Charlie was an unlucky guy. If there was a way to be hurt, he would be. If there was a mugger, they'd go for him. If there was a villain, he'd be a hostage. In a world of flies, he seemed to be the honey, or a fresh pile of shit. Yeah, that fit. For that reason, he wasn't surprised to find himself kneeling in an alleyway with a gun pressed to his temple. Just another day in his life. (This is a story I started a few years ago and never finished, so this is my attempt at letting Charlie have his happiness.)