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Ethan walked out of the apartment, dressed quite plainly. Then again, rarely did he ever not dress plainly. Strange, though, not much had changed since that night, when Eli fought that lizard in the parking lot. They had let to get a message from Hallmark or any one associated with Primal, despite the former saying they'll keep in touch. Eli was getting increasingly impatient about it, wanting to fight. None of the people at the local gym or boxing school would suffice, as it was doubtful they'd give him a challenge. Walking down the steps, he took a drink of his canned coffee, sighing, before tossing the empty can into a nearby trash can.

"Ethan!" he heard a voice call to him. Walking over, dressed in her work uniform, was the landlord, Miss Siebert. Unfortunately, the grumpy old cat didn't look too happy to see him.

"Ah, hello, Miss Siebert," he waved to her, giving a smile, as if to stay on her good side. "Lovely morning, isn't it?" It was warm and overcast, so if it was truly a lovely morning depended on who you asked.

"Don't you give me that! Ever since you brought that boy over, people have been worried!" She pointed at him, "That little fight he had a few days ago, plus someone almost breaking into your apartment, people are afraid more people are going to show up here, looking to cause chaos!" She grunted, putting her cane back at her feet, she sounded more annoyed than anything else. "Not to mention, Augustus was found dead recently... Not long after his fight with that Eli boy. Any thoughts on that?"

Ethan gulped, knowing full well the power Siebert had; she was worse than any fighter or military power, she was a landlord. "I assure you, Ethan was with us the day that Augustus died; he isn't the type of person to kill either. But I promise, no more fights will be had here. I'm certain of that." He stuttered as he spoke, typical for him, just wanting to get a reasonable response out.

Siebert looked at him, sneering, showing her fangs. A harsh stare that could scare even the most unruly of patrons. But, soon, she gave her response, with a sigh. She just couldn't feel any animosity towards Ethan. "Very well. I know you're a good person, but if I see one more fight here, I'm going to have a more serious talk with you, understood? At least make sure it doesn't keep any one up and no one else gets hurt."

Ethan smiled, relaxing. "You're too easy on me, Siebert."

"Well, we've known each other a long time. I did help change your diapers, after all. Known you since you were this big." She said, cupping her hands, pantomiming holding a baby. She laughed, "You were only slightly more of a crybaby back then as you are today."

Ethan winced, trying to think of a good comeback, "Yeah... And you got all old and wrinkled."

Siebert scowled, glaring at the boy again.

"Sorry!" Ethan said, taking a step back.

"Don't worry about it..." She said, ready to walk off, "What are you doing up this early anyways? I know you're a morning person, but I don't normally see you leave the house this early."

Ethan fidgeted, looking down, before saying, "It's her birthday."

He didn't need to explain beyond those 3 words, Siebert instantly knew. Ethan's pained yet solemn expression told her enough. "Very well, my apologies for keeping you for so long. Take care..." Her eyes caught something behind Ethan. "Are they with you?"

Ethan was snapped out of his trance, looking over to the street where a limo was parked, of all things. "I... Think?" It must've pulled up when they were chatting. He looked over to Siebert, "Either way, I guess I'll be off then."

Approaching the limo, as Siebert went off to do her own thing, Ethan looked into the window of the black vehicle. Slowly, the window was rolled down, and Ethan was face to face with a monitor lizard, wearing sunglasses, and a suit, a Redliner suit at that.

Redliner

Oleg "Butcher Bay" Rolan

"Ethan Callow?" He said, raising his sunglasses to show his yellow eyes, his slit pupils tightening as he looked at Ethan.

"That's me, yes." he nodded.

"Good, get in the car," the side door opened, "Someone wants to talk with you."

Ethan, of course, hesitated, looking at the entrance to the limo.

"You're not in any danger," Oleg said, his deep gravelly voice not exactly convincing Ethan. "It'll be a short chat."

"Ethan, come on in! I want to talk to you!" Another voice called from the window. Ethan recognized it, a friendly, upbeat voice that was enough to convince him to, slowly, walk inside.

The inside of the limo was very cool, a nice stable temperature, compared to the muggy, hot air outside. Other than Oleg and Ethan, there were two others.

One, a brown female rabbit, dressed in the same uniform as Oleg, minus the sunglasses.

Redliner

Rona "Rosetta Stoned" Hermes

The other was the cheetah, Hallmark, dressed in a white suit decorated with a purple orchid pattern, as well as a pair of bright pink sunglasses.

