He stayed late at the bar, as was his habit. He generally took the same route home every night – or more properly early morning, when he could be bothered to remember to make it so.
These things had all been noted.
They were waiting for him down the darkest of the alleys. No one could have said how long they’d been there, but they’d come prepared. Handheld video games. Internet connections. Long, heavy novels. Streaming television. Decks of cards. Even a set of jacks and a rubber ball. It was over before anyone knew it.
They’d come to kill Time.