Like flipping through a worn-out photo album, the memories of a younger Andrew riding the back of Uncle Rio's tricycle with smiles on their faces appeared on his mind. Uncle Rio would take Andrew to different street stalls and indulge him in all the snacks he would want. Recognition finally set in.

"Oh my gosh, you've gotten old," said Andrew as he stood up and help Uncle Rio back to his feet. "Like really, really, really old. I--um. Sorry 'bout the punch. Are you okay? In my defense, you guys were chasing us."

A peal of roaring laughter burst from Uncle Rio, his gravelly voice reverberating in the building. Andrew soaked in the sound of Uncle Rio's laughter. Heat pooled in the corner of his eyes. He traced the fine lines etched into Uncle Rio's aged face. The world hasn't been kind to him.

"And you were damn fast, Drew. You've also gotten old, but you're still so short!"

"Hey, I'm just not standing tall." Andrew straightened his back to show the older man his full height. They both exchanged praises and good-hearted insults. Leaving the bystanders confused as to what to do next. Andrew embraced the man which Uncle Rio returned.

"What are you doing as a debt collector?" Asked Andrew, ignoring the fact that two debt collectors laid unmoving on the ground. "Gosh, it's been so long. Last time we saw each other was..." Andrew snapped his fingers trying to recall the event. "You did your first performance at The Palace Hotel, yeah! You finally became a pianist just like you wanted, and I remember trying to buy a bottle of water with five pesos so they would let me see you. But they just let me in any way. That's why I've always had a soft spot for The Palace."

Uncle Rio had a sheepish look on his face as he glanced down on his feet. The once bright eyes Andrew remembered were shrouded in melancholy. His fingers ended up scratching his nape. "Mom got sick, and the hospital bills just kept piling up, so ended up taking on a loan that my dream job couldn't pay, so I ended up working for them instead. It wasn't called Torch back then."

"I'm sorry. Is your mom alright now?"

"She passed away," whispered Uncle Rio.

Andrew was crestfallen at the older man's fate, but Uncle Rio knocked his fist on Andrew's head.

"Don't look so sad," Uncle Rio chuckled. "I hear you work for some bigshot now. There's no trace of the dirty kid who used to play in the streets. What was the name of your boss again?"

"Allen Lopez." The name didn't come from Andrew's lips but from the leader of a dozen rugged men who had guns already pointed at all of them. Sonna, Clair, and Mike raised their hands in the air. Their faces morphed in fear. Things escalated rather quickly.

The leader, a man with an array of facial scars and a nasty gleam in his eyes, appeared from the dark corner of the building and called out Andrew with a drawl on his voice. "That dwarf there works for the fucking son of the building's owner."

There was excitement in his voice. He strolled up to Andrew and planted his gun on Andrew's forehead. The barrel dug into Andrew's skin, and he could feel the metal drawing blood. The situation immediately sunk in. The fact that one wrong move and he could die really gets you racing. For all his earlier bravado, he was afraid.

The leader eyed up Uncle Rio. He curled his lips and signaled one of his men to do the same to Uncle Rio. "Fuckin' traitor." He spitted out.

"Joseph," appeased Uncle Rio. "Don't be hasty. We're debt collectors, not murderers. We don't point our guns at debtors to kill."

Joseph snarled at the words thrown at him. He locked Andrew's head with his arms. Andrew clawed at the man's forearm, but he jutted the gun on Andrew's temple. Effectively reminding Andrew that his life was in the palm of this psycho. He drew Andrew closer to him. His lips barely grazed Andrew's ear, sending a chill down Andrew's body. "Yah' don't know it, Rio. But this man knows highly confidential info. The kind that the company would be willing to give good money for. Enough money for all of our debts to be paid in double! No, triple!"

"I'm just a stupid secretary," gasped Andrew. His throat constricted in pain. "You think they'll give money for one useless secretary? You stup—"

Andrew couldn't finish his retort. Joseph shoved him and threw a punch on Andrew's jaw with a clear, painful sound. Andrew crashed to the ground. A blinding pain thundered on his jaw. His eyes lost focus for a second before he felt Uncle Rio shield him from Joseph.

"We know all about yah' Secretary Andrew of Mr. Allen Lopez. You're famous, y'know. The pet of the owner's son. The perfect secretary. The wild secretary. The one employee who knows all the secrets of the company. If they won't give us the money, we could just beat the shit out of you. Don't even pretend that you don't have access to yer' boss' money. The black card you use to treat the employees? I know there's more where that came from."

