A cool September evening shrouds the city in a dark cloak. Clouds suspended in the sky shield the moon as the calm breeze swirls them in and out of each other like the cream mixed into a morning coffee. Streetlamps weep dim columns of light onto the pavement breathing solemn glimpses of life intermittently along the street.

'I prefer to stay out of the light these days, a certain amount of anonimity can be a good thing in this line of work.'

Capital thinks to himself as he resumes his course into the narrow alley the echo of his footsteps climbing up against the brick walls. Voices can be heard drifting in off the street as Capital approaches the mouth of the alley. No words can be distinguished, just voices, mens voices. The tone sounded inviting like two old friends debating blondes versus brunettes yet there was something else. Capital slowed his pace to a crawl as he edged towards the corner of the tall brick building. Back against the wall, listening, he could feel the tension rising in the conversation. Playful argument had become twisted into angered remarks. With rising volume came hasty movements betrayed by the quick and unbalanced scuffles of shoes surely partnered with anxious hand gestures. The words were still unclear, an unfamiliar name here, an unusual sounding place there, perhaps all guised by cant. They were unaware of Capitals presense only a dozen feet away in the shadowed alley and he intended to keep it that way. There was no hastened breathing or racing heart but afraid or not Capital slowly reached inside his coat comforted by the embrace of a well made wooden grip.

BANG!

The punctuation at the end of whatever conversation was taking place left room for no more words only the dull sounding impact of a mans body slumping to the ground followed by the tell tale beat of a hasty retreat. Capital took his hand off his piece and withdrew a cigarette from a pack as he stepped out from the alley to see the picture he had only listened to being painted.

There lay a man awkwardly strewn half in the street and half up on the curb head faced skyward and hands clutching his chest. With every shallow breath the man on the ground crept deeper into darkness. His shirt, once neatly pressed and white, was now a blackened rag. His life leaked as tiny streams into the gutter like a hundred crimson ribbons oiled and tangled. Capital held the cigarette between his lips as he plucked a single stick out of a matchbox drawn from his pocket. From the shadows the match lit up like a tiny firework bursting with colour before settling to a small yellow drop. Holding it to the end of his cigarette Capital sucked the tiny bead of flame in and held his breath a moment. Exhaling slowly, plumes of silver smoke trickled upwards from his lips to kiss the brim of his hat.

'And that's how she goes'

Capital smirked as the whole idea seemed so commonplace. Tossing the matchstick to the ground it gave one last hiss as it was extinguished. A final glance at the man in the street and Capital exhaled a small cloud into the night air as he turned and walked the other way off into the evening.

'Maybe he will survive after all...'

Capital thought to himself as he flicked the ash of his cigarette off to the side and became no more than a suggestion of a man amongst all the dark things that come out after decent folk have gone to bed.