3 CH 2: Unveiling the Possibilities and Quest for Infinite Knowledge

"Oh, FUCK YES!

I realized that getting my mother out of this life might be a little bit harder than I had originally anticipated.

"Harder! Harder!"

I pinched my nose and resisted the urge to sigh, as a literal motherfucker held her against the bathroom wall. My mother was an actual nympho – and she enjoyed having wild, vivid and rampart sex. And in one way another she has gotten addicted to it 'The Wild Sex'

She enjoyed her sensuality. She enjoyed stripping. This of course meant that even if I did eventually make a few million dollars and moved us into the finest areas of Gotham City, she probably would come back here out of nostalgia.

Still, the goal was the same. Make money first, and then, try to find a way to… curb her slightly crazed tendencies.

"UGH! You're done already? What the fucking hell was that?"

"Damn it woman! That was the third round tonight!"

Some words and tirades followed, and of course, once more, the man stormed out, hastily adjusting his belt and pants, his eyes flicking over to me and the few cockroaches around or should I say my pets or even my experiments he looked disgusted for half a second. My eyes strayed all over his figure as by the way he was dressed, his shoes, his style, his hair and the gun in his pocket I am sure he is a police officer.

Well, who was I to judge – Police Officers also needed some stress relief, especially in a city like Gotham. His eyes immediately turned away, and he continued his march, grumbling underneath his breath about one thing or the other about 'insatiable women'.

"Alright Victor-boo, time to head home."

A hand gently landed on my shoulder, as my mother came out of the restroom. A lit cigarette in one hand, blonde hair tied into a girl-next-door ponytail, which of course made the stripperific outfit she wore all the more sensual.

"Did you 'member to wash your hands?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Zacky, I did."

"With soap?"

"The bathroom's all out of soap."

"There are three new soap dispensers."

"They must be busted," she said before stopping, "And how'd you know that?"

I shrugged. "I look, and I see things."

She gave me a flat look. "Cheeky."

"Hands. Wash."

She threw the said appendages in the air. "Fine! Fine! Christ! Who's supposed to be the child in this relationship anyway?"

She turned back inside, her attention momentarily diverted. I resisted the urge to sigh and let my hand dart to the small pocket in her skirt. Subvocalizing my power, I focused on the peck of cigarettes within. With a subtle touch, I triggered my power, and a delicate dance of matter manipulation began. I felt the atomic bonds break and watched as the cigarettes disassembled into their constituent elements.

As her gaze remained elsewhere, I seized the opportunity to modify those elements, altering their properties and configuring them into something new. In an instant, I reshaped the matter into delicate pieces of laces, which seamlessly blended into her dress, extending gracefully over her skin, adding a touch of elegance she would likely never notice.

My experiments were progressing steadily. Next I signaled my pets to return to our hideaway. These tiny creatures had been my companions and test subjects, and with each iteration, I was pushing the boundaries of what cockroaches could achieve. This was yet another testing phase, a step towards refining their intelligence and cognitive abilities.

'Truly, Overhaul has underestimated his Quirk so much that it's laughable. Ever since I've discovered this power within me, I've been plagued by one question: Why does he always choose to reassemble things as they originally were? Why not push the boundaries, take that raw power of molecular manipulation and elevate it to a whole new level?'

'Why didn't he just enhance them? Make them smarter, stronger, faster, tougher, bigger. He could tweak the very essence of their existence. Imagine denser bones, muscles enhanced to the peak of human potential. Neurons firing like lightning, their brains evolving into intellectual powerhouses, cognitive abilities surpassing imagination.'

'Picture an enhancement to neural connections, making information processing swift and flawless. And why stop at biology? He could boost cellular regeneration, turning a wound into a fleeting memory. Biological immortality could be at the fingertips.

And then he could explore genetic manipulation to enhance their physical abilities. I might reassemble DNA to activate dormant genes associated with enhanced physical traits, such as heightened reflexes, resistance to diseases, or increased muscle mass or even fucking evolution.

