She really meant to call.

She really did.

Axelia hovered her thumb over the call button of her cell, the number Michael had given her being displayed on the screen. She could call right now. She is just standing here in the elevator. Her thumb moved closer. No. Not yet. She locked her phone and tucked it into her suit jacket. It's been nearly a week since that faithful night she met the man known as Michael De Santa. A man who not only lingers deeply in her thoughts, but is married on top of it all. Her attraction to him is one she won't deny, although since that time, she's learned to resist the man. The temptation she once felt that night will not repeat itself. She could not allow herself to fall under his spell. The elevator doors clutter open with a ding! as she arrives to the designated floor. Her heels clicked as she walked with determination past the security guard that stood nearby, ignoring the drumming of her heart at the prospect of him discovering why she was here. She already went through a pat-down this morning, thanks to the rumor of a male employee going around saying he was going to kill somebody. Surely Dickens wouldn't care if there was such a man in the building. He'd probably be more than happy enough to provide the fool with the gun to do so.

She peered at the office number outside each door as she walked past. There was one room in particular that she was looking for; Office Room 6. Based on intel that the Honey Badger received from an inside source, this room was reported to have a computer that was considered 'fried' by the company. Axelia frowned slightly. As far as she knew, she was the only one from the Hackernites that was working here. She had one of those every day faces, which made working here undercover a breeze so far. But if the Honey Badger has an inside source here in Augury, who was it? The office came into view, a plaque with the name Donovan Matthews written upon its door. She knocked gingerly, and within seconds, a man's voice beyond called her inside. She really wasn't expecting anyone else except the individual in question. The man behind the desk looked up from his mess of paperwork, adjusting his wide-rim glasses on his nose. "Oh. Hello, Ms. Marston," he greeted cheerfully, although he sounded surprised. It was obvious that he was swamped, if the paperwork on his desk was any indication. "Is there something I can do for you? Does Mr. Cunningham need me to file something else? It'll take a while longer, if that's the case. Merryweather still hasn't installed their security codes or whatever on the new computer." While Axelia did offer the man an understanding smile, she had an entirely different reason for being here.
Over a month ago, Axelia was in this very office with a test virus that would not attack the security system that the company had in place. It, instead, attacked the individual's computer, making it seem as if it were on the verge of frying: documents not being able to save or open, an overloaded CPU, and eventually blue screens and crashes. And the delivery of this virus? Through an MP3 player that Donovan asked Axelia to take, and put music that he thought his daughter would like on it. She was going to do just that, until the Honey Badger had another idea in mind. Axelia felt as if this was wrong, as Donovan was just a bystander in this. She didn't want him to get punished for something that she was about to do to his computer. So, the Honey Badger told her to wait. "Wait until my inside source tells me that they removed his computer from the security detail, and replaced it with a new one," he had said to her. "When that happens, we can move to Phase Two of the test run." Even now, as Axelia stands before Donovan, she wondered if this will even work. Will he be safe from the oncoming crossfire that she knew awaited right around the corner?

She takes a seat, placing her purse into her lap. "Not this time, Donny. I just wanted to see how you were holding up before I head out," she replied in a friendly voice, trying to act casual. She tilts her head to his computer. "I still can't believe your computer got fried. Do you know what happened?" Donovan sighed as he flops back in his chair, swiveling in it. "No idea! I did everything I usually do any time I worked on it. I had half suspected that, maybe, it was the MP3 player—" Axelia swallowed hard. "—but I knew that couldn't be it, because I use this thing on here all the time! Don't tell Mr. Cunningham or the board, but... I like to download and listen to heavy metal while I'm filing paperwork." Donovan swiveled his chair to face the window, a dry chuckle escaping his throat. "So I'm just as stumped as everyone else. Even those Merryweather guys couldn't figure out what was up, and they're supposed to be the best, right? Like, private army best." That was both a concern and a relief. A relief because Merryweather didn't know what was wrong with the computer, but a concern because they could possibly be on alert now to anything they deem shady. Donovan shrugged casually as he spun his chair back around. "Ah well. Merryweather must know what they're doing. They shut off this computer to the entire system and got it replaced. They should update the new one with their security either in the next few hours or tomorrow, if I remember correctly."
A few hours? I better work fast then, she thought.
Another knock stole their attention, Donovan beckoning whoever it was to enter. As the door opened, Axelia's eyes widened as she saw a very familiar face, complete with a head of blonde locks. "Mr. Matthews," the voice said in an interesting accent. "I got coffee for everyone on the floor. Want one?" "Oh thanks, Hugh!" Donovan replied, getting up and grabbing the cup of coffee from the man. "Ms. Marston, have you met Hugh Simpson? He just started working here about a month ago." Axelia didn't need introductions to the individual that had entered the room. She knew that wide-eyed, geeky look anywhere.