There was a moment of guilt where Andrew had thought Uncle Rio would fall for Joseph's words. Everything that Joseph said was true after all. Andrew didn't know the weight of his actions; flaunting Allen's card, being privy to confidential information, having worked with people in power, working directly for the owner's son. In hindsight, all these things Andrew took for granted even though he was the few extremely lucky ones. But after that fight, I doubt that Allen would even acknowledge him. But Uncle Rio didn't budge.

"There has to be another way," said Uncle Rio, trying to appease the man. "We can't just use people like this."

"That family has used us for years, Rio. And what have we got? Debts!" Joseph yelled. His face contorted in anger, but there were strokes of tiredness also. He wiped his face harshly with his hand. "Now's the time we get to use these rich pricks for our benefits. We're not slaves for that company anymore. We don't need to get stepped on anymore. Not by Lopez Co. and not by that brat boss anymore. Fuck Lopez Co and that TorchLending!"

Joseph's words made everything click in place. Even though he was still reeling from the pain on his beautiful face, he recognized Joseph and his rough-tag team of hoodlums. They were ex-Lopez Co. employees. Specifically, cook Joseph of the employee cafeteria.

Andrew popped his head out from behind Uncle Rio.

"Go ahead and shoot," said Andrew. "I'm going to need the insurance money."

"Drew," hissed Uncle Rio. "Now's not the time for your gay sarcasm."

"How did you know I was gay? I was like ten or something when we last met."

"The last time we met your dad was beating you up for wearing your mom's heels. And if that wasn't a dead giveaway. You were choking me while your pinky fingers were raised."

Joseph disrupted the two by drawing his gun and aiming it at Andrew, but Uncle Rio covered Andrew with his body. He continued, "Are you doing this because you're angry at the company? I understand they don't pay much, but—" Another gunshot cut-off Andrew. It was aimed at the ground, but the bullet ricocheted and Andrew felt a searing slice on his ear. The pain brought him to his knees, clutching his right ear.

"The oh-so-precious secretary Andrew won't understand what it's like to reach rock bottom."

His hearing was a little muffled, but still, he replied, "I'm an employee too—"

"An employee that can pay all off our debts." He swung his arms to his men. All of them had the same hesitant look. Andrew does understand how they feel. A life burdened with debt is not a life at all. He glanced over at Joseph and recognize him, a disgruntled man whose voice used to bounce off the walls of the cafeteria in the past, but now— he was a man desperate to pay off his debts. His eyes flicked over at Sonna, then back to Joseph.

Is this what happens to Lopez Co. employees?

"Why didn't you ask for help?" he asked, cautiously.

"We all can't suck our boss' dick to get promoted," Joseph scoffed. "What? Don't act all confused. You think a secretary could get so powerful without offering their body? I guess even homos can take the easy way up."

Andrew huffed. The urge to roll his eyes was strong, but he held it in. For the sake of not earning a bullet hole. He gritted his teeth not only because of annoyance but because of the pain in his jaw and ear. "I worked hard to get where I am."

"We worked hard too. Every fucking single day we broke our backs. And all we got in return was the barest of salaries. But I wouldn't expect ya to accept that there is a problem for the company you work for, Secretary Andrew." Joseph scratched his temple with the gun. He sighed after. He walked up to Andrew, circling Uncle Rio, and crouched down to Andrew's eye level. Uncle Rio swiftly put his body between the two.

Joseph ignored him. "Rio here, was a damn good pianist. A hard-working piano man. Working when the sun is up, then practicing at night. These boys right here—they worked from sunrise to sundown. Y'know the difference of the hard work we do and those done by the Lopez's? The more effort they do the richer they get, while us—here in the bottom—our hard work will only mean we can afford to eat one more cup of rice. Regardless of the hours we put in, our salaries are still the same." The anger in Joseph's voice could not mask the sadness in the man's eyes.

Andrew could not snap back because there was truth to his words. He knew how unfair the system was at Lopez Co. He knew all of these. He had his share of fault for the misery of these employees. The Lopez's. Allen. Andrew thought that he was doing his best to help the struggling employees. He thought if he could just make their day a little better, make their work a little easier, gives them a bit of relief. Employees like Joseph would be happy.

"I'm sorry."

A pause, as Joseph took in Andrew's words.

"I'm sorry too," said Joseph, softly. "We know you've done your part for the employees, but you're our key to a debtless life."

As he stood up, a shaky, red neon dot appeared on his forehead. Thunderous footfall came echoing throughout the empty building. Relief washed over Andrew's face. It took a moment for Joseph to realize the inevitability of what's to come next. Before he could even one step forward, a battalion of Leon Security's geared men swarmed the area from the different entry points, accompanied by the loud noise of police sirens outside the building.

Officers dashed towards Joseph and his little band of Torch Lender goons. They were restrained into handcuffs and Andrew could not take his eyes off them. They weren't putting up any resistance. Their eyes had gone blank, defeated.

