theater seat or a urinal, leaving at least one empty space between him and the other patrons. With no belongings, it was easy for him to settle in. Others removed their backpacks and shoved them beneath their cots. Men, women, and children of all ages prepared themselves for a night of sheltered and undisturbed sleep, that some appeared to be in sore need of. Most of the people were average looking in appearance, the kind that were really just concerned with keeping themselves and their children, if they had any, safe; more worried about where their next night's sleep may be or where their next meal would come from. Then there were the others, appearing dirty and disheveled. The true street walkers of Seattle's underbelly. They were the few with sense enough to make getting their junkie ass out of the elements for the night a priority. There were a number of faces he recognized, but did not know personally, from his days spent trolling the less desirable streets and alleyways in search of his next fix.
Carter was just about to lay back and stare at the ceiling for awhile when a young man, barely more than a boy, flopped down into the cot next to him. Carter scanned the room, finding many available cots were still open that were not located directly to his side.
"I haven't seen you around these parts before," the man, who appeared to still be in his teens, said.
The young man was probably too young to have been on the streets during Carter's using days, leaving no reason for them to recognize one another.
"I haven't been here in quite awhile," Carter admitted.
"Fall off the wagon, huh?"
The young man had dirty blond hair, a sparse amount of facial fuzz, and a slender build, reminding Carter of a much younger version of himself in some ways.
"No, nothing like that...well almost, but it didn't pan out like I had planned, and I never went through with it anyway," he said. Why he was babbling on like a gossiping school girl, Carter wasn't quite sure. "It's a long story."
"No problem man, I'm Jason," the young man said.
"Carter," he replied.
"So how long of a story are we talking here? We're not going anywhere and it's still two hours until lights outs." Jason sat on his cot, leaning in with his elbows on his thighs.
Carter took a deep breath, then started in with the hellish experience of the past few days, leaving out the details about his powers. They talked for hours, going back and forth with horror stories of being addicted to drugs.
"Its been five years since the last time I used."
"Wow...that's great. Really it is," Jason said wringing a hand around the back of his neck.
"What's wrong?" Carter asked.
"It's just...I don't think I'll ever got off this junk." Jason lifted the sleeve on his shirt, revealing pock marks all up and down his forearm and the inside of his elbow. Jason's arms were badly scarred and a number of his veins were blackened and dead. The young man had been shooting up a lot. Carter's mouth went dry. Just seeing the signs of using drugs gave him a dopamine rush. It also raised a big red flag. His city was rotting from the inside out, like an incurable cancer, but this cancer did have a cure. It was more of a virus, and he had to be the antibiotic. Maybe he really did need to take out the cartel. How much longer could he keep hiding anyway? There was only one way to get the cartel off his back and that was to cut off their head.
Carter pulled the folded up piece of paper from his pocket and stared at the address Fox had given him.
"What's that?" Jason asked.
"Nothing. Just another in a long line of mistakes." Carter had made his fair share of them, but maybe just this once his mistake was a good one.
"Well the line can't be that long. You got clean. That's something," Jason said.
"Yes, yes it is," he said. "You can too, you know that right?"
"No, I don't think so. I'm in too deep. I don't know anything else." Slowly, Jason lowered his sleeve to cover the marks on his arm.
"We've all got