As Joy steps out of the doorway of one of her Chicago contacts, she looks up and down the street of the seedy neighborhood. Taxis were hard to come by in this part of the city, so she had a bit of a walk ahead of her. Heading north, she pulled up her collar against the brisk wind that gave the city its nickname. Turning a corner, she keeps going. Still no cabs in sight. Maybe on the next block she'd get lucky, she thought.

Passing an alley, she glances in. There appeared to be scuffle going on between a man and a woman. Judging by the woman's attire, Joy guessed it to be a disagreement between a working girl and her boss, or maybe a john not wanting to pay for services rendered. This wasn't any of her business, but the guy was really delivering a beating, and it was difficult to watch, much less ignore. Walking at a brisk pace towards them, she had just enough time to pull her gun out of her coat and flick off the safety.

The man stopped delivering blows as he heard footsteps, but didn't release his grip on the girl. Pulling out his own piece, he didn't even hesitate before firing off a shot. Joy felt a sting on her face as the bullet grazed her cheek. She dropped to the ground, not waiting for him to better his aim. Raising her own weapon, she fired.

Click.

The worst sound in the world was an empty chamber.

Click, click.

Cleaning her weapon had been a good thing. Not remember to reload it afterwards was a horrible, stupid mistake that would now cost her her life. Joy dropped her head onto her arm and awaited the inevitable shot.

Prodigy just happened to be passing the alley the exact instance when he heard the gun shots.

He pulls out his 22 and fires 3 shots on to a hooded gunman and finds a wounded Joy Turner and a apparently beaten prostitute.

Prodigy quickly dashes to a pay phone to call Earl Hickey and the Police.

He carries Joy to a near by Hospital.