Chapter 2: Finding a Way Forward
"What?!"
"No adoption qualifications?"
"That's right!"
In an office at an orphanage called Home in the Woods, located in the suburbs of upstate New York, the Director sat behind his desk with a serious expression.
He explained solemnly, "Adoption isn't a simple matter, Mr. Winchester. We need to ensure that Emma receives genuine family care and the necessary living conditions. There are legal requirements, background checks, and—"
"I understand, I understand."
Rango couldn't be bothered to listen to the old man's lengthy speech. He'd rushed over as soon as he got off the plane—not to hear bureaucratic red tape.
Pulling out his checkbook, he held up a finger. "Let's keep this simple. How much do I need to donate to take my niece home? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand?"
Seeing the man's cavalier attitude, the Director raised an eyebrow and spread his hands. "Then I'm afraid I can't help you, Mr. Winchester. Even if you're willing to donate, it doesn't directly qualify you for adoption. Frankly, I don't think you're ready to be a guardian yet."
"Damn it."
Rango cursed under his breath. He realized this Director was stubborn as a mule—completely unyielding.
Ironically, thinking of this guy as the orphanage Director, unmoved by the temptation of money and so dedicated to the children's welfare, he couldn't help but feel a grudging sense of respect.
The atmosphere in the office grew tense and quiet.
Just then, Ted, who had been watching the exchange from beside Rango, suddenly raised a paw and tentatively asked, "Then fifty thousand?"
Before the Director could respond, Ted followed up, "Come on! That much money could fund this place for months! Don't tell me it's not enough for one kid!"
As soon as he said this, the Director's face hardened. He sized up Ted with a cold stare and slowly said, "I've seen you on television. More than ten years ago, you were the darling of major advertisers and variety shows. Then I heard you were kicked out of the entertainment industry due to substance abuse and some very offensive public statements. I initially thought it was exaggerated, but now it seems..." He let the sentence hang with a bitter smile.
Hearing this, Ted's expression instantly froze. When Rango first summoned him, Ted had indeed enjoyed a few years of glory. You couldn't turn on the TV without seeing him—it was no exaggeration to say he was popular nationwide.
However, just like other child stars who burned out—Edward Furlong, Lindsay Lohan, Macaulay Culkin—he was no longer popular within a few years.
To make matters worse, he'd been blacklisted by the entire Hollywood establishment after some controversial remarks, and after owing a fortune in liquidated damages, he'd disappeared from public view.
"Ahem..."
Rango lightly coughed, pushed Ted aside before he could throw a tantrum, and then said to the Director, "Since that's the case, just tell me directly—what do I need to do to be eligible to adopt Emma?"
The Director's expression softened slightly. He then explained in detail the conditions and process for adoption: having a stable residence, verifiable employment, a safe home environment, character references, and passing a background check, among other requirements.
Finally, he looked at Rango seriously. "We will not hand over any child to someone without stable employment and housing. So, Mr. Winchester, I suggest you find a job first. Get your life in order. Then we can talk."
"...I understand."
Rango nodded, picked up Ted—who still wanted to argue—and prepared to leave the office.
However, just as they reached the door, the Director's voice stopped them:
"Uh... Mr. Winchester? You mentioned you'd donate. You're not going back on your word, are you?"
"..."
In the orphanage courtyard, a girl in a black dress sat alone on a swing. Her expression was distant, as if she existed in a world separate from everyone else, and her entire demeanor warned others to keep their distance.
The next second, upon seeing two familiar figures walking toward her, a sweet smile instantly transformed her previously cold face.
"Emma..."
Rango, who had reluctantly written out a check for five thousand dollars, squatted down and gently stroked her dark hair. "The Director said I need to find a job and get a proper place before I can adopt you, so you might need to stay here a little while longer. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Uncle."
Emma leaned against his shoulder obediently and whispered, "I'll wait for you here. The Director and the staff are good people. Uncle, don't worry about me."
"That's my girl," Rango said with relief. "Two weeks, tops. I'll have a house and a job sorted out, and then you can move into your new home."
After comforting the girl a few more times, Rango stood and left the orphanage with Ted.
His top priority now was securing housing and finding legitimate employment—two things he'd never really had to worry about before.
As their figures gradually moved away, the smile on Emma's face slowly disappeared.
She sat back on the swing, legs crossed, heels gently tapping the ground. She seemed to be thinking about something—or perhaps silently waiting for something.
Later that evening in Queens, under the glow of streetlights, Rango and Ted sat on a roadside bench, nursing beers and smoking cigarettes.
Ted was the first to break the silence. "So what's the plan, Rango? Actually find a job?"
"Not rushing into anything..."
Rango took a deep drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaled a smoke ring, his brow furrowed in thought.
Since dropping out of college, he'd been working as a 'Dream Protector'—essentially a specialized bodyguard—with Cobb's team in Africa. As for marketable professional skills, he only knew martial arts and tactical shooting.