Andrew stood up from the ground, eyes still stuck on Joseph and his handcuffed hands. Before Joseph was taken by the officers, he looked into Andrew's eyes. He spoke, softly but sure, "The rich will always win."

Andrew had tried to argue, but pair of strong and familiar arms had enveloped him from behind. The faint scent of Allen's cologne brushed Andrew's nose. The rapid pace of Allen's heartbeat surprised Andrew. A quickening thump on his back.

"Hey you," said Andrew.

"I was worried," he murmured. Allen's arm tightened its embrace of Andrew.

"Is that a gun in your pants or are you just that happy to see me?"

Andrew was immediately released and was met with a frustrated groan. He made a motion to turn around but was stopped by Allen's hand on his scalp. Andrew watched Allen as he swiftly dashed to Sonna and the team to check on them.

Andrew couldn't help but chuckle, also cringing from the intimate moment that just occurred. A half-cringe half chuckle situation.

"I'm sorry you had to see that Uncle Rio."

That's when he noticed that Uncle Rio was already handcuffed and being shoved inside a police vehicle. Anger clouded his eyes and he stormed up to the officer.

"What do you think you're doing?" He yelled at the startled officer. "Why are you arresting an innocent man? He was trying to protect me."

"Mr. Garcia, these men have broken the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act more than once. Including, Rio Garcia. We've been trying to crack them down, but they are a slippery group. Thanks to you and the help of your company's private security group. We've tracked a fourth of their group. Now, shall I escort you to the paramedics?" He glanced at Andrew's ear.

Andrew was about to let out a verbal throwdown when Uncle Rio called to him. He immediately went to Uncle Rio's side, whose head popped out of the car window.

"I'll be alright, Drew. No need to worry about me."

"But...But...you'll go to jail." Andrew was crestfallen.

Uncle Rio offered him a bright smile. A smile that Andrew hasn't seen for ages. They didn't disillusion themselves that there was any way out of this situation. But Andrew won't let Uncle Rio's future be jeopardized because of a system that let him down.

"There's a scholarship at the company I'm working at...It helps adults who couldn't study and pursue their passions," Andrew rushed out the words. "Once you get it, Uncle. You can study music and be a pianist like you've always wanted. I built this scholarship so people like us can be happy."

A series of grunts made Andrew glance at its source. Joseph who seemed to be eavesdropping in their conversation was grunting up a storm at the officers who were strong-arming his men. Andrew exhaled harshly through his nose.

"And you!" Andrew removed his shoe and threw it at Joseph's head. The man cursed at Andrew. They stared each other down. All eyes were on them, preparing for a commotion. Allen, whose eyes never left Andrew, stifled Sonna's sobbing with his hand.Andrew thrust a finger at himself. "It's been my dream to build a restaurant. A big-ass restaurant. One that's going to need a lot of staff, some waiters, a pianist, and a cook who knows his way in the kitchen and how to make something tasty but cheap. So, when you get out of jail...I'll be waiting for all your ugly guy's resume! That's a promise."

Andrew's chest rose and fell with his breath, unsure what he was expecting. But then, a smile had slithered up Joseph's lips. A burst of hearty laughter came deep down from his body. Smiles had also spread on the men's faces. While Uncle Rio's had glittered with pride.

After a pause, the police ushered Joseph and his men to their police cars. Before Joseph got in, he stopped and said to no one in particular, "The poor will always lose by default. But sometimes there are people like Secretary Andrew who can win."

With those parting words, the vehicles left the scene. Carrying with them the men with raised hopes for a better future. A genuine, uncontrollable smile bloomed on Andrew's face. Only now did he notice that people were watching him. This was one of those rare moments where he didn't love the attention. His hands stuck to his chest like T-rex arms. He flashed an awkward smile. His half-cringe, half-smile. "That was a little bit melodramatic, wasn't it? Shows over folks."

When he stopped talking, a team of paramedics started marching towards him. His eyes popped out at the reaction, and he glanced at Allen's furious scowl. Andrew traced Allen's glare, which lead to his red, blood-soaked shoulder.

"Huh," was Andrew's simple reaction. "Whose blood is this?"

He touched his neck and his fingers felt wet. His hands went higher to his ear, and he felt a running stream of blood against his fingers. He hummed and narrowed his eyes. He felt lightheaded. And from countless drunk experiences, he recognized the encroaching feeling of blacking out. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Allen was dashing towards him.

"I can't believe I'm going to faint while wearing these shoes. And I forgot my phone inside the building."

Darkness swallowed Andrew. Someone had caught him before he fell to the ground.