The creaking of LittleDealer’s old bicycle blended with the muffled sounds of the city waking up. The rising sun painted Summerlin in golden hues as he pedaled through the streets, tossing newspapers onto doorsteps with a practiced flick of his wrist. But between one newspaper and the next, smaller packages found their way into waiting hands—quick exchanges, subtle nods, no unnecessary words. The kid knew his nickname wasn’t given for nothing.

 It was on one of these rounds that something caught his eye. A new building, standing out with its bright, twinkling Christmas lights that flickered as if calling him over. "What the hell is this?" he thought, stopping his bike at the curb. A freshly installed sign read: Morning Dew. A brand-new HQ, and judging by the faces walking in, it belonged to some big players.

 LittleDealer had heard a few rumors about the place’s owner. Marie, they said, was a woman with a firm foot in the business, someone you didn’t want to mess with, but who knew how to be generous with those on her side. He had always liked people like her—straightforward, no-nonsense. Having someone like Marie in his contact list could be useful, and maybe he knew exactly how to make that happen.

 He lingered for a moment, a toothpick hanging from the corner of his mouth, debating whether to step in or keep moving. But his curiosity always won. What if there were new opportunities here? Maybe new deliveries? He took a deep breath, adjusted his backpack, and pushed the door open.

 “Excuse me... brought today’s fresh news,” he said, spinning a newspaper between his fingers. But his eyes told a different story—something between boldness and interest. After all, a sharp kid always knows where to find more business.