Taking a page from fictional shapeshifters and I with adaptive abilities, I could reassemble anyone's body to mimic certain physical characteristics of other individuals or even animals, granting them camouflage or unique survival traits.

And then there's technology, merging with biology seamlessly. Cybernetic limbs that don't just mimic human movement but enhance it, granting superhuman strength and precision. Nanobots coursing through the veins, repairing, enhancing, purifying. A perfect fusion of flesh and steel.'

The possibilities danced through my thoughts like flickering holograms. 'And beyond all that, why not go cosmic? Harness the vast, untapped energy of the universe, weave it into the very fabric of our being. Redefine the laws of physics, transmute elements with a thought, and perhaps even traverse the uncharted territories of space and time.'

A wry smile played at the corners of their lips. 'Yes, he could have been a god among mortals. But then again, perhaps he was just stupid, and even if I knew the limitations I understood the fundamental principle of alchemy and science: you can't create matter, nor can you destroy it. You can only reshape it. Fortunately, matter is everywhere, in every atom, in the very air we breathe. And this world doesn't follow such rules"

I returned to reality out of my thoughts, the echoes of my thoughts lingering like a distant dream. The power of Overhaul's Quirk, lying dormant and underestimated, had just unfurled in my mind's eye, revealing an infinite tapestry of possibilities, where science and science fiction converged.

My eyes were still fixed on the little things before me, a symphony of scientific discoveries and science fiction visions swirling together. I couldn't help but contemplate how underestimated Overhaul's Quirk truly was. The concept of molecular manipulation, the power to reshape matter at its most fundamental level, was like an uncharted frontier of potential.

That's why cockroaches were my first target They are the second most resilient organisms known to science. Their survival skills are unparalleled, with a greater evolutionary trade. Found in every corner of the world, especially in Gotham City.

The thought of these tiny, seemingly indestructible creatures had intrigued them for years. In the shadowy underbelly of the city, where the darkness was as deep as human despair, cockroaches thrived. They were relentless, adaptable, and seemed impervious to the harshest of conditions.

'Perhaps,'

They could be the key to unlocking the full potential of Overhaul's Quirk. If I could harness their remarkable adaptability, if I could elevate their evolutionary traits to new heights, then I could prove that the boundaries of molecular manipulation were limited only by one's imagination.

Picture it, not just enhanced cockroaches, but an entire army of biological marvels. Denser exoskeletons, capable of withstanding tremendous force. Swiffer, more agile, and smarter insects, adapting to any environment and challenge.

Imagine these cockroaches spreading not disease, but knowledge and innovation. Acting as tiny engineers, tirelessly working in the shadows, building and repairing, purifying and healing.

Yes, the power of Overhaul's Quirk, underestimated and dormant, could redefine our understanding of biology and matter itself. It's a frontier we're only beginning to explore, and it all started with these resilient insects, known for their tenacity and adaptability.

I couldn't help but smile, a glimmer of excitement in my eyes.

They had reached the pinnacle of what a cockroach body could naturally achieve without drawing undue attention. I had carefully enhanced their abilities to the brink, ensuring they still appeared as ordinary cockroaches one would find in every corner of Gotham City.

With a synchronized movement, the army of cockroaches, hidden throughout the area, gathered in a coordinated ballet. Their tiny legions merged into a single collective force, a testament to my control over matter. There was a hint of amusement in my thoughts as I observed their unity.

Still, I knew that the mastery of molecular and matter manipulation wasn't an end in itself. It was merely a means to an end, a powerful tool that I wielded with precision and purpose. And that purpose, as ever, was to deal with the troublesome woman I could now hear, her presence approaching the dryer., the end which was of course, taking care of the troublesome woman that I could finally hear using the dryer.

Strange, she was just a few years younger than me when I died – twenty-one. Old enough to no longer be considered a teenager, but young enough to not be fully considered an adult. In a weird sense though, I felt as though she was like a teenager to me, even though she was supposed to be my primary caretaker.

"There – all squeaky clean Mr. Germophobe Junior. Happy?"

I nodded.

"Now, let's –" she paused. Tapping her back pocket and slowly developing an increasing frown.

"Something wrong?"

