Whenever a storm came through Boston, it had a way of amplifying the smell of the streets in some of the worst ways. It wasn’t just the concrete and mud but the nondescript accumution of crud from the city over hundreds of years. Depending on where one stood, it was better or worse. Generally speaking, it was worse on the subway, so Ivan elected to take the bus instead.

  The rain had relented for a time, allowing Ivan a quick cigarette at the curb as he waited for the bus. It was running te, but that was to be expected anytime there was bad weather. Ivan had anticipated the dey and left his apartment early, so he wasn’t worried. As daylight faded into night, more commuters joined him at the curb beneath the sign until the bus itself emerged from the congestion of traffic.

  Ivan took a final drag from his cigarette before flicking it into the street, where the tiny red dot at the end extinguished itself in a puddle. Taking a step back to give the bus some room, Ivan let a few of the other people waiting at the stop to board while he fished around in the pocket of his leather jacket for a token.

  “Hey, Chuck,” Ivan said, greeting the driver. He’d been using the same bus route long enough to have learned most of the drivers’ names, and Chuck was his favorite. Ivan was fairly certain the man had stepped out of high school and onto a bus to drive it, given how long he seemed to have been doing it.

  “Ivan,” Chuck responded, producing a hand to take Ivan’s briefly. “Off to work?”

  Ivan nodded, dropping a token into the slot of the receptacle next to the driver. “You know it.”

  “Anything happening this weekend?” Chuck asked absently as the rest of the riders boarded the bus, depositing their tokens before passing behind Ivan as he spoke with the driver.

  “Same old shit,” Ivan admitted with a little shrug. “Nothing special.”

  The driver chuckled slightly, closed the door, checked his mirrors, and put the bus back into gear. Ivan took the hint and moved back down the aisle to find a seat. Luckily, there was one still open on the aisle toward the back, which he plopped down into heavily. Ivan took a moment to adjust his leather jacket and the weight of the handgun he kept hidden within. It didn’t make for much comfort, but the protection it offered in his line of work was worth the trade-off. It wasn’t like there was much comfort to be found on a city bus, anyway.

  “Does this bus go down Commonwealth?” an older woman from across the aisle asked.

  Ivan nodded as he took in her details. She had the distinct aura of someone from out of town but not from out of state. He’d watched and scouted enough people to know the subtle signs that gave people away. “Yeah.”

  “Thank you,” the older woman responded, assured that she was on the right bus.

  Ivan gnced out the window to let himself zone out. It was the same routine as always. He would head downtown to a payphone where he would receive a call. That call would rey whatever work his employers had for him that night. Should he be te, there would be disciplinary action that would be taken. Thankfully, Ivan only needed that lesson to be taught once and made allowances for himself by leaving early.

  Turning his gaze back to the interior of the bus, he scanned the riders for the evening, searching for anything promising. Scouting was his primary job, only having to get his hands dirty when the days were at their longest and the nights their shortest. He still had about a month before he expected to be pulled into acquisitions, but with the recent territory disputes, it was anyone’s guess how things might have changed.

  Running a hand through his short, bck hair, Ivan mulled over the possibility of having to run acquisitions closer to home. He tried not to shit where he ate, preferring to scout out prospects on other routes and other parts of the city, but if the noose was tightening like everyone was saying, he might have to take more risks to keep his employers satisfied.

  It went against all the rules he’d established for himself, but if his employers said jump, it was in his best interests to say, “How high?”

  Ivan was tired of it. He wanted to escape his line of work and go somewhere where he wasn’t known. He’d thought of faking his death several times over the years but realized doing so wasn’t as easy as it might have been on TV. Thwarting the mundane means of detection would be easy, but his employers had other ways of rooting out the truth and getting to the bottom of things. He had no way of knowing all their methods, even after all these years, and simply couldn’t account for them.

  So it was back to the grind every night, trudging his way into the city to scout people out as easy marks. Regurs in any of the pces he went were a bad idea. Instead, he focused on people from out of town---preferably those from out of state. It was much harder to track such missing individuals down, especially if they ended up running with the sorts he kept his eyes on.

  The man to his right, sitting against the window, was a good example of someone he wouldn’t touch. He didn’t know him by name, but he’d seen him around several dozen times and concluded that he lived in the area. The older woman on the other side of the isnd was a much better candidate, but not ideal.

  Ivan’s eyes drifted from person to person on the bus, using the woman as a midpoint and ranking each person his gaze passed over as better or worse than her in terms of risk. He’d been doing it for so long that he hardly thought about the criteria anymore. He simply recognized them on sight. It had become second nature to him, as it had with others in simir lines of work.

  The rain picked up again, resulting in more passengers boarding at the stops they made. The general smell of wet people and fabric was almost enough to make him wish he’d taken the T instead. A few individuals, in particur, smelled especially ripe and were likely on their way home from work while he was heading in. None of those boarding looked like particurly good prospects, and few managed to break the tedium as he drew nearer to his destination.

