There were flames in his glasses but no fire in his eyes.

Two figures stood quietly together in the empty street. The flames flickered angrily in the doorway in front of them.

He looked through the reflection of the fire and gazed helplessly into the other figure's eyes. They glimmered in the moonlight.

There was nothing else to do.

They turned and walked away.


It was a warm spring day, and Arnold Wesker was out walking with his boss. He cradled the tiny body carefully in his arms as they walked down the streets, letting him look back and forth at all the sights there were in the busy street market.

Mr. Scarface was closer to him than family. He was all he had in this world, and he'd do well to remember it. After all, didn't Mr. Scarface remind him of that every day?

Arnold raised a hand and gently rubbed the black eye that Mr. Scarface had given him last night, after that…discussion about the bank job.

Wasn't he worth it? To be so close to someone that powerful. Mr. Scarface got respect. When Mr. Scarface talked, people listened. When Arnold talked, people looked away, or talked to someone else right over him.

Wasn't he worth it?

Mr. Scarface shifted in his arm and glared up at him. "Get that hand back down here, dummy. I don't pay you to rub your eye all day."

"Yessir, Mr. Scarface," Arnold nodded, and wrapped his hand back under Scarface's legs. They continued walking, taking in the sights and sounds of the marketplace.

A scream attracted their attention. Arnold turned them and they saw an overly made up woman in a short red dress being yanked through the crowd by a big man with a wobbly potbelly shoved into his dirty t-shirt. The man pulled her into an abandoned alley.

"Get closer, dummy," ordered Scarface. Arnold hastened to obey.

"…and you hurt your precious little ankle! Listen here, sweetheart, I got better things to do than wait on you. Keep up or get out," he snapped.

"Okay, Bud, okay," she gasped, rubbing her swollen ankle. "I'll keep up, I will."

The behemoth grabbed her by the wrist again and pulled her out of the alley. She limped as quickly as she could behind him, hopping and skipping when limping wasn't fast enough. Her scarlet high heels scraped frantically on the asphalt as she tried to stay with him.

"Come on, Linda, you fat cow!" Linda, who certainly didn't fit that description, panted and hopped desperately behind him as they disappeared into the horde of people. The last thing they saw of her was her hair as it swung wildly around the corner and disappeared.

Linda.

Scarface rolled her name around in his mind. What a body, what a hot little number, and so obedient! He'd never seen a woman like her before. She made him feel…powerful just looking at her!

Linda.

Arnold looked after her sadly. That poor girl, stuck in such a bad relationship. It was too bad she didn't have someone like Mr. Scarface to look after her.

"Hey, dummy?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Scarface?"

"Let's go home. I've got some thinkin' to do."