Daniel walked quickly down the streets of Skid Row, picking his way through tents and crowds with practice ease. The comforting weight of his backpack dragging on his shoulders assured him of the safety of his ill gotten gains. The recent cold snap meant that the pickings were slim on the streets, and even scoring a mark didn’t guarantee a payout, with many gangs jumping solo grifters and pickpockets before violently persuading them to give up their haul. Doing jobs without the backing of a team was rightly considered foolish, and downright dangerous. Daniel, however, did not care about the limitations placed on the grifts and second storey jobs he carried out, or the lack of even a semblance of protection whilst on the job. Even the drastic increase in the chances of getting caught was well worth the benefit. Whilst working solo he got much more money, and, more importantly, he kept his blessed privacy. Daniel Bishop could never be considered a people person, not even in the broadest of senses. Unless it was for a job, Daniel forsook human interaction, frequently ignoring the attempts of acquaintances, both old and new, to reach out. This attitude drastically lowering the standards he worked at, but this was an acceptable cost to keep his solitary lifestyle.

Abruptly taking a hard left between two tents, Daniel walked across a near empty car park, entering the dilapidated apartment building bordering it. Srolling past the ever-present yellow tape in front of the elevator, he began the long walk up seven flights of stairs, mentally preparing himself for human interaction.

Upon reaching the landing of the seventh floor, Daniel took a hard left and knocked on a rotting, green door. Sounds of shuffling could be heard from within before a bolt was pulled back and the door cracked open. A single eye peeked out suspiciously. Upon recognizing the caller, the eye disappeared, and the door was thrown wide open, revealing the man inside.

Internally grimacing, Daniels eyes took in the man before him. A food-stained white t-shirt strained to cover his belly, whilst a pair of sweatpants of undeterminable colour sat precariously around his waist. Even though it was near freezing outside, the man’s bald head was still covered in beads of sweat, and large dark patches could be seen peeking from his armpits. Flabby lips were crowned by a limp mustache, wriggling weakly with every jiggle of his face fat. Sausage fingers were spread out wide, and his lips split open in a smile, revealing gapped teeth browned by nicotine. Yusuf was Daniel’s fence, one of the few willing to buy off those who worked solo. He also gave the best prices for jewelry, heirlooms, and art - giving almost 80% of retail price on a regular basis, far better than most of the pawnbrokers found in downtown LA. The only downside to Daniel, was how goddamn cheerful the African American man was.

“Daniel! Wassup man? Got some shit for me?” The man gestured at the black backpack on the thief’s back.

“Yeah, I got some stuff.” Daniel grunted and slipped the black bag off his shoulder. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, lets fuckin’ see what you got.” The man turned around and waddled back into the poorly lit interior of the apartment.

Yusuf’s apartment was a reflection of the man himself, dark, dank, and dirty. Molding carpets peeked out from underneath precariously stacked boxes that had been filled to the brim with valuables of questionable acquisition, waiting for the heat on them to die down for resale. The entryway to Yusuf's office was squeezed in a crack between two towers of boxes, one propped up by the half open door. An appraising desk and an armchair made up the total furnishings of the room. Squeezing into the room, Yusuf plopped into the chair.

“Well don’t keep me waiting man” he said gesturing emphatically at the bag in Daniel’s hand. Almost reluctantly, Daniel placed the bag strap in Yusuf’s gloved hand. Unzipping it, the man carefully extracted the object within.

The box was of aged and carved cherry hardwood, with mother of pearl inlays, and a gold clasp, it was absolutely beautiful and clearly an expensive family heirloom, it was also the only worthwhile piece Daniel had found on the job.

”Damn…. You really don’t do half measures do you brother? These earrings here must’ve cost a fortune.” Looking up from his jeweller's eyepiece, Yusuf considered Daniel for a moment. “I'll give you 3 bands for it.”

“Fuckin-, that’s an insult man! The job was hell, 5 grand or I walk.” Daniel shot back.

“Not my fault that the job didn’t go smoothly, I’ve been telling you to get a partner for months, Bishop. I’ll give you 3.5 for the earrings and box, 4 if you throw in the junk .”

Fine, asshole."

Reaching under his desk, Yusuf pulled out four rolls of bills and dropped them in the black back, releasing a booming chuckle. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Daniel snatched the bag up off the counter and walked as quickly as he could out of the room, eager to end the conversation as quickly as possible. He would count the cash when he got home, Yusuf hadn’t shortchanged him yet.

Back out on the street, Daniel straightened his back, and began to stride down the pavement, making his way confidently towards his apartment in the Arts District. Confidence. In his 24 years of life, if there was one thing that Daniel had learned, it was that confidence was the key to success. Humans were sheep, if you acted, no- knew , you belonged, then no one would even question it. This knowledge had navigated Daniel through many tough situations in the past few years, saving him from multiple muggings, and even a dismemberment. Confidence was often the cheat code, and Daniel was going to abuse it as much as he could.

Daniel was tired, a multi-day job had left him longing for his bed, and by the time he got home the world was little more than a blur of half shapes and blending colours. Not even bothering to change out of his work gear, Daniel slammed his front door shut with his foot and staggered over to his couch, quickly passing out and falling deep into sleep.

Daniel awoke somewhere in the small hours, startled from his sleep by shouting from the street below. This was a regular occurrence in his neighborhood, and Daniel would have gone immediately back to sleep, were it no for the blinding rays of white light spearing through his living room curtain, framing the room in sharp contrasts of faded colours.

“What the-” He muttered, rolling onto his feet whilst rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Shambling over to the window, the man yanked it open, and peered out onto the fire-escape.

The entire neighborhood seemed to be out looking at the phenomena, many filming, and even more shocked into flabbergasted silence. Thousands of white lights could be seen hovering motionless in the sky above LA, lighting the city up with harsh brilliance. Looking at the sky, Daniel's mind hazed. Lost in his mind, he didn’t notice the lights start to move towards the city 's inhabitantstill it was too late. Jumping in shock, he jerked back into his apartment, a vain attempt to avoid the sphere hurtling towards him. This attempt was futile, as the orb almost instantly corrected, rushing at his face. Daniel saw black, and he knew no more.