(More collab posts [@Drinky] )
 
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 They rounded the corner, then Sander whipped out his gun, pointing it at a random Rat. Except it might not be so random. The smoke was drawing a target on her face. Quite literally. He gulped down air and let Valorie talk to them. His hands shook again, but he wasn’t afraid. He knew the coiling anticipation in the pit of his guts; he was looking forward for this. He just needed the first step. A provocation. An excuse to shoot. Then again, why? 

 Why wait? They were clearly a threat. He had to do it now. Kill them before they kill him. Voices turned into whitenoise as smoke rolled in. 

 The trigger caved inward, slowly. Then he stopped. Things just, sort of, happened. A scream tore through the air, an odd weight was pushed against his side and his target got a blade in her stomach. He watched as it tore her apart and decorated the street with her guts. Then he saw the light again. It was just like Valore’s, bright and warm and full of promises. But they snuffed it out. They just snuffed it out like that, like it was nothing; a worthless, dying cigarette destined for the trash, while he wanted nothing more than a puff. It was more vibrant, more alive than any of them combined, and they dared snuffing it out like it was nothing. How could they? One after another, he stood and watched the massacre. Darkness claimed their light one by one, and he was helpless. A blind man denied his salvation. He wanted to see, but they were not his.   

 A foreign rage bubbled up his chest, star-bright and white-hot, and it burnt through his reasons like lava. A part of him was alarmed as he pointed the gun at the newly arrived figure. And yet, he didn’t shoot. This one had no light. It almost felt pointless, just shooting it down like this. A waste of bullet. For a moment, he faltered, his feet stumbling backward. Then he bumped into something. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the green figure standing just behind him. 

[i] Oh. Gish. [/i]

 It felt as if he just woke up from an especially vivid dream, and had just now regained a sense of his surroundings. He turned, just in time to see the masked figure dropped the last body. The smoke retreated as she drew near. His instincts finally kicked in, and he dashed off. He shouldn't stay, not now. That masked thing would kill them all. If the goblin and Valorie had any sense, they would have done the same. These parts were unfamiliar territory for him; he rarely had a reason to travel down here. People in Chinatown preferred to bury their own dead, it seemed. So he just kept running, rounding corners when he could and half-expecting a bullet to find its way to his back the whole time. It didn’t, but he stopped after a while. Dead end. 

 He stared at the brick wall in front of him, breaths labored from the exertion. His mind was in overdrive, memories bled into thoughts and for a moment there, he could still see the taunting lights behind the wall. He raked shaky fingers to his hair, pulling until it hurt. 

 “[color=lightblue]Did you see it?[/color]”- It took him a few seconds to realize it was his own voice speaking. He turned around, only to realize Gish had followed him. –“[color=lightblue]The light? Hers?[/color]”  

 Seeing Sander turn tail and run, Gish followed. Between the thugs, the one in the mask, the gunfire, and the slashing, all he wanted was to be as far away from it all as possible. He always did his best to plan for the worst. Escape routes, holdout weapons, stashes of his best guns in corners of the city, he had even planted a few bombs in his apartment should the place ever get broken into while he was away. But when the shouting and shooting started, it all came apart in his mind. His mind was in panic mode, no thought to where they were running, what alleys would wind and bend to elude attackers, what buildings were abandoned or what bars he could weave through to throw people off. He just kept his head down and ran.

 Before long he heard the footsteps ahead of him stop. He looked up, Sander had caught them at a dead end. His breathing quickened and he began swiveling his head around trying to get his bearings. His surrounding felt alien to him, which only served to heighten his panic.

 "[color=green]Wot light son!?!, Don't we ave' us a getaway drivah or somefin?!?[/color]"

 “[color=lightblue]You can’t see. Hah. You really can’t.[/color]”- Sander mumbled under his breath, brown eyes widened in disbelief, as if the goblin had just sprouted wings and claimed to be Satan. Metal dug into his palm, hot and uncomfortably slippery because of sweaty hand. He glanced down, finally loosened the white-knuckle grip on his weapon. But he didn’t put it away yet, instead just flipped the safety back on and straightened himself up. 

 “[color=lightblue]Sorry Gish. No ride.[/color]” –He seemed calm enough, but that was just the outside. A façade he put up for his sake, nothing else. He still barely knew what he was doing. On any other day, he would have ditched the goblin, walked out of here and grabbed a cab home. No, he wouldn’t have showed up here in the first place. But after this morning incident, coped with the brutal deaths he had just witnessed a few minutes prior, his rational mind had decided to go on strike. His own thoughts felt muddled and groggy, something akin to a bad hangover, and he did things just because. Whenever he hesitated, his mind just supplied a reason, and he clung to it as he pressed on. Maybe he had finally lost it. 

 Now he had to go back for Valorie. Why? Because she was his contact in the Rat. Also one of his regular. He couldn’t let her die. Yeah, that sounded about right. He dug into his pocket for the wallet, then tossed it over to Gish. –“Get a cab. Go. I have to…find her.”- He paused for a moment, locking eyes with the goblin –“[color=lightblue]Why, you have no light yourself.[/color]”-He remarked, almost surprised, before turning and backtracking to the alley where it all started. 

 He never found the original site of the murders, of course. It bothered him more than it should, and he didn’t understand why. It didn’t stop him from trying though. He pressed on, pushing his stamina to its limits on the maze-like alleys of Chinatown. Then, he saw the smoke. Not his tainted, blackened version, but the white, wisp-like type you get when you burnt things. He turned, hesitated for a split second, before breaking into a sprint.