Bingo emerged from the shadows, his face obscured by deep scarring and a twisted mouth. His body hunched and guarded, as if he was constantly on the lookout for danger. He wore a long coat that fluttered ominously in the night breeze, his footsteps echoing too loudly against the pavement, he made a mental note to visit his tailor when he returned to Los Angeles, the brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes attempting to conceal his face from any night-crawling civilians.

As he moved down the alley, the consigliere passed dimly-lit doorways and stacks of garbage bags. The only light coming from a flickering streetlamp overhead, casting eerie shadows across the pavement. Bingo was at home in this dark, foreboding environment, as if he was more comfortable in the shadows than in the light.

His movements slow and deliberate, as if he was searching for something or someone. Eyes darting from side to side, scanning the darkness for any sign of trouble. Every so often he would pause and listen intently, as if he was trying to detect the slightest sound.

Bingo knew his appearance and demeanour was unsettling, and anyone who saw him would likely feel a sense of fear and unease. It may have been unclear what his intentions were or what crimes he may have committed in the past, the only thing that could be certain was that he was considered a force to be reckoned with in the criminal underworld.

Bingo’s overcoat served to conceal his holstered pistol, his weapon of choice was unusual to say the least, the Hamada Type semi-automatic pistol had once belonged to an officer of the Imperial Japanese Army and was one of the few items in his life he didn’t consider disposable, chambered was a very American Browning 7.65mm round, an irony which wasn’t lost on him.

Up ahead was the man he had arranged to see, the man was early, this irritated Bingo no end, he liked to arrive early enough to know what he was potentially walking into, on this occasion he felt it was worth proceeding. 

The two men approached each other warily in the dimly-lit alleyway. Bingo breathed a sigh of relief as he noticed the man pushing a bicycle.

"This is the bike?" asked Bingo.

The man nods and pushes the bicycle toward Bingo. "Good as new," he says, smirking.

Bingo inspected the bike, checking the tires and brakes before nodding his approval, the word ‘Sassy’ written along the frame. Bingo handed over a wad of cash, the man quickly counted the bills to make sure everything was in order.

"All here," said the man, tucking the money into his jacket pocket. "Pleasure doing business with you."

“I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine” returned Bingo, his crooked mouth attempting to break into a smile.

The two men exchanged a brief nod of acknowledgement, Bingo hopped onto the stolen bicycle, pedalling away quickly down the alley.

A short, sharp ringing of the bicycle’s bell could be heard as the happy mobster disappeared into the night.