Wendigo!
"No, we haven't," Axelia lied, although her surprise was genuine. She never suspected that his name would be Hugh, of all things. She outstretches her hand to the Hackernite. "I'm Axelia Marston. A pleasure." Wendigo smirked and accepted the customary handshake. "Pleasure indeed, Ms. Marston." She noticed that Wendigo was doing his best not to speak in his usual manner, and pronouncing every word properly. That must be how he's been able to stay under the radar, despite the way his accent was. The Australian hacker turns to the owner of the office, taking a sip of his coffee. Axelia could have sworn that he winced at the taste of it. "By the way, Carol sent me up to grab that document from you. The weird one about an L. Crest?" Donovan seemed to know exactly what Wendigo meant. Just about that time, his cellphone began to ring. "Sorry, my daughter's school is calling me. One second." Donovan makes his way over to the window as he answers. "Hello?... Yes, this is he..." Axelia peered over at Wendigo, about to mouth something to him when she saw he was counting down. What was to happen in the next three seconds? "Wait, what?" Donovan's voice suddenly sounded anxious, causing Axelia to snap her head back at him. Did something happen to his daughter? She suddenly became very concerned. Did the Honey Badger do this? "Is she okay?! Did you use her EpiPen?!... I am calm! This is my daughter we're talking about!... Sorry. Sorry, just... Yes, I'm leaving right now." The hackers watched Donovan grab his coat off the coat rack near the window, making his way to the door. "Thank you very much. Tell Beth that I'm on my way!... Thank you again!" As he hung up, Donovan turned to Wendigo and pointed to his desk. "That document Carol wants is on my desk. Sorry, my daughter had a bad allergic reaction to something at school. I gotta go!" Axelia gasped in horror, jumping out of her seat. "Oh God! I'm so sorry!" Wendigo expressed similar sympathies, although he seemed surprisingly calm. "Go to your daughter, Mr. Matthews," he said, gesturing to Donovan's desk. "Ms. Marston can help me find the document I'm looking for. We'll lock up for you as soon as we've found it." Donovan seemed extremely relieved as he exited his office quickly, now leaving the two undercover hackers alone at last.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Wendigo turned to Axelia, shrugging. She wasn't fooled, however. "You planned this, didn't you?" she asked the Australian man, who was smacking his lips with a disgusted frown. "Ugh. This coffee tastes like shit," he murmured before looking up at her. "Sorry, love. Lemme put in Donny's login for ya. I swiped it last week when he wasn't lookin'." He threw his cup away in the waste bin before digging into his pocket, pulling out a small, black, zipped up bag. From within it, he produced a pair of gloves that he began to slip onto his hands. Afterwards, the man was standing in front of Donovan's locked computer, unlocking it and bringing the machine to life. "Alright, love. Gimme the USB stick," he said, outstretching his hand. Axelia stood firm, glowering at him. She refused to move or talk until she was given an answer. Wendigo seemed hurt by this, retracting his hand. "Yes, this was part of the plan," he admitted. "HB had to make a choice. Donny's a good bloke. Even I didn't want him to get into trouble for this. So we—" "By nearly causing his daughter to go into some epileptic shock?" Axelia crossed her arms, anger clear in her voice. "She could've died, Hugh." Wendigo winced at her words, slowly pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Yeah, about that... That bit was a lie." Axelia was confused. "What are you talking about?" He offered her a comforting grin as he leaned on the desk. "We fabricated that phone call," he answered in a low whisper. "We have someone who works at the special needs school that his daughter attends, so they created a fake phone call from there to get 'em outta the office." Axelia felt like an utter fool. It was all a ruse? Wendigo leaned forward a bit, his voice even lower as he spoke. "Did ya really think that HB would actually hurt a kid? We ain't that kinda group." She turned her face away in shame. How could she think that the Hackernites had hurt Donovan's little girl? Why did her mind immediately go there? Why didn't she question herself before opening her mouth? Was it because of her own experiences with Roger that made her think one thing?
"Oi! HB won't be mad, love," Wendigo said cheerfully. "Mistakes happen. She'll be apples." He pushed himself off the desk. "But now's not the time to dwell on it. We've got work to do." He outstretched his hand. "The flash drive, please." Axelia knew he was right. Even if she was going to feel miserable personally for having made the assumption, they did come here to finish a job. She turned from him, opening her suit coat to dig into her bra. She avoided peering down at her chest, as she didn't want anyone on the other side of her Vixen glasses getting an eyeful of her breasts. That was the last thing she needed. After retrieving the flash drive, she adjusted her dress and coat, turning back to Wendigo. He took the drive and immediately inserted it into the computer, unlocking its contents for her use. Wendigo took a step back then, pulling out another pair of gloves. "'Ere, love," he said. Axelia's eyes fell on the gloves. "What's this for?" Wendigo rolled his eyes. "Ya don't want Merryweather to find your fingerprints on the computer, do ya?" Axelia silently took and put the gloves on, careful not to puncture them with her nails. "Ya know what you're doin', right?" he asked nervously, making his way to the window near the door and peering through the blinds. She cracked her knuckles, loosening her hands up. "Of course. I wrote this code myself back in Liberty City," she simply answered, taking a seat in Donovan's chair. "Damn, this chair's uncomfortable." Wendigo giggled quietly, trying to not find humor in Axelia's misery.
It was then that she got to work. She was careful and meticulous as she began the tedious task of embedding the virus deeply into the computer's systems. This was one of her own personal design, one that she used before years ago, so it had to work. The Honey Badger approved of it personally. "So," Wendigo began, glancing momentarily at her. "What exactly does this virus do?" "It's not technically a virus," Axelia answered, keeping her eyes locked to the screen. "It's more like a Trojan horse that sifts through directory listings, meta tags, even the meta search keywords I've noticed the women upstairs use. It has other purposes, too, but I modified it to focus mostly on these things. Like collecting content, which yes, it is important, but unless what's in the content meets its detection parameters, it'll put it on the backlog." She made a few more keystrokes, observing her program going exactly where it was intended to be. She smirks, remembering to make sure it was coded to look like a cutesy honey badger sprite. The leader of the Hackernites got a chuckle out of that, she remembered. "It's going to hide deep within the system so it can act as an observer, for now. All it'll take is a few unsuspecting keystrokes from Donovan on this new computer, and with any luck, it'll lead us one step closer to finding the evidence in proving this company's blackmailing tactics. Once it does detect anything, it'll ping all of its findings back to HQ to be reviewed." Wendigo was gazing at her in awe as she explained the purpose of the code she created, his finger slowly pushing up his glasses. He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, and she wasn't sure if what she said went over his head, or if he was the kind of hacker that dissected code. She had noticed that Wendigo was more of the tech specialist, the one that made the gadgets that everyone in the Hackernites used, like her Vixen glasses. Not once since she's arrived here had she seen Wendigo working on anything related to the viruses that she's done. He seemed to only use his skills of tech building and surveillance to help his fellow hackers.
Axelia heard his feet shifting about the room as she worked. "You're really passionate about this," he said suddenly. Wendigo's words caused her to pause. She did love talking about her programs. It was a comfort to speak about anything that she knew would help people in the long run, as is par with her signature style. Her eyes found him standing closer to the desk now, looking at her with an expression that she could not read. Was he really that impressed? He smiles crookedly, his hand leaning on the desk. "I know Mikey would defo root ya if he ever found out 'bout this," he teased, snickering. Axelia grumbled under her breath, returning to finish the program's setup. "Hey now, no need to do your block with me," he retorted defensively, backing away. "If ya don't wanna talk about Mikey, ya don't have to. I was just teasin'." Axelia remained silent as she worked. Wendigo leaned over the desk to express a puppy-like stare at her. "Ya giving me the silent treatment again? Ouch. That hurts me whittle feelin's." Axelia glanced up at him suddenly. "Please do not mention him right now. Not while we're working." She sighed, taking off the Vixen glasses and folding the temples down. Wendigo's entire demeanor seemed to have changed when she did that. She whispered low enough for him to hear, in case the Vixen glasses picked up sounds despite the visuals being turned off. "I don't need everyone at the Hackernites knowing about Michael, okay? I don't want them snooping into my private affairs." He seemed to softly snort at that, his voice a lot more serious than she'd ever heard it. "Then you're in the wrong business, sheila. We care for our own. We wouldn't want some random person hurtin' one of youse, and we do nothin'. We gotta look out for one another." He leaned his full weight on the desk, getting really close to Axelia's face. "You're a ripper of a mate, Axel. Honestly, I'd be mad as a cut snake if anythin' were to happen to ya. Remember that." Axelia could not deny that she was quite taken aback by Wendigo just then. Even now, studying his face as close as it was, it was true that Wendigo had his own geeky charm to him. If he didn't have a girlfriend, he would eventually down the line. He certainly knew how to make a girl feel safe and cared for. Axelia certainly felt that way. Although, there was one thing that she didn't feel with Wendigo: romantic attraction. It was not necessarily a bad thing, as she sees the Australian man as a wonderful friend. Although, seeing him now only reminded her of how close she and Michael were that night. She can smell the feintest hint of that tobacco and leather that could possibly be distinct to the older man. It made her feel something, but she couldn't put a name to it. What was this other feeling she was experiencing? Wendigo took the Vixen glasses from her and placed them gently on her face again, pushing them up on the brim of her nose. "Now let's finish this piece of piss before I start gushin' about how your blood's worth bottling." He paused as he noticed her face going pale. "Erm," he began, adjusting his glasses nervously. "I'm gonna get ya that Aussie dictionary I promised ya. Bloody oath, I will!"

About a couple minutes later, Axelia was able to completely finish setting up the Trojan horse on Donovan's computer. She had set the computer exactly back to the way it was, nearly erasing any presence that she was anywhere near it at all. The gloves Wendigo brought were definitely a good idea, she realized, in case Merryweather decided that they wanted to dust the computer for prints. As she hid the flash drive in her blouse again, Wendigo was able to find the file he needed, now carrying the thin folder under his arm. He takes their gloves and disposes them in the black zip-up pouch he carried, promptly hiding it in his pocket. He peered out the window and into the hall, scanning it. "All clear," he whispered. "Good thing this office is at a camera blind spot. I'll still go behind us later and do some footage scrubbing, just in case." He opened the door, letting Axelia exit first. It was lucky that they were able to hack into the company's surveillance cameras last month. Wendigo has been able to cover up many of her tracks, thanks to that simple ability. As he locked the door and shut it firmly, Wendigo slipped so suddenly into his forced mannerism. "Thank you so much for helping me find this document, Ms. Marston. Who knew it fell under his desk, of all places!" She almost asked him why he was talking so loudly, when a security guard walked past them. It didn't look like they were on his radar, but Axelia couldn't stop her heart from thumping harshly in her chest anyway. Wendigo began looking through the document, partially pretending to read it. "Yup. This Mr. Crest is a very tricky fellow to track down. I hope Carol will be happy with Mr. Matthews's report." She cleared her throat, making her way back to the elevator. "Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mr. Simpson," she said, sounding genuinely pleased. "We should work together again, sometime!" "Are you heading down?" he asked as he caught up to her, pressing the elevator's down button. "I'm heading down a couple floors, myself. We can go together." Axelia wasn't sure if this was Wendigo's way of trying to keep a protective eye on her, or if he was legitimately interested in her company. She bit the inside of her cheek. What was the harm in letting him tag along? "I am, yes. I'm actually about to head out, myself. I just wanted to check up on Donny before heading home." The elevator chimed as it reached their floor, opening up before them. A couple employees departed from inside as Axelia and Wendigo entered, the Australian man confirming their destinations on the elevator's keypad. Right as the doors closed, two men who were clearly from Merryweather came over to Donovan's office, unlocking and entering the room. Axelia and Wendigo both let out a quiet breath as the elevator began moving. "That was way too close for comfort," she whispered as softly as she could. He nodded his head fiercely. "Fair dinkum," he muttered, slipping back into his casual voice.

There was a long silence as the two rode the elevator down, both still trying to comprehend just how close they came to getting caught. Axelia couldn't stop her eyes from finding Wendigo beside her. He looked completely stricken with fear, his body unknowingly trembling. She was used to being in office spaces, personally, if her time in Liberty City was any indication. She had almost gotten caught on more than one occasion when she operated there, although she knew how to handle the rush of adrenaline that followed behind. However, it seemed that Wendigo was very inexperienced with being undercover. She wondered why he even accepted this position. Or did he request it? She bit her lower lip. A distraction was in order, if it means helping him calm down. Adrenaline rush could spell disaster if they're not careful. The entire situation is stressful enough as it was.
"So. Hugh, huh?" she said in her softest of whispers. Wendigo took a quick glimpse at her. He seemed a bit surprised at the statement. He chuckled dryly with a crooked grin. "I'm a fan of a certain Australian that stars in a lot of American films," he whispered back. "Especially that one about those mutant comic book characters. He plays the one with the metal claws." Axelia stifled her laughter with a tight purse of her lips, turning her head to him. Was he suggesting that the actor in question was none other than Hugh Jackman? She didn't suspect that Wendigo would be a fan, nor that it was a false name at all. Although, if his first name was an alias, then that means the last name is... "And Simpson?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her. Wendigo didn't move, although he did find himself stifling back a laugh. "I like watching The Simpsons in my free time," he tried to reply simply, but ended up snorting loudly instead. Axelia clapped her hand over her mouth, quieting her laughter, too. It was nice to have these small interactions with the other Hackernites. It reminded her of how human they all were, not just anonymous people hiding behind their computer screens. They had lives, interests, hopes, and dreams. She wondered how they got into this line of work. She peered over at Wendigo. How did he get involved with the Honey Badger and the Hackernites? What made him want to get into this line of work in the first place?

"You should call him."

