I

  After everything was over, things returned to a relative calm. Davies finished his speech without incident, and we just as calmly returned to Sector One. Once all the formalities were dealt with, I tried to learn something more about the attackers, but I was shut down immediately—the case had been taken over by a corporation, and they had no intention of sharing information, especially with someone they considered indirect competition.

  As I was about to leave, Anthony spoke up, somewhat awkwardly.

  “Your help today proved extremely effective. I’m truly grateful.”

  “Thanks,” I replied curtly. “But that was the deal.”

  “Heh, that’s true,” he said with a faint smile. “Still, your professionalism and way of handling things exceeded my expectations.”

  “Thank you,” I said, slightly embarrassed and equally confused. The conversation felt strangely unnatural.

  “I do hope this isn’t the end of our acquaintance.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing specific,” he replied cautiously. “I’m simply expressing an interest in future cooperation. You know… on future assignments.”

  “Who knows,” I answered, clearly irritated by the forced politeness. “I wish you a successful career.”

  After that unexpectedly unsettling exchange, I left Sector One and stepped back onto the old, filthy streets, eager to get home as quickly as possible.

  II

  When I got back, I was greeted by a sight that had become almost routine.

  “You’re sleeping again?” I shouted, nearly tripping over a bottle lying in the middle of the room.

  Susan jolted upright almost immediately.

  “Do you have to yell like that? You could let someone get some sleep!”

  Ignoring her complaints, I stripped off my work clothes and collapsed onto the carpet beside the couch, far more exhausted than I should’ve been. Seeing that I wasn’t in the mood to talk, Susan turned away from me and—just like I did—stared tiredly at the ceiling.

  After a long, heavy silence, I whispered:

  “Hey, Susan.”

  “Grab a blanket from the closet. No way I’m sleeping on the floor.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  After another pause, fighting off sleep, I spoke again:

  “Do you happen to remember Anthony Davies?”

  “The politician?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well… kind of,” she said after a moment. “I think he was in the same orphanage as us. But you’re too young to remember him.”

  “That’s what he said,” I replied thoughtfully. “He told me to say hello.”

  “That’s… nice, I guess. Did he say anything interesting?”

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  “Not really.”

  Once I knew his words actually lined up with reality, that empty yet strangely warm silence settled in again. After a moment, I snapped out of it and sat up abruptly.

  “Weren’t you supposed to have work today?”

  “I was.”

  “But…?”

  “But I don’t have a boss anymore.”

  “Did they fire you again?”

  “No,” she yawned. “They got rid of the boss. He was dealing with some shady people, so that’s how it ended.”

  “So, the mafia again,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  After that brief exchange, Susan turned onto her other side and, drifting off, added:

  “You’re hurt.”

  “Probably,” I replied. “Didn’t really think about it.”

  “There’s a bandage in the closet.”

  A moment later, we both fell asleep almost at the same time.

  III

  When I woke up, I didn’t wait a second. I got dressed and headed out, planning to look for new work at the commander’s office. Tired of the same streets, I decided to take a longer route, hoping for even a brief break from the monotony.

  No luck. The gray was everywhere.

  The only thing out of the ordinary was a loud protest in front of a massive church. A richly dressed clergyman stood facing the crowd, surrounded by armed guards, condemning the gathering’s “moral decay.”

  Crazy priest, I thought.

  With that in mind, I finally reached the precinct, which looked even more lifeless than usual. Passing a few employees, I entered the commander’s office.

  “Any new work?” I asked.

  The gendarme looked up from his paperwork.

  “Aren’t you injured?”

  “I am. How does the commander know?”

  “How do you think? You really believe I didn’t get the report?”

  Right. I hadn’t thought about that, especially since this time I hadn’t written it myself.

  “Listen, kid,” he sighed. “There’s no work for you right now. At least not the usual kind.”

  “Why not?”

  “The corporation. Anything tied to the mafia is theirs now. And that’s the only kind of trouble going around.”

  “So that’s that,” I muttered, clearly displeased.

  “You know I don’t like it either, but there’s nothing I can do. Go home. If something comes up, I’ll let you know. And do something about that wound—it's visible even from here.”

  With that rather grim update, I headed back, hoping something—anything—interesting might happen along the way.

  IV

  After an unnecessarily long walk during which absolutely nothing happened, I returned once more to my cramped apartment.

  “Where have you been?” Susan greeted me.

  “At the commander’s,” I replied, sitting down at the table.

  “That desperate for work?”

  “What else am I supposed to do? Sit at home like you?” I snapped, frustrated.

  Susan stopped what she was doing and shouted:

  “Could you at least, for fuck’s sake, take care of that wound?!”

  “I don’t want lectures from someone who keeps coming home with wine.”

  That was too much.

  “Just look at this!” she yelled. “I deal with creeps night after night, and you wander who-knows-where, come back shot, and then collapse on the floor for days!”

  With that, she slammed the bathroom door shut, leaving me alone. I paced the room for a while, venting my anger on whatever was nearby. When my emotions finally burned out, I heard quiet sobbing.

  I sat down on the other side of the door.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice trembling.

  A long, hollow silence followed.

  “I’m sorry too,” she finally said. “But you could at least take a little care of yourself.”

  “You too,” I said with a weak smile.

  A moment later, the lock clicked softly.

  “Let me see the wound,” she sighed.

  I was sitting shirtless on the couch, staring into nothing as she bandaged my left arm.

  “Why did you put it off for so long?”

  “You know how I am.”

  “Stupid?”

  I laughed.

  “Maybe.”

  She sat down beside me. Silence fell again—this time comforting. The calm was shattered by violent pounding on the door.

  “Charlie! Hurry up! There’s a job—this one’s urgent!”