A young male crouched on a rooftop, his hair soaked from the rain that poured overhead. He watched the bustling streets below as he looked for familiar faces, he panted shallowly, out of breath from running. Eric McCollough, a former IRA member and now former assassin for the Russian mob... was on the run from his former employers. Eric's eyes scanned the streets below watching for signs of the men that were tailing him. They had caught him in his favorite bar and jumped him but a friend had distracted them so he could escape. The young man's temple still throbbed angrily from the hard jab Ivan, the biggest of them, had thrown at him. Eric cursed to himself, he should have been more careful and chosen a bar he didn't frequent while he was an assassin. It didn't matter... they'd find him anywhere in this city. He knew he'd have to skip town and soon. The coast looked clear... the currently black haired male climbed down a steel ladder from the roof to the street below. He pulled a cigarette from his open trenchcoat that failed to cover his torso. Lighting it, he started back toward home.