“So we on the same page here?” Frank asked as he finished with shaving his neck.

And he only focused on the neck. Though he only refrained from touching his moustache, he now left a noticeable bit of stubble along his jaw, the five o’clock shadow leaving him with a pleasantly masculine look. Women liked a bit of rough when you went in for a kiss.

They also liked it when you put in the effort, though, so he was making sure everything below that was as clean as a whistle, his neck now as smooth as a baby’s bottom. To please, and to loudly declare to one and all that the uncared for look his stubble gave off was entirely intentional.

But before he could more closely inspect the finished work, he lent back and asked Donny again, “We on the same page here?!”

“Yeah-yeah,” Donny said, still not paying attention to him, “different world, different rules.”

Frank had told him of everything that had transpired down at the Department of Higher Understanding, of everything that Abigail Smith had told him about their new partner.

And Donny was treating it as if it was all just some secondary thing, his reaction to the discovery that the weird boy within their midst had no soul no different than being told that the city was introducing some new safety ordinance.

Important, yes, but nothing to really pay attention to.

More interested in whatever he was reading in the newspaper as he lay upon Frank’s bed. Something about beached fishmen along the coast, something he and the boy had run across on their little outing when he had gone to Higher Understanding.

And something he had completely missed on account of his absence. Frank had opted to stay at a hotel for a week in an impromptu vacation rather than return immediately to this part of the city after his meeting with Abigail—to let himself cool down and come to terms with everything before he did something rash, to cool down and absorb everything so he could approach things with logic, and not emotion.

And to see Donny barely paying attention now rankled him to no end.

Checking himself in the mirror, Frank then went about brushing his teeth and then dress in his finest for tonight.

He had done wrong by the woman who had helped him, the secretary who had assisted him in looking up Goodie’s information at Central Processing, and he would be damned if he let that debt go unpaid. So, tonight was his night to make amends.

Though, depending on what actually happened to her, he would more than likely need to do more than just buy the woman a fancy diner.

Checking himself over once more, he then proceeded to leave his apartment, one of several on the top floor of the building in which he and Donny ran their operation.

But not before inviting his partner to get the hell out of his room first, the man half-lounging on his bed, newspaper strewn about beside him.

“Right, so, you know what I know, and we’re all on the same page?” he once again repeated as he locked his apartment door.

“Yeah, Frank; the kid ain’t like us. Been telling you that from day one,” Donny reminded him, undisguised frustration lacing his words. “If you got a problem, just go talk with the boy.”

“We don’t need to be bringing this up with him; not now, at any rate.”

“Gee, Frank,” Donny snarkily noted, “can’t help but remember that when I wanted to keep things under wra…”

“Alright-alright,” Frank cut him, testily, the two men walking down the hallway to the stairs.

“Where’s the kid, anyways?”

“Down stairs,” Donny told him. “In his office.”

The kid had had organised himself quickly, moving himself in within in no time at all and getting straight down to business.

Which was apparently the exact same thing as they had already had him doing before, albeit now within his own space.

The kid had Germain there, too, but like him, the man seemed set to be doing what he normally did, going off on his own to do who knew what. Not that Frank was complaining. The man had brought in his fair share so far, despite only having the one leg to do so, a percentage of which came back to their own agency.

Still, it all seemed like a lot of effort to not actually change anything, but Frank assumed that if the kid really did have a plan, it would need more than a few days to come to fruition. Whatever the case, they would see what was what in the coming weeks.

They took the stairs slowly, so that he could keep from working up an unnecessary sweat that would ruin all his hard effort, and so that Donny could carry on reading his newspaper, the man accompanying him in order to give Frank a lift in the Beast. He wanted to make an impression tonight, and nothing left a bigger one than being chaperoned in a machine that normally only the well-to-do could expect to own.

As they headed downstairs, he could not help but offer up an idea to his partner.

“Y’know what we need, Donny? One of those fancy little elevators like they got uptown. Y’know, the ones that have the little operator inside ‘em?”

“Yeah, Frank,” Donny replied, half-ignoring him, “and have everyone get stuck inside when the electricity cuts out, on top of burning through our wallets paying for it, to boot.”

“Now…,” Frank attempted to shoot back. But, as if to emphasise Donny’s point, the light above them went out, the poorly lit stairway they were descending dimming abruptly.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

In truth, it was merely the fragile bulb finally succumbing to wear and tear, but what did facts matter when you were having an argument?

They carried on downwards, Frank ignoring Donny’s self-satisfied smirk as they moved. It was only about a few steps outside of their building that he finally managed to think of a snappy comeback, but was deprived from its delivery by a warning then from Donny.

