The M1911 had been a gift from Mr. Ray himself; a clear reminder of how he was granted a second chance to live, even if it was taking the life of someone else. Mr. Ray was just a stranger that sat on board the train, reading a newspaper with a cigar in his mouth, crosslegged, while Mishaal was just several rows behind as he had gotten inside the train before he crouched down to hide from his persuers. Mishaal had learned at an early age that he had to survive by any means necessary, especially after his father had passed away and had to look out for his mother and sisters. He had to resort to thievery at one point in his life in a desperate time when his family didn't have food to eat and couldn't afford to buy medicine when his baby sister died of pneumonia.

Mishaal was proficient in making calculations and administrating his food rations but he wasn't able to get employed by conventional means due to his age.

At age 11, Mishaal had began working from the ground up to verifying ledgers from any incongruencies. At age 12, he began altering ledgers meticulously before attracting the attention from an underboss for his rapport. At age 13, he resorted to making managerial work before a crime boss had promoted him by getting his hands dirty and doing undertaking until they caught him embezzling money. As such, Mishaal had scrawled a letter to his mother to collect the savings he accrued for his family to move to better housing.

He needed a stamp to send the letter.

Mishaal, in his desperation, had foolishly inquired for spare change to a passenger that was in front of him while the train moved towards its destination. The shadows of his pursuers were approaching from one car to the next. Once Mishaal had reached to Mr. Ray to ask him the same question.

Mr. Ray nonchalantly turned the page of the newspaper before he looked at the young man. “That depends.” Blaise asked, “How much are you willing to obtain it?” As if on cue, one of Mishaal's pursuers arrived to the car they were on.
Mishaal heard the rattling of the door and had snagged a glance at the thug while Mr. Ray slipped his gun into the newspaper.

“Anything.” Mishaal responded while two more of them appeared. As he turned to look at Mr. Ray, the man had already leaned on the railing, looking out the window.

“Take it,” Mr. Ray hinted, “You're gonna need it.”

Mishaal only saw the newspaper before he saw something protruding from the edge of the newspaper. As he opened it, he saw the gun before the man had got out of the train. The M1911 wasn't only a gift, it was his last chance to shoot his pursuers as he unloaded the cartridge for bullets.

It was fully loaded and the rest was history.

There was a mole in the midst and had to be lured out promptly. Mishaal stepped out of the vehicle and closed the door as he pocketed his M1911 pistol while Ender watched the entrance.

Mishaal proceeded inside to the vestibule and perused with discretion as he went to the reception to inquire for Mr. Reynolds, a crude businessman that only cared about his own benefit and his ambition is what got him in Mr. Keller's crosshairs.

“Mr. Reynolds just left a while ago.” The receptionist informed.

“Do you happen to know when he will return?” Mishaal asked.

“I'm afraid not, sir. Do you want to schedule an appointment?” The receptionist asked.

“No need.” Mishaal responded after he gathered the information he needed before he got back to the parking lot to meet up with Ender.

From what Mishaal gathered was that Mr. Reynolds made reservations at the Chantel Hotel for a business meeting.

“Well look what we have here,” Mishaal opened the cartridge to inspect the number of bullets left. The culprit was cornered, trying to pull out a gun from his belt before Ender had slammed the individual against the floor with his bare hands, “it looks like we caught a mole.” The turncoat in question was a stout middleman, a cynical swine who was in cahoots with the manager of the Mandrake Speakeasy, this man was Howard Reynolds.

“Double dealing is a serious issue, don't you think?” It was brought to Mishaal's attention that Mr. Reynolds was leaking classified information to the highest bidder — nothing short of treason. Ender silently concurred with Mishaal's statement by punching the snitch, breaking his nose.

“What do you think would be the best course of action to dispose of this scum?” Mishaal queried while the mole was bleeding from his nose. “I suggest we should dismember him and send his limbs for his family to find.”

“No.” Mr. Reynolds pleaded.

“Quiet! I'm not talking to you,” Mishaal replied as he directed his attention to his partner. Ender shook his head before punching Mr. Reynolds again. “Take it easy, Ender. We need him cognizant to give out the names of his accomplices. It would be a waste to ruin a perfectly good doormat.” Mr. Reynolds was on the floor, bleeding out before Mishaal closed the cylinder and pointed the gun at Mr. Reynolds's face. “You have by the count of three to give me the names before I shoot your kneecaps. One--”

Mishaal applied the silencer to the gun, “--two--”

Mr. Reynolds's eyes widened when Mishaal pointed the fire at his knee.

