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Panel #1
The air is thick with smoke, the night is creeping up on the city and here I am. Washed out, sober, without cash. Despite my endless charms, my spotless hygiene, my incredibly suave smile I am still without a lady red... or a Sir red, if it's a Tuesday. I spend my days, here, at the rotten clam, desperate for a job in a economy that's as dead as my mothers pets. (My mother is dead to, but comparing her to the economy would be blasphemous.) All I have is this super swag skull mask I cannot remove, my wits and about 2000 dollars worth of crispy Ralphs nacho bars. Worst investment ever by the way.


And possibly my profession, that can help with the money.