By Peter B. and Art Intelli
A Note from the Author:
This story was originally meant to be a “One Off”, but I received several messages encouraging me to continue this scenario, so here you go… (I hope you enjoy!)
The Walk Home
The city had never felt so loud.
Peter had managed to pull his trench coat up over his shoulders, so that he could wear it like a cape. He would have been totally fucked if the damn Argento had actually cuffed his hand behind his back as he had said he would. At the time, Peter was disaapointed. Now he was elated. But even as it was, the manacles were not really covered beneath his coat when it flapped open, and they glistened like mirrored bracelets. He hid in the wings until it sounded like everyone had gone home, and then he left the theater under cover of night, the cool metal around his ankles clinked softly with each step, echoing off alley walls and empty sidewalks. A few passersby cast him strange looks, but no one stopped. In a city like this, you could walk down the street in chains and people would still pretend not to see.
