Underground Sewers

"Fuck! Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!" a gruff voice cursed and swore, full of hatred and grievance.

"Enough, Barnes. Cursing and raging won't solve our current predicament." A sly and cunning voice responded with endless fatigue and resigned defeat.

Barnes, who was now wearing a tattered beige trench coat around his round belly as well as a pair of tattered pants and a black hat filled with bullet holes, looked absolutely miserable, his face even covered with dirt and grime.

Lyle was not much better, his own green jacket extremely worn and his hair matted against his scalp, its former color indistinguishable due to the sheer muck within. The very soles of his shoes were now thin, allowing one to see a glimpse of his blackened feet.

In the past two weeks, these two had lived a life worse than rats. Even rats would look at them and hurriedly carry their children away, telling them not to look at these two.