The following day, in the administrative office of the Cosmopolitan, Enzo was sitting in a cubicle across from an old lady who was looking at him and smoking a cigarette. "Target details?"
Enzo took out a piece of paper with a sketch of Morpheus on it. Much to his surprise, he learned that he couldn't find a single photograph of the brat anywhere on the internet. Furthermore, he also couldn't find any other data related to him. Thus, he could only resort to a sketch of the youth.
The old lady put on her glasses and looked at the sketch, finding it a bit familiar. "Couldn't you get a damn photograph?"
Enzo respectfully replied, "Forgive me, but I couldn't find one."
The woman grumbled, then picked up a pen and another document. "Name?"
"David Watson," Enzo spat through gritted teeth.
The old lady's hand froze. She looked at Enzo with furrowed eyebrows as a hint of killing intent emanated from her. "What did you say?"