CEO of Samsara Life Insurance

Hallmark "Orchids in Bloom" Paganelli

"Ethan, my friend, come, sit down for a bit." He said, adjusting his sunglasses. "I want to talk to you, regarding Primal." He motioned to the seat across from him, an empty one between Oleg and Rona. Before Ethan could refuse or accept it, the door to the limo shut and began to drive off, so smooth that Ethan didn't even feel like it was moving. "Don't worry, we won't be long. Those two? Couldn't hurt a fly... Unless I asked them to." He chuckled, motioning for Ethan to come further in, which he did.

The two Redliners were silent as Ethan went over and sat down, Hallmark across from him. Even with his ridiculous outfit, he could feel a sort of power emanating from the man. "So... Uh, what did you want to talk to me about."

Hallmark chuckled, "Ethan? Why are you cutting straight to business?" He said, pronouncing it slowly and phonetically. "I thought you were hesitant about this thing? Have you grown more confident in the past few days?"

"I'm not, I just kind of want to get this finished with." he mumbled, "Plus these two kind of scare me."

"I see, plans today?" Hallmark said, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. His shoes were a dark purple color and polished to a vivid sheen. "At least have a drink with me." He motioned to the minibar to his left.

"You could say I have plans, yes." He said, looking at the various drinks. Each one of them looked far beyond his budget, the stuff you would see top shelf at a liquor store. A lot of fancy looking bottles, some of them fancy colors. All of them overlooking a bucket of ice with some champagne. It would be rude to reject Hallmark's offer, wouldn't it? "But, alright, I'll have one drink."

"Good!" He looked to the other two. "How about you two? Drinks all around?"

"Nope, I hate the taste of alcohol." Oleg said. "Sorry, sir."

"My family has a history of alcoholism," Rona said, "So I'll have to turn you down."

"That's fair, that's fair." Hallmark said, taking a blue, trapezoid shaped bottle, labeled Survivor. He poured a shot glass for Ethan and a tumbler glass for himself, on the rocks of course.

Ethan took the glass, smelling it. From the pine needle like smell, he recognized it as gin, but he didn't drink it just yet though.

"This gin has a special history with it actually, so I was waiting for a very special occasion to have such a special gin." Hallmark said, swaying his hand ever so slightly, causing the ice to click about. "Want to know why it's called Survivor?"

"Why's that?"

"You see, this gin started brewing about 27 years ago, at my family's distillery. That old distillery stood for 2 centuries, until the war." Hallmark looked into the glass, lifting his sunglasses, the liquid in the glass and the shape of the glass distorted his view. "Well, it was when the war was in full swing, that distillery was hit by an artillery strike, leveling the place to the ground. So many bottles, so much of my father's hard work, was all destroyed with a single explosion... All except a shelf of gin, 20 bottles. Since then, only 13 of them remain."

"Interesting," Ethan nodded along.

"If you are wondering, a single one of these bottles can go for 270,000 Shells."

"270,000!" Ethan shouted, almost dropping the glass in shock. He was essentially holding 270,000 Shells in his hand! The two Redliners in the room looked at him with annoyance.

"Expected you to have that sort of reaction. Everyone does." Hallmark, however, looked amused. "You know what? Why not take the bottle? You can have it for free." He sipped the gin, slowly, wincing at the alcohol burn. "Guh... That is if you take me up on my offer."

Ethan's ears twitched, his eyes wide, this was already too much. "Offer?" He was stuck using single words.

"Simply put... Primal is a more than just a bunch of fighters being sent at each other. There are a lot of pulleys and levers in it, so to speak. There are the suits, White Shirts and Scarlets, you met two of them at the restaurant. Cadence and Cascade. Think of them as our lower working grunts, our worker ants, or red blood cells. A red shirt indicates leadership over the white shirts."

"Uh huh..."

"Then there are our elites, the Redliners, who have strong authority within the company. Able to pull the strings of the world, oversee fights, hand out invitations, and act as bodyguards. Each Redliner is capable of holding their own against our fighters. Think of them as the world's strongest referees."

"Makes sense..." What was he getting at?

"But we also have what are called Handlers." He said, "They are the people who, well, handles the fighters. Choose who fights who. Do you play videos games? Think of them as the players and the fighters as the units. They each have their own fighters that work under them, they review potential opponents, meet with other Handlers, and receive a handsome payment, regardless of the results of the fight." Hallmark coughed, "Of course, the winner of said fight is paid significantly more..." Hallmark smirked, seeing Ethan's reaction, "Aaaah, Ethan, I saw that."

"Saw what."

"Your eyes, they sparkled just a bit at the mention of payment. You like money, don't you? My, my, I really did pick the right choice with you. People say that greed is a sin, but I say it's a desirable trait in my line of work."

"I... Yes," Ethan nodded, "I do like money. Wouldn't say I'm greedy though. Wouldn't say that I have much of it either."

"But you do get what I'm trying to say here, yes?" Hallmark said.

