It was dark in the city, not even illuminated by stars. The sky was blanketed in dense, dark clouds that lay low over the gloomy city. Every door, every window; each was bolted and shut tight. There was only the occasional candle left out carelessly on a second-story window to provide any light at all. And far below one such candle, one pale and trembling upon its last minute of illumination, two men in matching gray uniforms walked, the weak light beaming down in pale halos upon their heads.
The man on the right was evidently the leader. He had an air of assured seniority, evident in the measured steps and clipped tones of someone used to authority. He was lightskinned; almost luminescent in the wan light, and wellbuilt, with broad shoulders and brawny, powerful arms. His hair was brown, and badly cut. His chin was weak, almost nonexistent. His lips were pouty and protruded petulantly past his hooked nose. His eyes were sharp and beady; dark little fragments of pitch that scanned each alley and trash pile.