---

Jiggy awoke on a hot, muggy afternoon and attempt to un-stick himself from the bed. His hand was sore from slamming on the "snooze" button of his alarm - he looked over and read the time:
"3:45, damn. Overslept again, oh well..." He gathered his strength and...
"Hrrrmph..." Gaspard "Jiggy" Molyneux pushed himself, against the force of gravity, out of his bed. Beneath his sweat-stained pillow, Jiggy found a plain, beige envelope addressed from the Mayor - the Red Queen of Hearts.
..........

"She's such an asshole, but at the very least, I now have something to do tonight," recognizing immediately that he would probably have sat around with his posse, Jiggy waded over to the windowsill and looked out at the limitless, but most likely shitty day facing him.
"It's still early and it's already getting dark outside, heh." It was already getting dark and the sun set lazily in the smoggy distance; for just a split second, it seemed like some sort of cliche metaphor for Jiggy's life - the grand finale always arrives too fast. The thought of that annoyed Jiggy, but he kept his cool, mostly. Without much consciousness, Jiggy assembled his essentials, including the gaudy scorpion ring on his oak nightstand, for he felt it would almost certainly be a long night. Ever-prepared, the miscreant with an afro brought his toothbrush with him, just in case. Jiggy was amazed how his life could be reduced to a sparse few sundries and still have everything fit within a modestly-sized leather briefcase.

Stepping over the 3 unconscious gang-members who were comfortably sleeping on Jiggy's floor, he instinctively selected a semi-formal outfit. Once Jiggy approved his blazer and torn, dusty jeans, his thug mentality suddenly shifted into work-mode. Jiggy's work-boots accidentally roused one of the sleeping henchmen from his alcohol-induced slumber. His eyes lit up at Jiggy's briefcase: "_Nice man-purse, Jiggy. Going on a date?"

"Actually, it's a briefcase and I'm headed to work. To, you know, get paid and shit. Man the fort while I'm gone and please just don't fuck with the television again." Jiggy semi-acknowledged the distraction on the floor.

"Hey, I get paid too...sometimes." and with a last mumble, the goon fell right back into slumber on the same, stained, and crowded wooden floor. Jiggy Molyneux slammed shut the chipped metallic door behind him and headed off towards the portal station; Jiggy hoped to reach Darktown Gate precisely by 5 PM, giving him an hour before he had to work. "At this rate, maybe I'll even get to eat before I have to work! he proclaimed.

Micah sat up in... not his bed. He looked over his shoulder to see a pale-skinned beauty resting beside him. She shifted a little, letting her blonde hair fall over her simple, cute face. She definitely wasn't the type he would usually score with, but it wasn't a totally uncommon occurrence. His head throbbed, and his brain was completely fried from the night before. He wasn't going to think too much of it, only because it managed to hurt so much.

He turned, allowing his legs to move off the edge of the bed, and felt something against his hand. There was a letter under the pillow. Well, it's on my side... He slipped it out, and saw its print.



He quietly stood on his feet, feeling the stumble as he tried to physically stabilize himself. The hardwood flooring felt cool under his feet, and he slowly gathered his things, dressed, and put himself together. He was not about to be seen like a mess in public, and looking as normal and put-together as possible was a great way for him to hide the shame of having to sneak around in this broad's apartment to make a sneaky getaway.

As Micah exited the building, the sun pierced through his eyelids. Should've looked for my damn aviators. Oh-fucking-well. He could feel his heart beating up in his throat, but refrained from vomiting right there.

I guess I have work tonight. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, preferably a suit and not the stained club attire currently on him. He was unsure of where he was, but was confident he'd find his way home. He looked down at his watch: 2:00.

---

By 3:30, Micah found his way to a proper bathroom. He took a quick cold shower in hopes of a desperate recovery, smoked a bit of bud to relieve his continued headache, and stuck on a suit and black tie. He tucked his revolver in his pants, and kept some extra rounds on some clips, which he tucked inside his blazer. It was still bright outside, and he nabbed a pair of sunglasses off the resident on his way out. The man sat naked, tied to a chair. Surprising this shit fits me.

At 4:30, he began making his way towards the Museum.