“Frank, incoming.”

Looking ahead. Frank saw through the crowds the last man anyone wanted to see: The Rodent; the noted snitch weaving and bobbing back and forth as he tried to make his way forward, towards them.

It was too late to feign ignorance of his existence and cross the street, but nor did he or Donny wish to deal with the man. Him especially for having just gotten himself all tidied up.

‘Every time,’ Frank swore, ‘every bloody time.’

“Go to the bathroom, and a client wanted to talk; get some money in, and Francine comes for carve a chunk out; and the moment...the VERY moment I look forward to a nice night out…” he groused.

“Ignore him Frank.”

“Please…this ain’t his territory; the only reason he’d be down here would be to drop something on us.”

Donny said nothing in reply, probably having already guessed the same thing.

As the three rapidly approached each other, Frank made to suppress his frustrations. But when the Rodent nodded his head to them in greeting and said, “Gentlemen,” he turned to give voice to his ire, looking at the man with a stare that could have killed.

Only for him to falter as he found his head continuing to turn, the Rodent walking past him and Donny without a second glance.

Frank and Donny gave him one, though, both of them utterly perplexed at the unexpected lack of interaction.

But set to not ruin his night any further, Frank made to resume his journey, only for Donny to halt him with a hand, then nodding his head back towards the other man as Frank looked to him.

Turning again to look at the Rodent, Frank just saw the snitch walk into their building.

“Now what in all the hells is he doing?”

Giving Donny a glance, both men then made to stalk after the man. Franks meeting momentarily forgotten, their intent now to get to the bottom of this mysterious and unwanted intrusion into their sanctuary.

Though the Rodent was of a stout build, he was also deceptively spry, taking the steps two at a time as he quickly scaled them. Frank and Donny on the other hand, as fit as they were, had already been half-tired out by their earlier descent—and what with Frank’s continuing insistence on not ruining himself for his date, their attempts to follow the man ahead were much hampered, their quarry soon disappearing from sight.

‘Disappearing on the third floor,’ Frank noted, feeling a new wave of frustration welling up within him.

“If he ain’t here to see us…,” Donny said between breaths.

His partner did not need to finish speaking for Frank to guess the rest of his conclusion. It was more than obvious.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Finally reaching the third floor, they made their way to the boy’s office, stopping several metres before from it as they heard the rodent speak.

“Oh, thank you…but if I sit now then I’m never getting back up.”

They did not creep towards the door. They were grown men who were perfectly in their right to be here. That said, he and Donny did walk quietly towards the opening, both listening as the people inside went on.

Managed to get most of what you asked for, but some…the pot and the…whatever that is? Couldn’t find hide nor hair of it. Got everything stored away while I wait for word on the rest. Mind you, that knife? It came in a set. The woman wouldn’t part with it without paying for the whole lot, but they all went for about the same price I told you the knife would go for…?”

“No-no, ‘s all good. Very good. Just wasn’t expecting you to get everything.”

“Almost everything.”

“Still, it’s a lot. Far more than I expected. Anyway, thank you. But seeing how much you got—Germain, is your guy still going to be able to evaluate everything?”

“I’ll need to talk to him again, but I think he can. First, though, shouldn’t we deal with those two idiots outside?”

Frank and Donny stiffened at being caught, but both men were professionals. Straightening up, they casually walked inside, where they saw the boy, sitting behind his new…slightly used desk, Germain sitting on a beat-up old couch, and the Rodent…they ignored.

“Kid?”

“Adult?”

“What?” Frank asked in confusion.

“He’s been doing that whenever I call him kid,” Donny informed him.

Recovering from his momentary mental misstep, Frank returned to the point at hand.

“Mind if we have a bit of a talk?”

The kid just looked at them for a second, then separated his hands to indicate, “Well?”

“Look, kid? Thomas?” Frank started, then making his way forward, blatantly pushing his way past the Rodent, who backed away amicably to lean against the wall behind him.

“Now, you know I ain’t given you a hard time about any o’ this, even helped when I can, but that man, the Rodent, he’s the city’s snitch? The guy’ll tattle on anyone for a dime.”

“So Donny already said,” the kid replied in a blasé manner.

“Yeah, well, whatever you got going on here, be sure that everyone from here to the border’ll know about it by this time tomorrow.”

“Yes?” the kid asked, his question more a statement, as if Frank was telling him the obvious.

“Meaning that everybody’s going to know your business.”

“And you’re assuming that I don’t want that?”

“Why the hell would you want that?!” Frank asked, astonished.

