Tikki waits in the shadows, a niche of brick and mortar that smells of piss 
and rancid liquor. A motorcycle buzzes past, one of those shiny aerodyne 
machines with sleek plastic cowlings, colored like the blood of prey. And this 
is one of the fastest, a Rapier. It comes to a halt nearby, just off to her 
right, engine whining, winding down. Tikki pulls the Kang heavy automatic pistol 
from under her jacket and steps from her hiding place.