Active Ink Slinger
The night was hot and still. The scents of Chinese cooking mixed with stale refuse. Echoes of jazz music floated on the air, making the dark alley feel like a scene out of a Raymond Chandler novel. Gunshots rang out. Footsteps thudded down the street. Rembacher looked around, trying to see who was coming before they saw him. That one little act could mean the difference between life and death on the dirty streets of New Orleans...