Chapter 3: The deal
Kael stood in the gutted ground floor, hands on his hips, dust swirling around his boots. The place was a shell—cracked tiles, peeling paint, a faint musty smell of neglect. His savings—years of B-rank hazard pay—were about to take a hit, but this was step one. He rolled up his sleeves, the sling gone but his arm still stiff, and got to work.
First, the walls. He hauled in cans of paint, a crisp off-white to banish the gloom. The roller glided over the stains, each stroke erasing the past. He worked late, sweat beading on his brow, the hum of a portable fan his onlympany. By morning, the space glowed, sterile but promising—like a hospital ward, but softer, less clinical.
Next, partitions. He dragged in cheap drywall panels, hammering them into place to carve out rooms—a reception area, a holding cell, a "therapy" space. The nails bit into the studs with satisfying thunks, his bruised ribs twinging with every swing. He painted these walls too, a muted gray, calming but firm. Control, not chaos, would define this place.
Furniture came cheap from a sndhand shop—a desk, a few chairs, at with a thin mattress. He scrubbed them down, the tang of bleach sharp in the air. Thet got a dark blue sheet, practical but with a hint of intent. He stepped back, surveying it: functional, sparse, a skeleton of his vision. Two days of labor, and The Haven was born.
His phone buzzed as he wiped paint from his hands. A message blinked on the screen—from her. "Coffee tomorrow? Got your note. —L." Kael grinned, a flicker of old warmth cutting through the ache. Lightning Lass, A-rank now, but once his partner in grimy B-rank brawls. He typed back, "Usual spot. 10 AM."
Theffee shop was a hole-in-the-wall, all chipped mugs and sticky tables, tucked in a busy district far from his deserted haunt. Kael arrived early, claiming arner booth. She strode in at ten sharp—tall, sharp-edged, her blonde hair pulled tight, electric blue eyes scanning the room. Her A-rank suit gleamed faintly, a subtle flex of her status. She spotted him and smirked, sliding into the seat across.
"Still alive, huh?" she said, voice dry but fond. "Thought that chain guy finished you."
"Barely," Kael replied, matching her grin. "Good to see you too, Liss."
A waitress hovered, and Kael waved her over. "Blackffee, two sugars, and a brownie—extra fudge." Liss raised a brow, amused. "You remember."