She frowned. "I can't find my cigarettes."

I shrugged, deliberately averting my gaze. "Maybe you're all out?"

"No way – it was a fresh pack!" she growled "It must have fallen when I was –"

"Being screwed against a wall?"

"Language."

"Sorry. I meant, being fucked against a wall."

I received a 'love tap' on my forehead for the cheek, wincing at the hit even if I felt nothing.

"You're not supposed to know those words until you're at least twelve – or fourteen at best."

It was extremely hard to stop myself from the incredulous look I gave her.

"Use." She amended. "You're not supposed to use those words until then."

"You use it all the time."

"Only for business." She paused. "And pleasure." She frowned. "Or when I'm pissed. Or happy. Or excited. Or – okay, yeah, I use it pretty much all the time." She gave a sheepish smile. "But! I'm an adult! I'm allowed to use those words. Good little children aren't supposed to know those words."

"I'll keep it in mind when good little children are around."

She rolled her eyes, again. "Cheeky."

"I get it from my mom."

She pinched my cheeks. "Too cheeky. It's both adorable and annoying at the same time."

I pulled away from her pinch, before huffing and making a show of storming off forward. "I'm not adorable! I'm a man! A man! If I wasn't reincarnated into this body, I'd be trying to hit on you right now!"

Of course, she laughed. "Sure thing kiddo. I understand it's natural to want to be with your super mom – but don't you start with that reincarnation story again."

My mother, she wasn't dumb. She knew, even though she never mentioned it, that I was smart and astute for my age, far more than I had any right to be. Most one year olds were out there babbling and failing to learn how to form coherent words and sentences, and I was capable of holding my own in an intellectual debate with someone twenty times my own age. She'd mused about it once, lamenting and wondering how lucky, or unlucky she was to have such a 'gifted' child – and I had told her straight to her face that I was reincarnated. Of course, she laughed and ruffled my hair for it – thinking it another 'cute' quirk.

To an extent, I was somewhat glad that she didn't believe me. Yet, at the same time, I wanted to help her – to tell her that she could be much more, but she would not listen to advice from a 'child'.

"Come on my little Victory, let's head to a burger joint – unless you think that we shouldn't eat the meat, cause the cow is your best friend reincarnated." She snickered, and I resisted the urge to sigh, while at the same time savoring a small amount of relief.

At the very least, she had forgotten all about her cigarettes for the day. And though, as it was, I could not undo any lung damage she had most likely accumulated beforehand, as even though I have all the knowledge of human body as I was doctor in my past life I can't start doing human experiment especially not with her I need lambs for that before I even try change even little thing about her. So for now I could mitigate any future damage by making sure she never bought another pack of cigarettes in her life.

It was a relatively small change – a very minor one – but it was these minor changes that made all the difference.

*********

7:41 AM

It was Sunday morning, a day and time in which my mother didn't have to go to 'work'.

I rolled my eyes at the sight of the woman who had cuddled up beside me in nothing but her lingerie, her blonde hair in a scattered mess, and a small amount of drool seeping out from the side of her mouth. She was anything but a graceful sleeper.

Sighing, I made to roll out, only for her hand to wrap around me even more fiercely, and push me closer to her. I couldn't easily get flustered, thank ROB for that, and I was fortunate enough to not have developed sex organs that would correlate with my brain, as such, I found the close embrace more annoying than anything else.

A little bit of slight work on my end, and I wrestled free from her slumbering grasp, hearing her let out a half-addled groan of disappointment.

I shook my head and then turned my gaze back to our lovely… 'house'. The apartment, if it could even be comfortably called that, was not all too bad, aside from the moldy walls and slightly leaky ceilings which had not yet been fixed, and the fact that there were public transport buses that were larger than the small cubicle of a room – but, it wasn't all too bad.

There was only one bedroom, the one which my mother and I shared, there was the bathroom and toilet, again, only one, and then there was the living room/kitchen/dining room, in which everything else happened. I took a cursory glance around the bedroom, rubbing my nose in irritation as I began the task of picking up her strewn clothes and with a single thought getting rid of every dust particle the smell of sweat or whatever was stuck on them making them cleaner than they were when she first bought them. and arranging her boots doing the processes with them and the other accessories into the closet for her.

