Moper sat at his dimly lit table staring at one letter he got from the post today.  The letter might as well be a death sentence for his only son

who has an illness.  The letter billing him $4353 for the surgery that would save his sons life.  He pauses and takes a deep breath and then in

one fit of rage he slams his hand on the table and grabbed his coat, and grabbed a knife sitting on the table.  He thought

about the his orders from the boss LadyF.  He was told to wait for orders, and he did not even have a gun yet.  Moper stepped into his sons room

and gave him a kiss on the forehead.  He stepped out of his two bedroom apartment and walked down the stairs.  He opened the door

determined and scared.  He feels the wind and the cold rain hitting him as he steps out into the darkness.  He was off on his first "job."