3 Let's take you out of this dump!

Blake spent his Saturday in a small, cluttered living space he called home. It was a studio apartment, a compact universe of worn-out furniture and second-hand decor.

The faded wallpaper peeled at the corners, revealing a history of different patterns from previous tenants. In one corner, a makeshift kitchenette struggled to accommodate the basics. The threadbare carpet bore the scars of countless spills, its original color a distant memory.

Determined to bring some order to the chaos, Blake donned an old pair of cleaning gloves and set to work.

Dust danced in the sunlight filtering through worn-out curtains, and he methodically tackled the accumulated grime that clung to every surface.

The hum of a vacuum filled the air, momentarily drowning out the distant sounds of the city beyond his modest abode.

His phone buzzed, interrupting the rhythmic sweep of the vacuum. Blake glanced at the screen, surprise evident on his face when he saw the caller ID: Rose Shelley. His boss.

The woman with the mysterious aura, whose gaze held both intrigue and a hint of danger.

"Hello?" Blake answered, momentarily distracted from the cleaning.

"Mr. Shelton," Rose's cool voice came through the phone. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home, Miss Shelley," Blake replied, glancing around his less-than-impressive surroundings. His eyes settled on a pile of papers that desperately needed organizing.

"Step outside," Rose instructed, her voice unwavering.

Confused but compliant, Blake obeyed. As he stepped out of his cramped apartment, he noticed a luxurious car parked nearby. The sleek curves of a Rose Royce SUV stood out conspicuously among the more modest vehicles in the neighborhood.

Even his neighbors seemed to cast curious glances at the opulent vehicle.

Approaching the tinted window, Blake recognized the deep brown eyes of his enigmatic boss.

The glass lowered slightly, allowing him to peer inside. Rose's gaze was inscrutable, her features shrouded in an air of mystery.

"Are you busy, Mr. Shelton?" Rose inquired, her voice carrying a sense of authority.

Blake considered for a moment, his mind still processing the fact that the boss had just pulled up in front of his house.

Then again, he remembered his house address and several details were part of the things he submitted during the job interview a week ago.

"I'm just doing a bit of cleaning," he admitted.

"Why bother with such trivial tasks? Do you not have help for these things?" Rose questioned, her tone laced with a hint of disapproval.

Blake felt a twinge of hurt but shook his head. "I can barely afford to feed myself, let alone hire a maid."

Rose sighed, her gaze drifting to the surroundings. "Is this where you live?" There was a fleeting disappointment in her voice.

Blake hesitated, feeling exposed. "Yes," he admitted, a tinge of vulnerability in his tone.

"Go inside, Mr. Shelton. Gather any important documents and items you might need. My driver will assist you. Bring them back and place them in my car," Rose commanded, the glass rising again, creating a barrier between them.

Confused but intrigued, Blake followed her instructions. He retrieved a few essentials, glancing around at the mismatched furniture and the remnants of a life that seemed incongruent with the world he'd entered at Shelley Technologies.

When Rose's driver arrived, a tall, imposing figure in a sharply tailored suit, Blake hesitated at the threshold of his humble abode. The contrast between his small living space and the luxurious SUV waiting outside was stark.

As the driver assisted him, Blake caught glimpses of his neighbors watching the spectacle unfold. Whispers and curious glances exchanged among them.

As Blake approached the waiting Rose Royce SUV, his arms laden with a motley assortment of items hastily chosen from his small apartment, the tinted windows rolled down with a barely audible hum. The cool interior of the car contrasted sharply with the warm afternoon air.

Among the items he carried were a battered laptop, a stack of papers held together with a rubber band, and a collection of comic book panels meticulously arranged in a binder. The papers were a mix of work-related documents and personal scribbles, a chaotic blend that mirrored the dual nature of Blake's life.

Rose, observing the eclectic array in Blake's arms, raised an elegant eyebrow. "Some of these seem rather... unnecessary, Mr. Shelton."

Blake shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the items clutched in his grasp. "Well, you said important documents, and these are, you know, important to me." He gestured to the comic book panels, a touch of defensiveness in his voice.

Rose regarded him with an unreadable expression. "Comic books? Mr. Shelton, I'm not running a storage service for childhood memorabilia."

Blake felt a flush of embarrassment but stood his ground. "These aren't just comics. They're... they're my escape. My sanity. They got me through high school and college without anyone noticing me."

Rose's gaze lingered on the binder. "An interesting coping mechanism. Toss the unnecessary items; we need efficiency."

As he reluctantly placed some items in the car, Blake protested, "Can I at least keep these comic book panels? They're more important to me than you might think."

Rose sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Fine, but make it quick. I have neither the time nor the inclination to delve into the sentimental value of each item you've decided to rescue."

Blake nodded eagerly, carefully securing the comic book panels in a seat next to him. He couldn't part with the vivid worlds and characters that had been his companions during countless lonely hours.

As the car door closed, Rose's driver began to pull away from the curb, leaving behind a small crowd of neighbors, their curiosity piqued by the unusual scene.

As the sleek SUV glided through the city, Blake couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. The hum of the engine and the subtle hum of the air conditioning created an atmosphere of subdued luxury.

His curiosity overcoming him, Blake turned towards Rose in the back seat.

"So, Miss Shelley, what's the plan?" he inquired, trying to sound casual but unable to hide a touch of eagerness.

Rose, sitting regally in the shadows of the tinted windows, glanced at him with a hint of amusement. "You'll know the plan when it's time, Mr. Shelton. For now, sit tight and enjoy the ride."