Chapter One

"You're attention, please. For your safety, please stand behind the yellow line." 

That announcement comes not a moment too soon as a youthful looking man of humble stature, silver blonde hair and aqua green eyes stumbles up the stairs, his shirt sticking to his chest from the humidity and the desperate sprint. 

"Phew! Thank you for not showing up yet." Ken breathes heavily, a gruff and effeminate voice lingering through labored pants handbag in tow, as he reaches the top of the MRT platform before the MRT could even pull into its next stop.

Ken rummages through his bag and pulls out a misplaced phone, double checking the time. Although he believes that he'll arrive to work early enough, he fears that he may have delayed himself longer than he should have.

He'll need to remind himself to ask for a new uniform shirt for work, just avoid more unnecessary wash malfunctions and inconveniences.

"1306 hours. I'll definitely make it early enough."

He lets out a breath of relief as the MRT pulls up towards the station n a smooth whirring howl, allowing him to bitterly mumble about the idiocy plaguing him earlier. Leave it to him trusting nimrods that mess up on his laundry. 

"Stupid friggin' idiots forgetting my order... They're lucky they gave it to me otherwise..." Ken  grumbles muttering unpleasant curses under his breath that would send chills down a child's spine as slips into the opening doors. "And I had'ta run my friggin' butt over here... Stupid humidity... last thing I need is to show up lookin' like I ran a friggin marathon... And whaddya know? Looks like it's gonna rain."

Ken watches as dark storm clouds hover over the residential skyline in his sights. The smooth sterile apartment complexes looking organic in structure continue to amazed Ken, like something she's read from a Sci-fi book. Although the interior of those apartments are modest and minimalistic in space, they made up for in feeling cool and homey. 

At least, thanks to the AC, posters, and all sorts of movies and early 2000s tech the grey market likes to taunt over potential buyers. 

Now all he has to do is sit back, relax and bask in the peaceful ride to work. 

Truly the beauty of top-quality public transportation. 

"Beg your pardon, but can I trouble you for this seat here?" 

The only thing keeping him telling that feminine voice to piss off and leave him be is common courtesy is paramount, especially when it comes to staying alive. 

That and the fact that who is asking is the one asking sounds like a girl around my age. Usually when he has to surrender my seat to some grumbling ungrateful ass or some old bat who just has the biggest mouth, it takes every ounce of will to conjure up what illusion of a good and selfless person is and just hope the undesirables get off at the next stop. 

So when someone resembling the trademark popular university girl asks him if she can sit right next to him, Ken truly welcomes the change of company. 

Her blue and white long skirt and uniform screams prestigious university and the long flowing raven black hair cascading down her shoulders backs up the claim. Though Ken can't help but be wonder if her amber eyes have to be that sharp and piercing like they are. 

It doesn't matter. It's not like he'll strike up small talk with her. 

"Oh, sure. Go ahead." Warm smile, friendly response, curt and to the point. It appears Ken passed his test with flying colors. 

"My thanks." Such an elegant gratitude that Ken did not expect.

If only that's all she offered. From Ken's line of work, when a girl is glancing over at your general direction, it usually means she's interested in talking with him. Either because he's piqued her curiosity, or, and this is more likely, she's likely plotting something sinister like a revenge and he's the center piece of it all. 

Or, she just believes he's too strange. At this point Ken can and doubt will ever figure out how girls work. 

Doesn't matter as gravity get wonky for a moment as the MRT picks up speed and Ken adjust himself.

"I see I'm not the only one who has a busy day ahead of them." She smoothly says, gesturing towards the handbag with his uniform stuffed in there.

That earns a sheepish smile from Ken. Nothing like a jab at the crumpled clothes. At least their clean. 

"Same with you?" Might as well entertain her a bit, and hopefully change course. 

"Quite." She smiles. "I concede The Academy is a thrill but it's truly a miracle I can have a moment to gather myself and enjoy the peace."

Ken admittedly has is curiosity piqued. Getting into MIS is no small feet. He even thought about attending just for the heck of it. Once he's comfortable of wasting away so much moolah. 

"I thought the uniform looked familiar." Ken mentally slaps himself. Surely he can be less creepy when engaging in small talk. 

Thankfully she giggles, like a good sport. "Do I detect a hint of envy in your voice?" 

Is she comin' on'da me? Nah, nah, she's just really chill. 

"I've always considered applying, but..." 

"Yes?" She gently pressed.

Ken shrugs. "Just not ready yet. But... hopefully soon." 

For better or for worse, the conversation is cut short by the obnoxious jingle from a phone that is in need of a new ring tone. 

