Where there's Smoke, Part 1

Dense fog rolls in along the coastline, and drifts past the half dozen warehouses on the South side of the docks.

The guards on that side can only see a couple yards or so in front of them. Ins, the rookie at Warehouse 7, leans against the chain that locks the giant doors and lets out a yawn. He still isn't adjusted to being up before 7 in the morning.

"Rookie," Ins' veteran partner asks, "want some coffee?"

Ins' partner, Olomo, has been working the Early Morning shift for 5 years now, and is more than well-adjusted. He holds out a cup of freshly-made black coffee.

"Sure," Ins replies, taking the coffee in hand as he keeps his eyes on the edge of the dock.

*BAMF SPLISH* Something hits Olomo in the head, and the coffee cup falls to the ground, spilling the drink.

"Olomo, what happened?" Ins asks as he pushes off the door.

"I don't--"

*WHAM POW* Olomo is hit twice, once to the stomach, then to the jaw, and he's knocked out.

Ins looks around frantically, trying to find what or who hit Olomo, but all he sees is fog. He turns to his left, and the smell of smoke and ash fills his nose.

*BAMF* A puff of fog hits Ins solid in the face, dead center. The rookie guard goes down instantly.

A wisp of smoke drifts over the unconcious guards. It slips through the narrow gap under the warehouse doors.

The smoke swirls and solidifies. A lean torso is formed, with arms and legs growing from it as the smoke swirls into the proper shapes.

Lastly, the head is created, the last of the smoke cloud piling on top of the shoulders and molding itself into a smooth oval. Atop the oval head is a light layer of gray-blue hair that just makes it to the neck.

The infamous criminal, Smoke, stands inside the warehouse, his eyes the color of fresh ash. Smoke turns his head to the right, then to the left, and smiles at the absence of guards inside the building.

"Now," he says to himself in a whisper, "where did they put it?"