scheme as the outside and included the creamy milk scattered into the mix. The linoleum floor stretched out towards the roast colored carpets that continued into the breadth of the place. Various cream colored chairs were introduced to dark wood tables, shined to the best of waxes. The area where people ordered had a bar feel, but served Jamerica's favourite legal hot and cold beverage instead of the dizzy drinks. The menu had its share of cursive writing on a dark board hovering above the registers showing the experimental naming of javas to hot chocolates, natural drinks and other gourmet Nutt's specials. The crowds shared no mind as they had reserved themselves to their own tech of laptops and other portable devices and steaming drinks at the side as their necks craned downward and tapped away nonchalantly. The aroma was nothing, but the minutely freshly brewed java that woke up Apollo instantly. If only it tasted like it smelled. The coffee he had this morning wasn't so pleasant.

"How do you like your coffee?" She inquired, pointing towards the finely written menu.

"Half 2% and two packs of sugar." He happily rehearsed.

A sharp inhale and wild smile sprouted as if she knew something he didn't.

"What?" He defended, "that's how I always have it."

"Some sweetness is a relief." She calmed down before instructing politely. "Be a dear and would you kindly find a nice spot for us."

"Alright." He did not argue, desiring to spectate around this place himself. "Any preferences?"

"Surprise me."

As most of the seating was occupied, he aimed to find the tech squad of this NetCafe. Looking down, he noticed a swirve upscale river of white lines sewn into the carpet and lined with deluxe overhead lights that led around the corner of the center service area. Marching on, he followed the white laced road and found rows of the various computers. He was surprised to find half of them in use. The row lined against the wall had instructors teaching the not so tech savvy patrons on how to work with the modern day technology. A second service counter named Bolts with a small single file line of people were assessed for both software and hardware on their gadgets.

"Your curiosity sure does get the better of you," she spoke, hot beverages in hand.

"They do exist!" His eyes glazed over until a shush from another patron had him seal his trap shut.

"Yes, they still do. Either way, I was going to head back here." She handed him the small, but thickly crafted warm mug.

"Oh…!" He eyeballed it for a while, surprised to have it encased in an actual robust china instead of a crazy plant based disposable material or styrofoam. "Thanks."

She gave a small rise to her cup. Mimicking the clashless toast, he went for a sip. He inwardly sighed, it was as bland as his morning coffee.

'You'd think a place like this would have outstanding drinks better than what I can make in the morning! Rose gold… more like third place bronze...'

Upon the speedily dealt with customers on the line to use the computers, the technician stood perfectly erect like a robot.

"Hello, ma'am," he spoke more animatedly. "How may I help you today?"

"My phone had a recall today," she formally voiced. "The email stated that any gen tech or the phone company can fix it."

"May I see?" He eagerly outstretched his hand perfectly parallel to the floor. She handed him the device, dangling chain and all.

At first, he cocked his head confused. The cellular was like a discovered meteorite. He shifted through the settings to unearth information about the phone. Nothing of the sort was apparently stored.

"May I open it up?" His smile symmetrical, but his voice cracked excitedly.

"You may."

Rolling it on its back, he examined the back plate. It didn't have any visible possibilities of opening it. He adjusted his brown tie and ducked under the counter. Apollo stooped over nosey on what was their helper digging up.

"Ack!" Apollo flew backward, nearly knocking his nose with the brimming cap.

"Mmhmm…" Ms. Spectre hummed unamused, shaking her head.

In hand, the tech poised perfectly with a rollout of tools. Certain tiny screwdrivers with oddly shaped heads and peculiar edged utensils in the kit Apollo has never seen before. With some adept maneuvering and precisions with sliding the tools along the corners, the back panel popped open. Several serial numbers, a silver panel along with the battery were exposed. Turning to his computer, the technician's fingers flew across the keys. He hummed perturbed, nearly shifting his perfect right angular position.

"One moment," he pleaded.

He picked up his desk phone and dialed a spree of numbers like a jackrabbit on an energy drink. Whomever he spoke with clarified the issue and he retyped the numbers with the in-line that clamped between his shoulder and cheek.

"Got it. Thank you!" He hung up before typing several more times.

"Yes… this is the RK8 prototype model. It's so rare…" His eyes bugged out. "Who do you know who has access to this phone?"

"I have my resources…" Her face pulled to the side, but her eyes remained stuck on him.

