It was a damp, grey, breezy kind of afternoon. He walked down High Street, passing various boutiques such as Crystal's Flowers and Victoria's Secret. The sidewalk wasn't without restaurants, either. Passing by were the metallic doors of McDonald's, Papa's Best, and Cheddar's.  The small umbrellas that covered Cheddar's small outdoor tables circled in their placeholders, providing the rest of the street with a quiet clinging noise.


People strolled by, casually and eerily minding their own business. If one's face wasn't buried in their SmartHand, you could bet yourself they were averting contact from everybody else. Jackets, hoods, blazers, long-sleeve shirts were the sight of the season as the climate began to cool down, in preparation for Winter's rule.


He was dressed appropriately as well, as to not garner any unneeded attention in the general public - as if that was even a concern. A dark baseball cap, a high-riding trench coat, designer jeans, and some stylish sneakers would get him by just fine. That's good, because he hated to have to spend extra money for events such as this one.


Easy Ride Night Club, Lanager's Stop N'Shop, another fast food stall. Seven blocks were passed, and the entire time, eye contact was made with only one wide-eyed fellow. Young, bombastic, and nothing suspicious about it.


He came to a stop when he found himself in only a street-crossing away from the Gentlemen's Club. Unsurprisingly, men and women alike lined up in front of the joint to experience the city's most renowned night club. There would undoubtedly be illegal activity inside, but he didn't care about that.



The archaic streetlight changed from the ubiquitous "STOP" hand, to the icon of a walking man, and he made his way across the street. Slowly sauntering past the entrance, he caught sight of a burly bouncer, checking off guests with his SmartHand. It wasn't going to be the prettiest thing in the world, but it could work.


He pulled out his own device from his trench coat's pocket; a rectangular device with touchscreen controls and access to things that couldn't be had anywhere else. Fiddling with the interface for a mere couple of seconds, he dug down into the night club's internal wiring, individually marking each point of importance from his device's locator. With the location step ready, he transitioned the self-made software to gather each point. One quick button tap, and each electronic device from the night club to ten feet away went haywire.


People were too shocked by the sudden failure in that of which their lives were held to notice one man discreetly push by. Not even the bouncer, who was pounding at his own technical anomaly, noticed.


Once in, he slowly set his gaze upon each confused party goer in an attempt to identify what he had come for. An insecure nineteen-year-old, an attractive blonde woman, a bartender. No one seemed to make the cut of his description, until his eyes set upon a small glimpse of a trace near the corner to the restrooms.


He weaved through the crowd, catching whiff of popular drugs, various brands of alcohol, and sweat. The sooner he got out, the better. Pushing past a couple making out on the stairs, he finally managed to swing around the corner and headed towards to the "powder rooms", as they were called.


He waltzed into the men's room, and quickly observed his surroundings. Tunneling out from the short entry-way was the main area of the room. On the entirety of the left, hung the two-in-one washers. On the right, three urinals jutted from the tiled surface, and two stalls filled out what space was left in the already cramped area.


His man stood by the two-in-one, as he hung his hands in the machinery, waiting for them to dry off. Without a moment of notice, he grabs the man by the head and slams it into the wall in front. He effortlessly picks up the body, spits, and waits for the inevitable question.


"Who are you?", asks the victim, bewildered.


Cold and calculating, he had already marked exactly how the situation was to go down. "The name is Stranger. Forget it, don't forget, I don't care". He throws the man's body across the empty space, into the door of a stall.


"No, please! Look, I'm begging you. What do you want from me?"


Stranger shrugs. "Oh, it's not what I want. You see, I don't want anything. It's what the others want". With his words barely even muttered, he had picked up the faceless guy and kicked him down to submission.


His face stricken with pain, he pleads, "Who are the others?? I haven't done anything since I got out, promise! Why are you doing this?". His mid-section trembles in agony as he screams, but it was only a precursor of the worst to come.


"The others are the Watch Dogs, Adam. No need to be afraid". Frozen sarcasm rang through his quiet voice.


Fear, mixed with recognition, convoluted Adam's eyes and mouth. There was every reason to be afraid. Encounters with the Watch Dogs had started up over eighteen weeks ago, and incidents were happening on a regular basis. Obviously, tonight was not going to end the way he thought it would.


Stranger picks him up once again, letting Adam take a long gander at his face. There wasn't anything to fear about Stranger's face. It was normal, smooth, and young. Just like anybody else in the world. The scary part was his affiliation.


"Please...", whimpers Adam, but he isn't awarded any extra time to form his words appropriately. Stranger head butts him, knocking him out and pushing the baseball cap off Stranger's head.



With Adam drooped to the floor, Stranger pulls out his loaded sidearm and points it towards the man's skull.


"Any last words?"


No, there were no last words. Only a silent gunshot, a dead body, and a stream of blood beginning to pool on the floor.


"Didn't think so."


Stranger picked up his ball-cap, fitting it on in the special way that he liked. His job was done.


He pushed open the bathroom door, and walked out of the Gentlemen's Club.




~ GoldvsSilver