The boy was still turning everything over in his mind when he left the bar an hour later. He stared blankly at the sealed envelope for a moment before stuffing it into a concealed pocket inside his jacket. He still had some time to pull himself together for the evening ahead.

The rain was still coming down pretty strong, so he figured the best thing to do was find some shelter and rest up for a couple of hours. He began heading towards the rundown apartment he had spent the last month squatting in -- a severely aged two-story building that had been scheduled for demolition due to safety concerns.

He picked the lock to the front door, and opened it slowly. He paused in the doorway to sigh before locking it again behind him. "What a dump," he thought to himself. The sunlight barely touched the main hallway, but the wind and rain managed to eek in through cracks in the ceiling. It gave the building all the charm of a dungeon. He proceeded down the dim hall, stumbling into a previously unnoticed puddle of water. "Gah --!!" He splashed through the hallway, drenching his socks. He arrived at what he designated as "his" room.

A rat scurried away as he entered the room, leaving the door ajar. He chided to himself, "Great, new neighbors. And here I was just starting to get used to Mr. Cucaracha's family next door. Must be the rain . . . " He occupied the only room in the whole building that was still partially livable. The door still worked, the ceiling was in one piece and the windows were still intact. The atmosphere however left much to be desired. A large portion of the wall plaster had been chipped away along one wall, exposing the moldy support beams beneath that were riddled with termites.

His army green sleeping bag lay in one corner of the room, with an off-white pillow resting on top. Just as he was about to curl up in the covers, he heard some muffled voices conversing. He hobbled over to the window, and saw several large figures approaching the door. He threw his pillow in the sleeping bag, slinging it over one shoulder. He shuffled across the hall, locking himself in a unit on the backside of the building. As he hurried to open the window, he could hear someone fiddling with the front door.

He burst from the building as if he had been held underwater, landing in the mud outside with a soft plop. This was immediately followed by the loud bang of the front door being thrown open. The boy knelt down, pressing himself into the wall under the windows ledge. He began to work his way around the back of the building. The figures now inside the building began to talk. He could barely make out what they were saying over the sound of the rain beating down around him.

"You think this place will work?" The voice was deep and gruff. It sounded more like asphalt being poured down a tumbler than somebody talking.

"Don't see why not. Front door works. It's got a second story. As long as the stairwell checks out, I'm sure the Don will be happy." A much softer voice responded. "Hey, Carl -- go check the stairs, will ya'?" A few seconds later came a quiet splash, followed by loud swearing from Carl and a round of laughter.

At this point, the boy had snuck over to the part of the building that supported the stairwell. With no windows to see him from, it was the safest place possible. He took off running as fast as he could without making too much noise. After he had gained a safe distance, he paused to gain his bearings.

The sun had just begun to set. He had no clue what time it was, but he sure didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with Lady Red. After giving it some thought, he set off in the direction of the park.