.six. 

The flight to Canada was a quiet and lonely one for Michael. It was silent in the first class section of the plane and he had a seat at the front, secluded from everyone else. It was what he preferred. There were hadly any other people there and as they approached the mainland in Montreal, Michael began to feel the chill of a Canadian winter. It was colder than even London. And he thought that in London he truly experienced the cold.

Because Rocky had a busy day before they could meet up, he left a car in the airport parking lot for Michael to take. It was a black luxury car that Michael admired when he saw it.

The passenger side door was unlocked and the key was hidden in between the cushions of the back seat. Michael climbed into the car and headed to an abandoned school building on the far end of the city, beyond the residential areas. 

The sky was gloomy and Michael thought it was a perfect representation of his mood laltely.

Eternally gloomy.

He parked his car in the back, making sure it stayed out of sight before he got out and found the entrance to the old building. He knew the first floor was used by Rocky as something of a home. And he found a couch as well as a small and very old television. There was a makeshift kitchen in another room with a hot plate stove, a mini fridge, and a five gallon container of water. 

As he continued through the building he found the bathroom and lastly a bedroom. 

On the bed was a folded note that was addressed to him. 

For Michael, it read in Rocky's sloppy lettering. Rocky Boyer was a blue eyed boy with light brown hair of French-Canadian descent. He was nineteen years old and like Michael, he became a hunter at a very young age.

When Michael opened up the letter, he saw written in large letters that took up the whole page: Meet me at the corner bar, motherfucker ;) -Rocky xx 

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And so, Michael found himself in a dark bar that smelled of sweat, possibly urine, and alcohol. It wasn't a very pleasant combination that burned the insides of his nostrils. He squinted his eyes as he searched for the familiar face of Rocky Boyer. He found the person he was looking for sitting at the very back. And he walked past drunks who chugged away their problems and guys with easy women dancing to the beat of some song he'd never listened to.

He sat on the old barstool next to Rocky, which creaked beneath his weight.

The blue eyed boy shot him a side glance before drinking the last of the alcohol in his glass. "So I hear you have news for me." The boy said in an evident Canadian accent. And Michael thought about his friend, how he was the opposite of the stereotypes he heard about Canadians.

It was said Canadians were always friendly. Rocky was friendly, but sometimes he had his moments where he was a loud mouth and every word that left his mouth was a curse word. He was what Michael referred to as a Not-Really-Canadian-But-Yes.

Michael nodded. But before speaking, he waved the bartender over to ask for a drink. The man behind the counter eyed the pale faced boy suspiciously. "You sure you're eighteen, kid?"

Rocky smiled at the man. "My bitch is legal, man." Nudging Michael, he added, "Go on, mate. Show 'em your ID." Michael rolled his eyes, but did as his friend instructed. He didn't normally drink, but with everything that happened in the last few weeks, he felt he needed it. He showed the ID to the bartender and the man went to serve his drink.

When the older man behind the counter was out of ear shot, Michael thought it was as good a time as any to let Rocky know he was being transferred out of his home country. "The boss wants us to switch places. You're taking over in England now, and I'm staying in Canada."

"What?" The blue eyed boy asked, outraged. "I'm not leaving."

"You have to." Michael said. 

But the other boy wouldn't understand reasoning. He was determined to do eveything he could to stay. "I've done my job here. The boss has never complained about my work. He has never had a reason to send me away from home before."

"He's not switching us because of you." The white haired boy sighed. "Its because of me."

"What did you fucking do, man?" The boy asked through gritted teeth. "I love this place. I refuse to leave."

"What's so special about Canada?" Michael scoffed.

"Its my home." Rocky replied with a sudden patriotic air of pride.

"People like us have no home." Said the pale faced boy.

The other boy sitting next to him finally sighed after a few minutes of contemplating his options. "Well, as long as I don't get moved to some place where they don't speak english. Did Dempsey tell you about her time in Mexico with Paul?" The Canadian boy chuckled, remembering the story.

Michael cracked a smile. "Yeah."

"Poor Elaine." Rocky added with another laugh. "She has to learn Spanish now. Did you hear? She's taking Paul's place in Mexico for a while. At least until the boss can find another shifter in Mexico who can join our cause."

"You act like this is a war." Michael said.

"Isn't it?" The blue eyed Canadian boy questioned. "Its us against them. I think this pretty much sounds like a full scale war in the dark of night in every corner of this planet. A war the humans don't know about, but a war nonetheless."

"And we're just pawns." Michael added, running a hand through his white colored hair. Just a pawn in the underground war.

Rocky shook his head. "I'm not a pawn." The boy corrected his friend with a grin. "I'm a knight. And once I gather enough money and I turn twenty-five years old, I'm leaving this fucking job. The first thing I'll do is ask ma belle Dempsey to marry me. We'll live out here in Montreal in a nice house and we'll have three kids." He said while he went off thinking of his perfect life.

The hunter's eyebrows raised in shock. He was aware that Rocky liked Dempsey, but he didn't realize how much. Like Michael, Rocky was in love with a girl he could never have. Only Dempsey and Rocky weren't siblings, they weren't related at all. The problem with them was that, and Michael could almost swear it was true, Dempsey Johannsson was in love with Paul.

"Mate," Michael placed a hand on his friend's shoulder reassuringly. "You'd probably have better luck with Elaine. Dempsey has her eyes set on someone else."

"If you mean Paul," The French-Canadian began, "I can make her forget him."

"Goodluck." The Australian said, and he meant it. 

At least Rocky could fight to get the girl's love. Michael could do nothing more but sit in a dirty old bar and wallow in the misery caused by his problems.

-

i know i've actually updated this quite fast.

but that's because i had five chapters pre-written since a couple of weeks ago. so after i finish posting them, this story will go back into slow updates.

anyway, i hope you all like the new chapter. and...representing rocky in this story is louis tomlinson. i thought he was perfect for the role. but yeah. 

please read and give this a nice vote.

thank you.

i love you.

-clary xx