Endless guilt, pain, death—one hundred ninety seven, now one hundred ninety eight—tired, hungry, sick, sleepless…this is my beat; fifth and sparrow street, the bread and butter of my life on the devil’s seat. They call me Happy Jack; a name I inherited from busting the heads of a Russian mafia run drug ring that lead to my Robin Hood debut of stealing from the rich and giving to the street urchin bums that could use a little escape from their own names.
Tonight’s the night, judgment hour, time for those sweet talking murderers of law to feast on sour bullets. Every Tom, Dick and Sally knows the law, its common sense; right and wrong but most of the time the right is made wrong to ensure a good nights rest; people in my city call that Jack’s Law—but I’m far from my city…
I hear the tick, tock of Grandfather’s clock and I know that it’s time for someone to die.