His voice took her out of her daze. "Excuse me?" she asked, dumbfounded. Wendigo looked over at her. "You know who I'm talkin' about. It's been four days." Axelia swallowed back the lump in her throat, looking at her metallic reflection in the elevator door. She really meant to call. She really did. What stopped her was not herself, however. It was the constant reminder of her not being good enough. She heard the murmur of Roger's voice; "You're no good!" She hated those words, but knew they were true. She touched where her tattoo was on her stomach, another reminder of something she lost. She only wanted to make him happy. Everything she did was to please the man she had once loved so dearly. Until the day he hurt her. Until the day he hurt them both. The hibiscus was to be a reminder of a flower that could've bloomed, if things hadn't turned out so differently. Was there no room for happiness in her life? Perhaps not, she thought. I'm no good. I never will be.
Wendigo nudged her slightly, catching her attention. "Invite 'em for that coffee, love. Even if it ends up being a goodbye coffee, at least ya got to see 'em one last time." The elevator door opened with another chime, and he walked out, turning back to her. "Call him!" he shouted back, right as the doors shut again to continue its descent down to the ground floor. Being alone in the elevator with only her thoughts was extremely unpleasant, she discovered. The constant presence of Roger's voice in her ear made her pause in getting her cellphone from her suit jacket's pocket. She really wanted to call. She truly did. "You're no good, Lia!" she heard his phantom say in her ear. She glared at her reflection. I may be no good, she began to think to herself, but I want to talk to him. I want to see Michael one last time, and tell him... goodbye. The elevator doors opened and she departed quickly, making her way out of the Augury Insurance building with her cellphone in hand. She was going to call. She really was. If she were to falter now, she'll never call him. Axelia removed her surveillance glasses as she unlocked her phone, finding the number that was Michael's in her contacts list.

Well... it's now or never, Lia.

She pressed the little green icon.


He checked his phone for what seemed like the millionth time today. He had checked it every day for the last four days, in hopes that the woman he met at the nightclub would call. He blinked. Has it really been four days, he would wonder. He never kept count on something like this before. Most of the time, the women he had once handed his number to would almost never call him, and he would end up forgetting them, anyway. Yet it seemed that Axelia Marston was the only one who he was genuinely hoping would call him. He thought back to when he and Amanda first started dating, where he discovered that—even then—he did not hold out for her calls. Although, he did fall madly in love with Amanda then, and even ended up marrying her. Michael growled quietly to himself as he thought about his wife. He was still very angry that she started cheating on him again. He walks past a photo of their children, of a recent one of the four of them before the kids moved out. As much as it pains him, it would be best not to let the kids know that their mother has been sleeping with another man again. Surely, they'll believe their mother's word over his—in spite of his promise of remaining faithful—and side with her if she chose to humiliate him in front of them. Best to protect his kids from their marital affairs, he had thought. They did not need to get involved with this ugly business. He was going to do better. He will figure out why Amanda finds him boring and fix it. He had to. He checks his phone again as he reaches the kitchen. Axelia has still not reciprocated his metaphorical hand in friendship. No new messages. No missed calls. Nothin'. He stuffed his phone back into his shorts pocket with a sigh of despair. I know you were holdin' out for her, Michael, but face it. She's forgotten you. She probably figured out how terrible of a person you are. Stupid old fuck. Michael poured himself a glass of whiskey, wanting to drown in his sorrows again. He only paused when he was about to reach for the small whiskey glass. Fuck. Am I goin' back to the way things were before...? He thought on this question. Last year, he wouldn't deny how much he used to drink. The amount of alcohol he had once put into his body was enough to nearly cause his liver to fail. Not that he didn't like drinking; it was his favorite pass time! Still, after everything was supposedly fixed with his family then, he was drinking less and less. He realized it was because he was less angry, less depressed, and less of a miserable man who ended up sulking by his swimming pool out back. He eyed the amber liquid in the glass. If he went on a drinking binge again, he would turn into that evil asshole he once was. Like his father was. The sunlight beamed in through the kitchen window then, gleaming off the glass. Fuck it. Fuck it all. He swallowed the whiskey in one gulp.

It was hard being back home after four days had past, the knowledge that Amanda slept with Jonas still being fresh in his mind. Obviously, she was still angry with him for harming Jonas, but Michael believed he had the right to be angry with them both. He growled bitterly to himself. I'm allowed to be pissed off,he thought. She slept with our new gardener, for fuck sakes! He downed another glass of whiskey in a single gulp. Why am I the one who always gets the short end of the stick? I work my ass off for her, try to give her everythin' she wants, and this is the thanks I get? Fuck that! He pours a third glass. "Goddammit." "What are you griping about now, Michael?!" Of course Amanda had to come downstairs to the kitchen. He really didn't want to look at her right now. He was still too agitated to face her. He forces a smile, his teeth gritting harshly. "I'm peachy, Mand. Just fuckin' peachy." He grabbed the whiskey bottle by the neck and made his way around the kitchen island. He needed to distance himself from her. He was still infuriated. Amanda crossed her arms. "Yeah right. 'Peachy,' he says. You're anything but peachy, Michael!" Was she seriously trying to instigate a fight? He just wanted to be left alone. "You're really gonna do this right now, Amanda?" Michael snarled, his back still to her. "Yes, we're going to do this now, Michael!" Amanda shouted. "You still haven't told me you're sorry for the shit you did last Friday!" Michael spun on his heel. "The fuck you talkin' about?! Why do I have to apologize?! I wasn't the one that slept with our fuckin' gardener!" "I only slept with him because he made me feel special, Michael!" Amanda retorted angrily. "Jonas has shown nothing but respect for me! He loves me for my personality, for my body, even for all my fucking mistakes!" Michael stomped toward her, keeping the kitchen island between them as much as possible. "Your mistakes?!" he exclaimed. "Yeah! Marrying you!" she responded in kind.
Michael was a man who would never let anyone's words cut him deep, no matter how horrible they were. He won't deny that there were times (or maybe more than a few times, he'll admit) where he did beat the living hell out of someone for badmouthing him, but otherwise, he kept his temper in check (albeit not very well, he'll admit again). One needed to be calm, cool, and collected when operating the endless amount of crap he had to deal with on the daily. This, however? This was a low blow, even for Amanda. He could feel every muscle in his body tense at that very moment, the small glass in his hand crinkling under the pressure of his grip. He bit back the insults he wanted to spew, resisted all the outrage he felt with every fiber of his being. He thought about the main issue between them: her boredom with him. He had to fix it. He had to mend their marriage. He snarled under his breath, chugging another glass of whiskey. "Tell me how I'm borin', Mand. Just answer me that!" Amanda seemed downright insulted by the question. "You think my boredom's the only reason, Michael?! There's more to it than just the sex with you!" Michael felt another invisible jab to his chest. The bored part's from when we have sex...? Well, what else have I fuckin' done wrong?! She took a step towards him, counting each finger as she began to list everything that annoyed her. "You talk way too damn much about the same shitty movies you work on! You keep saying how good of an idea it was to let the kids move out—" "They wanted to move out!" Michael shouted, but Amanda continued. "—when they were not ready! You yak on and on about those damn golfers that you hate so much at the country club, and yet you still play with them!" Michael clenched his jaw, running his hand through his long hair. This action only seemed to add fuel to the raging fire that Amanda had started, her hand now jabbing in his direction. "And this! This whole sasquatch thing you've decided to do! You were always clean shaven, and always kept your hair short! You look like a fucking caveman; I can't stand it!" Michael snapped his steely eyes to her, retorting furiously; "Well, I like my fuckin' hair, and my beard!"
Axelia suddenly came to mind. He could still feel her touch on his jawline when she cupped her hand against his face, and of her hands in his hair when they danced at the nightclub. The last time he missed anyone so badly, it was his family—Amanda, Tracey, and Jimmy when they all left him. Now, the only person he misses the most was Axelia Marston. He didn't realize Amanda had stepped further into the kitchen, now close enough for him to smell her perfume. He recognized the brand. He bought it for her birthday. He remembered it because he remembered the outrageous price tag on that skinny bottle. "Michael, I am sick of your shit!" she began bitterly. "And until you figure out what the hell's wrong with yourself, I'm leaving! Do you understand?!" Michael glanced up at her, somewhat dazed. "What do ya mean you're leaving?" he asked as Amanda was walking towards the front door. He followed behind, almost chasing after his wife. "Amanda! What did ya mean?! Hey!" "I mean that I'm leaving the house, Michael!" she responded, getting into her car. "And I'm going to my yoga class!" "But you do yoga here!" he shouted, almost catching up to her. Amanda seemed to have laughed mockingly, turning her car over. "Not anymore, I don't! Not for the last month!" She suddenly drove away from him as he caught up with her, seeing her disappear beyond the gate. Michael shouted after her, giving chase always across the driveway. He stopped when he realized that there was no point in chasing her while she was in her car, and stood in the driveway, completely distraught. How could she say these things to him? Was he really that fucked up in the head? Was he truly that blind from everything in front of him? Michael's head continued swimming in Amanda's words, feeling each one taking its knife and cut him deeply. He felt it building inside him, that rage, that anger...

"FUCK!"