"It has been having some issues and software instability. A good tweaking and some updates should fix it." He wagered.

"I guess rare doesn't exactly give guarantees," she acquiesced. "How long and how much?"

"It's free from your warrantee, but you'll have to wait until we get the parts from the company. This is a unique model." He pointed downward robotically perpendicular. "We could ask the company to send you the new and improved RK9."

She glanced away for a moment to land on Apollo. He felt a second stare from the tech land on him. His eyes swayed left and right, muddled on how he managed to gain the center of attention.

"No…" She decided. "I've grown fond of this one. I'll wait."

"Do you have an emergency contact?" He inquired energetically, finger raised at attention.

"No extra digits on me… I have my office phone." She jotted the scribbles quickly on their form.

'Her handwriting is as bad as Mr. Wright!' He giggled softly.

"Do you have a secondary contact?" The tech annexed professionally, "Just in case?"

"Hmm… You know what…" She peered at her company, "Apollo, may I have you as my contact?"

"Ugh… I mean… okay…?" He brushed down the horns on his head.

"You have my permission to pick it up." The scrawled contact info streeled across the counter towards the red attorney to complete, "you can come to one of my offices if you manage to pick it up before I do. Just let me know to save the trip."

'One of…? As in more than one?!'

"Where is your closest office?" His neck twisted swiftly towards her like a child being told he'd get a cookie for his work.

"I'll tell you later." She winked.

'I guess I passed an increment…'

"Maybe now we can choose the table you skipped," she craned accusingly.

He folded those two pikes on his head flat guilty with a gritted flustered smile. She began walking, beckoning for him to follow. "I think I know a pleasant spot in the second story."

An ornate spiral staircase led to the second floor. The floorplan was open in one half and the other half closed in with weather and earthquake resistant windows. The midway outlook towards the urban streets was not but all tempting. His finger poked ceaselessly towards the balcony.

"Out there looks like an great spot!" He charged after the first available empty table. Rump landing first, he owned the chair and table, shaded nicely by the summer paracel blocking out the hot sun. [His knuckles knocked outstretched on the other side for her to sit. "I got us that table."] She shrugged nonchalantly, willingly resting at the occupied seat across the white sleek table. With her china nearly camouflaging with the furnishing save for the red liquid still as dead water and seated cozy, she adjusted the umbrella to prevent further exposure.

She sighed with relief, "one unexpected chore checked off the list."

"Nipped it in the butt," Apollo swirled around his ersatz drink.

"As I do with most of my problems," she steeped the bag drowning by its string.

"What about the other set of problems?"

"Resolved or eliminated in some way," she blew at drifting steam. No longer did evaporation occur.

"Sometimes when I'm overwhelmed I have to let it out!" Nothing crushed into his fist.

"Let me guess…" The string was anchored to the handle. "You want me to do what makes you always feel better when you have problems and scream? No thank you. I've done my fair share once of shrieking and momentarily lost my voice."

"I mean people have other ways of dealing with issues," he gestured more laid back.

"That's exactly it, Mr. Justice…" Her tone grew huskier, "that is the problem…"

The tied string lost its tenure when she pinched one end and pulled. The herbal bag fell slowly into the tea.

"We see the issue and we 'deal' with it, but that does not mean it is solved." The knitted parcel sunk to the bottom. "If not exorcised, it will fester either in our environment or within ourselves."

The tab above water creeping with the rest was grappled in her forefinger and thumb. "Make sure you get your lead and with it you rip that trouble from the roots."

Dripping entirely in red liquid, the submerged teabag was uplifted from the depths. The leftover droplets bled out into the cup below. "And you get rid of it."

She blindly twirled her hand and dropped it to a close waste bin.

"My guess is with a mindset like that, you've got very few problems." Apollo spoke candidly, shuffling his cup.

"Not entirely true." She ordained, "I do have a few problems, but they are much more complex and elaborate. Some have taken months and even years. As I crack down on my own, those who come to me, I will help out their difficulties within reason."

"You're a genie in a bottle, huh?" He smirked, "I guess someone has to rub you the right way."

"Hhmhmhm...!" She swayed lightly in the second story turbulence. "I'm no miracle worker, but I have an unhealthy curiosity. It comes with great concern. Is that a crime?"

"I don't think there's a law for that. None that I've seen get sent to prison for." He hunched. "So does the trouble come to you or do you go to it? It's kinda a heat seeking missile for me."

