Gary sighs and scans the dilapidated playground that borders the dingy grey concrete jungle of Pittsville and the bustling metropolis of Xtravagensburg. Only a rusty broken fence and a highway stand between the two opposites. A man in a navy business suit stands just outside the fence of the park, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Again?” Gary mutters to himself. “This guy is gonna get robbed.” The man was there yesterday and the day before that. Grunting, Gary forces himself out of the crooked bench and strolls to the fence.

Pretending to look out at Xtravagensburg longingly, like he used to when he still believed that he could one day live there, Gary addresses the man, “Hey, gramps, you should leave.”

“Pardon me?” the elderly man says, walking closer to Gary.

“Don’t walk up like we know each other. Just turn and get out of here before someone jumps you for your wallet,” Gary spits.

“Well, I work around here. This is where I like to come on my lunch break.”

“Sure, and I’m fucking tinker bell. Look around, old man, no one who works around here wears a suit.”

Several kids are playing in the park, wearing dirty, tattered clothes. Only a few adults are visible, and they are all dressed in rags.

“Any adult from Pittsville that has even a little money is either in one of the factories, or sleeping so they can go to the alleys of Xtravagensburg and mug people like you tonight,” Gary explains.

“Well, then they won’t be awake to mug me now,” the man points out. He folds his arms and looks around. “I have my reasons for being here, so you should run along and play.”

“I’m not five anymore. In fifteen minutes I have to be back in the factory. If you want to stick around and get shanked, go for it.”

“Well, if a hard working grown man like you is interested in money, maybe we can make a deal.”

Gary runs his eyes up and down the man. From his polished brown dress shoes to his rose gold rim glasses, everything the man is wearing looks to be worth more than one of Gary’s paychecks.

“What do you want?” Gary inquires, narrowing his eyes.

“Information,” the out of place man states.

“About?”

Checking over his shoulder, them man pulls a gold chain from his pocket. “I have reason to believe someone from your... lovely... neighborhood killed my wife.” He holds up the gold chain to show off a pendant with a clenched fist on it.

Gary’s eyes widen and he hisses, “Put that away or we are both dead! Where did you even get that?”

The man puts the chain back in his pocket. “The last thing my dear wife did was pull this off her attacker,” he squeaks.

“Get out of here before you join her.” Gary turns to walk away but stops and adds, “Also, meet me on the Anderson overpass at eight tonight. I’ll be off work, and we can talk then.”

Pittsville gets dark around seven, even in the summer, as if the sun doesn’t want to stay in the city longer than it has to. Enough street lights work to drown out the stars, but most of the lights are broken or flickering. Gary has no trouble navigating the familiar streets in the dark. Still, he glances over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one is getting close.

As he approaches the freeway overpass on Anderson street, he notices a white Lexus that is horribly out of place. Even though the Anderson overpass leads into Xtravagensburg, the car is the only one for miles that isn’t a rust bucket. Brights flash as Gary draws near the car. Gary rolls his eyes and pops the passenger side door open.

“You know this car is impossible to not notice this close to Pittsville, right?” Gary huffs.

“It’s good to see you too,” the old man sighs. “This is where you picked to meet.”

“I wanted to meet in fifteen minutes—on the other side of the bridge.” Gary crosses his arms; however, he can’t be upset in the luxurious interior with air conditioning. “Just pull out of the city a bit so we don’t end up on blocks. It’s fine.”

Pulling away, the man asks, “So what can you tell me?”

“What can you pay me?” Gary shoots back.

“Here.” The man hands Gary a Manila envelope. Inside there is a think stack of hundreds that Gary is afraid to even count. “Another folder like that is yours if we find whoever did it.”

“W-who a-are you?”

“Glen Thatcher, president of Xtravagensburg Financial.” Cold sweat soaks Gary’s back when he hears the name of the richest man in Xtravagensburg. “Now, what can you tell me?”

“Umm... I-err-t-the pendant.”

“What about it?”

“Everyone In the iron fist has one, and it can be traced back to the specific member. They use them like I.D. Cards.”

“Really? Well, who can tell me the name of the owner?”

“No one will tell you, b-but they might tell me.”

“Are you a part of the iron fist?”

“N-no, sir! Even if I was, asking about a lost pendant would be a death sentence.”

“How will you get me a name then?”

“Old man Jenkins.”

“Who?”

“The jeweler. He makes all of them, never forgets one, and he is nicer than anyone in the iron fist. He sort of owes me a favor.”

“It’s Gary, right?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Mr. Thatcher leans over slides the pendant into the kid’s palm. “Talk to this Jenkins, get me a name, and you won’t have to live in Pittsville anymore. Do you understand?”

Gary nods. His chest feels tight. Tears form in the corners of his eyes. “T-that w-would be g-great, sir.”

Gary hops out of the car and shuffles back towards Pittsville, possibly for the last time.