A cool Chicago evening, not a star to be seen overhead, for all that the moon shone blue and brilliant. A portly balding man wearing an ill-fitting trench coat shivered and rubbed his hands as he tapped his steering wheel and took a sip of coffee, squinting at the hospital entrance.

He looked down at his phone, frowned and shrugged. "This guy an idiot? Hell with it. Here, asshole, flashed my lights. Now quit acting the lost little sheep and get back here. It's cold as fuck."

The haggard-looking man tilted his seat back an inch, closing his eyes, smiling when the door abruptly opened and shut, the icy air encouraging tired eyes to open. "See? This was the perfect spot. Lights are out, chain fence is busted, can park here half the night in perfect..."

His voice abruptly cut off and he wheezed in sudden panic, flushed cheeks taking on a sudden ghastly pallor as he felt cold steel pressing against his temple, crying out only softly as panicked hands spilled scalding coffee all over his fingers.

"Who the fuck..."

"Hands on the wheel."

Frightened eyes hardened. "Listen, you little shit, you don't know who you're messing with! Unless you want Papa Dominic crucifying your ass, you'll get the fuck out of my car."

Val's smile was colder than the howling Illinois wind. "Papa Dominic. That's who you work for?"

The pudgy driver began to tremble. "Hey, listen. No need for us to get off on the wrong foot. I'm just a driver. You need a ride? I'm your man. Name's Ben. Tell you what, you look like a guy who has places he wants to go. Just give me an address and I'm there, no questions." Anxious eyes peered up at Val. "Fuck it. You got balls. I like that. You looking for a partner? I charge three hundred for a smash and grab, a grand for a hit, an even share for a major heist, and you won't find a better driver. Never did time for a getaway crime, you dig?" His nervous smile widened. "Fuck it, we can talk business later. First drive is free, man. Where do you want to go?"

Val snapped his seatbelt even as he undid Ben's, faster than the other man could blink, his weapon still locked on Ben's sweating form, now positioned such that even an expert couldn't make the gun before Val got a clear shot. "Papa Dominic," he said. "I want to talk to your employer about a job."

Ben swallowed nervously. "Yeah... a job. Sure, man. Only thing is, Sandy's the one who handles fresh recruits. Seven AM. Like it's the fucking military. Says he wants boys with some discipline. No meth-heads or drunks, but no one cares about the occasional coke bump to keep you sharp."

Val coldly eyed the smaller man, letting the nervous patter of a man instinctively seeking rapport wash over him. He shook his head. "I'm not interested in Sandy. I'm interested in Papa Dominic. I suggest you get driving."

Ben's eyes widened. "Wait. Fuck..." Slowly his hand slid to his pocket even as he kept his eyes on Val. Val's grin was all teeth. "If you try to pull on me, your death won't be quick but it will be painful, shithead."

Ben's eyes bulged, jerking his hands high, not knowing how close he came to death with his abrupt move, phone falling between the pedals. He flashed a nervous grimace. "It's just a phone, man. I just... dropped my phone. Here, let me get it. It's yours, if you want."

A sudden flash of insight, subtle shifts in posture and tension and the look in a desperate man's eyes making the play all too clear, and when Ben abruptly yanked at a holdout gun underneath his dash he was already crying out, face rammed into the wheel an instant before his revolver was torn out of his hand, snapping two fingers in the process, his shocked scream slowing Val not at all.

Val slammed Ben's face a second time before yanking his head back. "The next time you fuck with me, you die." This time Val didn't hold back the rage.

He let it fill him.

Black and sweet and terrible, and when Ben screamed as yet more fingers broke in Val's steely grip, his smile was like death itself.

He had never felt this strong before.

So hungry for the kill.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Look, I fucked up, I was just scared, alright? You're scaring the shit out of me!"

"Good," Val whispered. "You should be." He lashed out and grabbed Ben's left hand before he could gasp a protest, abruptly twisting back and snapping index and middle finger, and Ben began howling in earnest, his cries abruptly cut off as Val smashed in his nose. As the driver hacked up gobs of his own blood, Val grabbed the disoriented man's thumbs with both hands, viciously twisting and snapping first one, then the other, leaving Ben a screaming, pleading wreck.

"Please, oh god, please! Why are you doing this, man, why!"

Val gazed almost pityingly at the curled-up heap of pain and misery seeming to try to shrink into his seat, his gaze now one of absolute terror.

