Mikey stayed on the floor, staring up at Bobo and Luce.
Bobo spoke first, voice calm but wary.
"How much'd you hear, kid?"
Mikey let out a nervous chuckle
"Uh… everything."
Bobo smacked his lips, glancing at Luce. He wasn't sure where the kid stood.
"Well, shit."
Luce's eyes narrowed. She looked between the two.
"Goddamn it."
Without warning, she pulled a pistol from her waistband and leveled it at Mikey.
His eyes widened.
"Whoa! Whoa! Hey!"
He scrambled back until his spine hit the wall.
"Let's not—!"
Bobo stepped forward, his metal arm raised between Luce and the boy.
"Luce. Put the damn gun down."
"YEAH PUT THE GUN DOWN—LUCE!"
She kept the barrel trained on him, eyes sharp.
"He's from the Capital. Raised there. Could've been trained, flipped, placed. I don't like it."
Bobo's voice softened. "He's Dez's."
Luce's jaw worked as she stared down the sights, then clicked her tongue and finally lowered the gun.
"Fine. You deal with him," she muttered, jabbing a finger into Bobo's chest. "But if he flakes—it's your ass."
She walked off, disappearing into another room, leaving a quiet behind her.
Bobo turned back to Mikey and sighed.
"C'mon. Get up."
He reached down and, with one hand, grabbed Mikey by the back of his shirt. The metal arm lifted him like a sack of laundry.
Mikey landed on his feet with a grunt.
"Don't mind Luce," Bobo said, his voice low but even. "She's just cautious."
He walked to the table and pulled out a chair, motioning for Mikey to sit. Then he rounded the table and eased into his own seat with a heavy sigh, like he was bracing for a conversation he wasn't sure how to begin.
Mikey sat down slowly, the tension still hanging between them like a fog. Bobo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, scratching at his chin with his metal hand as he studied the boy across from him.
"Look, kid."
Bobo started, voice measured, "I don't want you getting caught up in this. That wasn't the plan. I was gonna give you a place to rest, get you patched up, and send you on your way. But obviously that went to shit cause you overheard. So I need you to hear this—really hear it. The Council isn't what you—"
"I know," Mikey interrupted quietly.
Bobo blinked.
"I know everything," Mikey said, eyes locked forward. "I know about my dad. I know about the Council. At least... most of it."
There was a beat of silence between them—no noise from upstairs, no hum from outside. Just the weight of what Mikey said lingering between them.
Bobo sat back slowly, watching him in a new light.
Bobo leaned in, brows furrowed.
"How? Your pop tell ya?"
Mikey looked at him, the words building up in his chest like pressure behind a dam. He wanted to explain everything—Nadia, Payne Morrison, the explosion—but the weight of it all clamped around his throat. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled.
"I saw them kill my dad... I was there. In the apartment. During the explosion."
Bobo's expression shifted, stunned. "You were there? Shit... I saw the news when Dez died, but—damn, kid. To be there. I can't even imagine." He stared at him, almost like trying to piece together the fragments. "You survived that shit?"
Mikey let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though there was no joy behind it. "Guess I got lucky..." he said, forcing a small smile to mask the guilt curling in his chest.
Bobo studied him. "Is that why you look all..." He gestured vaguely around Mikey's battered face. "...fucked up?"
Mikey shook his head. "No. That was something else."
Bobo's brow lifted.
"What then?"
Mikey met his eyes. One word, heavy as a punch:
"Payne."
Bobo froze.
"Morrison?"
Mikey nodded.
Bobo's jaw tightened, and for the first time, the warmth in the man's eyes turned to something cold and sharp. Hatred. It didn't suit him—but it was real.
"That psycho..." he muttered. Then, locking eyes with Mikey: "How'd that happen? How'd you end up in a room with him?"
Mikey cleared his throat, steadying himself as the memories clawed their way back up.
"He was at my graduation," he said quietly. "Just a few days ago. The day…" He paused, swallowing hard. "The day my dad died."
He looked away, ashamed—not of the event, but of who he was before it.
"Back when I thought Payne was a hero." He spat the word like poison. "I even asked him for a letter of recommendation. Thought he could help me." Mikey shook his head, hating the naivety in his younger self. "He told me to meet him at a lounge. That's around the time when I found out the truth. That he ordered the hit on my dad."
His voice dropped.
"So I went. I knew he'd be there. I needed to see him, face him. And..."
He gestured to the bruises on his face.
Bobo nodded slowly, his expression grim. He didn't need to ask what happened next—he'd seen enough bruised-up kids over the years to know what kind of man Payne Morrison really was.
Mikey continued, his voice shaking but steady.