Apparently, fixing my mother's D-cup bra around my hands but changing the color of thread so it looked like it was stitched back together even though I just fixed it a single touch of course it's looked like it was there for fashion as even if someone looked from a microscope they won't be able to tell how this happend Then I started to swing them like they were nunchucks and I was Bruce Lee, counted as improvised weaponry.

Seems legit.

I ensured that I had completed the menial task of cleaning, before I turned my attention immediately towards the kitchen.

Opening the fridge made me grimace slightly at the near-empty nature of it, with just a few eggs, a half carton of milk and a few cans of beer being inside it. Even though they looked like beer, smelled like beer or even tasted like beer the alcohol in them was completely turned into sugar.

How do I know well because I was one who did that all and I even took a sip of it just to be sure like beer as I am truly like child Jesus turning water into beer and brick into bread and she was my Mary of Nazareth.

Looking at the irony of the situation I could only chuckle.

I turned my direction up, to one of the higher drawers, and frowned in annoyance when I realized I couldn't reach it. I tried a simple hop, and then, once more, I hopped.

And after many failures I gave up and just used my powers touching the ground. I created a platform jumping on it and I started to raise the platform of the wood.

And soon, my temporary goal of reaching the high cabinets was completed, with me opening it, reshaping the platform again, I was back with baby height and then latching on to it, as I pulled myself up to see what was inside.

A half empty box of Corn cereal and a near empty-tin of instant oatmeal. Simply fantastic.

Sighing regardless, I grabbed the two items and placed it on the kitchen counter. The total sum of the items in front of me, six eggs, half a carton of milk, half a box of corn cereal, and almost empty tin of oatmeal, brought my mind back to the issue at hand, the issue of getting enough money to stop my mother's… "business."

The burning anger I had felt had eventually cooled down, and with that cooled anger, returned my ability to reason – my ability to think clearly and objectively.

Becoming a Legend was an interesting prospect, a prospect which I had realized was counterintuitive to my goals of making my mother happy and safe. Superheroes or supervillains had a history of loved ones being held hostage (Lois Lane), or murdered (Jason Todd), or mutilated (James/Barbara Gordon), or worse – and that was the last thing I wanted for my mother.

No – being a superhero or a supervillain would get her killed, one way or another.

I was not willing to take that risk.

Instead, I would focus purely on getting rich, rich enough to live a life that would make it seem as though the Kardashians were starving street performers in Syria.

Of course, as geared up as I was, I realized that I actually had no idea as to how to legitimately get large sums of money, in legal ways. I didn't want to suddenly become a criminal, even a minor one, because I didn't want to end up running into the God-in-bat-suit that was known as the Dark Knight, and have me on record forever.

And using my powers to create Precious orbs like gold diamond or even cold heard cash could only work in start it can't give me more 50 Million Dollars as it's all depends on supply and demand and And when there is too much of all this in the market, it will not sell even at the price of iron.

And creating cash would bring more problems than solutions as at some point bank will know how they have no record of the unique number on each bill

As a one-year old child, I'd obviously get some leniency, but this was entirely dependent on the severity of the crimes I'd have committed in order to gain money.

My body entered auto-pilot as I climbed onto a stool and began preparing the corn cereal for myself, and the oatmeal for my mother while using my powers to make it even tastier and increase it in little amounts.

Another passive skill drew my attention, and this, combined with the memory of the housekeeping skill, gave me an idea to seek some form of employment as a cleaner or cook. Of course, I realized that this would never work because no one would want to hire a one year old to do anything like that in this country. Almost made me miss the backwards third-world country that was my home in my past life. "Street-Hawkers" they'd call them, underage children selling candy and fruits on roads and highways.

Shaking my head to stir away the old thoughts, I realized that my only viable non-illegal option was to use my super power, and rely on creating small things that won't account for much. A few hours of assembling and reassembling should help me rack up several thousands of dollars.

