Rain poured down over the city streets. Perhaps it would wash away the filth that always seemed to accumulate in the gutter. Sadly, I know that won't be the case. All it will do is make the filth from the sewer rise up into the streets to join the trash already here.

I set down my briefcase in the filth before I reached down into my pocket and pulled out my gloves. A few tray raindrops had already landed on the skin on my hands. It burned like a splash of hot grease against my skin. Luckily, the acid rain didn't eat through leather so quickly.

With my gloves on, I should be alright. My worn trench coat had survived a few storms in its day, and this wouldn't be the one to make me retire it. It was old and worn thin, but it still kept me safe from the elements. Acid rain and otherwise.

I pulled out the paper in my coat pocket. It was blank. I smirked as I pulled out a crumpled pack of cheap cigarettes. Twin Sticks, the cheapest brand of cigarettes you could get. They were more tar than nicotine, and the smell was so foul they were banned in every respectable establishment.

They were perfect for a blot on society like me. Plus, they had the benefit of making sure people kept their distance. After I put one in-between my teeth, I shoved the crumpled white pack back into my jacket and pulled out my lighter. It was almost as old as I was, and its metal skin was so covered in rust you couldn't even tell what design was originally on it.

But I didn't care. It still did its job, and that's all that mattered. All alone on the sidewalk, I lit my cigarette. It was a challenge to keep them in my mouth without any lips, but it was just a matter of pressure. After years of practice, I'd perfected it.

Now with the foul smoke rising from my nicotine stick, I slunk to a small alley. There was no true cover from the rain, but the fire escape would do the job well enough.

It was a pretty clever trick actually. I held the paper up above my face and shifted my cigarette, so that it was just under the paper. Slowly, brown marks started to appear on the paper.

That was it. Just a bit of heat and the message became clear again. A lot of it was useless threats that didn't interest me. What I cared about was that the message made it clear her son had disappeared against his will, and that they wanted a bunch of money delivered to a specific warehouse.

Classic drop off scenario, but of course that wouldn't be what they were getting. I pulled my coat to the side and looked down at the thirty-eight special in its holster on my waist. The hunk of metal had gotten me out of more scrapes than I'd like to admit.

Six shots. Hopefully that'd be enough. Usually the shock of my face, or lack of one, would be enough to steer things in my favor. But, you never really knew.

I checked the address on the paper again. The words had already started to fade away. Honestly, that's what worried me. This wasn't like any normal kind of invisible ink. None that I knew about that showed up from heat could appear and reappear like this.

I couldn't shake this feeling. That I was walking into something much bigger than what I was being paid for. Trouble. This whole deal smelled like it.

But, lucky for me, the foul smoke I was releasing into the atmosphere did a pretty good job of covering up that other stink.

This was it. The sign on the warehouse had long since faded away, but judging by the smell that encircled the building like a moat, it was some sort of fish processing plant.

Another cruel joke. I had no nose to speak of, but my sense of smell was as strong as anyone else's. The pure, visceral waft of decaying fish was almost too much for me. Was this part of the plan? Throw off whoever came for the drop-off with this unbearable stench?

Even worse, it'd probably linger on my clothes. Great. At least I could add that to the bill.

Either way, I was a professional. So, I pressed on. Past that invisible wall of raw smell. The door was at least twice as tall as I was, but when I pushed it, it gave way easy enough.

It was odd that the door didn't creak. I though all massive, old doors were supposed to creak unreasonably loudly. Yet it opened wide as if it had just been oiled this morning.

It was pitch black inside. The only light came from the door I had just opened. Everything just screamed trap, but I suspected that was exactly what I was walking into. So, I guess you could say it was all going according to plan.

And there it was. While I was shaking the rain off of my coat, a spotlight turned on. The light shone right in my eye sockets, and even without any eyeballs to burn, the light was almost overwhelming, and I raised a hand to cover my face in shadow.

Four more spotlights turned on, all surrounding me. I felt like the center of a target on a dart board.

"What exactly do you think you're doing here?"

The voice was young. At best he was legally an adult, but definitely not ready for the rigors of reality. He sounded green as grass, and cockier than a rooster in a hen house. Although the telltale noise of a rifle cocking certainly gave his implied threat more weight.

I'm here to drop a package off. I said calmly.

I strained my ears to try and hear what exactly was going on past all these lights. They were smart enough to stay in the shadows while they covered me in lights. But they weren't that smart. They had sprung the trap while I was still close enough to dash out the door.

There wasn't much ambient noise either, and that made it easy to tell that whoever was here, they hadn't moved away from those lights. I'm not a miracle worker though, so even though I could hear some heavy breathing I couldn't do anything crazy like pinpoint exactly how many guys were here based just on that.

"What package?"

His voice had tensed up more. He was getting more nervous about this whole thing. Having me show up instead of some terrified woman probably threw quite the wrench in their plans. Though, if she had shown up, I don't think they truly understood just what sort of fire drove that dame.

Still, this was close enough to my plan anyway. So, I set the briefcase down on the ground and kicked it out of the light towards the kid's voice.

The one full of cash that you're demanding for the return of a kid.

"Which kid?"

Was that surprise in his voice? It sounded genuine and made me re-evaluate what exactly I had walked into.

The Wilson boy. His mother thought a neutral party would work better to deliver the dough. So, she sent me.

"And who exactly are you?"

He had grown some balls in the last few seconds. The threatening tone was back, and there was a small clanging of metal. It didn't sound accidental either. Did he put the rifle on some sort of railing? Was it trained on me right now? I wonder, would he aim for my heart, or my head?

"I'm the guy getting paid to drop this off, and hopefully come back with her kid." I had to play it casual until someone got close enough. So, I did what anyone who wasn't worried about the gun pointed at them would do. I pulled out my cheap cigs and popped one in my mouth.

I patted my coats pockets, and then reached into the one on my right. I made a show of sticking my finger through the hole in the bottom of it.

Of course, I sighed in fake irritation. Hey, any of you got a light?

There was some shuffling of feet against metal. What I wouldn't give for those hearing superpowers now.

"You should leave, now."

A different voice. It was another young kid, and he sounded even more scared. But it was the dangerous kind. The so scared they pull the trigger against orders and set off a war kind of scared.

Well, that was that. I shrugged. Hey, it's not my kid. I don't plan to get shot for some snotnosed brat that stuck his fingers in the wrong pie.

But I didn't move from my spot. Still though, it's pouring out there. If you're just going to throw me out, at least let me have this. I pointed to my unlit cigarette. My dang lighter fell out of my pocket. Come on guys, just give me something here.

More shuffling. Finally, I could hear the steps getting closer. A hand reached into the light surrounding me. It was smooth, not a single blemish or mark. The nails were trimmed to perfection too. No white spots either. Kid had a good diet.

What he was holding was even more surprising. It was a golden lighter. I couldn't see the complete design on it, but there was clearly some kind of rose and what looked like a dragon. Whoever these kids were, they had money, lots of it. They also didn't work for a bit of it.

I leaned forward, with my hat still obscuring my face, and lit my cigarette on the small flame.

"There, now why don't you..." The kid stopped as he started to cough and retch. He must've gotten a whiff of my cig right up his nose.

Poor guy. Too bad I already accepted the job. I bet they could've paid more.

While he wheezed, I quickly drew my small pistol, and fired it at the briefcase. A cloud of smoke exploded from the case, and sent the rest of them into their own coughing fits.

Now it was time to get to work.