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• How we made the street scene

Even the most persistent of the moons searching rays could not penetrate the depths of Black Court. Deep in the heart of twisted Solis, where the day is enemy to many, and the night friend only to some, Malice moved with practiced ease, like an inky shadow across the contours of the street.

'Come to meet someone, Malice? come to kill someone?' the voice halted him in his tracks.

'Was I here on business, Scarrow, you would either be ignorant of that business, or its subject.'

'This is my patch, Malice, I know everything that goes on here. Its my job to know everything.'

'and to report everything to me Scarrow, before I find things out for myself..' Malice stared into Scarrows eyes. Oh how they reminded him of himself, a few years ago, trying to get the upper hand of his superiors, testing, pushing, just so far, finding the limits.

'You have found my limits, Scarrow.' he whispered as he turned and stalked off into the cloak of a nameless sidestreet shadow.

A look of perplexion crossed Scarrows face, momentarily illuminated by a brief break in the clouds. An instant more and he understood. He had watched treacherous Malice rise to power, at first in awe, then with envy. Scarrow decided his opening move was not one of his best. He considered the knife in his belt, considered his opponent, considered his odds. Long ones, and chance was not his best game.