[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/drrqNvx.jpg?2[/img][/center]

[center][b]Part I:
A Day at the Races[/b][/center]


[b]Tampa, Florida[/b]

Parker leaned against the railing and watched the horses race from their starting gate. The bleachers at the racetrack were half filled. It was a weekday afternoon, those at the track were either among the professional idlers or the professional gamblers. Parker found himself somewhere in between. 

Over a year had passed since the job in Tennessee and he was beginning to run low on spending money. Parker always took a percentage of each job and put it away as part of his ever growing nest egg. What he didn't put away he spent like there was no tomorrow on hotels, clothes, booze, and women. During jobs Parker was a monk when it came to pleasure. Between jobs he lived like a hedonist. And hedonism wasn't cheap. 

The lush life was beginning to wear on him. He was a tool, a machine, something built to strongarm and rob. He was wasted in a life of sun and sand. He was worried if he spent too much more time living like this he'd lose his edge. He needed to be out there in the streets, on the hunt and looking for the next score. In Parker's line of work, there was always some right that needed to be wronged.

The nag with the six on its side finished the race first to a mixed reception to the crowd. Parker looked at his ticket and flashed a slight grin. He'd just won eight hundred bucks. Not bad for a race during the middle of the day. He got his payout and decided to call it a day there. The win at the end help stop a losing streak on the earlier races and made Parker come out two hundred dollars ahead on the day.

He took his car across the bay into St. Petersburg where he was staying. There were a lot of good targets in the area. The racetrack could be hit for a good take, along with at least a dozen other banks and check cashing places. But Parker would never act on the impulse. He pulled jobs across the country but never in Florida. Florida was where he went to play and not work. For Parker, there could be no overlap between the two. Overlap led to sloppiness. 

It seemed the universe was out to make a fool out of Parker because as soon as he got to his hotel, Handy McKay was waiting for him in the lobby. He hadn't laid eyes on McKay in a few years, but he looked the same. He was tall, though not as tall as Parker, and with a smoothed shaved head. His dark brown skin was offset by a white bowling shirt and khaki slacks.

"Mr. Anson?" Handy asked with raised eyebrows. 

"How can I help you?"

"I wonder if you'd like to grab lunch so we can discuss an exciting new business opportunity."


--

They had lunch at a diner in Ybor City. Parker had a pulled pork Cuban sandwich while Handy went with rice and beans with chicken. They spent most of the meal catching up, talking about scuttlebutt they heard among those in the Life -- always Life with a captital L -- and what Parker had been doing in his time off from the Life.

"Heard about the mess in Tennessee," Handy said as he chewed on a toothpick. 

"It was a mess, alright, but it's in the past. Let's talk about the future, Handy."

McKay's eyes flashed and he suppressed a grin. He took the toothpick out and put it on his empty plate. 

"Always ready to get to business?"

"It's been long enough," said Parker. "I'm ready to get back to it."

"We'll see how anxious you are when we you hear what I have."

Parker arched his eyebrow at the comment. Handy knew that Parker was peculiar about the jobs he took. He knew above all, Parker never took a job he judged to be a loser. In his book, a loser was either a job that high chance or failure or one that didn't pay enough. The less complications and the bigger payday the better for him.

"What's wrong with it?"

"The location," McKay said with a smirk. "It's in Gotham."

On instinct, Parker looked down at the long, winding scar on the back of his left hand. A memento from one of his last trip's to Gotham, given to him by the city's favorite flying rodent. After that, Parker added another rule to his list: Never do a job in Gotham, especially at night.

"No."

"I knew you'd say that," said McKay. "But let me at least explain the job to you, and how much you stand to make."

Parker shrugged and McKay started talking. When he was finished, Parker asked questions and laid out ground rules. By the time they were through, Parker was convinced. He kicked the blonde he was sleeping with out of his bed, checked out of his hotel, and booked a flight to Gotham that night.