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[i] WHAP! WHAM![/i]

	Jeremiah stood stunned as he watched two of his crewmates turn the corner with the furious intent of lions onto gazelles. Within a blink of an eye the two of the bouncers were struck to the ground and in a few more seconds all four decided to retreat back to the bar. Jeremiah guessed from the sheer threat of Eimi and the promise of a paid tab by Lynnette, the last bouncer would have grumpily yet loyally joined his brethren in the withdrawal, if he was capable.

	Jeremiah looked down at the large brute guiltily. The man was still on his stomach, his entire shoulder drenched in vomit, and a gentle trickle of red coming from his mouth, no doubt a loose tooth. 

	Two terrified eyes once again looked up at Jeremiah as he scanned the bile, he had nearly forgotten the man he threw up on. Jeremiah went to apologize to the man, but then stopped. The eyes belonged to a scrawny looking man probably well past sixty. He sat scrunched up against the alley wall, eyes wide and unblinking. Jeremiah moved to the side and the eyes did not follow him. 
	
	Leaning in Jeremiah noticed dried blood crusting along the corners of the old man’s mouth, pooling under the eyes, nose, and even out of the ears. A look of understanding washed over Jeremiah as he noticed the small plastic bag in the dead man’s lap, a familiar baby blue color peeking out. 

	“Rest easy,” Jeremiah whispered to no one in particular as he leaned over the man to take the bag. The words coming out awkward and clumsily, whiskey induced or otherwise. It sounded as if Jeremiah had a few more words to say but they never came as he felt the little blue pills through the plastic bag, his lips pursed. He offered only a few seconds of observation before shoving them into his pocket, making sure to keep his back to any potential onlookers and more importantly: Lynnette and Eimi.  

	Making sure his pants weren’t bulging from the new addition, he turned to face his crew, his face sober and his body slowly following. He sucked in his lower lip and nibbled on it anxiously as he approached his savours. He had no explanation for them, no real excuses, no alibi, and no real idea of what he was doing. His footsteps held the only sound, echoing off the alley until they too fell silent. The shadow of the alley was now behind him, and his friends before him.

	“I hate southern Mars.”

	There was a long pause.

	“Ship?”
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