Drips.2.0 discussion

Here set up the post apocolyptic whatever.

Looks at Bamma, and looks away. Pathetic. Life ended without reason. Meh, some people....

His limp body reposes in the chair; top of his head gone.

"I am so fucking done with this day," I mutter as I stand up and walk out the door.

I lean against the wall in the shadow of a building, my hand cupped around my cigarette to mask the ember's glow as I take a drag. A rat scurries through an overflowing dumpster and I flip the butt at the furry, little prick.

A used condom floats in a pothole puddle and stray light from a caged bulb above a delivery entrance and reflects on a dirty hypodermic.

The alley smells like stale piss and discarded dreams; standard for this festering wound of a city.

Across the street, I see Joy exit a building and reflexively touch the .45 holstered beneath my coat.

She slips into the 3 AM darkness and I slide from the alley, as quiet as the mangy cat eyeballing me from the second story landing of the fire escape.

Time to go to work.

I am Gray Man. I am a Ghost.
Here, but not here. Now, but not today.
I walk in the shadows, with the shadows.

Did I feel bad about the hit? No.
But, Big Smith was on my mind. That was a shit-fucking-ton of money to end a nobody. Who was the hit? Was he really a nobody?

*sighs and crushes cigarette out with heel*
Slides into the shadows again.

A bell jingles as I open the door and see what appears to be a corpse tied to a chair.

He looks dead. But in my line of work, you can't go by looks. If I'd found him and he was alive, I'd kill him. And if he was dead, I'd kill him again.

I pressed the muzzle against his temple and pulled the trigger.

Checking my watch, I wondered if Bobby's Burgers was still open. I should could go for a bit of grub.