"I've never felt that powerless. Not like that. Payne—he was my idol. Hell, he's everyone's idol. And there I was, standing in front of him, knowing the truth, and I… I couldn't move. Couldn't do anything."
He paused again, the words tightening in his throat.
"I told him I'd kill him."
Bobo leaned in slightly, his voice low.
"And I bet he didn't even flinch."
Mikey nodded.
"He didn't. He didn't even blink. Just handed me a gun… and told me to do it."
A long silence.
Bobo's voice came quiet, almost gentle.
"But you couldn't. I don't blame you, kid. First time… it's—"
"I pulled the trigger."
Bobo froze.
Mikey's voice hollowed.
"Gun jammed. He got lucky."
He didn't say it with pride. He didn't say it like a threat. He said it like someone who had crossed a line he could never uncross—someone who no longer recognized the boy he used to be.
"I didn't go there to kill anyone," he whispered. "But I left knowing I would. Eventually."
Mikey swallows.
"That I had it in me..."
Bobo studied Mikey, eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but in recognition. He saw it clear as day: the pain, the guilt, the hollow anger behind the boy's voice. He'd seen it before. Worn it before.
"I'm just glad you made it out," Bobo said finally, his voice quieter, almost reverent. "That man... Morrison, he's a devil in a suit. I've met killers, liars, monsters—but only a handful ever shook me. He was one of them."
Mikey blinked. That caught him off guard.
Bobo met Payne?
From the sound of it, it hadn't been pleasant. A dozen questions stirred, but he held them back. Not yet. Not now.
He leaned forward slightly. "You said you'd tell me," he said, voice steady. "How'd you know my dad? Sounded like that woman—Luce—knew him too."
Bobo leaned back in his chair with a sigh, eyes drifting somewhere far off, into a version of the past only he could see.
"Met him a long time ago. Before he even touched the Capital."
Mikey frowned.
"Touched the Capital? What does that mean? Like... the slums?"
He had never heard anyone talk about his dad like that. He always assumed his father was born in the city—raised under the Council's watch, like everyone else.
But Bobo shook his head.
"No. I mean beyond the slums."
Mikey blinked.
"Beyond the slums? There's more?"
The way Bobo looked at him—wide-eyed, slightly offended—was all the answer Mikey needed.
"Damn," Bobo muttered. "Council really lies that bad, huh?"
He leaned forward, tone heavy with disbelief.
"Where the hell did you think the Defectors came from? Council's own backyard?"
Mikey shrugged, sheepish, a bit ashamed.
"Honestly... I don't know. They always gave us just enough information to hate you guys—but never enough to understand why."
Bobo let out a low chuckle, but it wasn't amused. It was bitter.
"That's by design, kid. Hate's easier to control than curiosity."
He looked at Mikey again, more directly this time.
"Your Pop came from the part of the world the Council doesn't put on maps. The kind of place they pretend doesn't exist."
Mikey swallowed. "What's it called?"
Bobo looked him in the eye.
"We call it the Outlands. Just off the coast of the island."
Mikey blinked.
"Island?"
Bobo nodded, but as he continued, he stopped cold—something clicking all at once in his mind. "Yeah, the island the Council—" His mouth hung open for a beat, stunned. "Wait… hold up. You don't know?"
Mikey tilted his head.
"Know what?"
Bobo leaned forward, disbelief etched into every wrinkle on his face.
"You're telling me you didn't know we're on a fucking island?"
Mikey shook his head, slowly.
"No… They never said that. Just called it the Capital, like it was everything."
Bobo rubbed his temple, dragging a metal hand down his face.
"My god…"
Mikey spoke again, trying to piece it all together.
"You said the Outlands are off the coast… so how do you even cross the water? Isn't it toxic?"
From across the room, Luce stood in the doorway now, arms folded, quietly listening.
Bobo's head snapped up at Mikey's question.
"Toxic?" he repeated like it was the most absurd thing he'd heard all day. "Toxic—kid, you know what?" He pointed a sharp finger at Luce without looking. "Take everything they ever taught you, and shove it up her ass."
Luce lifted her hands, confused and irritated. "The fuck did I do?"
Bobo didn't answer—he just held up a hand in her direction, like he was mentally muting her presence. He turned back to Mikey with that same exasperated, almost fatherly frustration.
"Everything you think you know?" he said slowly. "You don't. You don't know shit, kid."
There was no bite in it—just truth. Then, unexpectedly, Bobo smiled. "But you'll learn."
Mikey looked at him—hesitant, but something about the way Bobo said it settled in him. For the first time in days a tiny smile crept across his face too. Just a flicker.
He nodded. "Yeah... I think I will."