“So I don’t have to pay for advertising,” the kid answered in a manner that told Frank that the boy once again thought it was more than obvious.

“But he’ll be getting paid for telling everybody your business.”

“Yeah! He makes money, I make money, everyone makes money!” replied the kid.

“Yes, but...how much money?” Frank asked, his mind switching tracks.

“Frank!” Donny called out.

Frank looked to his partner to say something, but his mind momentarily fritzed as it was caught between the promise of profit and addressing the presence of the rodent in the room.

Donny pushed him aside, most likely thinking he could do a better job of getting through to the kid.

Frank acquiesced and took a step back as Donny then tried, and failed, to reason with the boy.

Looking around, he saw that Germain had opted to close his eyes in an attempt to sleep through this encounter, and the Rodent…the Rodent looked Frank straight in the eyes—and with a nod of his head, smiled at him.

Supressing a growl, Frank turned his head away, momentarily looking to his left before returning his attention to Donny and Goodie…to then do a doubletake as he registered what he saw.

Plastered across the wall in a chaotic manner was a sight that he had only ever witnessed in the apartments of aged detectives that had let themselves get overly-obsessed over a case that they just could not let go of.

Papers, pamphlets, even maps, both cheap and expensive, were layered thick on what was once a plain off-white wall that separated this room from the one next door.

His eyes were drawn in particular to a large map of the continent, a series of poorly drawn lines crisscrossing the northern American territories to form a rough, misshapen grid of some sort, with nearly indecipherable squiggles written in each section.

Along the eastern coast, where the city was, the boy—at least, he assumed it was the boy who had written it and not some chimp that someone had been let loose in the building—had scrawled, ‘New York.’

‘York? That’s an old-world town, ain’t it?’ he asked himself.

Along the western coast, over the extended expansion of the line and the new colony, was written…Colifornia…and Orga…Oregon?

‘Those the names of cities or a recipe for soup?’

Suddenly, a knock came from the door behind them all.

“Mr. Goodwill? I hate to intrude, but I am on a schedule,” a man dressed in official black, the type of wear that only those that represented the well-to- do wore, inquired from without.

Everyone looked from that man to the boy, who appeared just as confused at the sudden intrusion as they were.

“Uh…and you would be?” Goodie asked.

“Mr. Alfred Turner, I’m here representing a member of the Daughters of Delphi. Specifically, I’m to deliver this package for your approval, as well as to discuss the particulars of my client’s employment with your future endeavour.”

“I…whuh?”

The kid, clearly confused, looked to Donny and then back to him.

“Kid,” Donny told him, “whatever you’re bringing in, there’s no way you can afford an oracle.”

“Ah,” Mr. Turner interrupted, “My client is a member by way of birth, not employment; her interest is not related in anyway, nor is she interested in participating or offering any service connected to, the Daughter’s primary line of work.”

He then strode towards the desk and placed a small case in front of Goodie.

Taking another moment to look around, the boy, with a nod of prompting from Mr. Turner, then opened the case.

Facing away from them, only the boy was presented with the contents within that container, but a moment later, he brought up a card and read out, “Mr. Frank Sullivan, please mind your own business.”

“What?! What’d I do?”

Goodie turned the card around to face him, where Frank could see the words written upon it, a repeat of what the boy had just said.

He looked to Turner.

“As I have already stated,” the man answered, “my client is a member of the Sisters by birth.”

Frank was about to say something, but his attention was brought back to the kid as the boy slammed the case shut, and intense look on his face attesting to the importance he held for whatever lay within.

“Something you’d rather keep secret?” Frank teasingly inquired, his eyes peering over to indicate the Rodent in the room.

“Yes,” the boy told him, face straighter than a razor, “for now. Though I’m thinking that making it known that I have something to hide might prove beneficial?”

The question was addressed to the man whom neither Frank nor Donny wanted to acknowledge; the Rodent nodding his head, then, in response, though Frank doubted that he knew about what was going on here any better than anyone other than the boy did.

Turner spoke up then, saying, “I trust that what my client had provided is acceptable?”

“I would need to go through everything properly, but so far, it looks good.”

“Yes, well, if we could go over the specifics of what my client would require from you, then I could get out of your hair?” Turner then inquired.

“Actually, we…”

Donny held up a hand to Frank’s chest, stopping him.

“Whu…?”

In answer, Donny presented the top of his wrist.

Staring at the top of his own wrist then, Frank noted the time on his watch.

“Damn! …right, our conversation ain’t over,” Frank said to the boy, pointing a finger at him, then over to the Rodent, not sparing a glance to the latter. He then raced out the door, dragging Donny behind him.