Except, I was in the body of a one year old.

I could walk and run, and I could even manage some few dance moves, but anything more complicated and requiring more finesse than that, I was not ready for. Which meant, as I was, the only thing I could possibly sell to is to other one-year old infants, or maybe a few three and four year olds as well. And obviously, that was not a viable way to make money.

The eggs sizzled idly in the pan, as the realization that making money in one week I had previously claimed – was… impossible.

Even the criminal means were somewhat impossible to properly attain – picking pockets would never make me a millionaire, I could not rob a bank or even a candy shop without the person I was robbing laughing their ass off at best, or asking me where my mommy is at worst. Let's not even discuss anything more complicated like fraud, money laundering, extortion or betting. Who in their right minds would let a one-year old kid close to anything of that nature?

And if I chose the creation path, who is going to buy those things from a one year old without calling the cops?

The only possible avenue I could think of was shoplifting – that is, stealing items using my power, because they would never be able to realize that I was actually stealing anything, when its shape was changed into sand or even shrinked or became part of clothes. Except, that plan also had hiccups, in the fact that my face would be on camera, and there was no way I could 'hide' the theft of an item on camera.

Unless of course, I disabled all the cameras beforehand – which came with its own set of problems.

Still, four years were enough for me to become an expert in biology manipulation and maybe perform successful human experiments just like my pets as yesterday's experiment was a great success and there was a 70% survival rate with nearly all the newborn surviving the journey.

So it's a lot of time in which a lot could happen.

Such as me successfully mind controling or even making human puppets.

That… was…

My mind had momentarily remained of my mother's surname, a brief second blanked out at the information that was presented to me, as my gaze flickered over to the bedroom, where the silent snores of my mother could reach my ears. I knew since I heard her last name, that she had been part of a crime family – a family which had been destroyed by Carmine Falcone.

Which all was mentioned in one of Batman old good comics I precisely don't remember the issue number. But Eva Cabrera

Cabrera

Name did spread an alert in my mind and I am sure it was her whole family that died. My family that died.

She was the last member of her family – spared, or escaped from death.

I still can't find myself questioning or having a problem with who had put me into this world, or reincarnated me for whatever reason, but instead, a burning sense of anger and indignation swelled up within me again.

Carmine Falcone.

The Falcone Family. I knew from different iterations that this family was one of the major crime gangs in Gotham, and that the leader was a nasty piece of work, who, despite the absence of any supernatural power or quirk of insanity, was one of Batman's constant foes.

There was a sensation drawing up in me, compelling me and telling me that I should take vengeance, vengeance for the grandfather and grandmother and uncle and cousins that I had never known, and would never know thanks to his machinations. Yet, ironically, if not for his actions, the odds were that I would have never even been born in the first place – as my mother's life would have continued as normal, and the odds of meeting whoever my father was, would have never occurred.

The kettle whistled. Steam rushed out of the cooking implement, and it drew my attention back to breakfast I was making.

I didn't remember who I was, back in my old life. The memories were slipping, like smoke, or like trying to remember a particular dream that you just had. My original name, my parents or my siblings – if I had any or even how I looked in my old life – were all wispy in my memory. However, things, places, events, the degrees I attended all my life, what I did or what kind of person I was and other information from video games and anime, it was there, forefront at my brain, accessible and fresh, same with all the knowledge I have accumulated over the years.

Maybe that was why I felt strongly for Eva – because I could not remember who my first mother was. I could not remember if I even had a first mother, or if she had not died when I was little or divorced. As far as I knew, my mother, here, was the only woman that I could and had ever called my mother.

Hence, those people that had died, where, in fact, my family.

And Carmine Falcone had killed my family.

So should I do the same.

Carmine Falcone and the Falcone Family completely wiped out most of your family. It is only fair that you return the favor.

So should I…

Kill the Entire Falcone Family, down to every last henchman, every dog, every goldfish, and every unborn child.

"Deep breaths. Deep breaths. No going all 'avenger' mode. You don't have red spinning eyes."

