The weather was unusually hot. Dry heat soaked into the streets and covered the buildings, the sun beamed down upon this god forsaken world, happy in a sickeningly disgusting way. Air was heavy, the room seemed to clamp around me, in truth all I wanted to do was die, here and now, it wasn't like there was anything better to do. I noticed in slight discouragement, that my cigarette had burned out. Instead maybe I should take a walk, down there, in hell, the world pretty much fit the description these days. As I sat, in the middle of a one side debate, I head a gun shot, a scream of maybe pain, and then silence, usual life in the lower east side. Abandoning the prospect of taking a walk, I lit another cigarette and diverted my eyes from the fucked up scene of life down below. The heat seemed to huddle into my cramped up office, forcing the air around me to become a muggy sort of humid, right then and there I decided that God now had one purpose in life, to make mine as screwed up as possible. I wouldn't be surprised if he was laughing right about now.

"Life's a bitch." There wasn't any meaning behind the words, my eyelids were heavy, I let them close.

"And then you die." The voice was male, held an edge. Business. my mind rolled, I smirked, inhaled a breath of smoke and opened one eye, taking the man in. He was tall, maybe around 6'2, strong and had the face of a Greek god, fit perfectly into my cliché life. Green eyes, blonde hair, wore a maroon sweatshirt that looked horrible against his eyes and a tattered pair of jeans, if he wasn't my would-be-client I might've considered asking him to dinner.

"How can I help you?" I forced my other eye to open and surrendered to standing up to greet him. He shook my hands, then I sat back down, he fell in the plastic chair I tortured my clients with. I waited for him to speak, wondering how the hell he survived in that god awful sweatshirt.


"Adina, correct?" He cut me off, but he didn't look the least bit smug about it. I nodded.

"Mines Kale." His eyes flickered for a brief moment, seemingly between fear, confusion and togetherness. He sat on the later.

I diverted my attention to the computer screen, bringing up a blank document, naming it 'Kale',

"OK, shoot," I played with the cigarette between my teeth, bringing up my eyes to watch him.

His hand crept to his sleeve, slowly lifting it up past his biceps. My eyes followed. He reveled a tattoo of a dragon done in scarlet ink that played against his skin. It reminded me of my brother, Alec, a gang lord on the other edge of town, his insignia was of a snake curling around a dagger that he had tattooed across his chest. The creature seemed to be roaring in pain, artist most of been good, or at least better then the one my brother had gotten.

"So?" It was a fucking tattoo, what the hell did he want me to do it about? His eyes blinked up to mine, pleading almost, I fell silent, this wasn't someone who showed pain for the hell of it. I really never had been good at first impressions. The sleeve lifted higher, allowing the tail to be fully seen, it came up from his body, swinging back and forth, still part of the tattooed dragon, but it seemed to divorce it's self from it's 2-D self. But hell it was alive. I sat there, not sure if I looked like some awe struck child or stoned.

"What the fuck is that?" So much for getting a good first impression, or trying for that matter.

"I don't know, that's why I came here." He pulled down the sleeve, shivering, the heat not seemingly bothering him.

"Well let's get started then," I kept my voice simple and bright, he could be freaked, but I couldn't. He was paying me to figure this out after all. "Just tell me everything you know about this and we'll work from there."

"I was at Ace's, you know the bar on 23rd street" His voice was together, as well the rest of him, I suddenly wondered why the hell he needed my, he seemed as if he could do this by himself.

"Yes." I rapped my fingers on the dated out keyboard, accidentally hitting a 'V' that appeared on the screen. I deleted it.

"Well it was late, some guy sat next to me and we started talking, he kept buying me drinks, hard stuff, and I got real wasted and passed out. When I came too, I was on some bench in a park with the tattoo. It didn't start doing. that until five or six days later." He breathed in a breath of stale dry air and shifted in the chair, sweat clung to the hard plastic. I typed what he told me. "And some people have been following me." I looked up, motioning him to go on. "These three guys, not one of them from the bar though, they have guns and have been trying to catch me. I guess, I've been staying in public places to avoid them." His voice was the only thing shaking.

"Did they follow you here?" I put one hand on my gun that lay at my hip. I hate it when I'm put in charge of not only the case, but my clients lives as well, I considered dropping the case right then and there, but I need the money to desperately.

"No." I relaxed.

"OK, I'm taking it your life is your most precious possession, right?" I was being sarcastic and corny, I don't think he got that, but he nodded anyway. "Have any problems with gangs?"

"I had a run in with some thugs in 'Tiger' a while back, but other then that, not really." His eyes were glazed as he tried to grasp onto the picture I was vaguely laying out for him, I decided to finish.

"You'll be staying with my brother then, while I try to figure this out, he's the head of 'Snake'." He nodded, seemingly somewhat content with the idea.

"Your brother won't mind?"

"Long as you don't fuck with anything." I looked over what I had wrote on the screen, correcting a spelling error for the sheer hell of it.

"I just need some of your personal information." I inhaled a tad more smoke and spit the cigarette out.