Michael needed a drink. Bad. He stomped back into the house, slamming the door hard enough that the glass on it rattled. He could care less if it shattered. He was extremely enraged. He grabbed the whiskey bottle, pouring it into the small glass. He didn't care how shit-faced he was going to be. Right now, this glass of whiskey looked mighty fine. He snatched it, bringing the glass to his lips. 'That's right. Drink that glass of whiskey.' Michael froze, his head spinning around to peer behind him. Was that voice his? It was, wasn't it? It was happening again. That little evil voice inside his head that he did everything he could to beat back into the subconscious part of his mind. He slowly lowered the glass, softly muttering. "You're not goin' crazy." He repeated the phrase over and over, about to take a sip. 'What's the matter? Just drown in your sorrows. You always fucking do.' Michael blinked. It was taunting him. His own head was taunting him. He put the glass full of whiskey down on the countertop, realizing what he was doing. This sort of thing happened before, and he would drink himself until he passed out. Was he really going to do that to himself? He was always miserable after he became thoroughly drunk, and knowing that side of him was waiting at the end of that whiskey bottle... It was enough to cause Michael to glare at the glass in front of him. "No," he muttered, pointing at it. "No fuckin' way I'm gonna do that shit again." 'You're not?' the voice asked, almost mockingly. 'Wow, aren't you a pussy. Wimpin' out on getting wasted.' Michael growled at the voice in his head. "Fuck you!" He grabbed the glass and the bottle and threw them both into the sink. Surely, he'll regret wasting half a bottle of good whiskey later, but as of right now, he didn't care. He wasn't going to do that to himself again. He was going to do better. He had to keep that up. The voice seemed to have silenced itself for the time being, granting him a moment's respite. He knew he needed to do something to relax. He needed to take his mind off what just happened. He spotted the whiskey bottle in the sink, now a little emptier than it was before. It looked a lot better than that small broken whiskey glass, that was for sure. He cautiously picked the bottle up and grabbed for the cap, tightening it back on. "More than half, wasted. Fuckin' A."

Sometime after, Michael had found himself sitting on the couch with a bowl of potato chips, watching one of his favorite noire films. Normally, watching movies would make him smile, but with Amanda out of the house—probably with Jonas, and not at her yoga class—he was not in a cheerful mood. He took a bite of a potato chip, chewing lazily as the film played. He wished watching it filled him with joy, but he felt so empty. Amanda was with Jonas, obviously—screwing around, no doubt. And the girl he met Friday night must have definitely forgotten him. Michael watched the detective in the movie approach the woman he was to fall in love with, the very woman reminding the retired criminal of Axelia Marston. She was so beautiful that night, sitting at the bar, drinking that blue lagoon she wanted. He tried to remember the sound of her voice, of her lithesome body swaying to the music, of how her touch sets his skin on fire even now. He slowly ate another potato chip as he watched the movie, now just seeing Axelia there instead of the actress on-screen. He imagined she was the woman in the jazz club singing, and himself as the detective that idolized her from afar. A blink later and those images disappeared, being nothing more than a nice fantasy to experience, albeit short-lived. He slowly chewed that same potato chip to a mush, finally swallowing it as he realized that Axelia had every right to not contact him. He was drinking heavily that night, more so than she was. He won't deny that he might've been buzzed enough to just hand his number to a random woman, even if the said woman was one that actually caught his attention. He snorted a sigh as he ate another chip. Axelia had to have been put off by his marital status. It was common sense. She wasn't the kind of girl who slept around with married men, he remembered her saying. And while that should've put him off, it only made him think about her more. He mentally shook his head. He had at least hoped she would text him, even if it was to tell him to never contact her again. Any message from her, even a cruel one, would be better than absolute silence.
His cell phone suddenly began to ring, causing the man to look at his pocket puzzlingly. "The hell?" He muted his movie and shifted on the couch, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It was a number he didn't recognize. "Who the hell is calling me?" he asked himself before finally answering the phone. "Hello?" There was no response. There was clearly someone on the other end, since he could hear their breathing. Michael didn't like the silence. Was it Jonas trying to get to him? He sat up more on the couch, feeling very tense from the unknown caller. It had to be Amanda and Jonas, trying to mock and humiliate him on the other end. He had no choice but to make the assumption. "Amanda. I swear to God," he began slowly, gritting his teeth a bit. "If you're calling me from Jonas's phone just to taunt me, I'm—!"
"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to—"
Michael suddenly felt his heart drop into his stomach. This voice sounded very familiar, but it couldn't be her. There was no way she was calling him right now. "Shit! Sorry. I thought you were—" He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. "Who is this? Your voice sounds familiar." A part of him was pleading to God that it wasn't her. He already embarrassed himself by assuming the caller was Amanda and Jonas. He rather the caller be those two over the beautiful woman he met last Friday. The feminine voice on the other end seemed to take a deep breath, as if preparing for some big speech. "Uh, this is Axelia Marston," she answered softly. "We met at the nightclub at Vespucci Canal? You bought me the blue lagoon, and we... shared a cab?" If it was possible for anyone to feel both elated and embarrassed, then Michael was certainly feeling it. He couldn't believe it. It is her!
"Oh shit!" he shouted, jumping out of his seat. He didn't realize he had the bowl of chips in his lap. "Oh shit!" he repeated when he saw the bowl full of chips go flying. Everything was going wrong all at once. He held his phone in the crook of his neck, kneeling to clean up the mess he inadvertently caused. "A-Are you okay?!" he heard Axelia ask on the other end, causing him to immediately answer, "No, I uh—I mean, yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. Hi!" He laughed to himself, embarrassed, although he hoped she couldn't tell by the sound of his cheery voice. He was sincerely happy that she called him. He really needed to hear her voice right now. "Sorry. I spilled some... chips," he admitted. He wiped his hands on his shorts when he heard her giggle on the other end. "I'm prone to do that, too," she said. "I spilled popcorn all over my floor once. Sometimes, I still find kernels on my carpet even after I've vacuumed a thousand times." That got a genuine laugh out of him, matching the one he heard from hers. It made him feel a little better about his accidental mess, too. Who knew she could get him to laugh over the silly things? He took the bowl of potato chips in hand, stepping over the tinier bits of chips he deemed way too small to pick up. He felt his smile fade slightly as he set the bowl down on the dining table, his finger tapping the bowl before he took his phone in hand again to swap ears. "Y'know, I thought you were never gonna call." Michael heard Axelia sigh on the other end. Was she debating the call these last few days? "I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I was..." Her voice seemed to have trailed off, as if she was worried about something. Michael waited for her to reply, listening to that soft voice huff a sigh on the other end. There was always something about hearing a woman softly speaking on the other end that did something to him. He stifled an angry grunt to himself. Now's not the time to think with your dick, Michael. "To be honest with you," he heard her begin, "I wasn't sure when was a good time to call. Or if I should at all." He was reminded of how she retreated back from him at the discovery of his wedding ring. Of course, she would contemplate heavily on a decision like this. "I thought... I thought you wouldn't want me to call you after that night. Since we were drinking, and... we almost made terrible decisions in that cab that I would never forgive myself for." Michael swallowed an invisible lump in his throat.
Shit. I almost fucked up that night.
"I suppose I have no one, but myself to blame, though," she continued. "I was the more sober one between us, what with two drinks in me. If anything did happen, it would be on me." "No, it wouldn't," Michael retorted calmly, finally stopping the movie that still played in the living room. "I was not entirely drunk that night. Tipsy, maybe, but..." He sighed, shaking his head. "I promise that's not that kinda guy I am. Honest." This was partially a lie. Michael knew he was the worse kind of man out there. He just didn't want to scare Axelia away because of who he is. "I'm just happy that you called! I've been waiting for the last four da—" He stopped himself. Surely, she'd think that was creepy, counting the days until she called. He cleared his throat with a heavy cough. "I mean, I was uh... just waiting for the call!" He heard Axelia chuckle on the other end. "Yeah, about that," she started. "I was wondering... are you free right now? We could grab that coffee." Michael grinned widely.

Fuckin' A!


Axelia stood outside the quaint little tea and coffee shop, the afternoon sun beaming down on her as she waited for Michael to arrive. Supposedly, he had to change into something, although he would be here in less than five minutes. She peeked at her wristwatch. He should be here by now, she thought. Axelia couldn't deny that she was feeling apprehensive about this invitation. Here she was, calling a married man and inviting him for coffee. Was she insane? She began to chew on her fingernail. I shouldn't be this anxious. It's just coffee. A car horn blared loudly as it turned the corner, now pulling into the tiniest parking lot of the tea and coffee shop. It was a beautiful metallic midnight blue Obey Tailgater, complete with a pearlescent racing blue color on top of the finish. The windows were tinted a dark smoky color, obscuring Axelia from the driver. One of her favorite radio stations could be heard playing inside the vehicle before it stopped, the car's owner turning the vehicle off. She fixed her hair as the wind whipped through it, observing the owner as they exited the car. She felt her heart nearly leap out of her chest. "Hi there," he greeted with a dashing smile. "I'm not too late, am I?" Axelia smiled.
"No, Michael. Not at all."

Both wanted to buy the coffee. Axelia felt that she should be the one to pay, as she was the one who invited Michael out here. Meanwhile, Michael wanted to pay for their coffees himself, as he had more than enough money to do so. In the end, they paid for the other's coffee, calling it even, much to the relief of the barista that was serving them. She couldn't help but carefully observe the man across from her, who was barely drinking the coffee he ordered. His eyes were a little hard to read with those sunglasses on, although she had to admit, the man did have style. Farshtunken was a pretty pricey brand when it came to shades. She took a peek at his suit. Blue is so his color, she thought with a smirk. His pale blue suit was quite similar to the midnight blue suit he wore when they first met, even down to the black sports vest he wore alongside it. He definitely was a man of class. How did she ever end up encountering a man like him? He is completely out of her league.