"You really don't know?"

"Know? Oh god, I don't know shit, man, why are you doing this? Why?"

Val snapped on his seat belt once more, revolver pocketed after a quick eye and spin assuring it wasn't a rusted piece of shit, training his automatic once more on a trembling Ben who had clearly just shat himself.

"Hospital alley, right over there. Pull up slow. Good. Now stop." He gave the alley a quick eyeball. Empty save for painted over windows and a pair of dumpsters. Good. "Kill the lights."

Ben began to blubber, tears trickling down his panicked face. With most of his fingers broken, he had been forced to steer with his palms and was effectively helpless. He couldn't even open his own door. "Please, man, please don't do this!"

Val smirked. "Shut up, fool, and pop the trunk. I'm not going to kill you. Yet. Unless you give me shit."

Ben gulped and nodded, desperately using his unbroken pinkys to do the job. "Okay, okay, sure. Trunk popped and goddamn if that didn't hurt. There you are, sir, car is yours. Just please don't kill me."

Val grabbed the keys. Even with Ben's fingers broken, Val didn't trust him. He took a breath of crisp nighttime air, surprisingly fresh, quickly glancing up, glad he had remembered to rebolt his hospital window when covering his tracks, looking down... there it was. A few minutes work to drag the body over to the trunk, a quick eyeball assuring plenty of room and a quick heave... and done.

Val flashed a cold smile, happy to see there was plenty of room for what came later as well.

"Drive," was all he said when he got back in, turning on the ignition himself. Ben, a trembling, sobbing wreck but complying, was finally on the way, driving slowly, carefully, all that his savaged hands and shattered moral would allow. Just as Val had intended.

Soon enough, they parked half a block away from what Val was assured was the most popular nightclub in all Southwest Chicago, the Poison Apple. An abandoned parking lot next to several dumpsters and a broken light, convenient shadows empty of any other living soul

Ben's steady nervous patter had only increased as they neared the end of their drive, telling Val far more than he cared to know about Chicago nightlife or the best ways to ship meth and molly to all the local hot spots, and more than he could have hoped about Ben's boss.

What Val cared about was straight ahead, and finally he was in the right frame of mind to do what needed to be done. Hard as ice and twice as cold. The pause between heartbeats, the void between shadows.

But first, there was one more thing to take care of here. Darkness smiled and Ben blinked, glancing about in confusion, then not at all.

The cold intensified as evening fled midnight's hoary touch, but the darkness that watched and waited was bothered not at all. Careful eyes registered the ebb and flow of clubbers, hard drinkers, and working girls surging past one, dying by three. He found himself registering every shift in the shadows, tiny flashes of cell phone text catching his eye. He heard the soft cries of passion buried in the darkness, sighs of ecstasy and relief caressing his ears as pleasures decadent and corrupting consumed so many desperate for darker things.

But it went deeper than that. It was as if he could sense partygoers slipping inside the back entrance, junkies reveling in their fix, the soft tread of the pair of enforcers doing their rounds. He could feel them flowing through shadow as if they were all in the palm of his hand.

He hissed, almost imagining a tiny voice in the back of his brain.

Congratulations, you are finally waking up to what has been emerging all around you! Arcane forces and fields are now in full effect!

Before ruthlessly pushing it away once more. Shadow smiled. He had gone from comatose boy to full-blooded killer in the space of an hour, another notch under his belt, exchanging crippling injuries for a bounty on his head. He'd forgive a little bit of madness. God knew that listening to that almost-voice had saved him more than once, once upon a time.

But now it was time to focus, and Val allowed his psyche to slip fully into shadow once more.

"Good night, huh, boss?" Said the testosterone enhanced giant escorting a middle-aged salt and pepper haired man to the sedan waiting for them by the back entrance to the club, armor-plated with bulletproof glass, from what Ben had said.

The other tough, not as massive but looking sharper than most, gave a quiet chuckle even as their boss said nothing at all, peering intently into the shadows. "Every night's a good night for Papa, Knuckles. Now get the fuck in and be a proper damn chauffeur for once."

The giant frowned but didn't protest, getting into the car and popping open the locks even as the smarter assistant opened the door personally for his boss before freezing with a gasp.

Papa Dominic's eyes widened in a moment's confusion before he reached for his pistol, hand abruptly freezing when Val's eyes caught his own. "You really don't want to do that," Val said, even as a few quick hard movements got bodyguard two spreadeagled on the ground, hands behind his back, Val disarming him with one hand, always moving, grabbing Dominic's pistol a second later.

