Lord save the souls that prowled this city with a vengeance that swallowed them whole.

Miami was no stranger to messy history. A city built on the empires of drug trades, the operations and animals that called it home hid under the innocent sunny facade the rest of the world knew it as. A neon hallucination. The city and it's palms a symbol of overindulgence and pleasure.

But late in the night, past when the tourists called lights out, the creatures that called it home crawled into the street.

An eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth. Blood spilled on the dance floor, and suddenly everything was fair game.

It was no surprise that's how the two met. Animals lingering in the shadows, hunting. One shot, one shared target. And everyone knows how territorial creatures like them got over their kill.

In later years, they found themselves laughing over how they met. A fistfight to the death, supposedly. Jacket had maybe been a room away from his target before a separate figure snagged the collar of his Letterman. Fear overtaking him as they pulled him into the shadows.

The fight was silent. And while he fought with the intention to kill, they only sought to maim. Jacket was left hunched against the wall in a pool of his own blood, still breathing. His foe wasn't in any better condition than him, yet they still staggered to their feet. Painfully continuing with what they came for.

Their runs in slowly started becoming more and more common. A mutual target list, he figured. The hostility between the two fizzled out, and Jacket found himself helping this stranger simply because he could.

They spoke through indirect contact. Ammo left behind in their trail as a gift. A recognizable motorcycle keeping up with his car on the freeway. Jacket even stumbled upon coupons to a local pizza joint. All for him.

'How cute', he mused mentally. The bastard was thoughtful.