Mexico City's night was drizzled with a fine rain.
The loneliness of the slum, solitary as a dead city hidden in darkness, wrapped itself around the child crouched in the corner who hugged his arms, sitting on the moss-covered steps at his house's doorway, gazing at the distant glimmer of nightlife.
His eyes were filled with longing.
Behind him at the entrance to the alley stood a woman, dressed in cheap black stockings, leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette for herself, taking a drag to fight the fatigue, looking towards the bustling district with a gaze full of helpless sorrow.
"Miss."
A gentle voice interrupted their thoughts, the woman turned her head to see a man in a suit with a smile on his face, "Excuse me, do you know Genesis?"
"Genesis Daniels!" Ethan Hunt emphasized the surname.
He was looking for the "prostitute" that Quintero had mentioned!
The woman eyed him, her gaze flicking to the watch on the man's wrist, and said directly, "Money, I want money."
