Shoeshine boy, plumber, electrician, but above all, a hustler, eternally nudged by the siren's song. There was a scuffle with the guards-- they had him locked up, but it didn't take long for his misery to be unbearable even for the cell bars and the prisoners alike.

Crackhead father, prostitute mother; the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, yet there he was, once again, walking over Sapphire Bay's pavement, in search of cheap pleasure. It was nighttime, and some wishy-washy jazz was needed.

But it was hard to find fun. Everyone was out to get him, wasn't? Maybe even his peers. The effect wore off; thus, every door in the Bay's slums would have to be knocked at, surely one of them had what he wanted.