It was the shouting that woke him up. The familiar voices of the tenants above him screaming at each other in their morning routine that was more reliable then an alarm clock. Slowly the teen stretched out boneless as a cat and rolled off to the side of the ratty mattress onto the floor about four inches below. He pushed himself up onto his feet and yawned listening to the woman scream something at her husband and jumping slightly at the sound of breaking glass.
"Probably throwing dishes at him again. Crazy bitch." he muttered and scratched his scalp under it's short crop of white blonde hair. He was tall and skinny and looked as though a four course meal would do him good. He yawned again and stumbled into the bathroom as the man began shouting back at the woman. He listened for a moment recognising the sounds of slamming doors and flesh on flesh. He looked at his expression in the mirror. "Not that he doesn't deserve it of course," he told his reflection referring to his earlier comment about the dishes. "He is a bastard but," shrug and snort, "If he wants to beat on his dame that's his get off." He muttered and splashed his face with water then climbed into the cracked tub and turned the water on for the shower. Ten minuets later he was sitting at the cheap cardboard table flipping through a back issue of playboy while on the counter a toaster glowed and two cardboard flavoured waffles began to burn. The phone rang on the wall and he glanced over at it debating whether it was really worth going to answer it. Finally he rose with a sigh and caught it on the third ring.
"Yo, what's up?" he said and froze at the voice on the other end of the line.
"My sister is collecting pictures again. I want you to see if you got the ones I asked for." meaning, the blonde teen translated in his head, "what info do you have for me loser". He swallowed and glanced over at the cheap cardboard table and sat down lightly as though the chair was booby trapped.
"I, ah, looked for the pictures dude but your sister would be better off looking somewhere else." translation, "There isn't anything for me to sell but please don't kill me". he said into the phone the person on the other end hissed softly and disconnected. The teen hung up his own phone and quickly retrieved his waffles. He didn't have time to dawdle now he had better get out on the streets and back to work.
He sighed and strolled down the streets by the dock. It was a sad day here in the city when a snitch like him couldn't find out anything but the small time gossip. It hadn't been like this in the old days he thought slumping against the brick wall his thoughts far away. Nobody paid any attention to him, he was here everyday regular as clockwork. No one knew why and no one cared as long as he didn't get in their own way. In the old days their been respect for a good snitch, people tossing him little bits of this and that knowing that the news would reach the right ears. Then there had been a elegance and a honour in the gangs but these days, he snorted, these days they just pulled out a semi-automatic and let lead do the talking. Jeez, ambushing a whole restaurant just to kill one man, it was stupid. Any idiot who could point a gun and pull a trigger could do it. Back in the day they had done assassinations like that with a knife. In the arena of the night shadows traded blows, proving who was better through skill and brains alone. That had been when being in part of the gangs was a honour, you were part of an elite. And there had been rules, loose admittedly, but still rules. And the Wolf had enforced them through words and blood. He'd trounced everyone of the various gang leaders and they knew exactly who might be coming after them if they screwed up. He'd been the law in the Westside. It wasn't words but deeds that had earned him respect that still continued to hang in the air even now four almost five years since he'd left. Things were really screwed up now if the rumours that he'd picked up the other day were true. If the Wolves leader had really lost his spot and the warehouse fire was anything to go by then it was all lost. The Wolf had left instructions that if it was important enough to leave a sign on his brick of warehouse 14 and the sources would know what to do with it. That was why he was here. Everyday for the past five years he'd come and sit here against the warehouse wall causally hoping for any sign that someone had called for the wolf. He knew the drill and he knew that he was only the first link of a long chain that could stretch to the other end of the world for all he knew.