"Both, but I see them coming." She basked, "as named, it's how I work."

"That was tasteless…"

"And I bet so was your drink?"

He looked at his still brimming and warm mug, "nah… it's not all that…"

One brow up from her has him tense. "I prefer honesty…"

His lips couldn't stop wriggling around his culpable grin, "Aaah… it's not so good…"

"I thought so…" She sat upright. "Can I ask a favour of you?"

"Sure." Thumb pointed at the stairs, "you want me to see if they'll fix it?"

"No, I appreciate the offer," she waved. "I always have this tea here. Don't get me wrong, I loved it. Lately; however, there has been a decline with its potency."

"You think they're cutting on the good stuff or watering it down?"

"It may be my change of palette or it could be their side." Two fingers brushed it towards him by the base, "I want a second opinion."

'Well the coffee is off the menu…'

"It shouldn't be so bad." He snatched it

He took a sip of the red liquid. Oh, but it was. It was the most blandest, unsavory thing he has had all year. His tongue suffered the musk of a public bus of the metropolitan along with scraping it along the underside of said overused abused seats that occupied the rear ends of city residents. If he could shut his face, he'd allow the sinew holding it together to collapse on impact. The violation of tingles when he punished his gullet to allow the torpor liquid to flush was most undeserving when it crawled down his spine and he felt a part of himself die a little.

"That doesn't look too good." She concluded dour.

"You think?!" He squeaked through the squiggly disgust his face nearly forever molded into.

"I have this little blend I've been working on to make it more…" She brushed her chin, "hmmm… tolerable."

He commended his stomach for being ironclad on holding that abomination to imprison it within his own body and not redecorate the pompous cafe with true rose gold. She reached for her inner pocket and held an opaque small tube that narrowed like a funnel on one end.

"My own way to sweeten up things."

"Any sugar alcohols as they like to call it? Fake sugar."

"There's nothing wrong with some polyol. Fake sugar is still sweet if not more. And no, it's not sugar." She poured the questionable liquid into the horrible swivel she calls tea. It darkened, losing its translucency.

"None of that high fructose syrups?" He played as he watched her swirl a spoon in a hypnotizing manner.

"Nope." She delicately pushed it towards him. "Try it now."

Hands at his side and ever reluctant to suffer again, he squinted, pleading mutely to not divulge.

"Don't hesitate. Don't be confused. Trust me on this," she appeased. "If it does not cause your tongue to recoil as before, then I will make it up to you another way."

His eyes darted back and forth to the tea and her like an angry bee, but shaking worse than Japanifornia's infamous earthquakes. He inched ever so slowly as the loading time of Windows 98, begging internally that she would swipe the cup away and yell it was just a prank. Yet when his hand met the glossy china, he dragged it infinitesimally towards his person. He could only imagine the taste of expired cough syrup and dumpster sludge.

"I couldn't help, but tell you're a bit reluctant," she grinned.

"I don't exactly want to subject myself to this little cocktail of death." He frowned.

The muscle tremors didn't help with the questionable reputation of the ascending slosh. He sniffed briefly, gaining a familiar aroma of the backstabbing glory of herbal tea. Something else lingered around his nose that was not there before. A better waft pronounced a more inviting scent. The shore of red reached the basin of his lip blessedly fulfilled a wordless wish he did not know he asked for. His eyes shot wide when he dug straight into the cup. He threw his head back and emptied all contents far into his gorge. That simple pour into that drink was the best thing he enveloped in two days.

"That was amaz-! How did you do that?" He slammed the table as he watched that smug grin soften on her all knowing face. "What did you put in here?!"

"I have great cooks at home." She uplifted in a half bask and half shrug.

"That's one heck of a splenda!" He nearly threw the cup at her, "can I have some more?!"

"No." She deadpanned.

"AW!" He pouted, sinking into his seat.

"Too much sweet and you might become addicted," she rebounded. "Maybe later if you're well behaved."

'Gee, mom…'

"Besides, that was my drink."

"Oh… you should probably get some more and-!"

"I'm not falling for that one, Apollo."

"Hehe… can't help, but try." He chuckled quietly.

The content his belly asked for suppressed the grumbling and mood smoothed in a serene cloud. A strange warmth came over a layer of his skin, prickling off the cool that infected his skin for a few days. A look over the bushery and floral arch handles of the balcony thrived perfectly for the vines to grow horizontally bloomed evenly throughout had him see the human traffic down below.

