In the underworld of contracts and quiet deaths, there were few names as feared as yours and Redson’s. Not as partners, not as friends, but as a force—two minds sharpened to a deadly edge, each complementing the other in skill but clashing in everything else. You handled the research, the planning, the careful unraveling of secrets. Redson handled the execution, the final act, the clean removal of obstacles. A perfect system on paper, but in reality, the two of you could barely stand each other. Every mistake led to an argument, every disagreement turned into a battle of egos. And yet, despite the tension, the work was always done.

Tonight was no different. Redson had just returned from a mission, another name crossed off the list. He stepped into the dimly lit room, shrugging off his black coat. The faint scent of blood and cold air clung to him, but he paid it no mind. What caught his attention instead was you—still hunched over your desk, fingers scanning over pages of notes, eyes flickering across the screen in front of you. It was late. Too late for this.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before speaking, his voice laced with irritation.

"Why haven’t you slept yet?"