Dominic played it cool, but Val could tell by his frustrated grimace what he was thinking.

"Sorry, Dominic, your soldiers won't be drawing any beads on me, infrared goggles or no. Now how about we get in your car? Looks warm."

"Boss? Is everything okay?" Knuckle's concerned voice floated through the air as he hustled around back, only to stumble to a halt, wide-eyed, Val's pistol stopping him cold. Val pivoted to keep both guards and Dominic in an even sight cone, between himself and the security he could sense even now approaching.

"Everything's fine, idiot, now get back in and get ready to drive!" Dominic turned to Val. "That's what you want, right?"

Val smirked. "Sure. After you turn around and disarm, Knuckles."

Knuckles gazed at his master like a confused puppy. Dominic nodded and his henchman stripped pistol and brass knuckles before hurrying back to the front.

"After you," Val insisted. "But please, hands where I can see them." Even as he said it, he quickly pivoted around, dragging the kingpin to the other side door, away from where a pair of marksmen might or might not be drawing a bead on them or attempting to. It could be paranoia, Val knew, but just because he was paranoid didn't mean they weren't out to get him.

Hard eyes glared into his own when they were finally seated, Dominic's hands where Val could see them. "Okay, hotshot, you got about five minutes to tell me what this is all about and maybe I'll forgive this grand fuckup after I beat the crap out of my boys for being so goddamned stupid as to let a kid get the drop on me!"

He shook his head, rubbing his brow. "Goddamned, kid, how old are you? Sixteen? You look like my daughter's last boyfriend, only he was an idiot who thought his biceps made him anything but a punk, and you might be very many things very shortly if you don't explain yourself, but you're clearly no idiot." He flashed a dark smile. "So why don't you tell Papa Dominic what the fuck's going on and we put an end to this farce of an evening?"

Val's hard gaze gripped Dominic's own. It said something, perhaps, that the crime boss paled and swallowed, for all that he clenched his fists.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You're the target."

Val flashed a killer's smile, miming shooting with his off hand. "Bingo, Domi. Got it in one."

Dominic sighed. "It was supposed to be simple. Some poor sap got involved in government shit he had no business knowing, lost in a coma. It wasn't supposed to be anything but a mercy killing. No one even thought you'd wake up. Just money in the bank, kid." His brows furrowed. "You don't look like someone who's served, and you're clearly not in a coma. So what the fuck is going on? And where's Kent anyway?"

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He dared to meet Val's gaze once more. "Shit. He was one of my best."

"He was a junky who knew how to inject discretely and turn off medical equipment. He was strong, but his martial techniques were sloppy as shit. If he had been my student, he never would have passed." Val smirked. "Come to think of it, he didn't."

Dominic frowned. "You kill Ben too?"

Val shook his head. "No need. Broke some fingers and both thumbs when he tried to draw on me. Put him in a sleeper, and he was out like a light. He's shivering in the spare blanket he was smart enough to keep in his trunk, keeping Kent company. Miserable as shit, but he'll live."

Dominic glanced up to Knuckles, their driver, content enough to play some music and make it a scenic drive by the lake when his boss assured him it was just business. The boss nodded to himself. "You didn't kill Ben, Knuckles, or Jay. Okay, maybe we can work something out where we can all walk away from this."

Val nodded. "That's the idea. You say it wasn't personal? Fine. It wasn't personal. I'm not who you thought, I'm very much awake, and your life is now in my hands. You answer my questions, you give me your oath never to intentionally cross me or mine, directly or indirectly, and we both walk away. What's done is done, and no hard feelings."

Dominic scowled, gazed consideringly at Val before giving a slow nod. "Deal. I answer your questions, you get the fuck out of my car, and you and yours are no longer me or my organization's concern."

Dominic offered his hand. Val smiled, feeling a curious frisson slipping past the shadowy depths that left his mind so icy and clear. It was almost an exhilaration, as if fate and destiny itself were being forged by mutual accord.

Val's eyes widened as much as Dominic's did at the curious surge he felt suddenly flooding into the man before him, Dominic's eyes widening as he gasped, a look of outraged betrayal replaced by a confused stare, yanking his hand free a heartbeat later.

"What the fuck did you just do, kid?"