Kill everyone? That was – well, that was a bit too much. There were probably some henchmen who were in it because they had no choice, or some innocent women who were coerced into his syndicate – I couldn't just slaughter all of them like I was Sasuke-fucking-Uchiha on a revenge spree. Besides, this wasn't my fight – Batman would eventually bring Falcone to justice, sooner or later.

I highly, sincerely doubted that I would ever do such a thing after all this Jesus shit I used to save life as a doctor – but still, I suppose having the option was good… just in case. Ignoring that rather grim thought, I turned my attention back to cooking, focusing on creating more food out of the matter available around me, also increasing the flavour of the ingredients.

Information…

I need information on everything I could think of or find.

As my powers aren't like magic I need to internal components how it was put place of element on the right place.

Alright, so I hadn't imagined that. I can't just create things out of my imagination.

Creating anything would require enough energy to convert into the appropriate amount of matter equals mass squared this violates conservation of mass matter cannot be created or destroyed only its form can be changed since this was created out of seemingly nothing to me this implies it can freely ignore the laws of physics as well as meta manipulation.

And my powers don't work on energy so in a technical way I can't get tired of using my power, at least not physically. But mentally is a different thing.

So I need books

I need books of possibly on everything from Mathematics, Science, Nuclear Physics, Evolutionary Biology, Physics of Motion, Human Anatomy and Physiology, Microbiology, Technology, Engineering, Astronomy, Cosmology, History of PhilosophyCultural Anthropology, Art of Environment, Psychology, Geology, Medicine and Healthcare and, Laws of the Universe.

Collect Books, Scrolls, Parchments, Statues, Totems, and other various items in order to further increase the amount of information available to me. Additionally, certain courses or subjects in colleges or High Schools respectively, can aid in rapidly increasing the amount of information available for me.

Also, speaking with relevant characters and attaining new information from them can also be very helpful with my powers and grant me access to new powers, abilities, special gifts and talents.

And the best and fastest way to do this is either be super smart which I plan to do once I have sure I have a few successful attempts on humans. I not touching myself before I am sure I could do this.

Next is gain super speed which is itself is comes with big problems

And lastly the best solution is to gain Telepathy Telekinesis.

As it's not only keep my mind safe from other Telepaths especially the green man as this could an existential crisis for them or at worst create something similar to Deadpool kills the Marvel Universe but this also make me smarter and the second biggest giving me one why to cheat this as I could just download all knowledge from the minds of masters of these fields.

Ignoring the ridiculous potential possessed by the ultimate cheating tool that I could get in possession, I rubbed the sides of my head and pinched my nose out of habit. It was a habit that I had whenever I found myself entirely too surprised or overwhelmed by something. Of course, my mind was clear and wasn't overwhelmed by any of this in the slightest, but none of these things particularly helped me in becoming the world's first, self-made, one-year old millionaire.

Sure I was poor, and my mother was a stripper and hooker, I had no father, I didn't have any friends or acquaintances my age, and I hadn't yet attended school because my mother was scared that child services, however shitty they were in Gotham, would take me away once they realized my horrible living conditions –

But, I usually spend my time in an adult strip club and I've seen more live strip shows, sex and blowjobs than most men would ever get to in their lives, the women gave me sweets and treats, and sometimes Aunt Purity and a bunch of them would give me lessons on how to 'please' women, teaching me awesome tongue and fingering tricks and letting me practice on them. How was that tragi–

…

"Oh. Fuck.."

Well… fuck.

I felt like slapping myself. Of course, in hindsight, 'teaching you how to please women' sounded like a perfectly logical excuse to let a kid give you cunnilingus and finger you – but they were good lessons about knowing key sensitive spots in the female anatomy, something I already knew. Of course, I was not a child, I was a twenty-five year old man in a child's body – so it didn't really count –

Did it?

Probably yes, according to the world.

Huh.

"Eat your fucking heart out Bruce Wayne." I growled underneath my breath, "You'd have died at six fucking months old if you were to have lived as me."

The smell of perfectly fried eggs, and the aroma of oatmeal wafted around the house, and I immediately took a tray, before placing the two bowls on the tray and entering into the bedroom.

