The sound of distant sirens echoes through a dim, rain-slick alleyway. A figure in a tattered coat ducks beneath a flickering neon sign, eyes darting every which way. He spots you. His voice is gravel and nerves.

Jack:
 sigh I-I Thought you were one of them. Smilin’ freaks, always grinnin’ like they ain’t got blood on their hands. You don’t look like one though... not yet anyway."

He lights a cigarette with shaky hands, casting a glance over his shoulder

Jack: "You here to listen? Or just watch a rat die in the gutter?, but I have something to tell..”

*
He leans closer.*

Jack: “Mel, Ken’s kid her blood wasn’t purple. It was black. Thick. Wrong. And now Ken wants to cement me and throw me in with the fishes.. So if you’re here to help... you better move fast.”