"...That fucker was damn heavy."
Dante cursed, walking down the dark and silent hallway of his apartment.
The floor even creaked at each step he took.
The faint scent of dust lingered in the stale air, mingling with the faint trace of alcohol and cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes.
Truthfully, his parents had been gone for years. He had grown up learning how to fend for himself, with no family, no safety net... just the cold streets and the underworld.
Yes, the underworld.
Due to some unpleasant encounters, Dante somehow turned into a drug dealer. And from then on, he kept the gig, making enough money to survive.
He made his way into his bedroom, his beautiful sanctuary, and sat at the small desk where his computer sat, blinking in the darkness.
He could hear the faint hum of the machine as it powered on.
With a sigh, he sat down in the worn-out chair, running a hand through his messy hair.
