Hitting the streets
It was easy enough to find where they were keeping the kid- some rundown old building that was threatening to collapse on all the squatters currently calling it home. The place couldn't be more obvious if it had CRACKHOUSE written in neon lights. Jessica sighed, crushing her cigarette under her boot. "Oh, the places you will go," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she made her way across the street.
Grab the kid, get out, hand him over to his parents and the big burly 'handlers' the rehab place they'd paid for sent to bring him in, then get to the awkward business of handing over the bill, and she was one check closer to making next month's rent. Assuming she succeeded, of course, and didn't get herself riddled with bullet holes courtesy of the gang that was keeping the mutant kid hooked on a damn cocktail of controlled substances so they could use him as their personal errand boy.
Grab the kid, get out, hand him over to his parents and the big burly 'handlers' the rehab place they'd paid for sent to bring him in, then get to the awkward business of handing over the bill, and she was one check closer to making next month's rent. Assuming she succeeded, of course, and didn't get herself riddled with bullet holes courtesy of the gang that was keeping the mutant kid hooked on a damn cocktail of controlled substances so they could use him as their personal errand boy.