Val felt a certain degree of consternation. "Honestly, Dominic, I have no idea." He shrugged. "Maybe it just means our oath had meaning." Val grinned. "If nothing else, I feel like I can trust your word, and that leaves me feeling a damned sight better than I have all night."

Dominic glowered, before shaking his head. "Alright, kid. Ask me your damned questions so I can get you the fuck out of my car and go home already."

Val nodded. "Who hired you?"

Dominic looked ready to speak, paused, gazing at Val carefully. "What happens if I misspeak?" He said it casually, but there was something in his eyes, and a sudden horrid flash struck Val's memory as he envisioned a man shrieking as he shook and spasmed, blood pouring from every orifice of his body as the flesh was torn right from his bones...

"I really don't think that would be a good idea, Dominic," Val said, the soft regret in his tone doing more to alarm Dominic than anything else that had happened that night, it seemed.

"Fuck," Dominic whispered. "You're one of them. That's why they want to kill you."

Val blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The older man chuckled softly. "You picked a great time to wake up, kid. Whole world's going crazy, so why not?"

Val frowned. "What does that even mean?"

Dominic sighed, eyeing Val consideringly, letting the silence build. Val's irritation faded, he smiled right back and relaxed into his seat as knuckles drove them smooth as silk along Lakeshore Drive. He had played this game many times before, pinning the older man's gaze with his own.

Dominic grinned. "You looking for a job, kid?"

Val peered out the window thoughtfully for some moments, gazing at the bright moon overhead, mirrored perfectly in the lake waters. "Right now, I'm just looking for answers."

Dominic nodded as the silence stretched. "Fair enough. Okay. About a year back, earthquakes. Like nothing you've experienced, if you never felt them before. Coastline cities took it the worst, thousands dead, major flooding, contaminated water, national reserves called to serve, and by some miracle, it was less of a fuck up than Katrina. Rest of the world?" He shrugged. "It got so depressing seeing scenes of the bodies that even the hardened assholes I know stopped watching the news. Five million dead due to collapsing buildings, drowning, contamination and disease, last I heard."

Val winced. "That's pretty fucked up."

"It is. But life deals strange hands, sometimes. Because the season after? Bumper crops, the world over. It's like something in all the sea spray, maybe, or, fuck if I know, fresh minerals spewing in the air from Mount Saint Helen erupting. Took a few score more lives, that, and all of this odd weather phenomenon had the scientists baffled, and people afraid it's the end times." He smirked. "Most of those fools shut up when things calmed down, and damn if it isn't cheaper to stock my club than ever. Crops growing faster, cattle feed is cheaper, and my supplier doesn't use that cheap shit either. Our steaks and ribs are the best you'll taste in Chicago, I promise you that."

Val nodded. "Marinate your steaks in pureed pineapple for an hour, then sear it in butter. Killer tasting steaks as tender as Filet mignon."

Dominic's bushy eyebrows rose at that. "No kidding, pineapple and butter? Is that a Hawaiian thing?"

Val shook his head. "You wash the puree off thoroughly once it's done marinating. Enzymes break down all the fibers and leave the meet just a little bit sweeter, but you'd swear it was the meat, not the pineapple. Prep it normally, then you finish it, searing in butter. Let it rest for fifteen minutes, no five-minute bullshit, then serve. Best damn steaks you'll ever have."

The older man grinned. "I'll have to give it a try sometime. Get some use out of that ninja thing I never use."

"You do that. In the meantime, I'd love to know what shifts in the lithosphere have to do with someone putting a hit on me?"

A hard stare.

"Earthquakes and tidal waves."

"Yeah, I know, kid. I'm not stupid." He turned to gaze out the window. "You see the moon out there, big and bright and beautiful as anything?"

Val nodded.

"Notice anything different?"

Val almost shook his head, then swallowed, a cold tingle of apprehension racing down his spine.

Dominic flashed a cold grin. "That's right. Moon is brilliant as ever, not a trace of cloud anywhere near it, but what don't you see?"

Val frowned, gazing closely, feeling a surge of relief when he caught several tiny pinpoints of light, but not one of them twinkled.

"Stars," he softly said.

Dominic nodded. "Got it in one. Satellites? Yeah, you can see those, few as they are, and a few fools pretend they're stars and everything's okay. Planes can fly same as ever, and the moon's bright and glorious as anything."

"But the stars..."

