PART I:

The streets shone like black glass after the day’s rain. The orange-white light of the streetlamps glared down off the roads and the bustle of people as they went to and fro, many fighting the tide of their colleagues heading home as they went about their errands. Yet in the middle of all this a lone, ragged figure stood. Blocking much of the sidewalk, a woman in filthy, torn clothing rambled. She wore an old beanie cap pulled low on her head and long masses of greasy hung over her face, obscuring her features with the aid of the night’s darkness as she ranted.

“Who sir, you sir!” she cried, half lunging at a man before spinning back towards the flow of people. “Anyone will do sir! I have advice enough for two sir! Have you got a clue?” The ragged street urchin whirled among the troop of shoppers and professionals, trying to grab someone’s attention. “Maybe you Ma’am?” she pleaded, grasping a sternly dressed woman’s arm with surprising strength. “Don’t you give a damn? They’re killing you, slaughtering you all, just like a lamb. LISTEN!”

Letting the woman jerk free the street figure whirled again, quickly and clumsily plodded up to a group of young professionals. “Can’t you hear them scream,” she hissed. “Pens screeching over paper, you’re signing away your soul. Every signature strikes at someone, just not as deeply as it rends the whole! You’re being murdered by paperwork. The ONLY thing you have on this earth is your precious time and THEY are stealing it. Every second, every minute, every breath brings you closer to death and you’re giving it all away for, spending it all on shit! Look around people,” she finished, just as the group began to leave.

The woman continued to rant, gathering a small crowd bored enough to listen to a street person’s preaching as another shape detached itself from the shadows of a nearby alleyway. A young woman in new but torn jeans and an equally new but stained flannel jacket approached the crowd cautiously, a sack with “Donations” written on clutched in one hand. Her other hand held a stack of homemade chapbook-pamphlets which she held out to passerby’s and the small crowd standing nearby.

“You spend your life fitting into the mold that is made for you by your sires, your gods, and your politics. Spend time to appreciate the inner you, don’t just shrivel up behind your suits and wallets. You have only a brief time here,” the woman continued somewhat ironically, “ so make sure you watch whose face your STOMPING on as you climb higher up the dog-pile.”

Speaking, spinning, and gesturing wildly, the woman continued unaware as a large man on a Bluetooth bulled through the crowd and impatiently pushed her out of the way. With a cry and the flailing windmill of arms the street preacher crashed down into the gutter next to the side walk and lay, face down, in the flowing runoff until she felt hands on her arm.

“Brenn!” the woman’s companion cried, “Brenn, c’mon, get up. You’re getting all wet…”

Scowling, Brenn pushed herself to her feet. “Hush, Kaylee, I’m fine,” she muttered before turning to the crowd. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about! Its dog eat dog out there and you’re just taking it lying down. Don’t play their games! Right now you squabble and claw over the flow of resources, trying to dominate the corporate world, but watch who you fuck with because one day you’ll meet someone meaner than you and they will break all your civilized rules and then break YOU.”

With one last glare all around, Brenn led Kaylee back towards the alley where their few belongings lay. They gathered them, the satchels, sacks, and the metal baseball bat and continued down into the hidden parts of the city. The two walked for over an hour, trekking across town, until Brenn let them stop. Kaylee collapsed to the ground, sweating and breathing hard, her flesh more pallid than her usual healthy complexion.

“Sorry for feeding on you, Kaylee girl,” Brenn murmured to her, “but we can’t start off on the wrong foot and I don’t want to ruin it all by poaching.”

“S’okay, Brenny,” the girl panted back. “I just want to…rest for a bit.”

Nodding, Brenn continued on, walking the last few blocks to their cheap motel so that she could book the room for another night using the money they had earned this night. A small worm of guilt crept inside her, warning her about using her friend too much and too hard but it was necessary this time. The look the manager gave her was telling her to get the hell out but money talks, and as soon as she took out the bills he handed over a room key.