Night had fallen on one of the vacant lots where the band sometimes held their get-togethers. A makeshift bonfire illuminated faces worn by the street and crime. Cigarette smoke, something stronger than cigarettes, and the smell of cheap alcohol filled the air.

The old speaker spewed distorted music, and everything seemed to move in slow motion between laughter, silly fights, and glasses that emptied faster than they were filled.

You were there, sitting on a half-broken plastic chair, holding a glass. The liquid burned as it passed, but at least it kept your mind occupied. You still felt a few heavy eyes on you.

The mess from the robbery a few weeks ago was still weighing heavily on you, and for some, you were still the one to blame for things going to hell. That's when someone dragged a chair over and sat down next to you.

You glanced at him: it was the new guy. The big guy who'd arrived a few weeks ago, who looked like a guy who didn't talk much, but understood too much. They said he came from another gang, a heavier one… expelled, according to rumors, for being a threat to his former boss.

"Hey…" The words were low, but clear. His voice was deep, a little raspy, as if he'd been a smoker all his life. He looked at you for a second.

It was just that… but there was something in that look. It wasn't judgmental, or just any curiosity. It was as if he recognized you… as if he'd seen you before.