He was glad for his aviators right now, and for the glaring sun overhead. He had done nothing but stare at her since he's arrived, admiring her in that light blue dress she wore. Still so goddamn beautiful. He smirked as he thought back to that late Friday night into Saturday morning, when he arrived at Franklin's house to crash for the night. The kid now knows everything: about Amanda and Jonas, about Axelia, about his attraction towards her. He also knew what Michael had once believed at the time: that he would never see Axelia again, as she was a woman who, he believed, did not rendezvous with married men like himself. The only thing he didn't count on was actually receiving her call, proving that theory wrong. He remembered how much he believed that they wouldn't end up meeting each other again. Yet here they were, having that coffee they spoke about. It made him chuckle a bit.
"What's so funny?" He blinks at the sound of her voice. She was leaning her elbow on her knee, her chin resting on her palm. How does she manage to maintain that elegant air about herself? Realizing he was staring at her again, he gestures to their coffee. "I seriously thought we wouldn't be havin' coffee right now," he admitted. She shifted in her seat, chuckling. "Well... let's just say I had a couple good friends that helped encourage me to make that call." Michael nodded his head, sipping his coffee. "I should thank 'em sometime," he said with a chuckle. Axelia shook her head with a snort. "And inflate the ego of one of them? No way!" They both laughed. It was a laugh that told the other that they were beginning to feel very comfortable in their presence. Hearing his raspy laugh made Axelia smile more broadly than before. It has been so long since she's ever allowed herself to sit across from another man, especially one as charismatic and charming as Michael De Santa. She wondered if this was how he met his wife. The smile faded as quickly as the thought came. Does his wife know that Michael was having coffee with her? Axelia bit her lip.
"So," she began, trying to bring this up casually. "How have you been, Michael? Is... everything okay between you and your wife?" Michael stopped mid-sip as the question was asked. Just the mere mention of Amanda brought back his earlier fight with her, of her storming out to go to her 'yoga class' that he knew, deep down, that she was not attending. He silently gulped down the hot, mediocre coffee. Nah, he began to think, we had a fight about a couple hours ago, and I know she's fuckin' our gardener right now. But he could not say this. He had to bite back the anger. His mouth fell open a moment, no words finding their way out of his throat until he stammered. Only then did the words spew. "Yeah," he lied. "Yeah, we're okay...ish." Axelia's trimmed brow raised curiously. He had to think of something to say, and quickly! He couldn't leave it at that. A tiny jab at himself was in order. "I mean," he started with a chuckle. "She didn't kick me out again, so that's a plus." He knew that look on Axelia's face. It was the same one that Franklin gave him that night when he first spoke about Axelia, the one that said, "I know you're hiding something more," when he refused to tell the kid that he had given her his cell number. Michael took off his aviators, now gazing at Axelia with clarity than his tinted shades. He had to fake the 'I'm not hiding anything' look, although he knew he was horrible at faking. And worse of all, he was starting to hate faking it in front of Axelia.
With her being able to stare into Michael's steely blues, she could read him more clearly. His face read one thing, but his eyes said another. Something was clearly bothering him. She blinked. Was she the problem? Did she bring up a sensitive, private subject matter that he was clearly not in the mood to discuss with her? She looked down at her coffee cup, her hands fumbling it timidly. She shouldn't have said anything. "God," she began, her hand finding her face. "I'm an idiot. I'm sorry for asking, Michael. I didn't mean to—" Michael leaned forward suddenly then, his hand finding hers. "What—no! It's fine, seriously." Axelia's eyes met his, causing the man to realize that he was touching her. She hated when he pulled away. She much liked the way his calloused hands felt. "Look," Michael began, his voice now serious, "it's just been a bit rough since I... I uh..." He froze up as the words failed to escape, his own hands now fiddling with his coffee cup's lid. She could tell that he was a man lamenting on the topic of his wife. What did she do to cause him to nearly drink himself into a stupor that Friday night? Perhaps she's taking this entire thing out of proportion, and the issue between them is as simple as a bill not being paid. Although, it isn't any of her business. Michael was a grown man, and he's handling it the way he wants to handle it. She fixed her suit coat's collar, speaking gently to him, "You don't have to tell—"

"I caught her sleeping with our gardener."

Michael's sudden outburst surprised her, although it surprised him even more. How could he say that out loud? Now she's staring at him, with those wide emerald eyes. "Shit, sorry!" he said, his face finding his hands. Here he is, now admitting that the issue with his wife was her sleeping around again. He knew he was no angel, himself. He was even worse for all the things he's done in his life. He sighed tiredly as he clasped his hands together. He might as well tell her what's on his mind. "I'm tryin' to handle it," he says, looking at Axelia. "It ain't the first time, y'know? I mean, fuck, I ain't no saint either, but we made a promise to one another, and I feel like I'm the only one tryin' to make it work right now." He could tell he raised his voice a little bit. He could tell because of the way Axelia jolted slightly when he nearly finished speaking. He grabbed his coffee and gulped a huge swig down. He couldn't believe that he is spilling his guts to her. He would never tell another woman anything about himself unless he was blind drunk to the point, he couldn't remember that night at all. But he's sober right now. He counted the glasses of whiskey he had earlier. Three, maybe four, total. That sounded about right. And he's spilling his guts while sober. What the hell was going on with him right now? Why is Axelia the only one he's able to say all this to? "Michael... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," he heard Axelia say gently. Even now, she's trying to make him feel better. He met a literal angel that night, didn't he?
He shook his head harshly, leaning forward on the table as he looked at her. "No, no, no," Michael said, offering a smile. "You don't need to apologize. I'm still tryin' to come to grips with it, so... guess I just needed to vent." Axelia watched the man before her swirl his cup around, staring at whatever remaining coffee was inside. She could feel the pain from that faltering smile he had. Tell me, Michael. Tell me everything that makes you sad, even with that smile on your face. Please tell me. She leaned to lay her hand upon the man's wrist, her eyes traveling up his chest and to his face. She could see something deeper in his eyes, something sad, yet so distant, that she couldn't read. She watched him grin at her, although she could tell it didn't reach his eyes. "I should be the sorry one for bringin' it up," Michael said as she pulled her hand away from his wrist. He pulled out his pack of Redwood cigarettes, looking at her when she gave an affirmative nod. He was obviously stressed, as he quickly lit up the small stick and began puffing on it. He smoked for a short while, taking long drags of the cigarette. She found that the smoke of his cigarette swirling around him like that, made the man look as if he was born into the wrong era. She could easily imagine him being a patron of a jazz club, wearing those hats from the 1920s and smoking cigars. She watched him tap the ashes away before he leaned back in his chair with a smokey sigh. "Fuck, it's times like this where I'd still go to my therapist, but he ain't around no more," he said, taking another long drag. She blinked unexpectantly as the smoke swirled in a misshapen pattern above Michael's head. Another fact she's learned about him. She leaned on her elbows, ready to listen intently to his life story. "Did something happen to your therapist?" she asked.