"Ms. Spectre!" A voice yelled, "I knew I saw something good."

"I barely heard her from over there."

"I said she was right here…" The last added annoyed.

Apollo returned back to the opening archway, three figures barreling towards their table. Two men and a burlesque robust woman.

'Prepare for trouble… And make it double! Nope, make it a triple.'

"Ah, my other helpers," Ms. Spectre peered at her watch. "Is it lunchtime already? I guess I was having fun."

"Mhmmm… yes ma'am," The man in a finely tailored invitingly light blue suit rubbed his hands together. His blonde hair had a suave esque wave and engaging light eyes.

"What is this boy I see you're hanging with?" A red skeptical pen directed suspiciously in a short sleeved pearly white dress shirt brimmed with basic utensils in the chest pocket.

The two men and women encircled the lawyer. Eyes, ears, and pressed lips inspecting, judging inwardly and sizing his worthiness like wolves.

"Is he another client?"

"Another one of your closer circles?"

"Fresh meat?"

"Perhaps," Ms. Spectre intervened before watching Apollo implode in his seat. "Kiko was the closest, but we shall see."

"Aww!" The red pen retreated, scribbling incredulously, the man sweat over his miscalculation.

"Quality over quantity, Ma'am." The man in blue commented.

"Don't worry there. He's reticular of that." Ms. Spectre corrected causing Apollo's head to bud out his shell with a little hope over the shadows casting over.

"Wait… I don't see the other guy…" The robust woman standing like a stalking bouncer loosened.

"I don't hear him around either." The jovial voice of the sky blue suit lost its oppression.

"Where's Dr. B?" The red pen returned to its cumbersome pocket.

"It's not Dr. B I'm worried about. It's Mr. Chesh!" The tire iron clutched into woman's hands tightly, creaking upon the leather fingerless gloves.

"Working… as you three should be." Ms. Spectre informed flatly.

The tension on their shoulders melted but did not vanish. Two fluttered around her shoulders as the other monkeyed around the table..

"Break time, ma'am. We need those, too." The pitch perfect tone of the blonde man pressed, fixing his tie.

"Aren't you gonna introduce us?" The wrestler impressionist stole another chair from the other tables, sitting on the back of the chair, her hands setting the tent. "He's kinda cute."

Apollo flinched to see this giant woman who could probably crush a decent size melon in her biceps alone leer closer.

"You've been ignoring us lately." A calculator came out of the back pocket of the uniformed man's khakis, typing vigorously in succession to each press. "About 168 hours to be precise."

"We get lonely too!" With his tie fixed, the man threw a sorrowful reason.

"...very well…" She appeased, "Apollo, these three work for me at one of my establishments. Azaru Autos. A triplet you can say."

Ms. Spectre continued to introduce each along the line.

"Mizo. He's an accountant." The man with his office currently bagged into his pockets winked devilishly.

"You need some numbers crunched, consider them paste."

"Kiko. He's on sales." The blue suited man side glanced with a tip of his ear and another tipping the lapel of his buttonless third piece.

"Not on sale! Haha! I can sell you anything just for the right price. You want my sister?" He dodged a ¾ wrench clean with the celebrity smile intact.

"And Iwaza. She's the mechanic." The last woman sucked her teeth, waving her metal tool. Her hair short with a hot neon yellow zapping on the shorter edges that bared shaved scalp like a tribal tattoo.

"I can disassemble and reassemble any car, people not so much." She threatened Kiko..

"Azaru? As in Azaru luxury cars?!" Apollo blew out, "like… the best local car dealership in L.A. for international cars?"

"That's the one, sir." Kiko snapped charmingly with a perfect pearly white smile.

"You got cars from East World to West!"

"You name it, we probably got it." Mizo catalogued in his tablet, displaying the finesse to the sporty types. The pages flew past several low riders and lavish larger wheelers. "And if not, we can special order it for ya."

"Mr. A, Dr. B, and Mr. C. Has a ring to it…" The end of the silver steel tapped her chin.

"Now you know the ABCs." Mizo's insult flew over her head until he felt the wack of a flying ⅝ wrench. "OW!"

"Give me a say, that's your first name?" Iwaza giggled in low zealous.

"Yeah… Last name Justice!"