Finance? Securities? Medical or legal work? He'd never even touched those fields.
Now, finding a legitimate job... Should he be a shooting instructor? But he didn't even have any certifications!
Just then, a street vendor's enthusiastic pitch caught his attention.
"Check out this jewelry, these designer accessories, genuine leather bags! My cousin just brought these in from Manhattan!"
"What? You saying it's fake? Man, look at me! Do I look like someone who'd sell knockoffs? Besides, don't knockoffs cost money too?!"
"You can question my business practices, but you can't question the quality of my merchandise!"
"Come on over and buy! Yes, just like that—put one foot in front of the other. That's called walking, in case you forgot!"
"..."
The seller was a short, dark-skinned man with an energetic sales pitch. Just by looking at his makeshift setup and aggressive marketing style, you could tell this was definitely street-level entrepreneurship. Some of the boxes even had scuff marks and torn labels—the telltale signs of merchandise that had "fallen off a truck."
But what surprised Rango the most was that he actually recognized this hustler.
"Kevin?"
The man, hearing someone call his name, immediately looked over warily. After seeing who it was, he became so excited he could barely form words. "Ra-Rango?!"
"Hahaha, Kevin! I knew it was you!"
Rango strode over and swept the kid into a headlock, while his other hand vigorously rubbed the guy's close-cropped hair.
"Haven't seen you in a few years, and you're running your own business now. How about it—do you still remember me, your big brother?"
"Man! We're BFFFs! How could I forget you!"
The shorter man struggled to pull his head free and then excitedly pounded Rango's shoulder. "God damn! Look who's back—Rango Winchester, the king of Queens, finally came home!"
Hearing this both strange and familiar nickname, Rango smiled. Just as he was about to speak, Ted, who was beside him, asked in confusion, "What does BFFF mean? I've only heard of BFF—Best Friend Forever."
Rango and Kevin exchanged a knowing smile, and then shouted in unison:
"Best F**king Friend Forever!!!"
After the enthusiastic reunion, Kevin quickly packed up his merchandise and led them down a few blocks to a late-night diner. The three of them squeezed into a worn vinyl booth, and Kevin ordered a round of coffee.
"So what brings you back to New York?" Kevin asked, eyeing Rango with genuine curiosity. "Last I heard, you were somewhere overseas doing... what was it again? Security consulting?"
"Something like that," Rango said vaguely. "But I'm back for good now. Family stuff."
Ted snorted. "He's trying to adopt his niece, but apparently being ridiculously rich doesn't count for anything if you don't have a boring nine-to-five."
Kevin's eyes widened. "Adopt? Man, that's serious. You need like, a real job and everything." He paused, then grinned. "You know... I might be able to help with that."
Rango raised an eyebrow. "You? Help me get a legitimate job? No offense, Kev, but you're literally selling stolen goods on street corners."
"Allegedly stolen," Kevin corrected with a grin. "And yeah, okay, my current business model isn't exactly what you'd call traditional employment. But I know people. Queens is full of opportunities if you know where to look."
"What kind of opportunities?" Rango asked skeptically.
Kevin leaned in conspiratorially. "You ever heard of a place called Quesanti's?"
Both Rango and Ted shook their heads.
"It's this weird little shop over in Astoria," Kevin explained. "The owner—this old dude named Quesanti—he deals in... well, let's call it 'specialized merchandise.' Antiques, rare books, weird collectibles, that kind of thing. Word is he's looking for someone with, uh... particular skills. You know, someone who can handle security, acquisitions, that sort of thing."
Rango frowned. "That sounds suspiciously like you're describing exactly what I was doing before, which is exactly what I'm trying to move away from."
"Nah, nah, it's legit!" Kevin insisted. "The guy's got a proper business license and everything. He just needs someone who knows how to handle themselves because some of the stuff he deals with attracts... let's say, unsavory attention. But it's all above board. He pays taxes and everything!"
Ted perked up. "Does it pay well?"
"From what I hear? Yeah, pretty decent. Plus, the old man's got connections all over the city. You work for him, you get access to his network. Could be useful."
Rango sat back and considered this. He needed something legitimate, something stable enough to satisfy the orphanage Director. But he also needed something that wouldn't bore him to death within a week. Maybe this Quesanti character was worth checking out.
"Alright," he said finally. "Where do I find this place?"
Kevin grinned and pulled out a crumpled napkin, scribbling down an address. "Here. Tell him Kevin sent you. He owes me a favor anyway."
As they left the diner, Ted waddled alongside Rango and muttered, "You know this is probably going to be some weird, shady operation, right?"
Rango shrugged. "Yeah, probably. But at this point, I'll take what I can get."
"That's the spirit," Ted said dryly. "When in doubt, make questionable life choices. That's basically been our motto since day one."
Rango couldn't help but laugh. "Shut up, Ted."
"Make me, pretty boy."
Despite everything, Rango felt a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to look up.
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