Sparking up a zippo lighter, he used it to see. The limited amount of light restored some morale, enough to slowly pace deeper.

It seemed the agent had been busy packing things away. The shelves had been stripped bare, and that pile of travelling bags doubled. The computers were left unplugged on tables, ready to be taken away.

Alex hadn't planned on trolling through bags. He had hoped to sweep through the agent's office and take off with the CD before daybreak.

He stopped before the closed office door to weigh options, to search the bags or the office. He decided on both. Grabbing one bag, he spilled the contents to the floor. A stream of papers poured out - loose manuscripts, none his. He repeated the process to the same effect until a sizable pile gathered. He gave up after three, turning back to the office door.

He gripped the handle, pausing for muffled voices on the other side. Alex jerked back as though electrified. He noticed then, a dim light creeping out under the office door.

The voices neared, growing louder. One belonged to the agent. The other sounded like the clerk.

"You let me fall asleep again," the agent said.

"I didn't have a choice. You were becoming so rough."

"Well I have been stuffing packages all day. My back gets soar and I can't be as careful, like y'know."

"Try taking it easy, or else you'll break something."

The doorknob turned, clicking open. Light from the office consumed darkness.

Embracing futility, Alex froze like an actor on stage awaiting direction. He closed his eyes and waited, until the conversation ended abruptly.

The agent didn't immediately notice the ominous figure basking half in darkness half in light. His focus went straight to the strewn papers on the floor.

"We've got a rat," he said. "Come out over there, I see you, thief!"

Alex stepped up on queue. "You're the thief."

The agent leaned closer for focus. "It's that dumb loser kid. I forgot his name."

"Alex," Leon prompted.

"It doesn't matter. Listen kid - like, y'know - whatever you're trying to do, it's not going to work. The deal is over. Get over it."

Alex paced nearer, clinging to the lighter like a beacon in his quaking hand. Even in brightness it heightened his esteem. Or he couldn't think clear enough to let it go.

"Back up," the agent commanded.

"I'm not going to roll over for you."

"Roll over? You've already fallen face down ass up. You came to me. You gave me the money. You gave me the only copy of your writing. It's not my fault you were too stupid to back up your own stories."

"It's not fair. I didn't do anything to you."

"Life ain't fair, kid. The net was open and you jumped right in. Next time try looking before you leap. At least everything I've done is legal." He sent an indicating nod to the broken window. "Wake up and get the hell out of my building."

"All I want is my writing back. A print out, a copy of my stories - you must have something left."

"Don't beg the troll to move. If you couldn't back up your own work then why should I?"

"I need it. Please I need them back."

"Leon, call the cops. This guy's a bit too clingy for a burglar."

"You can't!" Alex yelled. "You stole my writing, they'll arrest you!"

The agent flashed a smug grin. "Even if they cared, you've still no proof."

As commanded, Leon tapped on the phone dials.

"No!" Alex cried, tossing the zippo to free his hands.

He charged the agent, knocking him back to a desk. Alex lashed maddened blows to his face. Many missed and struck the wooden table top.

The once frail writer found his body consumed with the insatiable strength of rage. Arms belting down with a bony tang, he realised a dormant strength erupting within. And like most unconscious actions it vanished right then. The pummelling force slowed. The agent snarled for his chance.

Before his mind cleared enough to dodge, Alex fell back on the end of a fist. The agent regrouped and scurried back to his office.

"Leon, put down that phone!" the agent cried from within.

He re-emerged, brandishing a revolver with little care for direction. His quivering hand finally settled over Alex. "Don't think I don't like writers. I've always loved a good story. Tell me what you think of this one: he broke in here, I don't know why. We don't have anything here worth stealing. I saw that crazy look in his eye but I never thought he'd try stab me with a knife. I had to shoot him - he would have killed the two of us."

The only sound to follow was Leon laying down the phone. He backed against the wall as if trying to keep going through. His heavy breathing stopped. Total silence fell.

Alex didn't breathe since the gun appeared. He felt it again, the urge telling him to give up, to turn away to run away. And he would have walked away right then. He would have stepped outside without his stories and may never have become homeless. He would never have had to hide in the gutter.

Some crackling noises drew the agent's attention. The zippo Alex tossed aside had landed amongst the pile of papers. A fire was starting, quickly spreading onto desks and walls.

Alex didn't care about fire. He only saw the agent look away. In his distraction, Alex rushed in, snapping the gun aside. The agent struggled to keep hold so Alex pinned it down. And that was an error of judgment.

The gun let off a bang. The agent gasped a cough of blood. It didn't take long. Alex could see the senses drifting from the man's eyes. Stumbling to his knees, he fell downward into Alex.

In some respect Alex cradled him, though he might have merely been too shocked to step aside. He'd only just noticed his finger on the trigger, let alone grasped the action. He stepped back and let the agent fall flat on his stomach.

Alex tossed the revolver into rising flame. In his panicked stillness another emotional power vacuum took place. His anger vanished. His hands stopped shaking. A cold, dread filled fizzle in his brain replaced both. He backed away, each step shaking his thoughts like effervescent soda. He cupped his head as if to stop the bad screams bursting out. He tried to think over them, but couldn't concentrate with Leon's screaming.

"He's dead he's dead! Look at him, he's dead!" He fell to his knees. "Not again ... not again!" He cupped his own head and began weeping to himself.

Alex found his arms twitching forward as if reaching down to offer help. He found his legs moving backward toward the broken window. His mind reassured him he needed to escape before the fire spread. It forgot to include Leon in those plans. That was the last they saw of one another.

