The tires squeal as your bike slides sideways through the turn. You straighten into the corridor and slam the gas, maneuvering the small space with practiced ease. A moment later, there is a loud crash followed by the low rumble of an explosion. You glance back to see a plume of smoke rising over the rooftops. You knew that corner would be way too sharp for them. That should buy you just enough time. You cut out of the corridor and into a main thoroughfare, throttling your bike and merging into the thick traffic.

Last night you had a dream. In the dream you were in a luscious green garden. The fresh air had a sweet fragrance and the sun was high in a clear blue sky. A single monarch butterfly was perched on your forearm, its wings glowing brightly and constantly changing neon colors. After a moment the butterfly fluttered off and you awakened. This dream is called the Mark of the Monarch. You still aren't entirely sure when you became imprinted but you know all too well what it means: you are being hunted. Every cop and gangbanger in the city is looking for you. It's time to make tracks.

You travel about a quarter mile before exiting the thoroughfare and turning down a tight alleyway. The foot traffic is so dense you have to get off your motorcycle and walk it the remaining two blocks. Familiar faces greet you as you pass; Xan with his taco stand, Gus the mechanic, the sister twins, Cybil and Lily. Cybil is posing in a showcase window debuting a new outfit (it doesn’t leave much to the imagination). As you pass, Lily leans out of the door and waves you over. “Some police officers came looking for you. Said it was important.” Cybil pops her head into the hallway a short distance behind Lily and cuts in, “said to contact them if we ‘remembered’ anything.” She stops chewing her gum long enough to take a drag from her cigarette, adding “no one said anything, of course. Those pigs can bite a bullet for all I care.” She winks at you, seemingly pleased with herself. You retrieve a fresh pack of cigarettes from your satchel and toss it to Cybil. She blows you a kiss and retreats to her spot behind the window. Lily leans in closer, “hey… seriously, please be careful.”

You park your bike behind the chain operated garage door and pull the door down. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor. It’s a tiresome walk up the stairs but the view from your room is actually spectacular. You are fairly exhausted but you know there is no time for sleep. It won’t take very long for the police to track you down and you plan to be long gone by then. You grab the duffel bag from your closet and fill it with the necessities. As you turn to leave, you take one final look out the large picture window at the city that made you. Despite all its harshness, it can be quite beautiful at night. After a moment you shake off the nostalgia. You still have a long and very dangerous trip ahead of you and if you want to make it out alive you need to leave now. You take one final moment to tip your hat before rushing out the door, “See ya ‘round, Dendrick.”