He honestly felt like a gun to the head would have been the better option. 

The Hispanic man leaning casually on the desk in front of Alvin radiated that kind of dangerous aura whenever he entered a room in spite of his slick, professional look. Fitting button-ups, slim dress pants, and polished wing-tip loafers were the typical attire of the man who sat on Alvin's desk currently fiddling with a cigarette and old lighter. His frown slowly elongated as the constant flick of his lighter produced neither heat nor flame. Finally, an exasperated breath slipped between the thin crevasse of teeth and parted lips and an unusually scarred hand ran through thin strands of greasy black hair. Hazel eyes shifted to Alvin before a chuckle broke the tension building in the small office. "Damn lighter, man," the Hispanic man began, "I swear it just had fluid two hours ago." He stood from the desk and pocketed a hand. 

"That's what you always say, Maurice," Alvin replied, fishing through his pocket and tossing a small, silver box towards his guest. Maurice offered a nod of thanks and immediately lit up the cancer stick still resting in one side of his mouth. He took a long drag and exhaled a plume of smoke gratefully. 

"Fuuuuck man, that's the good shit. Sure you don't want one?" 

"I'm good." 

"Don't know what you're missing, but that's cool. I guess you're really gonna quit this time, huh?" 

"For sure." 

"You mean like the last four times, for sure?" 

"Fifth time's the charm. Besides, cigs are expensive as hell. A dollar saved is a dollar earned." 

"Except when it's not, right?" Maurice took another drag and puff. 

"In what case is it not?" Alvin folded his arms, but remained standing. His office chair was still waiting just behind him where he had been sitting before Maurice had made his surprise visit. The light from the window beyond that illuminated about half of the office space and the dark spots of the beige carpet. Having an entire wall be a window had its pros and cons. 

"You know what case. It's the reason I'm here, after all. You know I don't make a trip to personally see anyone unless shit really hit the fan. And I gotta tell ya, shit [i]really[/i] hit the fan." 

"That wasn't my fault. But everyone says that I suppose." 

"I suppose." 

"So what are we going to do?" 

"We? We aren't gonna do a damn thing. [i]You[/i], however, are gonna have to take a reassignment." Maurice took another drag and lightly tapped the excess into an ashtray sitting on the desk. His gaze briefly caught a picture on the other end depicting Alvin, himself, and three others--Alvin's infamous team. He grinned for a second before returning his focus to the matter at hand. 

"Reassignment? You're just plainly saying it, huh?" Alvin's heart jumped for a second, but he showed no hint of change in his composure. He had known this day was coming and it was all he could do to mentally prepare himself for whatever the consequences were going to be. Suddenly, the heft of the weight just under the small of his back became oddly apparent. The metallic object was tucked neatly in the waistband of his jeans just waiting for the moment it might needed. The hard choices had been decided at this point. 

"Is there any other way to say it? And it's you we're talking about. I'm not gonna bullshit you, man. What happened was terrible for all involved, but it was worse for the organization. It's not easy to come back from that kind of incident. But..." Maurice trailed. 

"But?" 

"Like I said, it's you we're talking about it. Boss hasn't lost complete confidence in you. He just needs to know you haven't lost confidence either. That's why it's reassignment we're talking about and a meeting at headquarters." 

Alvin relaxed a bit and the weight of the object under his back partially faded. "Right... So, what's the reassignment? What am I going to have to do to fix this?" 

Maurice paced to the left and to the right for a moment or two, puffing and looking up, before turning his back to Alvin and facing wall behind the desk. He stared at a painting hanging in an ornate, golden frame. His expression scrunched up. "We're sending you to Veil City. More specifically, to The Club." 

Alvin dropped his arms. "Veil?! The Club?! You gotta be fucking kidding me." 

"I'm not and it was my idea. Be thankful." 

"Thankful, my ass. I'd rather have taken the meeting. You're seriously going to bust me back that much? Am I some fucking foot soldier now?" 

"It's not about rank, man," Maurice turned back to Alvin. "This was the only thing I could do. Trust me, you would not have rather taken that meeting." 

"I thought you said the boss hadn't lost complete confidence in me?" 

"I did and he hasn't. Doesn't change his policy. You know he doesn't stand for anything out of order and he's all about taking responsibility. You would have been a great example for the rest of us considering the years you've put in." 

"But it's not about rank." 

Maurice sighed and put his cigarette out. He took a few strides towards Alvin and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm serious. It was all I could do. I didn't forget what you did for us, but that shit goes out the window when you fuck up this badly. The point is this. The Club in Veil City is beginning to lose pace a bit. Rather than hold Connie responsible, Boss would rather you go back and figure out what's going wrong and then fix it. You set it up, after all and it was one of our highest earners before we promoted you." 

Alvin glanced at Maurice's hand before brushing it off his shoulder. He sucked his teeth. "So you're saying I have to go back to the front? Like a guy who hasn't earned his stripes yet. Unbelievable." 

"I know what it sounds like, but it's not like that. You've earned your stripes. You just need to prove they haven't faded since you've been living the comfortable life up here. Go to Veil, work for Connie for a bit, figure out why The Club is losing money, and then bring back the flow." 

"Fine, I hear you. It's not like I have a choice, right?" 

"Right." Maurice backed up to the desk and resumed his lean. Alvin folded his arms once more. 

"Alright. Easy enough. Does my team know?" 

"About that... It's just you, Al." 

Alvin laughed and nodded his head in frustration. "Of course. Shouldn't expect any less. Alright. Guess I've got some packing to do." The taller man turned and walked towards the window, resting an arm on the glass as he looked out over the city-scape. Maurice stood and placed a card on the desk before heading towards the door on the wall to the left. He stopped just as he grabbed the door knob. 

"Al, there's one more thing. You'll need to find someone too. I left the info on your desk. Call us when you come into contact with them." The door opened with a creak and shut with a soft click as Maurice left the office. The clack of his shoes echoed down the hall until they became inaudible. Alvin sighed and headed back towards his desk. He slammed his fist on the stained wood and grit his teeth. They really were busting him back, he thought. He fully erected himself and rubbed the back of neck in an attempt to calm down. Millions of thoughts raced through his mind as flashes of the old days in Veil City assaulted his mind's eye. He hadn't been back there since his early days starting out with the organization and he never thought he would have to go through that kind of street level grinding ever again. 

He exhaled loudly and finally decided to take a look at the small business card Maurice had left. It was a plain white card with a simple name on it. Alvin stared for a moment before pocketing the card and grabbing his keys from a drawer in the desk. He took one last look around the office before heading out the door himself intending to go to his apartment before booking a flight to Veil City. He made his way down the narrow hall and, in spite of all that had happened in the last few minutes, only one thought struck him as he made his way down stairs, through another corridor and out the front door of the office building. 

Who the hell was Mia Winter?