The dim orange light stubbornly held onto a patch of brightness, having prepared for the approaching deep night.
Los Angeles is the second-largest urban area in Ugly Country, an extreme metropolis of steel, surrounded by concrete and rebar buildings, crisscrossed with alleys pooling with shadow.
This place might be piled with rubbish, waterholes reeking of stench overlaying the ground, or it might hide many secrets unknown to the public, yet dangerous enough.
At this moment, in an equally deep alley.
The wall at the front of the alley was covered with large, exaggerated graffiti in cold tones, and a homeless man, barely clean, was looking around nervously. Anyone normal could tell he had "ghosts" in his heart.
Not too many people passed by the alley at night, and even if someone noticed, they simply walked past quickly, treating him as air.