A door swings open and a portly man in a cheap suit steps in through the doorway. The night sky does nothing to light up the darkened room. As the door closes, the man's eyes are drawn to a lamp sitting on a desk, the source of the room's light. At the desk sits a figure, the dim light of the lamp shrouding its identity.

The man begins to approach the desk, but recoils at the sight of the figure getting out of its chair. Instead of walking toward him, the figure merely places his elbow on the wooden desk directly in front of the lamp. He then places his head on his hand, revealing himself.

Luca. Just who the man had hoped.

"Take a seat, Rodriguez."

Clearing his throat nervously and cracking his knuckles, the portly man chokes out a response.

DEA Agent Rodriguez: "No thank you, I'd rather stand."

Sensing the reservation the man has toward getting close to him, and smirking about it, Luca waves him over.

"No, I insist! It's not like I'm going to do anything. Remember, I called you with information!"

Reluctantly, Rodriguez shuffles over to the chair set up opposite the one Luca was previously sitting in. The young man casually sits back down in said chair, his eyes meeting the agent's with every motion.

"So, to pick up from where we left off on the phone..."

"Their names, I know."

"Get to it then! I don't plan to talk to a scumbag like you all day!"

The agent's snide response actually gets a chuckle out of the snitch. Scratch that, full fledged laughter as Rodriguez scratches his bald head, wondering if meeting him in person was a good idea.

"Scumbag, that's fucking rich! How many dirty deals have you done, Rodriguez? How many killers have you let off scot free just to get who hired them to do the deed, huh? Call me a scumbag..."

"You're selling out these people-"

Angrily, Luca snaps at the man sitting across from him.

"FOR THEIR OWN FUCKING GOOD!"

"No. For your's."

"I wouldn't expect a fucking fed to understand. Anyway, back to business. You want their names? Here you fucking go!"

Luca pulls a pen from his pocket and scratches It furiously on a piece of paper. As the letters morph into the names of the people he's ratting out, it looks like he's writing in an order of importance.

Mero Duncan. Jared Daniels. Renee Zielwig. and Lenny Carlyle, if you have any free time

He pushes the piece of paper over to the agent, who's to busy anxiously looking around for someone to attack him to even notice.

"Hey douchebag! You got your names..."

Rodriguez looks down at the desk and snatches the paper. He folds it and stuffs it into the breast pocket of his suit. He looks over at Luca one last time with pleading eyes.

"You're a bright kid, why aren't taking your own advice and cleaning up your act?"

Not even paying attention to the agent's movements at this point, Luca answers, completely uninterested in what he's even saying.

"Who said I'm not? If I wasn't, I sure as hell wouldn't be snitching to an out of shape, Navy SEAL reject of a damn DEA agent now would I?"

Without a single word more, Rodriguez rises from his chair, and retraces his steps out of the house...






The first semblance of sunlight starts to peak through the gaps in the blinds. Despite Luca's best efforts to avoid contact with the rays, he knows that the next part of his road to redemption will begin soon. That being skipping town, probably the state, before the DEA catches up to the others. Before he can even contemplate that however, he's on the receiving end of yet another call.

Pulling the cell phone out of his pocket, he sees the call is from Renee. Struggling internally over whether or not to answer it, he waits until the phone stops ringing and places it upon the desk he hadn't bothered to get up from even after Rodriguez left.

Getting up for the first time in a near half hour, Luca walks into the kitchen. Searching the cabinets for something to eat that hasn't expired yet, he finds nothing that fits the criteria.

Damn it, oh well...

Walking back to the desk, his phone lights up. The message it shows being "1 New Voicemail" Hesitantly, he picks up the phone and listens to it. No shock, the message is from Renee.

"Luca? We're all at the lab now. The stuff's here, just waiting on you."

Suddenly, a spark goes off in Luca's head! He rushes up the stairway that leads into a bedroom, the walls painted jet black. On the bed is the same voice altering device he used in the phone call he made setting up the meeting with Rodriguez. Slipping it around his lips, he finds the string of letters and numbers listed as a contact on his phone and calls it. After 2 rings, the voice of Rodriguez can be heard on the other end.

"What?"

"They're at the lab right now."

Just as suddenly as the call arrived to the agent, it is ended.

Luca once more finds Renee's name in the small list of contacts he has, and sends one last bit of communication to her and the others. A text message. The message?

I'm starting with the man in the mirror. I'm asking him to change his ways. No message could've been any clearer. If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself, then make a change.

With that, he takes the battery out of the phone. Leaving it under the mattress, he walks down the stairs and out of the house, making one last turn to look at the place he's abandoning.

His home.

Literally and figuratively.






Spending two days getting settled in the City of Angels wasn't necessarily at the top of Luca's to do list, but looking over the apartment which he got for a cheap monthly payment due to his shrewd criminal negotiating skills, he ultimately feels it was for the best.

A feeling that he just couldn't shake though, was the frustration he had felt every since his meeting with Rodriguez. Frustration at the agent's blindness to the changes he was making to better himself.

He thinks I'm just a sack of shit who's looking after himself? Fuck it, who cares what he thinks, right?

Normally those comments would go in one of Luca's ears and out the other, much like the bullshit his opponents try to tell him before his matches. That one question however just would not escape his mind.

I did the right thing, no matter what some piece of shit fed has to say about it.

Looking up from his hands for a moment he sees the mirror he stopped in front of. After a few moments of deliberation, he decides it would be for the best to shave off his stubble before meeting with his new contact.

As he drags the razor across his face, a cough forces his hand sharply across his cheek, leaving a slight cut.

"Fuck!"

As he finishes, he checks the time on his watch. 2:05 PM, time to go!

Looking around for the jacket that he left somewhere in the main room, there's a knock on the door.

"This isn't really a good time!"

Finally he spots the jacket and he throws it on, heading up to answer the door. However, the man at the door stops him dead in his tracks.

Man: "Allow me introduce myself. Matthew Toreno."

He sticks out his hand, which Luca shakes with no hesitation.

"Nice to meet you, Toreno. Luca Arzegotti."

"I know who you are. I decided to have us meet here, no one will watch us."

Luca steps aside, letting Toreno into his house. The briefcase in his hand comes down on the wooden kitchen table. Luca follows, eyes on the briefcase as the other man opens it. The first thing that catches Luca's eye in regards to the contents is a picture.

Of Jeffery fucking Heiman...