"No rhyme at all." Her gravelly voice noted in disappointment.

Cold metal swerved and clamped onto the attorneys neck like a butcher's hook. The tire iron ripped the red justice closer to the female's clutch enough to tip his seat.

"Can we keep him?" She snickered deviously. "I need a new toy in my toolbox!"

'I'm not into that kinda thing!'

"I don't want to get my hands dirty." He surrendered with the best of the French impression.

"Ah… then you're a newbie." She unscrewed on the let down.

"More a Redhorn than a greenhorn." Kiko intervened, "hahah."

'This trio is making me question if they're the rowdyruff boys or the three stooges…'

"Four together? Isn't that bad?" Iwaza turned, cheek grazing her arm as a pillow.

"No, obviously there are five! Open your eyes!" Mizo galumphed, turning to Ms. Spectre. "Have you gotten the email?"

"Was it a recent one? My phone is in repair." Her tone was ever still like frozen water.

"This morning. Sales are still good and skyrocketing! And the car… We decided to use it for parts while the body was still warm. It's an older model and the hood was dented in," Mizo brushed off.

"Guess what else we found, you're gonna want to listen to this," Kiko whispered softly, bargaining a better wager.

"This person in particular was selling little schemes on the side… so naughty!" Iwaza snaked.

"You'd think with that, he wouldn't have owed so much backpay." Tapping keys filled the air. "How it came out, I should say pay back!"

"I believe DeLite was too cheap." Kiko patted his pockets, "last I've heard he was drunk like a sailorman."

Ms. Spectre seemed to grow in her chair, eyes glinted evilly. Kiko and Iwaza tapped Mizo's shoulders as if he owed them money to show the evidence.

"It's on the news!" Mizo tapped vigorously on his portable and threw it on the table as if her stare burned him.

A quick article on local L.A. news showed a few people missing nights prior. This DeLite they were speaking about was found unscathed in an alleyway neck deep in bottles balling his eyes out. Looks like they found other missing people, too. Another man inferenced street name, 'Cabbie,' was found drunk elsewhere, far from when they were last seen.

"Could've ended worse. Must've gotten sad on the lost car and got sloppy." Mizo sweat nervously, picking up the tablet carefully and diligently to not provoke the woman currently eye killing him. "Maybe that sob story he gave us was true."

"What was all that training for?" Impatient fingernails tapped synchronized, each finger wagering a better punishment.

"You thought we'd just up and drop it, huh?" Kiko persuaded, "we pick up nicely."

"No, I think you three need more discipline."

"No! Please, Professor!"

"I'm too tired to deal with you three," She dismissed crisp. "I'll have Chesh deal with it."

"Behave, you idiots!" Iwaza conked the others on the dome with dominant knuckles.

"Ow! That hurt!" They cried rubbing the hills forming on their domes.

"I'd like to keep the skin on these nice bones." The mechanic checked to make sure all parts on her person were intact.

'No wonder the name... Nuts do come in here. And are just as toasted up there.'

"Ms. Spectre." Iwaza asked with a small chip on her shoulder, "what happened at the party?"

"The ice sculptures?"

"The Commemoration?"

"The raffle?"

"Non existent." The dispassion in her tone tasted like Apollo's morning coffee.

"Heck no!" Iwaza squeezed a dent into the iron. "I would have pummeled the coordinator!"

"The manager was forgiven." The same contemplative hand basked the air.

Their jaws dropped.

"You turned a blind eye?!"

"I would've made sure he'd never hear the end of it!"

"I couldn't have stayed quiet."

"Why? If I count up the numbers, the probability of keeping him was under three percent, with benefits of doubt involved. The benefit of keeping him lands much lower with current variables. I don't understand…" Mizo skimmed endlessly on his calculator, later showing algorithms to negative potential in red figures.

Detest crumbled the calm aroma of finely crafted beverages and five-star craft cooking broke like a falling chandelier in a silent ball. Justice could not be served for his deteriorating poker face. The spearhead of blame he prayed did not land on him. Ms. Spectre could aim a nuclear weapon. She didn't appear to have taken an initiative on targeting the person who let Mr. Waters scot-free. In fact, she took the majority of the blunt force.

"It was a decision that I allowed. I am testing the seed with just the right soil."