"You want me to be Eli's handler."

"Exactly," Hallmark grinned, pointing at the bat, "Eli doesn't seem like the type who is smart enough to be his own handler and no offense to Brook, she doesn't either."

Even Ethan had to admit that Brook wouldn't be a good Handler, if it involved any strategy or paperwork.

"Are you sure? I'm not a business owner and I have no experience with fighting."

"You don't need to be, the only requirements for a Handler are the ability to make reasonable decisions, know what is a good match up, and being able to work with others. Ethan, you might be a nervous one, but you seem to have a gravity to you."

"Gravity?"

"Yes, Gravity... A draw." He sipped his gin again, "Do you believe in destiny? Because I do. The moment we are conceived in the womb to the moment we die, our destiny is laid out before us. I believe, it is your destiny to take up this role... And the destiny of others to be drawn to you." He said, with a kind smile, "So? Do you want to follow it? Drink the gin if you agree."

Ethan thought about it, he HAD to think about it. Looking at the shotglass of 270,000 Shell gin. The clear liquid enticing him to drink and seal the deal, knowing full well how it would change his life, but also knowing the profit it would bring.

Picking up a briefcase, Rona placed it in Ethan's lap. "Consider this a starter bonus."

The briefcase was heavy, emblazoned with Primal's symbol of an orchid wrapped in barbed wire. Taking a peak inside, he let out a sharp gasp. He couldn't tell how much money was inside, but it was lined with bundles of cash.

"Within that case is approximately 500,000 Shells."

"500... 500,000?!" That wasn't that much, when compared to upper class jobs, but it was more than Brook made in a year; it was more than what Ethan made in a week, which was nothing.

"Well? What do you say, Ethan?" Hallmark said, pouring himself another glass. "Become Eli's Handler and manage his fights, get money, experience the wonders this job has to offer. I have several fighters working under me, so I'd love to have a new rival."

"I can have just Eli as my fighter, correct?" Ethan asked, "I don't need multiple?"

"Yes, some handlers choose to only have one fighter, but you can have several, the only limit is your personal limits, how much you can keep track of. Some Handlers even have a collect them all mentality about them."

Ethan looked back to the shotglass, that was still in hand. He closed his eyes. He could finally stop being a freeloader at his own house. Brook could work less and have more free time. Eli would be happy to have someone close to him setting up fights. He would no longer have to choose between paying rent and eating food. Maybe, if all went well, if this was the path that could answer it, he could finally have the answer to the question that had been plaguing him his whole life.

Steeling his heart, Ethan tossed back the drink, gulping down the gin. Tasted like pine needles and juniper. Coughing and taking a deep breath, Ethan could finally relax, looking Hallmark in the eyes. "...I'll do it."

"Brilliant." He looked out the window, "We've mostly been driving around the block, I think we've made a lot of people angry... A limo driving around such a poor neighborhood. Oh my, I think that guy just flipped us off. Want us to drop you off anywhere?"

Ethan, feeling a strange sense of tranquility, answered quickly. "The cemetery."

"Cemetery?" Hallmark's eye widened, "Paying respects to someone?"

"Yeah," Ethan held the briefcase in his lap close to his body, just wanting something to hold.

"Don't need to say anymore, Ethan, very well. Driver? Cemetery, please." Hallmark set his glass aside. Before they got there, Hallmark continued the conversation himself. "Family, huh? Whenever I mentioned family, you frowned ever so slightly." Hallmark put a finger to the corner of his lips. "Everyone has tiny mannerisms and traits about them, that they have no control over. I believe myself to be very good at picking up every tiny detail about someone, solely by these subconscious actions. So I know, just by those tiny traits of yours, that you are a deeply caring person."

Ethan had nothing to add to that. To be honest, he didn't want to add anything to that.

"In any case, we're here." He said, passing the bottle of gin off to Ethan, "Again, keep the bottle for free, I'm sure Brook will love it." He looked to Oleg, "Oleg? Keep an eye on him until he gets home, just keep your distance, don't want him to get jumped, carrying a huge briefcase of cash and bottle of expensive liquor."

"Yes sir," Oleg said, as the limo pulled up to the cemetery.

Ethan walked out, soon followed by Oleg, who stood next to the car, before it drove off.

The cemetery was lonely as always. Only the dead and a few mourners to be found here, as well as a lonely yard worker, keeping the place look clean and pretty. Briefcase and bottle in hand, Ethan walked down that same lonely road, one that he went to every year for the past 20 years. Until he made it to that headstone.

Prudence Callow, Always Smiling, Even at the Worst of Times.

Kneeling beside it, Ethan could only speak a few words, "Hi, mom... Happy birthday..."