1. Welcome to the Promised Land

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The bus stopped unsteadily on the asphalt, allowing its passengers to depart as it slowly opened up its doors. Today there was only one, and he got up from his seat as he made his way to the front, diverting the eyes of all those he passed. Toby was not the kind of man who could hold the attention of people for very long; his serious, intimidating demeanor and many tattoos acted as fine deterrents for that. Not that any of it was purposeful, but rather coincidental—not that he minded it that way. In fact, he preferred that most people left him alone.

To that end he had worked hard to cultivate his image over the years, a loner with little to say. He had naturally black hair, short on the sides and longer and messy on top, with dark clothes and a dour expression to match. On his left arm he had a sleeve of ink, running all the way up to his shoulder, and on the opposite bicep he adorned a tribal band. These were not his only markings, but the words scribbled on his ribs and the number three decorating his neck were not visible at present.

No, Toby was not the kind of man most people would want to run into in a dark alley, but that was mostly because they couldn't see into his heart and know that he wasn't truly a bad guy. He wasn't a good guy either, just one that lived by his own rules—honorable, reliable, with a penchant for helping those in need. That had gotten him into one too many scrapes though, and this time he knew he had to be more selfish. This time, in this new city, he knew that he would need to look out for himself if he was ever going to be able to lay down his roots and call this home.

That was what he wanted. He'd drifted from place to place, moving on after some sort of problem prevented him from staying. It wasn't like it was his fault—he never intentionally sought out these problems, for the most part, but trouble always seemed to have a way of finding him. This time around he was going to keep his head down, focus on his own two feet and the life in front of him. Maybe, just maybe, he would then have a shot at being somewhat normal for the first time since he'd come into this world.

Behind him he learned that time did not stop when he got lost in his mind, and the bus pulled away, leaving him alone in this place that he'd never been to before. It was a big city—one of the biggest that he knew of—and that was why he chose it, sought it out for the anonymity that it might provide him. Toby was tired of being special, different. From now on he just wanted to be average, ordinary. With a quick look around he saw two things; the small restaurant across the road with a help wanted sign in the window, and a sleazy looking bar just ahead of him that reeked of urine.

It was certainly an easy choice, and he gave it no more thought as he headed straight, deciding that drinking at four in the afternoon was what normal men did. Toby tried very hard to escape all the weight that rested on his shoulders, but he had no way of knowing that he had stepped right back into the fire he wanted so desperately to escape. True, he knew that he would never really be free anywhere, but he couldn't have guessed that he would wind up so close to everything he wanted to run away from.

Yet he wasn't the only new player in town, and over in a very large, lofty building not too many blocks away there was a tall, slender woman following closely behind the well-dressed businessman who guided her through the office hubbub to their destination. The man himself drew no attention, the tailored suit he sported commonplace there, but the woman did. The leather outfit she wore clung tightly to her body, attracting every eye in the room as she was left to wonder if it was her clothing, or that, despite it, she still showed off a considerable amount of skin.

"Tell my four o'clock she'll have to wait, I'm in a meeting." Monica told her secretary through the phone as she stood up, beholding the pair as they came into her office. "I'm glad you could make it, I'm—"

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