  Then, the hooded stranger boarded.

  Ivan noticed her immediately---at least, he assumed it was a her. The body nguage was graceful enough, and the frame beneath the hooded cloak seemed feminine enough. But there was something about the stranger that seemed off. She breezed right past Chuck without paying a fare, which didn’t seem to bother the driver at all. In fact, he didn’t seem to acknowledge her presence at all.

  Furrowing his brows, Ivan watched as she approached an occupied seat and, without a word, appeared to coax the occupant from it so that she could have it. The coat she was wearing was several sizes too rge for her, resembling a cloak more than anything. Ivan noted a distinct ck of footwear as well, which would have been another thing to catch Chuck’s attention on any other night. It was one of his little peeves.

  The person who’d given up his seat didn’t seem to acknowledge the stranger’s presence beyond the moment he’d moved aside. Ivan could feel a certain weight to the stranger’s presence. Something about her wasn’t right. Ivan felt his hand slide instinctively into his jacket, resting on the grip of the gun.

  The stranger’s head slowly turned to look back in his direction. He couldn’t make out a face, much less if the stranger’s eyes were actually upon him. It was more of a feeling than anything, but he was certain her eyes were upon him.

  Ivan felt his hand slip away from his weapon without even thinking.

  “Hey!” The man next to him shouted, half-standing from his seat. “That was my stop!”

  Gncing out the window, Ivan was briefly able to catch a glimpse of a few people waving their arms at a stop as the bus passed them by. His gaze drifted from the window to the man beside him and then toward the driver, who seemed to continue heedless of the shouting. Indeed, more people were beginning to join in the shouting, some who had missed their stops and others who were just trying to lend a hand.

  “What’s happening?” the woman across the aisle asked, looking to Ivan for answers once again. He didn’t have any for her this time, offering her only a vague shrug.

  The bus sped along, eventually blowing through a red light, though thankfully managed to avoid the cross-traffic.

  “Hey, Chuck!” Ivan shouted, finally rising from his seat. “Everything alright up there?”

  He gnced at the man who had been sitting beside him, and together, the two of them moved toward the front of the bus. “Chuck?”

  “Be not afraid,” the stranger said, turning her head toward the two of them. “It is too te for him.”

  Ivan slowed, looking down at the stranger, who he realized would be much taller than him if she were standing. He exchanged gnces with his impromptu ally, who seemed just as confused as he was. “Why? What did you do to him?”

  Ivan thought he caught a glimpse of a smirk somewhere under the hood.

  “The fuck is goin’ on here?” Ivan’s new companion demanded as he reached out and took hold of the stranger’s shoulder. He wasn’t a small or weak-looking man, yet the stranger seemed unmoved--- and unphased--- by the jerking motion of the man’s arm.

  The stranger briefly looked at the hand on her shoulder, which immediately fell away with a noticeable tremble. He took a few steps back toward Ivan, bumping into him before turning to face him.

  Ivan looked into his eyes, which had begun to tear up. It was like all hope had been stripped from the man in an instant. Then, before Ivan could react, the man reached into his jacket and pulled his gun as though he’d known where to find it all along. Ivan stumbled backward in a desperate attempt to put some distance between them, tripping over another rider’s feet and falling to the aisle floor.

  “Stop the bus!” Ivan yelled, realizing that his voice was alone. The others had ceased their cmoring to take their seats, hardly reacting to what was pying out in front of them. Ivan was sure that his former ally was going to put a few rounds in his chest. “Chuck, please! Stop the fucking---!”

  The man standing over him put the gun to his own head, tears streaking down his face, and pulled the trigger. Ivan watched in horror not only as the man’s body fell lifelessly to the floor at his feet but as no one around him seemed to react to the grisly suicide that seemed to come out of nowhere.

  “...the fuck?” Ivan stammered as the smell of blood filled the air. He didn’t understand what he’d just witnessed. Slowly, the stranger got to her feet, and, this time, Ivan was sure of the smirk beneath the hood. Her teeth were impossibly white and straight, filling a mouth that seemed just a little too wide---too perfect. “What is this?”

  The stranger ran her hands up the front of her body, slowly opening the coat to reveal no other clothing beneath. Ivan’s head began to swim as he kicked at the floor, trying to put distance between himself and what felt like a bck hole forming in the center of the bus as it continued down Commonwealth Avenue.

  “Be not afraid,” the stranger repeated as she shed the rest of her clothing. Ivan found his vision beginning to blur as she slowly approached him. He was vaguely aware of others on the bus beginning to disrobe as well. Low moans began to fill the air---some of pleasure and some of pain.

  “Rejoice,” the stranger said, her grin spreading ever wider. Ivan couldn’t take his eyes off of that terrible, perfect, beautiful grin of hers. He tried to pry his eyes away from her as she spread her arms but found himself unable to do so as tears of crimson red streamed down his face. His body felt weak as his mind started to go bnk.

  The stranger advanced. “Be not afraid.”