Michael's eyes shot open. The memories of that day came flooding back to him in a flash. Every gruesome detail right down to the second. He remembered chasing after Dr. Isiah Friedlander, who fled to his car after having told Michael that he used their private sessions in his book. He was on his way to skip town, and have his own radio and television show, while practically using Michael's back as a stepping stone to get there. When he followed his therapist outside, Dr. Friedlander drove out of his office's driveway with such speed, that Michael thought he was going to lose him before he could get to his own car. To the retired criminal's surprise, Dr. Friedlander rammed into another person's car, incapacitating him quite quickly. The chain of events afterwards played out in flashes, like a storyboard to a movie scene. Michael remembered grabbing the shotgun he had stashed into his trunk. He remembered standing on the driver's side of Dr. Friedlander's car. He most certainly remembers splattering his therapist's brains all over the entire dashboard. And he most definitely remembers the inexplicit number of curses he spat at the man's corpse as he did so, firing the shotgun over and over again, despite the man being long dead. Michael lowered his head to level it with Axelia's gaze, realizing that he was reminiscing right in front of her. She didn't notice his daze there, did she? He nervously watched her, swallowing back the smoke he wanted to exhale. "Yeah. He uh..." How could he make this sound casual without letting on that he murdered his therapist? "He... died. Had a car accident." Axelia's hand found her gaping mouth, a genuine look of despair in her eyes. "Oh my God, Michael! That's awful!" She scooted her chair closer, her fingers brushing his knuckles. "He must've been a wonderful man, helping you with those sessions. I can't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling." Michael didn't know at first if she bought his act or not, but based on this reaction, something told him that she did. He relaxed a little, although he couldn't help but feel anxious with his half-hearted response; "Yeah. He was a... yeah." This was becoming very awkward. He needed to talk about something else, but how?
Axelia's heart was going out to this man. To have lost someone that he depended on once, and to discover that his wife has been cheating on him... She felt the pain. She was reminded of Roger, of the pain he inflicted before she finally got away from him. It wasn't exactly the same, but it was similar. Michael seemed very uncomfortable with the entire discussion, and as if on cue with her perception, he gave a devitalized chuckle as he says, "Maybe we should change the subject now?" Axelia sipped her coffee, agreeing eagerly. It was best to talk about something else. Even she wanted to think about something else right now, as Roger's shadow seemed to be lingering behind her. "Tell me how you've been doin'!" he said excitedly, obviously doing his best to think about something other than his own problems. "I feel shitty for not asking when I got here earlier." She stifled back a small laugh, putting her coffee down. "I'm fine," she replied, watching Michael take a smaller drag of his cigarette. "My job's as stressful as it always is, but what job isn't?" Axelia thought back to the events of a couple hours ago, of the short window span she and Wendigo had to hide her Trojan horse on Donovan's computer. Her mind began to wonder heavily on the program, wondering if she did a good job of hiding it. I really hope my program doesn't get discovered and does its job. She peers over at Michael, who nodded understandingly as he slurps the last of his coffee. She gave a shy smile as she stared at him. ...and I wish I can get to know you more, Michael. Roger's sudden shadow towered behind her, his invisible grip on her shoulder causing the woman to wince at the phantom pain. The smile faded to an empty expression, her eyes no longer seeing the man before her. Don't be stupid. Remember, Lia. You're no good. You're no good. "I getcha," she heard Michael say, who was peering into his coffee cup with one eye. "It's like in the movie business. It's stressful tryin' to get everything in their places, and hopin' the actors are even up to acting that day." Axelia's head snapped up. Movies! A perfect distraction! she thought, desperately trying to crawl out of the darkness in her mind.
She took her coffee in hand, taking a quick sip. "I hear that Richards Majestics is making a horror film next. And you're helping with producing it, right? That sounds very exciting!" she said, genuinely intrigued with the knowledge. Michael peered up from his empty coffee cup, a little surprised that she remembered that he was a movie producer. He smirked smugly, his cigarette almost a stub as he puffs on it one more time. "Yeah. Still can't talk about it, though. Wouldn't want to spoil it." She understood completely, not demanding any details from him. He put out his cigarette on the sole of his leather shoe, dropping the remains into the empty coffee cup. He wondered if she really was a big movie fan. He made the assumption before, but to actually confirm it would be another thing entirely. Michael leaned his elbow on the little table, turning up his charm as he gives her his award-winning smile. "You really like movies, don'tcha?" He saw her expression perk up at that, her hand unable to hide her smile. "Like?" she began, snorting at the term. "No. I love movies! I know it came out before I was born, but my favorite one from my childhood was Rum Runner." Michael felt as if there was a bird fluttering in his chest. She did not just say what he thought she said. The charm he was trying to exude was now gone, replaced with enthusiasm and excitement at this newfound knowledge. "Are you shitting me?! That's my favorite movie of all time!" he chimed, a real smile displayed on his features. Axelia just as excitedly leaned forward on the table, getting just as close to him. "No way!" She giggles before her eyes lit up, an idea coming to her then. "Okay, quick game! 'I'm only a paraplegic'—" Axelia started the quote and Michael finished it immediately, both impressively staring into the other's eyes. "...'but you can't feel anything!' Beryl said that to Eddie Olson when he—"

"...he came to visit her at her house to tell her that—"

"...that he loves her!"

They had spoken almost in perfect sync as they recollected one of the most famous scenes in the film, both laughing and smiling like fools. An invisible spark lit up in their eyes, one that neither of them could describe. It was small and unimportant to most, a stupid thing to remember a movie scene, but not to either of them. This is a moment that was beginning to define their relationship with one another, as his raspy laughter filled her ears, causing her to lose it in front of him. He wiped his eye of a tear that was nearly forming, doing his best to calm down and speak again. "Holy shit! You really do know that movie!" Axelia was finally stifling her laughter with her hand, desperately trying to take a sip of her half-empty coffee cup before she replied. "I use to be able to recite it in my sleep as a kid. No joke," she admitted, before quickly adding, "My mother hated when I did that." Michael chuckled at what she said, making her feel very giddy. I can't believe we love the same movie, she thought delightedly. The serenity was broken at the sound of her cellphone ringing. She recognized it right away. Someone from the Hackernites was calling her. Michael looked at her curiously. "That your phone?" Axelia pulled the cellphone meant for Hackernite use, realizing none other than Umbra herself calling. "I'm so sorry. I have to take this," she told Michael, who understandingly sat back in his chair as she answered the call.

"Yes, ma'am?" she replied, her voice now far more serious than he's ever heard it. She was completely engrossed in the call, listening intently to whoever was on the other end. Michael wondered what they were talking about. "I'm currently having coffee with someone, at the moment," he heard her say, peering over at Michael with a very short-lived smile. "Yes... I understand, ma'am... Wait, we... Are you sure?... It's already at work?... This is big!... Yes... Little Teapot, on the corner of— Yes, that's right." Michael was very interested in this call now. What was already at work? Was it a claim someone made? He knew a little bit about car insurance, but not enough to be entirely educated on the subject matter. Whatever was happening, she told the caller where she was. Was she going to get picked up? Does this Augury Insurance company have private escorts for some of their employees? That seemed excessive. "He's coming to get me?" he suddenly heard Axelia ask the caller. "Okay. I'll wait here... Yes ma'am... I'll be there soon." She hung up the phone, putting it back into her purse. "I'm so sorry, Michael, but I have to go soon," she said, standing up to collect herself. Michael blinked before he nearly jumped from his seat. He couldn't let this be their final goodbye. "Wait," he said, catching her as she was fitting her purse over her shoulder. "How about we do lunch sometime? My treat!" Axelia's breath seemed to shudder slightly.
Was he serious? He wanted to see her again? This wasn't how she had planned this. She needed to tell him goodbye, and never see him again. This little rendezvous was nothing more than a little get-together to say her final farewells. Yet, as she thinks this, why is she smiling at the thought of meeting him again for lunch?

Just decline. Say goodbye before you hurt yourself!

"I would enjoy that."

No! Tell him goodbye, Lia! Say goodbye!

"Great!" Michael replied. "We can talk details later if you want."
A car pulled up and gave a little honk. Axelia recognized the driver as Wendigo, who waved at her from his seat. She gazed back at Michael, the smile faltering. This was it. She needed to say it.

Tell him that this is the last time you'll ever see him, Lia! Please! You can't get hurt again!

"I'm sorry, Michael. I—"

Say goodbye!

She couldn't speak. Despite how much her thoughts screamed at her to tell him those words, she just could not find them with her voice. Without even finishing her previous sentence, she moved past him and approached Wendigo's car, the man hastily emptying out his passenger seat for her. This was to be the end of it between her and Michael. Perhaps there should be no goodbyes, for whatever may happen next, it could lead to another hello. As she gripped the doorhandle, she heard Michael call from behind her. "Lia!" The way he called her nickname gave her the most sensational chills. Hearing his voice—just his voice—call out to her almost made her yearn to hear it again. She slowly turned to look at him, noting the smile he gave her as he slipped his Farshtunken aviators back on. "I'd love to talk to you again sometime." With these words, Michael has managed to recapture Axelia once more within his paws. She knew she should not linger here, that she should keep her distance from this man and everything he stood for. She knew there was no future between them. Why would there be? Yet she returned his smile with one of her own, her own voice finding the courage to say back, "We'll see... Mr. De Santa." She got into Wendigo's car, the familiar scent of Michael's cologne fading as they drove away. She watched Michael's figure become smaller and smaller as they distanced themselves from him, her eyes doing everything it could to keep him in her sights until he completely disappeared. Wendigo's eyes peered over at her for a second, smirking knowingly. "So how did it go?" he asked teasingly, his voice practically singing as he spoke. Axelia didn't answer right away. Instead, she leaned comfortably back into her seat, her thoughts on Michael De Santa as they drove on. "That's a secret," she whispered.
A girl is allowed to have some secrets, isn't she?