Alex ran away, and he kept on running. He didn't go back to college and he didn't stop anywhere for last goodbyes. Amidst his fleeing he merely slipped and fell to a gutter. It was so quiet he decided to hide there. At some point he forgot how to leave.

Alex put the CD in his back pocket. He couldn't concentrate within these brooding walls. The cold wind poked him like an old accomplice reminding him of past deeds committed.

He'd leave, and be through with this place. Let it haunt him in memory alone.

He figured since he came here first by the front door, he'd leave here last by the back. Seemed fitting, it was after all the only exit still shaped like a door.

He found himself in the lane annexed to the one they entered by. A single lamppost buzzed, light bouncing on and off against high stone walls. Taking a step toward the Old Folk's home, he stopped when a muffled female cry sounded from behind. Clamping his eyes in frustration he vocally damned the trouble he could see coming.

Wheeling around, he saw two men in blue hoodies holding a woman. One held her mouth shut as both stared expectantly for this stranger to pass on his way. It seemed fate bore a little more in store after all.

The freehanded man pointed at Alex. "Keep walking, exit's right there."

In immediate dismissal, Alex turned to face them in full.

"Don't be a hero, guy," the same thug said. "We got more boys coming any minuet now."

"Were those 'boys' dressed same as you? Already met them, and no ... they won't be," Alex replied.

Both men startled at those words. The women let out a shriek, indicating the hand over her mouth loosened some.

"He's talking shit. Get outta here before we bust up your ugly face."

"Can't. I became committed roughly around the time your friends threw a syringe in my face. I'll have to stay until you let that woman go."

Spurred by his words, the woman kicked back to break her oppressor's hold. About to run, the second man grabbed her.

Alex acted on queue. Driving in like a cannonball Alex broke the man's hold, pushing him to the ground.

The woman broke out, fisting the accomplice back. Trying to escape, she toiled with the second man enough to avoid his grip. It took three blows from her handbag to keep him back long enough. The thugs stood still, in their defeat watching her disappear into the shadowed lane.

They could have chased, but the grounded thug yielded a halt. Standing up, he stared at Alex with steely eyes.

"You psycho freak!" the accomplice said. "Forget this prick we gotta go after her."

"She doesn't matter. We can't put her to sleep without the drugs."

"Just knock her out."

"Won't get half as much if her face is busted, and no one's going to catch me shoving some screaming bitch in my trunk.

"Guess we may as well thank this hero for his help then."

Alex had stopped listening after the assault. Since jumping back to a safe distance, he found his body heavier, chest wheezing like a sun drenched dog. As he tried to recover for this fight, he realised he hadn't recovered from the last - a little late now. Side by side the thugs moved in a lazily plotted formation, slowly closing the gap.

For his foes, Alex pulled a deep breath to let his gallantry flare. Their movements slowed to a cautious step. Their eyes widened, wondering what this stranger had in store.

Alex knew what their eyes couldn't see. No gallantry remained. The deep breath merely prepared his body for an inevitable beating. Heavy panting shattered the charade.

Both thugs grinned in kind.

"Look at this clown, he can hardly stand."

"Time we taught this lanky piece of piss a lesson."

The lesson would come hard and fast. So long as he took it the girl would have a chance to escape, no matter how slim. If he ran away now, they could track her easily. So he chose to stay and smiled for his choice. His smile didn't go unnoticed, and likely made the beating worse.

Sierra exited the retirement home last. Shutting the security door, she stepped into the alley with Henry and Rum. Beneath the flickering door light, they grouped for strategy.

Sierra held out the photo. "Looks like we'll be paying his ex-wife a visit."

"What's the matter, phones too overrated?" Rum said.

"Too cold hearted. I wouldn't dump someone by phone."

"Then where's our next stop?"

Like she hadn't looked yet, Sierra flipped the photo over to check the address. Her grin dropped together with all the muscles in her face. Awash by a sudden loss of colour, she appeared too weak to even hold the photo steady. Tiny words crept from her lips.

"Not there, anywhere but there."

Rum gawked in observation. "Everything okay? You know that place or something?"

"Is it bad? It can't be worse than this place," Henry said. "I don't think I could handle it."

"It's safe, Henry," Sierra replied. "It's just ... I used to live somewhere in that general area."

"Well ... great," Henry said. "You can show us the way. Now we'll be able to walk there in no time."

"We won't be walking. It'll be a few hours by train."

"Four tickets won't come cheap. I suppose this is where you pull out your secret bag of cash," Rum said.

"Not this time. I haven't robbed anyone since the last job, and I don't plan to for a while. Call it a Christmas vacation."

"Then what do we do?"

"Looks like we'll have to put this hero business on hold and go back to being bums for a while. We'll just find you a nice street corner to set up shop."

"You want me to beg? Sorry missy, begging ain't ever been on this bum's prerogative. What we need is someone who looks the part, someone people will take pity on. We need a real wimp," he leered upon Henry, "a dud, even."

Henry didn't respond. He was too busy staring down a shadowed turn off leading around back of the ruins.

"Hey dud, you listening to me?" Rum asked. "Henry!"

Henry jumped in fright. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"No shit. What you looking at anyway?" Rum peered down the alley to see for himself.

"I heard sounds: heavy breathing, groaning. Sounds like its coming this way," Henry said.

"You're imagining things. How about you quit imagining things while we're in dark isolated places, okay?"