This Here Night Life...

Scott Wayne. Too young to be at the end. Old enough to know this is it. At present, a non-descript, sixtyish, warehouse worker. Only the vicious scars on his legs and the prison-yard-stare hint at something darker. It wasn't sugar plums dancing in Scott's head as he helmed the forklift. His wife, his friends, the gangsters and the politicians, the artist and the drag queen. Ghosts and monsters wilding through his mind. Exile be damned. Scott Wayne is coming home.