Everyone was hard at work as they arrived to the Hackernites HQ, with many members running around and exchanging data and information as they went. Axelia was astonished to see them all working with such speed and determination that it felt inspiring. She wanted to help work on the task as well. If her call with Umbra was anything to glean at, it turned out Donovan had returned to the office and started working on some very important files that Axelia had her program tag. Based on how everyone was sprinting left and right to spread the information that was filing in, she knew her program was a success so far. It was then Umbra had begun her approach towards Wendigo and Axelia, the Vice City native noticing a fire in the woman's eyes. She was obviously angry, and Axelia had a feeling she knew why. "How dare you accuse Badger of deliberately harming a child," Umbra hissed in a low voice as she approached. "I've known the man for years, Axel. He cares for everyone here, working for the good of all of us, and of all these ungrateful bastards in Los Santos!" The shout from that last sentence caused everyone to look in their direction, others beginning to whisper among themselves. Axelia was ashamed of what she had assumed when she was in Donovan's office earlier today. She hung her head, folding her hands in front of her. "I... I know that now. I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn," she said in a small voice. "Yes, you did speak out of turn," Umbra replied bitterly. "Think very carefully before you speak such nonsense about Badger again! Do I make myself clear?" "Oi, sheila!" Wendigo stood between the two women, putting his hands up defensively. "Lia didn't know that part of the plan! She didn't even know I was working in the building until today. She's been in the dark about a few things, so... maybe cut her some slack?" It was obvious that Wendigo was actually terrified of Umbra. Even now, with her clean cut, pure black fitted suit, complete with a pair of Oxfords that Axelia didn't even realize she was wearing until just now, Umbra was a woman who was clearly as powerful as her appearance. Powerful, and absolutely terrifying. How did the Honey Badger employ a woman such as her? What was her original profession before all this? Umbra was about to speak when a gentle, booming voice interrupted her, "Umbra."
Everyone turned to look up at the figure, noting that it was none other than the Honey Badger himself. He was sporting a cane today, leaning on it heavily while he still wore that fierce mask of a snarling animal and a hood. "Do not bully Axel. Her heart was in the right place. She did not know of the plan I set in motion today. In my misjudgment, I felt that the less she knew, the better. Clearly, I was mistaken." He slowly looked around the room, observing the other Hackernites. "You are all doing well, I hope?" he asks, genuine concern in his garbled voice. Everyone replies cheerfully, eager and ready to continue working. The Honey Badger nods softly. "Very well. If you are not at your best, please come speak with me. I shall take care of you, personally." Umbra scoffed annoyingly as the leader of the Hackernites spoke his piece, not noticing that he was beckoning her to him. "Umbra, come," he called after realizing she didn't notice him. "I have business to discuss with you about an old colleague of yours." Axelia could tell that whoever that colleague of hers was, it brought great discomfort to Umbra. "I don't want to discuss—" "Now, Umbra." The Honey Badger's voice was a bit sterner than it normally was. It was enough to cause the terrifyingly powerful woman like Umbra to silence herself, and approach the leader of the hackers. She entered his office, the Honey Badger following behind her. "As you all were," he said, his door shutting with an echoing slam behind him. There was a quiet moment between Axelia and Wendigo as they watched them go, the Australian man turning towards her. "I think I shat myself," he admitted in a shaky voice. "Sorry. I know she means well, but... Umbra is downright scary." Axelia offered a comforting smile as she rubbed his shoulder. "That was sweet of you to defend me. Thank you." Wendigo seemed to have blushed, although it was hard to tell. He fixed the glasses on his nose, letting out a heavy sigh. "Right then," he said, amping himself up. "Let's see what we've got here, eh?"
They went over to Wendigo's desk, one that had multiple monitors on it. Each screen displayed something different, but the context of them all was the same. It was all about Augury Insurance. He logged into his surveillance database on Augury, noting that he had already scrubbed their presence from Donovan's floor. Next, he pulled up a chair for Axelia, which he patted gingerly. "Thank you, sir," she jests, sitting down beside him. "Right. So, explain how to work this thing," he asked, setting up Axelia's program on his screen. "How do I access what the Trojan horse has sent back? Is there a command you need to put in, or...?" She shook her head. "You really don't know how these programs work, do you?" Wendigo looked at her with pitiful eyes, despite his playful grin. "Love, I run surveillance and build the toys everyone likes to use. I'm not a hacker unlike your lovely self."
At least that assumption was correct, she thought. "Alright. Here's what you do, Wendigo..."

With careful instruction and her trained eye, Axelia walked Wendigo through the ins and outs of her program, vigilantly showing him how to go through the data that was piling in. He was amazed at how her programed had searched years and years of information, on the multiple claims that continue even now to build and hide in this inactive department. She heard someone say, "We're up to at least the second year of this stuff, and more is coming!" Two years worth of data so far. This was making Axelia proud. She remembered when she used this very program back in Liberty City, with a job she simply called the Decker job. Mr. and Mrs. Decker were a kind, elderly couple that wanted to sell off their company to a family friend, although they were becoming suspicious of their friend's shady business practices. Their lawyer had advised them not to ask random people for help, but they wanted someone to look into it. So that lawyer found Axelia. She felt her mind closing in on itself as the memory returned to her. That lawyer was Roger, and that was how she first met him—through the Deckers. She remembered his cautious eyes, his charming smile, his care for his clients.
But you hurt me. I thought you cared for me, too. Am I nothing but a disappointment to you? I just wanted you to be happy. I did what I did to ensure your happiness above all else, even my own. I thought you knowing why I went to that clinic would make you happy.
Axelia found herself back at the Hackernites HQ. Was she in a daze? She hadn't realized she faded from the room again. She looked up at the screen. They were on the third year of data, from the looks of it. Then something caught Axelia's eye as it flashed on the screen, and she stopped Wendigo. "Wait. This one, here." She pointed to a name; Welles, Tom. Beside it was an address she didn't recognize. "That isn't any address in LS, that's for sure. Where is that?" Wendigo peered at it, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I think that's overseas. Venezuela, I believe," he said before gazing curiously at her. "Why? Does this mean anything to you?" Axelia shook her head. "Not me, but..." She thought back to her first day at Augury Insurance, of the only files that were on the flash drive that she was given. Was this Tom Welles related to those file names? "Remember two months ago? The files that Badger wanted me to open on my first day?" He seemed to think heavily on what she said, giving her an affirmative nod afterwards. "These names... Tom, and Venezuela," she said, crossing her arms again. "These are connected, somehow. Venezuela was one of the file names, and Tom was a password to activate the virus." The gears seemed to be turning in Wendigo's head. "Ya think this Tom bloke knew the Honey Badger, somehow?" Wendigo asked in a low whisper, confirming her own question. She responded with a nod. "Well, if it turns out to be a dinky-di, then... yeah. But that's between Tom and Badger. Not us." Axelia sighed, shaking her head. She knew that the Honey Badger didn't just choose names for nothing. Whoever Tom Welles was, they knew each other. She was sure of it. Did they meet in Venezuela? Is that why that place was important to him? What was the other file on there again? School?

An alarm suddenly blared. The Hackernites nearby were running towards any computer they could get their hands on, immediately working overtime on a task. Axelia stared around the room, stunned. This was the first time she was witnessing something like this. What was happening? "Shit, shit, shit!" Wendigo cursed, trying to stop the flow of information from Axelia's Trojan horse. She leaned over his shoulder, noting the fear in his voice. "Wendigo, what's wrong?!" "How do I stop this?!" he panicked, his fingers seemingly mashing any button he could hit. Axelia realized in that moment that Merryweather was counteracting her program. They were now using it to search for her... for the Hackernites! She pushed Wendigo aside, his chair rolling about a foot away as Axelia pulled herself in. "I can kill it," she explained, her fingers immediately typing on the keyboard. She worked her way through her program, diving deep into it to find her one safety plugin she created; the kill switch. She knew that by activating it, it would completely destroy the program and leave no trace of its existence at all. The flow of information will stop, and Merryweather will have no choice but to accept the loss. She knows that the Hackernites will lose even more valuable data, but to protect them, she knew she had to. That's why it went past the Honey Badger's inspection first. This was the modification she added to her original code. She activates the kill switch, the sprite of the little honey badger suddenly appearing on screen for a moment, seemingly giggling. A speech bubble appears over its head that read, "Better luck next time," before it croaked over, dead with an X over its eyes. The program deletes itself, and the sprite disappears. No trace of her Trojan horse could be found, as whoever had access to Donovan's computer was searching for it before the feed to the computer was completely lost, the last increment of the program now destroyed completely.
Axelia turned to Wendigo, now noting how the man was sweating, seemingly paralyzed with fear. "Now I defo shat myself," she heard him say, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his brow. That was another thing she was going to remember about Wendigo now: he did not do well under severe pressure. She thought he should quietly leave Augury Insurance soon, to keep himself from having a panic attack while undercover. The door to the Honey Badger's office echoed loudly as it was slammed opened by Umbra, the leader of the Hackernites himself following behind. His cane clicked loudly with each step he made down the stairs, making his way to the middle of the large room. A hushed silence fell upon the room as he approached, his presence always demanding their full attention. Axelia swallowed hard. For a man who never showed his face, he was even more intimidating than Umbra was. "How long did it remain undetected?" he asked, his hand finding the shoulder of the hacker beside him. The young man jolted slightly in his seat, looking up at the Honey Badger. "S-Sir?" "How long did the Trojan horse remain undetected when it became active?" the leader of the Hackernites asked more clearly, his garbled voice still calm as he spoke. The hacker seemed to have made some inputs on the computer in front of him, searching for something before turning back up to the leader. "One hour, fifty-three minutes, and twenty-two seconds." The Honey Badger didn't reply, although he seemed oddly pleased with that number. He gave the man a gentle squeeze on his shoulder before beginning his patrol around the room. He had something to say, she could tell. In fact, she knew that it would be something good.
"Almost two hours," the Honey Badger spoke after a while. He pointed at the large monitor overhead with his cane briefly. "For almost two hours, this program has gain at least three years of data that we would have never received otherwise. This may seem miniscule by comparison, but this is a victorious feat we've accomplished tonight. And we're only just getting started." Everyone around the room was very pleased by this, some even giving Axelia a tender pat on the back and praise. She tucked her bangs behind her ear bashfully, before she heard the leader's voice again. "Axel." She stood up immediately. "Y-Yes?" She didn't mean to stammer. Just hearing him say her hacker name was a little strange, since she had become acquainted with hearing him saying her real name. He approached Wendigo's desk in a slow stride, his cane still echoing with each step. "You have continued to play your role well at Augury, as well as use techniques that I have dared not thought of. In a matter of two months, you were able to penetrate their security deeper than even my virus could. Your program is one of the missing pieces we needed to perfect the one I created over the course of ten years." This made Axelia silently gasp. She had never imagined that his virus took that long to develop. The Honey Badger observed the faces around the room as he addressed everyone. "More test programs will need to be created, but we cannot risk using it again at Augury at this time. Let time pass before we attempt this dangerous endeavor again. We can test any additional programs we create on our... side projects, if they become available." Axelia raised a brow. What could he mean? The Honey Badger began to make his way back to his office, slowly climbing the stairs with Umbra's assistance. "That is all. Dismissed," he called as the door once more slammed shut behind him.