"I don't get it…" Iwaza and Kiko gazed dumbfounded. Mizo took a tiny step back, a fiendish half grin hid behind his portable. Apollo could feel the formulas brandishing behind the thin rectangular opticals behind Mizo's watch. They flickered over to Ms. Spectre, she eased an unnoticeable nod.

"I believe our take out is ready," Mizo cleared with a madly vibrating order tracker emblemed with a white fragrance buzzing enough to be audible.

"Finally! Grub!" Iwaza collected her scattered tools, "hope to see you later, Mr. Justice."

"Come by Azaru," Kiko spoke softly, "maybe we can offer you a non-interest loan if you get on Ms. Spectre's good side."

"That'd be cool - to get behind the wheel." Apollo could already feel the comfort grip of a custom made hot ride.

"And remember, you three…" The lady at the table commanded.

"I saw nothing."

"I heard nothing."

"I said nothing."

"I did nothing." Ms. Fate folded her arms. "Now Behave. Dismissed."

The troop scurried off towards the spiral stairs. Mizo remained, inspecting the red attorney once more. Outstretching his arm to Apollo, Mizo patiently waited. Apollo firmly grasped a substantially confident shake, "it was nice to meet you."

"I hope to see how this grows," Mizo smirked.

'You mean goes…'

"Something tells me I'll be seeing more of you later. Enjoy the rest of your day." He released and followed the leftover trail from his other siblings.

"How do you know them?" Apollo asked more out of morbid curiosity on the colourful characterization.

"They were trying to start small, but a bit of a bad past had them untrustworthy." She countered, "I simply proved the ignorant wrong."

"What kind of bad past?" Apollo leaned on his fist intrigued.

"I don't believe it is right for me to speak of those without their permission, but…" She flecked at her chin ominously, "you're a bit special. As you can tell - one already knows."

'That accountant guy?'

"They committed some crimes, but served their dues." The tips of her fingers attached to the rim of the cup she shared. If her fingers did not move, he wouldn't have noticed it revolve from the sleek table until the white handle became visible to the other side. "They turned their lives around with IT and continued their education. They mutually loved tinkering with automobiles and started off small. They needed a push, someone to give them a little hope, so I could see what they lacked in resources they made up in loyalty and spirit. Life gave them lemons and hoopties, but I gave them grapes, now we can have wine."

"Now you're all enjoying the fruits of your labor." He admired.

Her lashes basked low, still examining her empty cup. "Now that the wine is provided, people are attracted to both on their parts and mine. Some for their cars, the others to converse how I converted liabilities into opportunities in such a small time span."

"You trained them?"

"In what I can such as in business persuasions with certain consumers and whom to avoid and who can be deceptive.

"What about that DeLite guy they were talking about?" Apollo brought up that ugly can of worms.

"Humans are unpredictable. There are a few stragglers and random variants that slip past or get away, but remember what I said about problems that arise, Justice."

"Rip them by the roots," it tumbled out his mouth before he realized it.

"Now the deed is done," She clasped.

"So they're reconstituted."

"And rehabilitated."

"Gazuntite."

Fate raised her brows. She reached for the salt shaker before dousing the saline into her open palm. The white sand lobbed over her shoulder like a grenade.

'What was that for? Didn't think she's superstitious.'

"But they're up and running with a better outlook," Apollo folded, contemplating hard, "not many people get that chance to turn their life around."

Her head tilted, an unvoiced question at the tip of her tongue.

"I guess you have a soft spot, Ms. Spectre." A giant toothy grin plastered onto his face brightly.

"...!"

More color washed off her already faded impassive expression. She sighed resigned, "Apollo, I think you're confusing my opportunity of charitableness as kindness."

"Well, I mean, that 'intuition and instinct' as you call turns people's lives around could be seen as an act of kindness and that act doubled over for you." Justice remarked smugly.

"Many events of charitable acts in the city tend to be done to simply represent false facades, avoid taxes and to salvage a lucrative gain by the wealthy and the political," Ms. Spectre retorted.

"Yeah, but in this case, you did it for those who had no hope and were given a chance to go back into society without resorting back to crime." He slammed, "giving hope to those who don't have anyone at their back is what I've been taught by Mr. Wright and the rest of the office."

"So much to learn… so little time…" She delved deeply into her own mind. 'Odd... I thought my oracular voyance is absolute... then again, it has been lagging…'

She stood up hastily, both mugs in hand to be placed away. She spoke one sided from his prying eyes, "it is by time we head off again…"