taz_ was on his way to look at a room, hoping the owner would take a small deposit and accept a generous opinion of his future earnings for the balance. He had a dollar and forty cents. The advertisement said respectable tenants preferred, which he reckoned gave him room to negotiate.

Outside a hotel, a fellow in a business suit was trying to persuade a prostitute to get into his automobile. She stood beside the passenger door, waiting for him to finish explaining something.

Customer: "I said I haven't got all afternoon."

Woman: "Then you ought to have brought the money."

A man eating a burger watched them from the curb. Grease had soaked through his Freaky Bitches wrapper and was dripping onto his shoe. He hadn't noticed. taz_ stepped around him and continued towards the corner.

There was a pool hall on the opposite side of the intersection. On his side, a closed picture house occupied most of the block, with a narrow passage beside it. Three men stood near the passage. One had a paintbrush and was covering a symbol on the brickwork with a thick black square.

Two others came out of the tobacco shop next door.

Man from the shop: "Put that brush down."

The painter looked at him, dipped the brush again and made another slow stroke.

taz_ slowed without meaning to. The man eating the burger had stopped chewing.

The first punch knocked the paint tin against the wall. One of the painter's companions grabbed the fellow throwing it, and the whole group stumbled into the passage entrance. taz_ heard a bottle break. He moved towards the curb, intending to cross, just as a sedan turned the corner.

Its rear window was already down.

A man leaned out and fired into the group by the wall.

taz_ ducked. Something struck the picture house doors behind him, showering the entrance with glass. At the wall, men who had been beating each other a moment earlier separated and drew pistols. Both groups fired after the sedan. The burger landed beside taz_'s foot, still in its wrapper.

He tried the picture house door. Locked.

Across the street, a man in a dark coat had stepped beneath the pool hall awning. taz_ saw him reach inside his jacket before a burst of shots sent him crouching against the doors again.

The sedan swerved across the intersection and struck a lamp standard. Its horn sounded continuously. For a moment taz_ thought it might reverse, but smoke began pouring from beneath the hood. A passenger pushed at a door trapped against the bent post.

Then the car went up.

The blast sent taz_ down onto his knees. Heat swept across the crossing, and he covered his face with both arms. When he looked again, the passenger compartment was burning.

Shooting continued by the passage. With the car stopped, the men at the wall had turned back on one another. The painter fell across his tin. Another man tried to reach the tobacco shop and went down against its step.

taz_ crawled towards the corner of the picture house, dragging one knee. He'd scraped it through his trousers and couldn't put his weight on it properly.

A shoe stopped in front of him.

The man from the tobacco shop stood over him, holding a pistol. Blood ran from his mouth onto his collar. He looked towards the burning car, then down at taz_.

taz_: "I'm just passing through."

The man glanced at the bodies beside the wall.

Gunman: "You've seen enough."

taz_ tried to get a foot beneath him. The pistol came up.

Gunman: "Wrong place, wrong time."

A shot hit the man before he could fire.

He fell sideways, leaving taz_ on his knees with his mouth still open.

Nevaa: "Can you get up?"

The man from beneath the awning stood a few yards away. He had crossed behind the stalled traffic while taz_ was crawling. His pistol remained pointed towards the fallen gunman.

taz_ nodded, discovered that wasn't an answer his leg could support and caught the man's offered arm.

Nevaa helped him across the intersection. Inside the pool hall, somebody shut the door behind them. The noise from the street became muffled enough for taz_ to hear the ringing in his ears.

He sat on a bench and bent over his knee. A little blood had reached his sock.

Nevaa: "What's your name?"

taz_: "taz_. Who are you?"

Nevaa: "Nevaa."

taz_ looked up at him.

taz_: "You saved my life."

Nevaa: "That fellow wasn't going to let you walk."

For a while taz_ had nothing to say. Ethan_Pye , the man behind the counter, brought a wet cloth. He pressed it against his knee until he could trust his voice.

Nevaa: "You with anybody?"

taz_: "No. Looking for a room. Some work."

Nevaa: "I've got room in my crew. You interested?"

taz_: "What kind of work?"

Nevaa: "You'll start small. Do what you're asked, keep your accounts straight. There's money if you're useful."

That sounded worth discussing. taz_ could count, knew when somebody was trying to overcharge him and had been living on little deals for too long. He wanted a regular stake, eventually a business of his own.

taz_: "All right. I'm in."

Nevaa gave him a place to report the next morning and introduced him properly to Ethan_Pye, Mathias, and the rest of the crew before leaving, he made it clear that taz_ was joining under his sponsorship.