New York. Once they called it the City with 8 Million Ways to Die. One for everyone. Of course, it was back in the day when only 8 million people were living there. Now people were calling the city by other names: The Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps, Gotham, The Melting Pot, The City of Neon and Chrome…

Blake simply just called it home.

After the complete failure in Prague, the MAGE wanted to send him after Helenka Zelezny. He had refused to obey and had requested an emergency sabbatical leave instead. MAGE agents had the right to do that every time they felt that the job became too overwhelming: the management knew very well that the agents were under extreme stress. He could have asked for professional help, too, the MAGE had the best therapists available. In fact, because he asked for a leave, he will have to attend at least one therapy session before he will go back on the field.

If he ever will, in which Blake wasn't sure at all. He needed some time to think over certain things before he would make that decision. And since there is no place like home, he did the thing everyone would do in a serious life-crisis and went home. New York wasn't the place he felt safe at, or the place he liked the most, but it was the only one he ever actually knew. He hadn't left it in the first 25 years of his life, and he spent most of those years on the streets of Brooklyn. He used to be a stupid kid here, playing basketball with an old crate hanged on some fence, then brooding teenager listening to weird music all day long, then idealist and proud patrolman and after a tired and cynical detective.

And now he was back on square one, just over forty, still not knowing what to do with his life. Only half of the opportunities were now closed for him, and there weren't a lot of them to begin with.

'I always say that if you aren't sure, you gotta go forward. Try something new. You know what was on yesterday? The Maltese Falcon. Great film, Bogie was the only white guy I've had a crush on, ever. Now I'm thinking, Cornell, you would make one fine-ass private eye.'

Blake sat in his mother's tiny, somewhat garlic-scented kitchen. Raven Blake was a tall, slim woman with a huge ball of greying afro and a strict face that did not show her real nature at all. She was the warmest person Blake ever saw, but ironically the toughest, too: not only she raised two teenager boys and a little girl on her own after her husband was killed, but she did it beside a full-time teaching job, her own self-defence class for women and, as Blake found it out years later, while she was one of the self-proclaimed masked vigilantes of Brooklyn as well.

Of course, all of that was decades ago. Now she walked with a cane, she was only teaching part-time and while Blake felt pity for the fool who would ever try to rob or just attack her, Raven Blake's heroic days were over a long time ago.

'You only saying that because you want me to stay here,' smiled Blake.

Raven was making country style cajun ribs, something Blake had eaten in countless restaurants all over the world, but could never be satisfied with: his mother's recipe was simply the best.

'Would that be so bad? I barely see you, your nieces won't even know who you are when you go to visit. I'm the last one you have to explain how important someone's personal mission could be, though. I barely slept in the '90s, I was out kickin' ass every night. Not something a good mom would do, yeah, but something I had to do.'

'You are a good mother,' said Blake.

'I am a lucky nincompoop who should have stayed home on her bottom but I thought I'm protecting my kids doing what I did. Ancient history, anyway. Ten more minutes and we could eat, go wash up.'

Blake did as he was told, then got back to the kitchen. The view from the window was everything but impressive: he could have only seen the red bricks of the building across the narrow alleyway. Somewhere close a siren cried, but it was a noise New Yorkers learned to ignore.

'But I know you, Cornell,' Raven continued, taking out a baking pan of mac & cheese from the oven. 'You are not gonna stop, especially not if you have second thoughts.'

'And why is that, Mom?' he asked. Seemed like his mother had all the answers, like always.

'Coz you gotta see that through. You will leave that damn agency when you find that you cannot work with them for sure, but you ain't gonna quit while you aren't certain. Nah, you gonna try to fix the whole system like you did with the police.'

'Much good came from that…' shook his head Blake.

'You tried, you failed,' shrugged the lady. 'Still better than not trying if you ask me. Now make yourself useful and set the table. You can open a beer for your mother, too.'

It was only the two of them: Raven lived alone, except for the goddamn cat, as she called it. She always had a cat as long as Blake could remember, and they all were "goddams". It was one of the things that made Raven who she was.

'Li'l Booker popped in yesterday,' said Raven when they were finally settled to eat the late dinner. 'He heard that you are coming home, wanna have a drink with you.'

"Li'l" Booker Washington was a tad over two metres and weighed about 135 kg, pure muscle at that. People called him "Li'l" to mock him, because he was always the biggest kid in the hood. He used to be Blake's best friend growing up, but they drifted apart after high school. Blake went to the Academy and became a policeman, while Booker felt the anger mixed with fear and hatred against the police, like every sane black man. Blake never blamed him: growing up as a black kid in Brooklyn taught some unpleasant lessons, especially back in the '80s and '90s.

'How is he doing?' Blake asked.

'He has his own garage now, he bought it from the old Tony when he retired. They moved into a nice house a year ago or so. His oldest son started University this September.'

Blake nodded. Raven never badgered him about family and kids, and even though the moment asked for it, she kept that habit. Blake was deeply thankful for that.

'I'm gonna call him tomorrow,' Blake said. 'After I've seen Tia and the girls.'

'Sure, sure,' bobbed Raven. 'After you helped me to get groceries. We are gonna hit the market first thing in the morning, I wanna see the freshest vegetables and meat. I'm gonna cook at your sisters'. I taught a lot to that girl, but I have no idea where she got that whole vegan misery, coz sure as hell that's ain't from me. We're gonna leave at six.'

Blake groaned.

'Problem, young man?' Raven asked, raising her eyebrow.

'You were literally a superhero, Ma, I'm pretty sure you don't need me for a grocery run…'

'I don't, but I'm gonna wake you up anyway,' she said with a grin.