An old clock tower, frozen at a time that can no longer be read. Is that the minute hand or the hour hand hanging limply at the 6 o'clock position? Is it precisely at six, or a little to the left or right? Who took the face? The other hand? Why did they leave the hand that remains?

A new work of street art at its base, sprayed in that same shade of crimson paint you may have seen once before: on the wall of the warehouse where that gang that wanted to be the new Fenice family used to reside; spread across the pavement in the parking lot of the last major shopping mall to move out of Herse. They've been appearing in abandoned places lately.

A hasty but coherent crimson likeness of Miss Vermillion, smiling mysteriously just as she does in that famous photo from the last public address in which she used the name of Herse. Here, the image is somewhat undercut - not just by its sketchy shape, but by the rest of the composition. Looping around her, curving behind her, chaotically imprinted across her face and clothes...
[color=crimson][b]SMARTEST IN THE WOMAN IN THE
WORLD HERO OF TAYGETE WANT TO BE JUST LIKE
LIKE HER WHEN I SMARTEST MOST BEST FOR THE JOB
ONLY ONE FOR THE JOB IN THE WHOLE WORLD[/b][/color]

*

Two cans lighter than she came, a woman, whom more people know by the name of Cherry than any other, makes her way directly to her art supplier. Her work is well behind her sketchbook. She'll never catch up if she stops at just one today.

The streets are quieter at this time. Herse is never quiet and never safe by day or night, but Cherry's frequent sleepless wanderings have found about 4 AM to be the ideal - most everyone worth avoiding is preparing to do something at sunrise, and the rest are asleep, nearly asleep, or wrapping up work. Those left on the streets are out now because they don't want to meet anyone, and that suits her excellently.

She cocks her ear to a voice whispering a mantra in a curious rhythm. "You're-not-alone-now," to the tune of... just a little out of time with her footsteps. Well, there are no absolutes in Herse - some are out now to find people who don't want trouble. She suddenly shifts her gait, and her follower comes briefly out of sync, just long enough that she can hear their steps herself.

Too bad for them, a bad place to stage an ambush. Her destination's just a block off, and the owner's shotgun is always loaded. They'll wait for her outside, but she'll disappoint them.

*

The man behind the counter looks up from his magazine at the ring of the doorbell. Before a word passes between him and the entrant, he bends down and picks out a case of her brand. Unlike most of his stock, with some other exceptions, it's undrinkable in the medical sense, with official warning labels to prove it. But a regular is a regular, and stock that sells is stock that sells.

"Money tonight?"

She tosses cash on the counter as she takes the cans. Never credit with her. Probably for the best. She seems like an enemy-of-the-state type.

[color=crimson]"Yeah. No favors. Work to do."[/color]

"Good. M'floor's already mopped if y'didn't notice."

[color=crimson]"I didn't. See me out the back door."[/color]

"Squatter outside?"

Cherry nods as she passes him. He rolls his eyes and rolls his shoulders, grabbing his gun to show her out.