|05| The Codes.

                                    

                                          

Cassio
The human psyche is fragile. Our bodies and thoughts cannot be trusted since they are readily altered, manipulated, and destroyed. One thing is certain: how can you trust anyone else if you can't even trust yourself?
All creatures are compelled to follow the same plan, which is to eliminate one another until nothing remains. From the dawn of time, things have always been this way. The urge that drives us to commit terrible acts is a dangerous part of the human psyche, all because we think that's what's right, what's comfortable, and what fills us up. Everybody is desperate to feel something.
In this never-ending cycle, manipulation is a powerful tool. It's the means by which we control others, bending them to our will, and satisfying our own desires at any cost. Manipulation is the currency of power in a world where trust is a rare commodity.
I slowly walk around my brother's desk, taking in the mess of papers scattered across it. Among them, I spot a gun, an unexpected but not entirely surprising addition. The papers mostly focus on Marco Delucca—his life, his death, that of course I had nothing to do with. 
Always diving into shit, analyzing every bit of it.
Killian's like a chess player, always overthinking his moves, calculating every step. My mindset follows a simpler path: if I don't like it, I shoot it. While he navigates the intricate web of strategies, I prefer a more direct and immediate approach to handling things.
Shifting the papers, I uncover pages filled with rows of numbers. Some sequences are short, others longer, hinting at some sort of code or financial records. It's clear these numbers mean something more, something beyond simple arithmetic. There's a hidden story here, one that I'm determined to unravel, piece by piece.
As I sift through the papers, my eyes narrow in focus, scanning each number and jotting down patterns that catch my attention. The longer sequences seem like encrypted messages, perhaps indicating transactions or coded communications. The shorter ones could be anything from passwords to account numbers, each potentially holding a key to understanding the bigger picture.
My mind races with possibilities as I connect the dots between these numbers and the larger operations they may represent. Killian may pride himself on his intricate strategies, but sometimes the simplest solutions cut through the noise.
"Dont you know that it is rude to go through stuff that doesn't belong to you?" I hear Killian's voice speak. I look up, meeting his poison green eyes.
I glance at his tall figure, sizing him up with a look from head to toe. "You should know by now that I don't give a fuck about who owns what," I remark, tossing the papers back onto the table. He takes a few steps closer, his expression remaining as stoic as ever.
"What are these?" I ask, nodding my head towards the papers with numbers all over them. Killian exhales heavily. 
It's silent for a few seconds. 
"Codes," he finally says before continuing. "Did you know that there are complex codes that hold every little and deep secret about the underworld? Every little detail is in there, and somebody has invented them and is in keeping of these," he explains. "We have been trying to reach them for the past few weeks," he adds.
"And?" I ask, eager to know if he has found anything. "Nothing," he replies dryly.
Every little and deep secret.