my train grinds to a halt and i reach for my backpack carrying it out onto a dimly-lit concourse the walls are crumbling bricks and mortar the floor is slate i never know what to expect here sometimes this place is a magnet for reprehensibles and sometimes for things reprehensible to the reprehensibles nevertheless the iron remains forever plentiful and

drawn to this hub eyes and nerves perpetually abused shift their focus however briefly to my presence more often to the backpack than to my face i clamber up to the ground level where the air and local consciousness strikes me as somewhat less-stale though little improved the

exit to the bus station feels an eternity away despite its proximity just left right left right forward face impassive shoulders squared the cold rush of the outside air gradually intensifying one last flight of stairs i can see the light filtered

through gritty oxygen up up up and finally there into the freak show pull my hood over my head my chest tightens against the bitter chill were those eyes malevolently piercing or desperately begging pleading

it is a rough crowd if my arrival were not such an imperative matter it certainly would have been avoided still half a mile to go up one block turn then three more turn again and one long shambling city block just manage not to destroy my backpack please

my peripherals are nil under this thick enveloping hood my mother would never expect this from me ok and i begin to trudge along the first road flanked by the station outlet on one side and dilapidated hovels on the other one two three no four withered souls pass with eyes hollowed out and

overly-blemished skin rife with cuts boils ghostly pale and yellowing postures slumping breathing labored any hunger i once felt has retreated i turn the first corner and level my gaze along the sudden downward slope before me a block away some poor local with a

crude wind instrument loses a shouting match with some thug the thug bludgeons him brutally and leaves with the cash or that which passes for such perhaps there are more instruments in that pouch but i doubt it i tighten my hood to conceal my face further it could

have been me but this time no timing is a slippery tactic to execute or anticipate like the snow under my feet i must adjust constantly to its shifting momentum i shuffle downward with subtle urgency lest i myself also shift from benefactor to victim during this perilous waltz with fate

more shanties bracket the road one of which i identify as the source of a wafting sour air current though it strikes me warm it is no true improvement i shudder from head to toe and continue at the corner i encounter

the stunned musician still wheezing bloodied face will he die today i wonder after passing i adopt a convincing limp and meander unsteadily further the chill just outright stings and people live under these conditions voluntarily and without relent

halfway through the makeshift intersection amidst the snow-drenched ruin a gangly youth in torn and layered rags accosts me with what i can discern as a rough local greeting that is more attention-wresting than salutation the burden i carry betrays

my otherwise non-descript exterior yet again i respond with a ferocious primal barking teeth bared eyes flaring the youth turns abruptly away and skitters off startled otherwise this street is deserted and i stumble onward half-fakingly the remainder of this leg passes uneventfully save the incessant chill winds finally i

turn the corner onto level footing the relief is short-lived as i absorb the sight of taller and steadily-degrading squathouses my hood could not pull tighter i steel myself against the natural tension and ill will here the sidewalk is littered with angry and aggressively-clad degenerates some young and some

rapidly nearing the ends of their ropes i must assume an air of do-not-fuck-with-me my inner playground bully awakens i am the alpha male on this last stretch of road my shoulders broaden with each inhalation of gaseous toxin-laced oxygen as i

traverse my final arms lengths the locals determine themselves anything but uncontested and scramble to intercept me my destination reached i enter the crumbling building to my left and bolt the door shut safe for but moments

i have arrived and i anxiously await reception the single room before me is devoid of definite structure wooden beams share airspace with particulate glass the stucco walls dented profusely and creasing while a crude lantern illuminates my respiratory haze cloudy with grit and dried grime organic and inorganic i

cannot help but choke briefly the pursuing locals pound the door shouting gods only know still no meeting and i can only feel so secure here with each dull impact on the door the beams rattle the dust stirs ever more thickly i cough harder and harder chest heaving lungs protesting harshly and the thugs finally

cease and move onto their next confrontation elsewhere i catch a stray thought in the air and turn to determine its source a tall pale man dressed in the clothing of the privileged greets me finally i relay to him the password and he smiles we must be

brief i unsling the backpack from my shoulder another thought of anticipation leaks from him this man's demeanor is no indicator of the professionalism i expected this is a setup i reach into the backpack and smoothly swiftly withdraw and hurl my finest knife it

cuts him cleanly across the throat and he collapses silently in a heap blood pooling quickly he has no backup i would have heard it by now his allegiances unimportant i must run

visibility will be key i hurry up the indoor staircase cobwebs accumulating on my face whose orders exactly have i taken i pick my way through the wretched interior smash a window and climb out onto a landing above me sits the roof and i toss the damned backpack upwards and hear

its impact upon the top of this godforsaken oversized toolshed i spring upwards and get a fingerhold on its outside ledge pulling myself up and reclaiming the pack i survey the streets below very little activity now overall no need to take a mad dash across rooftops i will exit the way i came catch a train home

whose orders indeed