A swarm of rats scurried along the dirty streets with teenage boy in tow, dressed in a tattered grey pinstripe vest, white button down shirt, black slacks, well worn penny loafers, and a fedora atop his head. He had curly dirty blonde hair peeking out from under his hat and squinty brown eyes. Dirt coated his entire body, as if he hadn't showered in weeks, which was probably correct.

"Yes, my children! Flee!" He shouted after them. "Or else the cat woman shall gobble you up, and myself as well!"

The bystanders stood well clear of this orphan boy and the rats, giving him weird looks as he passed by them in a hurry. However, less and less bystanders were around these parts, and pretty soon he was in a deserted alleyway. It was a shortcut to the police station once he snuck through a hole in the chain link fence at the end. He had witnessed a gang called the Bombers plotting something big, and he had al the evidence he needed to get a swarm of officers to their hideout. Perhaps he'd get a great reward for his heroics once all was said and done. What he would do with that money he didn't know, for he never had much to spend in the first place. Maybe rat food for his loyal minions? Yes, that would do it.

"Charlie, my boy, you've done it again!" He congratulated himself as he made his way through the corridor; only the sound of his footsteps echoing down it and the rats scurrying about could be heard.