“Wait! I'll tell you everything! Don't kill me!” Mishaal had his gloved finger on the trigger before rolling his viridian orbs.

“This is why I hate negotiating with you sentimental types. Always acting without thinking ahead of time. You should've thought of that before double dealing in the first place. Now tell me everything you know.” Mishaal warned just as the turncoat confessed.

The vagrant had arrived to his aunt's home as he walked up to the porch and put down the cases before ringing the doorbell. After a few seconds of silence he pressed the doorbell again before his aunt answered with an Irish lilt before opening the door. She was surprised to see a young man before recognizing him.

“How do you do, aunt Gina?” Aster greeted.

“What are ye doing here?” Gina glared at his nephew, arms crossed, blocking the entrance with her stout body.

“I'm glad you asked! I'm here to stay for the night.” After he said those words, his aunt had stepped back to slam the door at his face. “Please aunt Gina! I have nowhere else to go!”

Silence.

“I got a gig! It's my chance to turn my life around.”

Still no response.

“Let me stay for the night, I'll promise to use my salary to pay you for rent. Just let me in.” Aster ringed the doorbell again but his aunt refused to open the door.

“Go away!” His aunt hollered from inside. Aster let go of the doorbell and sat at the porch and sighed. Aunt Gina had no obligation to take care of her nephew anymore, she already fulfilled her responsibility as his legal guardian to take care of him until he was old enough to be on his own. Her main priority was to look out for her son, Allen.

Allen was her only child. She had already went through the painful experience of suffering another miscarriage more than once and she resigned in having a child of her own. Allen made it to the third trimester and Gina wept tears of joy as she held him in her arms for the first time.

Even if her only son moved to the police academy, she was still worried about him just like any mother would be for her child.

There was music coming from outside. A somber melody of a fiddle, it had been years since the last time she heard it and that was when...

When her sister used to practice.

She used to hate hearing that sad tune whenever her late sister played it when they were teenagers. Julie wanted to be a famous violinist one day, despite that the only thing that was popular back in the late 90s was grunge and R&B.

Gina thought that Julie was wasting her time, that her dream of becoming a famous musician was nothing but a whim. When they had moved to St. Louis, Angelina had warned her sister time and time again that making big in the music industry would be an impossible task, but Julie didn't listen to her.

Julie worked as a waitress by day and tested her luck in performing in clubs by night. Despite how well she played the fiddle, no one took her seriously. One of her employers had insisted that the only way that she would make it big is that if she showed some skin. Mistakes were made along the way.

One of those mistakes was when she met Randall who was a sleazy scumbag that got her hooked on drugs and had planned to sell her off to the adult film industry. If it wasn't for Aster's father who had offered drugs, Julie wouldn't have slipped away from her captor to get her fix.

Avery, Aster's father, was just another scumbag that sold drugs at the subway and had only gotten interested in Julie for her pretty face and her body. Both scumbags have used Julie for sex, the only difference was that Randall had seen Julie as a tool while Avery got addicted to her.

Gina didn't understand how it happened, but Julie's pregnancy somehow managed to get her to stop thinking about herself and focus on her child. Julie couldn't fulfill her dream of becoming a famous musician though it encouraged her to teach Aster how to play a few simple chords.

Gina was struggling to have a child of her own at the time and visited Julie whenever she could though she noticed that something wasn't right with her.

Julie looked pale and started to wear a headscarf more frequently. Gina had suspected that Julie was sick but hadn't realized what it was until Julie had confessed that she was battling against cancer. The news had caused Gina to have another miscarriage.

For years Gina tried to have a child of her own and afrer realizing that the only reason she wasn't able to conceive was because she needed to be present for her sister and her nephew in their time of need.

Julie was battling against cancer, Avery was sent to prison and Aster was still a child. Gina was the closest relative Aster had by default. The paternal side of Aster's family was cold and distant. Julie entrusted her son to Gina in case that she wasn't able to make it.

Aster was the only thing that was left of Julie.

Gina opened the door to find her only nephew sitting on the porch, playing the fiddle.

“Aiden,” Gina called her nephew by his real name. Aster turned around when his aunt opened the door and invited him inside the house, “You are only staying for one night, am I clear?” Aster smiled and thanked her for letting him stay for the evening before he picked up his cases and went inside.