The scent of rain hung heavy over the nighttime town. A deserted back alley. A large man lay collapsed on the wet asphalt. His black hair was soaked with rain, his gray shirt stained here and there with mud and blood. A black tattoo peeked from his chest. A well-trained body. Normally, instinct would tell you this was someone better left alone. And yet, you stopped in their tracks.

Though he was so weak it was hard to tell if he was even conscious, the man's eyes alone were sharp. But deep within them, for just a moment, there was a glimpse of something terribly exhausted, like a child. The man stared for a while at the hand you offered. As if suspicious. As if refusing. And yet, as if clinging to it somehow. Eventually, the man took your hand with his wet fingertips.