"Scientists can't find anything, son. Everything past the, what's it called, the Kuiper belt, where Pluto, which I still think is a planet, fuck those eggheads, is hiding. But past that final ring of asteroids, it's all deep black space."

Val frowned, feeling suddenly as if his entire planet was on the precipice of disaster. "That can't be good."

"No, it can't, son, and it gets worse. Scientist gobbledygook about shifts in vacuum energy density and other weird, freaky shit that doesn't make sense. Other crazy scientists coming up with wild predictions that there has been some kind of change in the forces and fields that make up reality. That we're now in some kind of, well, bubble, and light from the outside universe now can't reach us."

Val blinked. "Where did you hear that? Sounds like a science fiction movie."

Dominic smirked. "Pretty much, kid, but don't let it get your britches in knots. Fact is, on a practical level, nothing's changed. Sun's the same as ever, thank the Virgin Mary, and all our farmers are having bumper crops the fucking world over." He shrugged. "As long as you weren't one of the five million sorry souls to have lost his or her life in natural disasters this year, you're sitting pretty, even if these are the end times."

Val swallowed, dipping his head, demanding his pounding heart calm, doing his best to focus on the cool night once more, a comforting cloak of darkness, all around them. He smiled as icy calm took hold once more, his momentary panic now a far off, distant thing.

The kingpin blinked and frowned. "Damn, kid, that's a useful trick you have."

"What's that?"

The older man shrugged. "You went from a frightened kid way over his head to hard as ice. You almost seemed to melt into the shadows. I guess wearing black suits you." His eyes widened, then he frowned. "Shit, that's..."

Val smirked. "Better than a hospital gown, I'll tell you that."

"Ruthless, but smart. I like that, kid." He sighed. "Okay, enough putting off with the bullshit. You got a burning need to know who the fuck is gunning for you, and I need to know you won't tell a soul what I'm going to say." An intent stare hard as iron seemed almost to plead. "Not a soul, kid. This one's bad news. You take my advice? You're gone from the hospital, and as far as the world knows, Kent really did knock you off and manage to squirrel away the body while he was at it. If you're smart, you'll let the world think that, and stay out of the sights of some serious hard cases."

Val nodded. "Point taken, Dominic, but if these guys are so badass, why did they outsource?"

The kingpin smirked. "Plausible deniability. Why the fuck else? Think it through, kid, why do you think organizations like mine can still flourish in this day and age? As long as we're discrete, don't rock the boat, and don't bother the tourists, we're useful. Riffraff and punk gangbangers get out of hand? We get a quiet word from the chief, we crack some skulls, and a few more worthless pieces of trash end up in Lake Eerie, feeding the fish. Why do you think our city's murder and assault rates are finally going down? Because organization is a hell of a lot better than chaos, even in organized crime, as long as we play by the rules. Someone high up the chain needs product or needs untraceable cutouts that will never get back to them? They call outfits like mine."

Dominic straightened his cuffs. "Make no mistake, kid, we take out the trash, and our targets are never clean." His brows furrowed. "At least, that's normally the case. I'm now thinking that in your case there's been some sort of fucking mistake. But the way you took out Kent and got to me, someone's trained you, and good. Are you one of Alicio's boys?"

Val smiled. "I just worked for a rich uncle. He gave me an education, and I got to see the world."

Dominic blinked. "Shit, you really going to tell me you served?"

Val shrugged. "Right now I'm just a guy in a killer's suit, trying to find out what the fuck is going on."

Dominic grimaced and shook his head. "Fuck. I should have known."

Val said nothing, waiting for the man to collect himself.

"What you have to understand is that he came to us through the appropriate channels. We got a heads up to expect an unusual guest, and that his request was to be treated with the same weight as all of our shared uncle's requests are." The man flashed a jaded smile. "When that asshole came by, I could sense there was something just a bit off about him. But he knew just what names to drop, and his deposit was clean. Of course he made it clear that our target had compromised US interests working with terrorists, possessed classified information that jeopardized national safety if it got out, and it would be better for everyone if you just slipped quietly away while you were still in a coma."

Val's eyes turned hard. He squeezed his empty fist as his heart hammered with fury, heat twisting in his gut. Someone wasn't just gunning for him, they were pulling in government sanctioned resources to do it, happy to destroy his good name while they were at it.

Dominic's eyes widened. Val swore he could smell his fear.

