A game by Gordon Calleja
Three in the morning and no one out in the streets except him and a stray dog sniffing around a dumpster.
Shadowman steps out into the light and looks around the corner of the alley at the old printing shop. A nondescript building in a dilapidated neighborhood, hollowed out by redlining and neglect after white folks lit out for the suburbs. Nothing but abandoned warehouses and junkie squats and the occasional gang hideout. Griffon Printing, reads a weather-beaten sign hanging from a pole. Creaking in the wind. Newspaper blowing across the street like tumbleweed.
Storm blowing in. Coming for Roxy Kween and her empire of dirt.