Dawn's Darkest Hour

The boy had exactly the personality O'Sullivan liked in his prey. Popular, confident, maybe even a little arrogant, qualities O'Sullivan deemed necessary to get the job done. There was no room for error in his operation.

The kid was tall and lanky. The thin ridge of his hipbones was plainly visible over the top of his baggy jeans. Shoulder blades stuck out from beneath an oversized t-shirt like chicken wings. O'Sullivan might have bypassed him as on the verge of starvation a mere twenty years ago. But, in this new world, thin was in, or so the tabloids told him. A mass of coppery colored hair, not quite red, but not quite blond, drooped over the boy's face in an unruly shook, quite the fashion for youths of this day and age. Intelligent mossy green eyes flickered at the hero worship from his friends.

O'Sullivan stayed in the shadows, evaluating his prey. The hour grew late and the streets quiet. Long after the boy's friends had deserted him for their beds. The boy continued hot dogging on his skateboard in hopes to draw attention from anyone that might happen to pass by. The boy was in luck. He'd drawn more attention than he could have hoped for.

O'Sullivan slid out of his hiding place and walked at a leisurely pace toward the boy. "What's your name boy?"

"Brant, what of it?" The boy answered warily. He was fast, before this jerk could make a move, he'd be gone. His eyes flicked from one side of the street to the other. One foot stayed planted on the skateboard, the other on the sidewalk. Just in case this guy was going to try any funny business. Given the look of the guy, shady as hell wearing a long dark trench coat and a dark suit underneath, he just might.

O'Sullivan withdrew his hand from his jacket. In the palm he held a vial of pink. "Brant, I have a little business proposition for you."

Brant's eyes fixed on the vial in the man's hand. Pink. He'd never tried the stuff. Pink was too expensive for his meager allowance to buy and nobody absolutely nobody gave the drug away for free. He scanned the street and rolled on his skateboard closer to the man. He licked his lips in contemplation. The drug just might be his ticket out. Selling it or fading into a stupor, either way was good for him. "I'm listening."