Each step echoed on the empty streets of Indianapolis, with a rhythmic [i]clack clack clack[/i] upon the pavement as a man strode along the sidewalk of a rundown neighborhood towards a building with a sign above it's entrance.

In big bolded letters the sign read [i]St. Bartholomew's Orphanage[/i], which easily stood out from the dreary look of the neighborhood around it. The building itself looked old and was made from bricks unlike most of the slums on the block where the poor lived in small dirty apartment complex's making a living by breaking the law or selling their bodies to those who would use them, no matter their appearance. 

It was a disgusting life that sickened Jose Georgio-Lorenzo Martinez, whose pace slowed to a halt beneath the light of a lone lamppost, his hand dipped into the pockets of his long overcoat and pulled a lighter out in one hand while the other flicked a cigarette out of a package, rolling it around in-between his index and his thumb before bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

It was a bit billowy outside so he cupped his hands around his mouth as he lit his lighter with a [i]shick shick shick[/i], taking a moment for the fluid within his lighter to light his cigarette. He inhaled it afterwards and held his breath for a second as he tasted the tobacco then in a puff of smoke he exhaled slowly, flicking the ashes of the cigarette in his left hand. He smoked for only a moment longer before dropping the cigarette on the pavement, then ground it beneath the heel of his black slacks.

Smoking wasn't the same anymore now that he was what he was, worse that he couldn't innoculate himself on the drugs he peddles but better he not get high on his own supply like he once did. However he had new goals in life now, one of which would take a long time to reach but still the smaller goals add up. An errant hand dipped into his inner coat pocket as he felt the wad of bills he carried.

It was for the old lady who ran the orphanage, Jose had always had a soft spot for the elderly woman who looked after the children in the orphanage as she had raised him there after he was placed within her care. It was a shame she had lost some of her eyesight and equally her memory but deep down she was the same caring old woman who treated the children in her care kindly.

Jose walked up to the door, pushing the old wooden door open with a loud creak and the bell rang above it to let the occupants know there was a visitor in the orphanage.