She'd wake up sometime past noon, eventually, considering the all-nighters she had, and the possibility that she might have also had sex which could have possibly tired her out even more.

I covered the bowls, before I returned into the kitchen and turned my attention back to the box of cereal.

"Whatever this power is should help me out here… just like it's doing it ever since I was born"

I placed it in a manner that would make it look like I had eaten out of it, so my mom wouldn't be worried when she eventually woke up and felt bad that I did the cooking and didn't eat anything.

I technically didn't need to eat, as long as I slept, I would always wake up at full energy. Of course, she didn't know that. Too bad she didn't have a camera recording the place, otherwise I'd never get away with it. It's like I have a Gamer's Body.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

I grimaced at the sound of heavy pounding coming from the door.

"Oi! Eva! Come out here right fucking now before I bust this door down!"

I immediately moved over to the door, utilizing my power to change the floor's shape to aid me reach the bolts and click them open. I had barely finished before the door swung open, and I was greeted with the sight of a boar of a man.

The man's eyes shot into the room, his mouth opening, until he could find no one at eye level, and then his face twisted into confusion, before his eyes eventually strayed downwards.

"Oh, it's you – brat."

Part of me wondered if it was the "Red Light Child" boon that was responsible for how the man's face seemed to soften at me.

"Where's your mother boy?"

"Mommy's not in."

"Not in?"

"Not in." I repeated.

The man's gaze turned to me, looking slightly leery.

"You're three months overdue on your rent boy. You know what that means?"

I tilted my head innocently. "That I'll be sleeping in the gutters soon?"

To his credit, he only managed to look somewhat off put by the blunt truth.

"That isn't up to me boy. It's up to your mother to hand me my fucking goddamned cash."

I frowned. "How much does my mommy owe you?"

"This isn't the type of debt that you can pay off by washing my car or picking up after my dog –"

"How much?"

He stopped, rubbing his thick, alcohol stained beard with one hand and his potbelly with another, as his gaze turned even more suspicious in my direction.

"Six hundred bucks."

That's not a lot? In fact if exchange rates are still the same as I knew it's a pretty small amount? Then again I am talking about this from my own point of view, the point of view of a doctor that earned a lot so maybe it's a big amount for a normal citizen.

Was he pulling one over me?

"I'll get it for you."

A thick, heavy snort was the response.

"Sure kid, and tomorrow, it'll rain diamonds."

He wasn't taking me seriously. Of course he wasn't. If I were the one in his shoes, I wouldn't take myself seriously either. Hence I turned my gaze on the man, and focused.

"I'll get the money for you by Friday. If not – I'll get something else for you."

He sneered. "And what exactly can a brat like you get someone like me?"

"Some alone time with your child."

It was a good thing that I had an eye for people and a lot of talent for bullshit my way out of situations. And with the way he looked at his hot temper, how he looked, the way he dressed and the alcohol. Anyone with sharp eyes could tell he is a divorcee and misses his own child.

When a man who appeared outwardly to be something else, changed and shifted, his eyes gaining clarity, his back standing straighter, and his nose flaring as his brows contorted.

And with it I knew it was her rather him.

"You – you –"

"You miss her, and you care for her." I said, doing my best to smile. "I know, getting her to you isn't money, and it won't pay our rent – but – I think seeing her again… it should be worth more than six hundred dollars."

I wasn't sure how long we stood there in silence. His gaze met mine. It strayed. Everywhere and anywhere but on me – it strayed. The sound of feet shuffling eventually echoed, as did the sound of delayed movement and breaths.

"Friday."

I nodded.

"Friday."

His large arm slammed the door shut.

And I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

Holy – had that actually worked?

He really has a daughter even though I wasn't sure if I would even be vaguely right.

Yes, yes it had

I wasn't sure which would be an easier task – getting six hundred dollars before Friday, or looking for, and finding Gabe's daughter. Oh, and of course, you know, getting her to the guy without the wife ever being the wiser.

"You, and your big, dumb, mouth."

Well – looks like I was going to have to get money anyway, so –

"Shoplifting it is."