[center][u][b]Justin Bark[/b][/u][/center]
[center][b]Slums[/b][/center]

	Although the single roomed shack was dark, bits of light peppered in from various holes and spaces in the walls. A single candle resting on the only wooden surface, the top of a simple drawer, illuminated what it could, remaining steady as it was untouched by the wind. Laying on this table of sorts was a letter detailing a job, a small glass jar containing a blue powdery substance, and a cup of water. Sitting on the edge of a bed next to the drawer, Justin Bark, old criminal and ex privateer, lunatic to others, had started preparing for the evening. He sat shirtless, holding a syringe in his hands. Looking over the blue powder, Dust, he had decided that what remained wasn't worth conserving. Shifting forward a bit, the man grabbed the cup of water and allowed a splash to pour into the jar of Dust. He then took the tip of the syringe in hand, mixing it together a bit before pulling back on the plunger and creating a vacuum for the blue tinted liquid to suck into.

	Plugging the needle into a vein at the crease of his extended and tightened left arm, Justin drew just a bit of blood to see if he had his mark. The dark red pouring into the cylinder brought a curt grin to form on his lips. He pushed down on the plunger, a rush of euphoria and energy washed over him, and truly, the old sailor had awoken. Having been a Dust fiend for quite some time, Justin considered himself lucky to have stumbled upon the small niche of those who had taken it in this way. From his understanding, this was rare and unheard to even the most addicted of users and the idea was stolen from the most advanced medical practitioners in the Empire. Maker knows how much Justin had to invest in acquiring a syringe himself. Cleaning up after his mess, washing the syringe of blood and returning it to a leather container that he would slide into a hidden pocket on the inside of the back of his pants, he looked over the drawer top before him, glaring first at the empty jar and then to the letter next to it, Justin was simply glad that he had found work for the night.

	Using his newfound energy to prepare, Justin got dressed, gathered his personal belongings, armed himself, and looked over the letter once more. He had received the letter from an unnamed messenger earlier in the day and it's contents were just as simple. The parchment plainly stated that the job was from Thomas Kelling, a former employer, and that a shop owner down the way was to be intimidated into paying his protection fees. The pay was to be in 15 coins, delivered the day following the job's completion. Justin crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it to the floor of his shack before blowing out the single candle flame and taking his leave.

	The sun had began to falter in the sky, leaving the cityscape horizon a soft hue of orange when it wasn't blocked by a complex of buildings. The hustle and bustle of the streets was now decaying as people went about concluding their business, shutting down their market stalls, cleaning up their messes, and so on. This was the perfect time to begin a night of work as it didn't require any stealth activity and it wasn't conspicuous to be roaming the street. Justin Bark, triggerman to those who needed a place held up or a man killed, robber and murderer to some, had yet again began his descent into the role that he was hired for. With the loose stone beneath him clicking beneath his boots, he made his way toward the shop at the end of the street.

	The triggerman's mind ran all over the place, contemplating various realities which could follow every single action he took. Every single detail of the world around him was beyond interesting, his eyes darting to and fro in an attempt to observe the details of every stone, every piece of grain, every bug, and so on. The only thing that he tried to ignore were the whispers in the distance, seemingly emerging from every alley, muttering his name or speaking some other mockery. Although unfocused, he kept moving forward, coming to a stop just outside of the named shop and taking a deep breath. Looking around the street, he saw that most of the human activity was a far enough distance that he could make a disturbance and go unnoticed. Placing his hand on the grip of his flintlock pistol, Justin took another deep breath to focus and took a few steps back. He was supposed to intimidate this fellow and that's what he intended to do. He pushed the bandanna upon his head, with the cloth resting on his nose and hanging down to obscure his features, before proceeding.

	Bits of wood sputtered into the shop as the door's hinges snapped and bent and the wooden frame flung inward. With pistol in hand, Justin immediately marched toward the man behind the counter of the shop. He aimed the barrel toward him, shouting in a fast paced manner as he did so. 

	"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, EH!? GIVE ME ALL YOUR FUCKING COIN 'LESS YOU'RE TRYNA' GET A BULLET, MATE", the words were bland, the first that came to the old criminal's mind, but effective nonetheless. The owner of the shop trembled in Justin's wake, likely frightened by the sudden exchange and frightened by both the demeanor and stature of Justin. The shop owner immediately began doing as he was instructed, rummaging through a drawer of the shop counter, searching for where he kept his coin from the day's transactions. As this happened, Justin listened to the words of someone in the world behind him, outside of the shop. It was a mocking voice, though he couldn't hear the exact words spoken.

	Spinning on his heel, Justin turned and fired out into the distance, toward where he heard the voice. Although no one was to be seen, Justin shouted out again, this time at those who would speak ill of him.

	"COME AND FIGHT ME IF YOU WANT TO FUCK WITH ME THAT BAD, YA' FUCKIN' GIRL", he screamed. Justin heard the familiar whistle of the city guard. He hadn't planned on firing a single shot on this job but had let his anger get the better of him when it came to that sudden verbal attack. Now, he was about to be swarmed by the guard and had to get out of there. Turning around again, he ran up to the counter and swiped what coin the shop owner had procured before running off into the street. Justin hoped that the shop owner was scared enough to start paying for protection as of the morning and that the job was successful. 

	As soon as he stepped onto the stone pavement, Justin saw that guards were coming at him from either direction. Directly across from him was an alleyway, his only chance at escape. Darting forward, he made way for the alley with as much speed and intensity as he could. Rushing ahead, he made it maybe forty feet into the brick tunnel like escape route until he had found... that the darkness of the night had covered the fact that this was a dead end.

	Behind Justin, a troop of the city's forces had come upon him. Justin sighed, knowing that he had no chance. Laying down his pistol and the bag of coins, the criminal got on his knees and put his hands behind his head. Although every ounce of the man wanted to fight as much as he could, Justin knew that it would only cause more trouble, if not his death. If he was lucky, he'd be out in a few months time.

	[center][b]Status = Caught[/b][/center]