He shut off his alarm before it barely made a sound. He didn't want it disturb his roommate. He had woken up fifteen minutes before it was supposed to ring, it must have been intuition. It was two in the morning, but he felt wide awake and prepared to face the day.

He moved quietly through the room getting ready. He grabbed a black duffel bag and began stuffing items inside. He pulled on his uniform of a black turtleneck and black pants. He tiptoed out of the bedroom to put his black shoes on. He went over a mental checklist in his head as he hefted the black duffel bag on to his shoulder. He took one last final scan of the common area before stepping out and shutting the front door.

He glanced at his watch again as he began to hustle faster to his destination. He couldn't be late that was unacceptable. There was a job to do. He was practically running when he made it onto the train as the doors closed right behind him. The train was empty at this time of night only some seedy looking characters around. He chose a seat near the back where he could catch his breath and be inconspicuous.

He leaned his head against the back of the seat. He wasn't concerned about falling asleep because he had adrenaline coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes and went over the details of the task in his mind so that he was ready. Suddenly, he slapped his arm across his bag on the seat and it made contact with something else. He opened his eyes to see that he had grabbed hold of a man's arm. The man looked as though he had fallen on hard times. The man was trying to pick through his black duffle bag to see if there was anything of value to him. His heightened level of awareness caused him to catch the guy before he even touched the zipper.

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean no harm," the man grumbled.

He nodded at the stranger and let go of the man's arm. The man walked towards the other end of the train and disappeared into the next train car. He took a mental note to not close his eyes on a late night train again. That could have been a disaster.

Before he knew it the conductor called out his stop. Thankfully, it appeared that he was the only person that exited the train at this time. Everyone else must have been riding the rails so they had a place to stay for the night. He couldn't say he blamed them; it was colder at this time of day. This freedom allowed him to move towards his destined location without fear of being followed.

He stealthily moved through the streets, choosing the side that was unlit by the streetlamps and ducking into the shadows if he heard a threatening sound. The night was unusually gloomy. Maybe it was the fog. Maybe it was because tonight's mission was dark and ominous. He walked the three miles arriving at his destination in the nick of time. He climbed the iron ladder attached to the side of the building towards the roof. There was already someone there waiting for him.

"What took you so long?" the person asked impatiently.

"What do you mean? You're always so concerned about punctuality. I got here right on time," he whispered.

He then looked down into an open hatch in the ceiling. He took a deep breath and did two Hail Mary's before jumping into the hatch.

He winced in pain as he settled back into a seat on the train. It was now eight and the train was noticeably fuller than it had been hours earlier. He wore sunglasses to block out the harsh sunlight and hide the purpling bruise under his left eye. He leaned his head back against the familiar seat just like he had earlier. The little girl that was sitting across from him while her mother slept next to her was staring at him intently. He flashed a polite smile at her in hopes that she would turn her head after the recognition. She just smiled back.

"What's your name?" she said in a light, angelic voice.

"Peter, what's yours?"

"Abigail. Are you going to work, Peter?"

Peter smiled at the little girl. "Nope, coming back from work."

"What do you do?"

He looked down towards the little girl and raised his sunglasses. "I make bad people go away."

Peter looked around the crowd at the train station to ensure that no one had their eyes on him. Then he punched the familiar code into the train station locker. 1230. He deposited the duffle bag in there for the following day. He removed his black turtleneck revealing a white t-shirt underneath. He placed the turtleneck in the locker and removed a white apron from the bag before closing the locker door again. Peter made one more quick glance around and exited the train station for his trek back home.

Peter's body was sore and tired. The work was draining even though it needed to be done. To keep his mind off the throbbing pain pulsating through his body, he went over the list of excuses that he would tell the guys about coming home with a shiner. Usually his injuries were not as noticeable, but a black eye was sure to get attention. He decided to leave the sunglasses on for now; he didn't have the energy to explain himself right now. That would surely come later.

Before walking in the door, Peter put on the apron that had the image of looking like he had worn it all night. He took a deep breath and walked into the Pad. As expected everyone was already awake. It was as though time stopped and nothing that happened before this moment was real. The predictability of his roommates gave Peter a sense of calm, an escape from the darkness that he was experiencing outside the comforts of home. He closed the door quietly and did his best to not draw attention to himself.

"Morning, Shotgun!" Mike called from across the room.

The loudness of Mike's voice seemed to make the pain in Peter's body intensify. His senses were always more stimulated after a job. "Hey, fellas," Peter offered weakly as he made his way towards his bedroom.

He didn't get far though since politeness and curiosity overcame the others.

"How is life at the grocery store?" Mike asked.

Peter had told the guys that his new job was an overnight stocker at a grocery store (hence the apron). "You know same old, same old."

"Why are you wearing sunglasses during the day…in the house?" Micky questioned.

"It's too early for sunlight," Peter answered mechanically. "The brightness hurts my eyes after being in the cover of darkness for so long."

"Would you both leave him alone?" Davy scolded. "He has been working all night and is clearly exhausted. Save your questions for after he gets some rest, yeah?"

Peter felt his shoulders lessen in tension. He gave Davy a small appreciative smile before heading into their shared bedroom. He changed into his signature orange pajamas and winced in pain as the clothing glided over the cuts and bruises that lined his body. He lay down in bed and could feel all the aching of the night's events permeating his consciousness. As Peter drifted off to sleep, he considered the toll things were taking on him. This was a tough job, but somebody had to do it.