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A few misunderstandings may had formed, which were swiftly cleared up by the barrels of Bella’s guns to Kaleo’s face. Before I got to talk to him, anyways. Violence carried a different kind of persuasion.
Sunny nearly fell victim to a stroke on the spot, though not because of the deal I made with Kaleo. Such bargains to catch a bigger criminal were an all too common tactic, one she couldn’t find much fault for (or any legal violations, as I was surprised to learn). The fact I hadn’t told either of them right away and exposed him to innocent civilians ended up deemed as the worst part.
Luckily, Kaleo had focused on scaring people off over attacking during his escape. Once I managed to reassure him I didn’t intend on going back on our deal, I returned him to a small room I prepared for him, and Bella put a new tracker on his ankle after he broke the last one a block away from the building.
“You better not go back on your promise,” he spat. A simple rectangle shape made up the space—a bed, a small shelf with generic commercial fiction, a desk and a window. Though a cell was protocol at other Planetary Forces headquarters, I never liked the lack of sunlight, and so offered him this extra space as a gesture of peace.
“I would have fought to the end to uphold it,” I reassured him as he scampered in and onto his bed. He curled in on himself, defensive. “Not that there was any need to.”
“Sure,” he grumbled, and looked out the window.
I took that as a cue to leave.
What a temperamental person. Couldn’t he have faith in a promise from Erna Dee Belmonte? He hardly appeared like the young and impulsive type, either…or, not that young. According to a swift background check, he turned 20 only half a year ago. One’s first foray out of being a teenager into adulthood, though I never understood the difference. When I grew up during those years, it all blurred together from the differing social structures at the time.
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Before I could dwell more on the social politics of age, my phone buzzed—I received a message from Ale Felix Levansiaka. Ah, perfect! I wanted to speak with him most of all. Surely, if he was as he innocent as he appeared to be, I could start with casual conversation, then perchance…just perchance, find out the truth behind his abilities. The unsaid capabilities he hid from the world all this time.
And, most important of all, precisely why he’d kept such a secret. What his motives were.
Ale: Hello! So sorry I missed your message. Assuming we’re still employed since I didn’t hear anything otherwise, do you want to have that personal meeting at 3? Here’s the place I’m thinking we could go to.
The last sentence sent me to the website of a small sit-down cafe for single people. People, however, are commonly singular, so their description sounded overly specific. The meeting time was an hour away—
My phone dinged again and sliced my train of thought to pieces. Before it could begin to recover, it went off again. And again.
Ale: Wait, is that too sudden? We can reschedule! This is your thing after all.
Ale: Actually I didn’t meant to imply I don’t care, I do! I can’t wait to get to know you!
Ale: BY THE WAY THAT WASN’T IN A ROMANTIC WAY I’M REALLY NOT LOOKING FOR ANYTHING TOO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW WITH SOMEONE AS BIG AS YOU
Ale: I MEANT FAME WISE NOT SIZE WISE IM REALLY REALLY SORRY
Ale: Let me start over
Ale: Meet me here at 3?
Ale: Oh gods that is so informal what is wrong with me??? im sorry im such a mess you can just ignore my existence instead if it makes you
Ale: Please just turn your phone off
Ale: are you there?’
Ale: am I fired
Ale: shit
…
…I’ll stick to 3 P.M.
…
I wondered if this odd vernacular was another cultural shift, or simply a trait of his.