Humanities greatest triumph has always been the ability to overcome all challenges to it's continued existence. Those were the words that formed Clint Harvey's philosophy of life. He had survived two wars, the passing of his children and divorce but all he had to show for it was a life of watching the paint of his apartment wall peel to pass the time. His nostrils flared as he stirred a lukewarm cup of instant coffee. The smell of dry paint blended with the stench of congealed mush that the corporations had tried for years to convince him was coffee. He sipped on his drink and looked at the corner of the apartment. There was something there that only he could see. Some people call it regret, and others yet say it was a cry for help. Personally Clint liked to believe that what lay in the corner was a reminder, a scar on his life that served as a constant prompt for the most important lesson of all; Surviving comes at a cost.

Knock knock.

Sudden reverberations coming from the door caused flakes of grey paint fell from the roof into Clint's coffee. He frowned as he forced his eyes to the entrance. The coffee had been ruined from the moment he had poured it out of the packet but in his experience an interruption to his morning routine was less welcome than not. The rhythmic thumping continued but Clint stayed stoutly in place. He had gone through enough Saturdays to know that at the other end of the wall was a man holding love in one hand and eternal damnation in the other. They had come around so often that he often found himself dreading them more than the mosquitoes that flew in through the windows cracks. At least the mosquitoes were honest about being blood sucking parasites.

“I know that you're in there Mr Harvey.”

The voice was loud. The sound of youth tinged with a hint of arrogance. Clint hesitated a second before sighing and putting his cup down onto the sole table in the apartment. He walked towards the door, followed by the creaks of the floor, and swiftly turned the handle to swing the door open. On the other side was a young man that didn't look a day over twenty five whose eyes widened fractionally at the sudden move. Despite this Clint's constant scowl didn't seemed to perturb the man. It was a sight he was used to.

“I don't have the money Carl.”

Clint glared straight into his guests eyes. A tremor of anger and anxiety spread through his body. He had not been expecting this visit for at least a week. If he was asked to pay back the money he owed then he would come up short for this month. He unconsciously scratched at his arm. The pin prick marks on the skin had slowly faded over time but he knew that they would always be clustered there. A remnant of his past to add to the collection. His eyes darted from side to side and the man shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of indifference.

“I'm not here to collect on your debts old man. In fact, as of five minutes ago you're not my problem any more.” Carl shifted to the side and for the first time Clint noticed that standing behind him was a young girl with twin ponytails of shocking red hair trailing across her shoulders, “Miss Gimbley. This is the man. In my personal opinion, please don't lower yourself to ask him anything. He's just an ex-junkie that's never done anything with his life. Th the can of tuna I have rotting in my fridge has a purpose more meaningful than this guy.”

“What do you mean I'm not your problem. Who is this girl?”

A glint of emotion passed through the girls eyes as Clint spoke. Disregarding the man she brushed aside a few strands of loose hair before walking inside the apartment. She sat down on the only chair and wiggled uncomfortably. Anger swirled inside Clint, warm flushes crossing his cheeks and hands. From his view she looked as though she could only be sixteen but a quick glance at the man's deferential posture made him rethink his position. Maybe there was more to this girl than meets the eyes.

“Mr Harvey. I have just paid off your debt. Consider it a down payment.”

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Clint looked down at the girl expressionless. He was surprised. He could not deny that. But he wasn't stupid. He had more than enough education in surprises to know that they were rarely happy. There was always a catch and he intended to find it. The girl crossed her legs and he noticed that she was wearing a standard blue skirt with a white top. A school uniform. Long black stockings led into a pair of quaint black shoes juxtaposed with her cold demeanour that seemed to ooze with nobility.

“My problems are my own. Miss Grimly-”

“Gimbley.” Carl interjected rather forcefully and the girl raised her eyebrows as though to ask him why he was still there.

“Thank you Mr Hank. You can leave now.”

“- but I didn't ask you for charity and I don't want it. If you're looking for thanks then you have them. But I don't work for anybody.”

The sound of the door slamming shut followed his words as the man left and the two were left alone in the apartment. Seeing that he had nowhere to sit Clint crossed his arms impatiently. He had half expected her to walk out the door and leave when Carl had. Instead she was daintily looking up at him as though observing a disobedient puppy that had to be tamed.

“You have no choice old man.”

In an instant the prim and proper girl that had been politely asking Carl to leave seemed to disappear into thin air. Before Clint could reply she looked over to the corner of the room and her eyes lit up.

“So you have a Shadow too. And it looks like a pretty big one.”

Clint followed her gaze and rested his eyes on the thing that he looked at everyday. He wasn't sure when it had appeared in his life, but it had followed him from house to house, then house to apartment. It was always by his side. Always there when he returned to whatever place he called home. Just like a shadow. He wasn't the only one. The reports of people being followed had begun to flow in years ago. It started off as a trickle, a wife seeing a shadow in the dark here, a man calling the police to his house there. But then more and more people began to find them. They didn't move, they didn't talk and they didn't eat. They simply followed you through your life. So people had started to call them Shadows. There were too many theories on what they were to keep track of. But Clint wasn't under any grand illusions of being some sort of blessed person.

“Not the first Shadow you've seen and it wont be the last. If you're done sightseeing you can go now.”

The girl moved her head back to face Clint and laid her chin to rest on a hand. If she was angry at his interruption of her quiet contemplation then she didn't show any signs of it. Clint was gruff by nature and sturdy through experience. If some girl thought that she could come into his apartment and interrupt his life then he had something to say about it.

“I'm not leaving until I get what I want.”

Clint looked into her eyes as she spoke and felt a chill trickle down his spine. He had seen a lot of thoughts in people's eyes over the years. Some held fear, others pity and most of them had looked down on him. But what he saw in her eyes was different. He could tell that to this girl he was so insignificant he might as well be an ant. A cold indifference that seemed to seep into his core and tell him that she wasn't looking down on him because there was nothing to look down on. An existence so trivial that to spare a single thought on him would have been meaningless. He knew that if she could look at him like that then she would never have taken the time to meet him. Let alone pay off his debts, which were substantial, and barge into his living space.

Which meant that she needed something from him.

“What I want is simple.”

She cracked her knuckles and her red hair seemed to flair menacingly. For the first time he noticed that her eyes were a deep, unnatural black colour.

“I want you to help me solve a murder.”