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Deugaro strode down the alleyways of a large, humid city. Its leaky hot-watermains connecting with cool air with a
violent hiss, ruffling his blue, fur-lined coat and hair.
His reason for haunting these dark paths was not for vengeance nor for justice, but simply for the sake of unleashing pent up anger from his lowpaying job on the lowlifes that called such a place home.
Up ahead of him there was a quivering man, holding an open flame up to his mouth, where his joint lay.
A rapid succession of footsteps and the metallic ringing of a katana leaving it's sheath sounded out for but an instant, followed by the sound of the hilt striking lacquered wood and water splashing over the ground.

One of many for this moonless night.