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The sound of unfolding paper cracks like branches during a thunderstorm.

And the noise echoes off the slimy walls of the narrow alleyway.

We sure about this?

Johnny Wings asks, no one in particular.

Each member of the group steals a look at Johnny Wings, then focuses back on the piece of paper

and the crudely drawn map it holds.

Except for one man.

His eyes don't leave the piece of paper.

I'm sure, Sal Tumo replies. He's the one holding the map. He's also the one who can answer

for all of them. I've been waiting for this since I was a kid. Jesus, Sal, get a life. Kirk

McHenry laughs. The corner of Sal's mouth twitches, and Kirk frowns.

Sorry, Sal.

I didn't mean nothing by it.

You meant something or you wouldn't have said it.

Eyes still on the map.

Sal just stands there while the others shuffled their feet.

Jesus Christ, are we doing this or what?

Roger Dodger knew, sparks. Even with this damn map, we could be in there a while.

...