Val took a deep breath, imagining his fury buried in ice, in shadowy blackness. As if he did naught but slide through the icy waters of a raging river, the power of inescapable currents flowing through him, his future as inevitable as death's promise, and he but the deliverer. He forced himself to smile.

"Shit," Dominic hissed, his complexion taking an unhealthy pallor. "Like I said, kid, I didn't like the guy, but I didn't know the asshole was playing us. They never dared cross us like that before."

"Give me a name." A cold whisper, as if the night itself spoke in Dominic's trembling ear.

"He didn't give me one, kid, they never do. He wasn't a regular, I'll tell you that. The two I normally work with come off as predictably self-righteous, and to their own minds, honorable." He raised his hand, as if to forestall retribution. "But don't sweat it, these players aren't quite as sly as they think. Of course I have them all on video, our state's recently passed personal privacy laws aside. Now I'm not going to break trust with the two who have always been up and up with me, but this asshole?" He swallowed, gazing intently at where he thought Val must be. "I'll tell you what, kid, you give me an e-mail address, and I'll send you his photo along with whatever hits I can get on his pic."

He looked surprised when Val shook his head. "Don't even try to do a trace on his pic. If he's a serious player, any attempt to ping him in the records will set off alarms left and right. That won't do me any good, and unless you know what you're doing with Tails and TOR in conjunction with a non-US regulated VPN, you're going to get burned."

The older man paled. "Shit. Last thing I want is for another one of you fuckers to be gunning for me personally."

Val laughed at that. "And you'll never see us coming, though most of us don't do domestic wetwork. It violates our oath, the founding father's intentions, and makes it a bitch to sleep at night."

A dry chuckle. "Probably the real reason you guys outsource, and people like Kent, well, he's not exactly a human being that was too worried about consequence or regret." Dominic sighed. "He knew not to cross me, so that earned him a certain measure of tolerance, but my girls couldn't stand him and I think he might have been doing shit I really don't want to know about behind my back. There's a code of sorts, for men in my position. If our employees are loyal, do what they're told, and don't embarrass you or the company, you return that loyalty. But all that said, no one's going to lose too many tears now that Kent's gone." His gaze hardened. "You might look badass now, but if he had any decency, seeing a kid sleeping in a hospital bed looking the farthest thing from a terrorist should have had alarm bells blaring in his head. He should have snapped a pic and come back to me. He knows that, and the fuck if I want my organization taking a fall for this fucking con artist who for all I know was playing us."

Dominic gave a satisfied nod. "I think this does work best, kid. You've disappeared, and only the cutout thinks we had anything to do about it. As far as anyone else knows, you just woke up and left. Now how do I send you a pic?"

Val smiled. "You know the 52nd street diner?"

The other man nodded. "Killer Reubens."

"Their roast beef is also excellent. Sometime next week, between twelve and one, someone will stop by one of the booths inside and ask to read the NYT special edition. Your man will say this is just the sports, the rest of the paper is in my briefcase. Your contact, which might or might not be me, will say, 'sounds like a winner.' Then your man can hand over the rest of the paper and palm the stick with the picks while we do the handoff. If things don't feel right, your man can just hand whoever's there the paper and keep the stick."

Dominic nodded. "Good choice. Older white collars and retirees who still know what it means to read the paper are who they cater to. I'll have one of my older boys who can blend in take care of it. If nothing else, he'll like the excuse to munch on my dime for a week." He handed Val a card blank of everything save a number. "It's a burner phone. Clean. If something goes south... you call me before you head over, maybe we can straighten it out without any unnecessary bullshit."

Val nodded. "No prob."

"Excellent." He then turned to the small ice box the limousine was equipped with, slowly pulling out a pair of longnecks, popping the lids and passing one to Val. They clicked bottles and drank. "Now that that's taken care of, where should I drop you off, kid?"

"Here is fine, Dominic. A pleasure doing business with you."

The older man raised his brows. "Lakeshore Drive?"

Val smiled. "For some reason, I feel like a run."

The older man chuckled. "Alright, kid. You have my number. Call me if you freeze your ass off and need a decent place to stay. That goes double if you're looking for work."

Val nodded. "I will." And the moment Vincent signaled for Knuckles to slow down, Val opened the door and was off in a flash, sprinting for all he worth before slipping through the nearby tree line, all but disappearing in the inky shadows as the limousine turned around and drove off.

Time passed, and Val, losing himself in the shadows as he made his way to the one place in the world he thought of as home, found peace in the simple act of running.

At least for a time.