This Is Bat Country.

Gray clouds of cigarette smoke danced around the dark figure as they took another long draw, exhaling in a rather dark and seducing manner as they lifted their distinct, pointed jaw to the sky and let the swirls of smoke escape their lips. Dropping the cancer stick to the ground, the stranger ground its ashes into the rain-soaked sidewalk with the toe of a beat up leather boot.

Suddenly the bright, silver moon slipped out from behind the cover of midnight-blue clouds and the previously dark street was illuminated. The road was nearly completely deserted except for one, lone drunk stumbling out of a bar. Laughing and mumbling incoherently to himself, he made his way off the sidewalk and down into an alley.

The shadowy figure stepped out of the shadows and into the street. Murky water sloshed around their boots, dark droplets forming on the toes and sides of the material where the leather had begun to tear away from the sole. Shimmering moonlight bathed over long, fiery red hair and a smooth, porcelain toned face. The high collar of a motorcycle jacket was pulled up around her chin and neck, making her appearance rather intimidating and unsettling. Gray cargo pants hung loosely around her hips, accenting the natural curve of her waist as it fell into her thighs. The ends were tucked into her old leather boots, a few pieces of duct tape providing a makeshift hold for where the heels and toes were splitting away from the rubber.

Her long hair twisted around her slender shoulders, the wind dissettling the crimson curls as a light breeze picked up. She strode confidently down the road with a certain spark of determination lighting the fire in her green eyes. Water splashed onto her pants as she sloshed carelessly through muddy puddles scattered here and there across her path.

Retrieving a small handgun from the back of her waistband, she simultaneously pulled a clip with a single bullet from her right pocket. She never used more than one bullet because she never missed and she only needed one bullet to finish her job.

With one last minute fleeting glance behind her, she stole away into the same shadowy alleyway the blubbering drunk had stumbled down not moments before. Creeping through the shadows, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, avoiding puddles and kicking pebbles. Her olive eyes narrowed into two slits, like a lioness focusing in on her prey. He was hollering into a small cell-phone, his speech slurred together as he leaned against the gray brick wall of a building. A dry whiskey bottle lay at his feet, the brown glass bearing a long, jagged crack down the middle.

"N-noomann. Thatsh thethingg. Th-they don't even get it." He chuckled into the receiver, wiping sweat and dirt from his forehead with the back of his grimy hand.

She slid behind a slime-covered, dark-green dumpster. Crouching down among various crates and other forms of debris, she honed in on the one-sided conversation.

"Nahh. Offcourse th-they don'tknow where the money is. Yyeahh I'msure. Nahh th-they dont even knowwhere I am, man."

Once she heard those final words, she revealed her hiding place, standing not three feet away from the drunken fool.

His jaw dropped and he mumbled into the phone a few incoherent syllables about having to leave, and he dropped it to the ground, the small piece of hardware splashing into a combination of water and mud.

"Graves sent you, didn't he?" Surprisingly articulate, the sudden shock seemed to have sobered him up quite a bit.

She said nothing. Her expression remained completely blank, nothing changed.

"Come on, let me talk to him. I'll explain everything." He pleaded, slowly raising his hands and taking a few steps backwards, trapping himself even deeper in the death trap of the alley's corner.

"Where's the money?" She suddenly asked, her voice low and calm; laced with a haunting venom that sent a cold chill down the spine of all who heard it.

"M-money? Come on, you know I know nothing about that." He tried to choke out a chuckle which resembled a cross between a snort and a cough.

Cocking the gun and pointing it directly at the spot between his two eyes, "Say that one more time."

He swallowed hard and began to noticeably shake even more. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he began to desperately try to cover his own ass.

"I'm telling y-you, I d-don't know where the m-money is. Jared took it an-"

"I hope you're ready to dance with the devil."

And she pulled the trigger.