Balcony Overture

The cracked window was practically begging for an exit cue, so I slipped straight out onto the black iron fire escape. Down below, yellow cabs and brisk morning walkers surged down the avenue like a lively chorus line. A stage this grand deserved a proper opening chime. I strode to the edge of the grated landing, braced one boot on the heavy hinge of the drop-ladder, and tapped its iron locking ring with the tip of my pistol barrel. A crisp, ringing clang echoed down toward the street. One pedestrian actually paused on the sidewalk and glanced up. Now that is how you command a crowd.