"I'm so sorry, excuse me." 

It only takes the fourth jingle for Ken to answer at a respectable distance to see who's calling.

Incoming Caller

The SkipKantou

Ken blinks, uncertain if the name is true. How? How did she get his number, and more importantly, after clearing up loose ends, how did she appear on his contacts like he put them-

"Of course..." Even a grumbling Ken knows that she has some close friends that are ominously good when it comes to hacks. 

"Gods be with me..." With a deep breath passing, he accepts the call.

A brash cheerful voice rings the moment the phone presses against his ear. 

"And the crowd goes wild as The SkipKantou shows up on the air!" Her voice carries a gruff boastful voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, joining yours truly: The one, THE only, Mr. Future Idol KEN APPAKATTO!"

That's one way to earn a flustered smile. 

"C'mon, Skipper. You're embarrassin' me. And Imma massage practitioner, 'member?" Ken mumbles.

"Y'know you're moved on from our little crew. You don' hafta call me Skipper or Cap anymore, Ken."

"Sure thing... Boss." Ken cheekily acknowledges. "I take it Olga has this line secure?"

"Ken, c'mon, it's Olga. I'd be surprise if the line wasn't secure." The Skipper chuckles and shakes her head. "You on your way to work I take it?"

Ken nods. "Had to deal with idiots losing my work shirt, but I quickly made up with lost time, thank the gods."

The Skipper frowns. "Didn't they give you another work shirt. The one you NEVER wear?

"That's just a thin violet t-shirt with the studio's logo on it! It's unprofessional!" Ken defends. "If I'm gonna work, I'm always going dressin' in my best."

The Skipper rolls her eyes. "I'm sure your bosses won't mind, Kira."

"Maybe. But my clients might." Ken counters. "Y'know it takes about seven seconds for new clients to make a first impression of ya right? So if I'm workin', I'm lookin' my best, and I'm deliverin' my best."

The Skipper scoffs. "You're such a Boss Pet!"

"Y'mean a kiss-ass?" Ken muses.

"Nah, nah, totally different thing. A kiss-ass is mostly someone that's all bark and no bite hoping it'll get 'em the next big promotion. A Boss's Pet is much worse. It means you have both the bark and the bite."

"Annnd that's a bad thing?" Ken asks visibly confused.

The Skipper lets out a laugh. "Nah, just wanted to mess with ya."

Amusing as this is, Ken has only so much time to savor the peace and quiet ride before work. "Did'ja call just to annoy me, Boss?"

"As fun as that sounds, nah. Just callin' to let ya know me and the knuckleheads just finished up our latest job. Figure I let them have a little holiday."

"Don'tcha mean 'My gang and I'?" Ken cheekily points out.

 "I know what I said." The Skipper grumbles, her lack of amusement dripping over the phone.

"Pfft... I almost feel bad for Deo." Ken snickers. "Is this your idea of punishing him or something, Boss? Another one of your 'holidays?'"

"That only happened once and that bouncer started it! Not me!" Talk about defensive. "Buuuut now that'cha mention it... well... can't say much, client confidentiality and all, s'just say Deo intentionally got himself in a sticky situation that pissed off our client!" The Skipper growls. "We almost lost our merch, and our pay 'cuz a him."

"Gig in Hong Kong went sideways?" Ken asks worried.

The Skipper's tone changes quickly. "Actually, our pay increased ten fold and we managed to score something... pretty vintage. Sooo... maybe I should reward him rather than grill his ass. Still... probably best if we steer clear of Hong Kong for awhile, soo... maybe I'll keep him a leash and force him to eat a jar of Kimchi or two."

Ken lets out an amused laugh. "You're cruel, Boss."

"The worse."

"You guys figured out your vacay spot?"

The Skipper nods. "I'll tell ya later. Our cab's here."

Ken's eyes widened. "Well that was quick!"

"Miss you, too! Talk to you later!" The Skipper chirps.

"Well, s'one way to hang up, I guess." 

With Ken finally relaxing, he lets his eyes flutter as he shifts his phone to more recreational purposes. Just plug in ear buds, turn on tunes from his favorite K-Pop idol and just gaze out at the city Skyline. 

Though he can't help but wonder why the college girl from earlier just averted her gaze from him like that. 

Maybe he forgot to turn down his volume. 

Either way, he caught her, only for a quick millisecond before she turned away, her eyes down at the floor, her fingers to her mouth. 

Either way, it doesn't matter as the apathetic compressed voice over the intercom alerts them with an upcoming message. 

"Next stop: Orchard Ward."