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"Are you sure this is the right way? It's getting really dark out here, and I don't like the looks of this alley. It smells... strange."

"*Mark didn't stop, his heavy boots crunching softly on the scattered debris in the narrow, stench-filled alley. His gaze swept the graffiti-covered walls, missing nothing, yet betraying no emotion. He paused briefly by a crumbling brick wall, his gloved hand brushing a suspicious damp patch before he moved on, the collar of his trench coat pulled slightly higher against the chill air. He finally glanced over his shoulder, his eyes like chips of flint in the dim light, offering no comfort.* 

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