The Hackernites all returned back to work, some even grabbing their bags and now leaving the compound. Axelia thought that this would be the best time to take her work home with her. She really missed the softness of her couch and bed. Although, as she was settling her bag around her shoulder, a question came to mind. She turned to Wendigo, who seemed to be staying put for the time being. "Hey, Wendigo," she began. "What did the Honey Badger mean, 'side projects'?" Wendigo turned from his computer, scratching the small scruff on his chin. It was nice to see that he was getting back to his old self. "Well, it's more like a... contract," he began explaining. "Ya see, sometimes, we Hackernites get outsourced to a very particular individual. He's not... the best to work with, but he pays us our share. We get a larger cut because we're considered premium contacts." Axelia blinked at that. She remembered that the Honey Badger allowed the hackers here to be used as contacts for other individuals out there, based on an old conversation with Wendigo over two months ago. Were these individuals who were hiring the Hackernites criminals? Assuming that the person Wendigo was referring to possibly being a criminal, then Axelia needed to be careful. If she was ever requested, then she was going to have to dissuade them with her single rule: no one dies. Wendigo stretched his arms overhead, a bone in his body doing an audible pop! as he did so. "Not sayin' it won't happen, but here's hoping we don't get a job from the bloke anytime soon," he replied with a grunt, returning to his work on his computer. Axelia was starting to hope so, too. As much as she'd like to earn a little extra side cash, she was not in the business to making deals with potential murderers. She prayed that whoever the particular individual was, he would never request the aid of the Hackernites while she was employed.


He was missing her. It had only been a couple of hours since he's seen her at that tiny coffee shop, but he was missing her. Michael was staring at the cell number he now learned to be Axelia Marston's on his phone, watching the cursor blink above his digital keyboard. He had written and deleted at least six different ways to say "This is Michael" to her. He sighed heavily as he dropped his head back on the couch. He hated not knowing the words to say, as he always knew what to say (even if it was never what he meant to say). It was at this point that he was wondering if he should even text her in the first place. What if he screws up? He wouldn't be able to live with himself, if that were the case. "Michael?" He didn't even notice Amanda walking in the living room. Her bare feet pattered quietly as she approached him, her arms crossed. There were no words to say. He didn't want a repeat of what happened earlier today with her, so he knew that if he was going to speak, that he better say it as calmly as he could. He sighed tiredly as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Amanda, I'm just gonna come out and say it," he began. "I really am not in the mood to fight and argue. I'm tired of being pissed off. I just wanna fix what I did wrong, okay? I want us to be okay." He felt sincerely about that. He was tired of their relationship falling apart every time he turned around. He hated the way they basically had to tiptoe around each other whenever one makes a move. That is not how relationships are supposed to be. That is not how their marriage is supposed to be.
She took another step towards him, her arms now dropping to her sides. "I know. I'm tired of fighting, too," she agreed. Michael could feel a 'but' coming on, his fist clenching up a bit as he watched his wife approach him on the couch. She seemed as if she had something very important to say, so he bit his tongue, waiting for her to speak. "Michael," Amanda began softly, surprising him by how calm she is now. "I want to explain myself. You deserve that much from me." She sat down beside him on the couch, neither one breaking eye contact. With a heavy sigh, she began again, slowly speaking as calmly as possible. "I am forty-four years old, but you know I don't feel that way most days. As a woman, I have wants and I have needs. With you almost always out of the house, I can't keep waiting around for you to provide that satisfaction for me. That's why... That's why I slept with Jonas. He was there when I needed someone to talk to, someone who dropped everything just to come see me. I am sorry, Michael, but that was how you made me feel." Michael felt his clenched fist relaxing a bit. She was speaking rationally, wasn't she? He'll admit that he has been out of the house more often these last few months, and especially more so now with this new movie in the works. They're not shitty to me, though. I love what I do, and I love old movies. Is it really a crime to talk about what I find passionate?
He thought about the other things she said. Did he really make her feel so awful, so unloved and unwanted? Amanda gently took his hand, patting it lovingly. "I want you to understand that I need you here. I need my husband to support and love me, too." But I do love you, Michael thought with a heavy heart. I tell you every day I wake up how beautiful you are, and how much I love you. I love you, Mand. "I hear ya. You're absolutely right," he said, knowing that she is right and that it was what she needed to hear. He was just going to have to try harder for her, then. He'll say it twice as much, love her twice as more, if that was what she wanted. He'll do everything for her. She is his wife, after all. Amanda smiles at him sweetly, poking his cheek where his beard was. "You really do need to shave," she said. "I know you like it, but seriously Michael. It makes me itchy." Michael smiled at her, although it did not reach his eyes. "I'll shave it soon. Just for you, baby." But I don't want to. I like this look... and so does Lia. His thoughts wondered to the auburn-headed woman he met up with for coffee. That phone call she had sounded serious. He hoped she was okay. He didn't even realize that Amanda had snuggled close to him until he felt her arms around him. "Thank you, Michael. The sooner, the better. Okay?" He chuckled as he returned his wife's hug, genuinely kissing her on the cheek. "Sorry for the scratchy kiss," he teased. "And I'm sorry for being an asshole. I'll do better for you, Mand." Amanda kissed his forehead. "That's all I needed to hear. I'll do better, too." They sat there comfortably on the couch for a short while until Amanda's phone chimed. She took it out of her bra, unlocking it to read whatever it was. Michael gazed at her curiously, watching her thumb typing something on her phone. It was hard to tell what it was, as he only could see the back of her phone. "What's up? Somethin' wrong?" he asked, concerned. She smiled at something on her phone before turning to peck Michael on the lips. "No, nothing, honey," she said nonchalantly. The teapot in the kitchen began to whistle loudly then, prompting her to get up off the couch. He hadn't noticed that she put the kettle on. "I'll be right back, Michael. Hey, why don't you put a good movie on for us!" She discards her phone on the couch with a toss before departing towards the kitchen to the screaming teapot.

Michael stared at that phone. He knew her password. She hadn't changed it in the last three months. He reached for it, but hesitated. Should he? Would he be a terrible husband if he took a peek at her messages? 'Aww. What's the matter, Michael? Think your wife is still lyin' to ya?' Michael's blue eyes widened as he heard that inward voice in his head, the evil side of his conscience. "Not now," he muttered quietly. 'Admit it. You think she's lyin' to ya. You know she is.' The teapot's screams had stopped. Michael felt his hand trembling over his wife's phone. She'll be in here any second now, and she'll see him. 'Take her phone,' the voice commanded. 'Take it now!' Michael grabbed it, unlocking her phone with ease, and seeing her last activity on it. She was in her text messages. He opened it, and felt his blood turn cold.
There were recent messages from today. Messages from Jonas.

I miss you, sexy, Jonas had written to her.
I love how my pillow smells like you. It makes me miss you more! I wanna see you again. Do you wanna meet up same time tomorrow? My place?

Michael's eyes fell on Amanda's reply; Absolutely! I can't wait to see what else those fingers can do to me, like today. You felt amazing.

There was a kiss and eggplant emote at the end of her message, causing the man to groan. Michael dared not read anymore. These latest messages were enough to make him feel sick. They were still talking to one another behind his back. And they were planning on a meetup again tomorrow! Michael heard Amanda finish pouring her glass of tea, prompting the man to lock and toss her phone back on the couch where it once laid. She came back into the living room with her tea, steeping it as she noticed Michael with the remote in his hands. "You okay?" she asked, raising a brow. He snapped his head at her, trying to play it cool. "Yeah. I was, uh... wonderin' if you're in the mood for a comedy, or something. I'm not feelin' action-packed tonight." She smiles, oblivious to the thoughts rattling inside his head. "A comedy sounds great!" she replies, snuggling up to her husband on the couch again.

He felt incompetent. Then again, she might tell Jonas that she is working things out with her husband, and give Michael another chance. Michael stared up at the ceiling. He knew that wasn't true. It was obvious from the last message she sent out to Jonas. She wants to keep seeing him. Michael's hand felt the beard on his face, where Axelia's hand touched his cheek. Was he assuming that she liked it? He could be just as wrong as he had once assumed with Amanda liking his beard. Maybe he should shave it for Amanda. She is his wife, and a happy wife made for a happy life. Yet, he wasn't feeling very happy. He thought about Axelia again, remembering that night at the club, the cab drive to her apartment, and today at the coffee shop. He shouldn't be thinking about her. And yet he still lies awake in bed with his wife, who sleeps with her back to him. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to say something!
Michael picked up his cellphone and opened up his messages, going to the draft he created for Axelia Marston. A wave of emotion would crash over him, again and again, of their first meeting at the nightclub, to that afternoon coffee they shared just today. He wanted to know more about this woman, wanted to know her life story (a thing he'd never usually want to know). He pulls up the digital keyboard on his cell, the cursor blipping at him innocently. He struggled to type a message before, even a simple "Hello." He swallowed as he peered over at his sleeping wife. She was still having correspondence with Jonas, so why couldn't he with Axelia? They were just going to be friends, anyhow. There wasn't anything more between them. This was allowed, right? Surely, it was! He looked back at his cellphone, thinking heavily on what to say.

Fuck it. I know what to say.

He began typing his message.