Writing
[This work is a first/rough draft, comments welcome.]
Part 1
The city glows demented hues of pink through the black downpour.
My cough is getting worse.
I bumped into a wino on the street and my ribs are burning, fucker may have given me a damn third-world infection, how he looked.
I swallow a dose of StayAwakes and manage a glance back: the old tail is gone, the new one is there, in the open.
Whoever is following me is NOT a professional team, your typical Hong Kong riff-raff that's for sale down at the grey meat market.
I dive into an alleyway, scream something about an infection in a practiced high-tone and accented voice, then disappear.
Six blocks away, where no one is even aware of the riot developing nearby, I swap disguises and slip into a bar.
Louie's Something Or Other, that's their damn name.
I slip in the back, plant myself in a dark corner booth, and watch the front entrance.
It's a busy night, people are coming and going, but I don't notice anyone looking for an assassin.
I do notice my imaginary twin brother.