The mark was simple enough but would hold a million meanings in the specific way it was drawn. If it was a wolfs paw print, palm mark four toes and claws he was to take a picture of it and pass it on. His payment for that was heavy, $200 dollars but if it was the other mark then he'd hit pay dirt. If it was the eye with the moon and blade he got $600 for taking the picture and passing it on. The one mark he hoped he never saw though was the tear. That meant his job was done, the Wolf was dead. Then he made one phone call and got $400 then auctioned the news off to the highest bidder. He didn't want that to happen. He still wanted the other two and the wolf alive. A truck rumbled by and he looked up absently thinking of the old days his thoughts still on those final instructions that he'd recieved. Then he froze stared at the wall across the street from him.
Quickly he gained control of himself and walked around the block so he came at it from the other direction all the while he counted in his head the number of bricks up and across and felt his stomache clench in anticipation of what he knew was coming now. He paused before the wall and snapped a picture with the cheap Polaroid camera. It made a few sputtering noises then the black beast coughed out the white framed black square and he held it in his hand and shook it while he continued down the street unable to believe the luck he had just had fall on him. Downtown he stepped into a telephone booth and closed the door behind him. With shaking fingers he dialled a number that had been burned into his brain by a formless voice into his ear while a cold steel blade had pressed against his throat.
"Hello?" a deep voice spoke from the other end of the line.
"I found your picture and I tell you that the property will be beautiful in a few years." there was silence on the other end for a moment while the other person translated the code in his head. When he spoke again his voice revealed nothing but the boy thought he detected a satisfied tone.
"When can I expect the papers?" the boys smile was just a quirk of the mouth.
"When can I expect my money?" the man on the other end of the line only took a heartbeat.
"Joey's on 75th. 4 o'clock. There'll be a black man with a briefcase at the bar. Don't be late. He'll be there five minuets early and five minuets after. If you don't show you've missed your chance." the boy added a cool agreement and added that information to his picture perfect memory. Then with a click the line went dead and he looked at the phone for a minuet then looked at the picture again. The black square was gone replaced by an eye with a new moon shaped pupil with a stylized dagger finishing the other half of the iris. He smiled and quickly scrawled the proper numbers on the bottom of the photo. The old days were coming and he'd just hit the pay dirt!…
… "Yes I'm positive that you'll want to hear what I've got to say." a man said holding a small square photo to the light. "Yeah well isn't that to bad for your date." he listened for a moment then leaned forward and spoke into the phone in a low voice. "The eye showed up." he listed for a moment then nodded. "Yes I'm positive. It's the eye. I'm sending it to you just do your job and we all get out money." he hung up the phone and giving the picture one last look dropped it into a simple white envelope. The chain was working…
… A young boy about ten years old jumped as a shadow spoke from the darkness beside him. He turned wide eyed and felt something pressed into his hand. Then he nodded mutely at the muttered instructions and then turned and ran back the way he'd just come. He knew his route he'd practiced it everyday waiting for this moment. He made it across New York in less time then the people stuck in traffic ever had and banged on the glass of a decrepit fourth story window. An old man pushed open the glass and the boy passed him the envelope and the same message he'd been given. "The eye showed up." then he jumped nimbly down the fire escape and disappeared in the twisting maze of ally ways. The old man looked at it and smiled revealing missing teeth and started out his apartment door…
… a ringing phone buzzed next to his head and the boy grabbed it and answered in a bleary voice. After a moment still more asleep then awake he tapped the shoulder of the girl next to him. She blinked her eyes and sat up taking the phone with a puzzled look. After a few moments she hung up then clutching the ratty sheet around herself ran to the apartment door. Laying on the floor inside was a white envelope…
… Slowly the envelope passed from one set of hands to another and always the message stayed the same with each repeition. It never altered in word or meaning, the Wolf who had built this chain had chosen only the best. It stayed in somes' possenion longer then others but always it's carrier dropped everything for it and passed it on, memories of their instructions rising to the front of their minds. Never was it opened though many sets of hands longed look they knew that it's contents would be indecipherable to them and they didn't want to be known as the weak link in the chain. Slowly it travelled across a conteniant. Sometimes straight and sometimes it's path jogged but always there was a purpose in the movements. Finally it came into the hands of a turning point. One who didn't know it but was the final link…