Dawn broke into a thousand jagged pieces, blood red and soft pink mingling to surround an unearthly orange, each one struggling valiantly to break through the thick clouds that continued to cover New York City. Peter Morinstal lay sprawled on the docks of the Hudson River, half conscious and forcing swollen eyes open. The soft sound of breathing alerted him to another's presence. Rolling over on the stiff boards, Ruin gathered himself painfully into a crouching position and focused his blurry vision on the intruder. Jack Kelly stared back, a split lip and fresh array of bruises contributing to an already intimidating figure. Ruin grunted, speech beyond him.

"Where's Spot?" the Manhattan newsie demanded. Ruin swallowed a few times, the same question registering in his own mind.

"I… I dunno. What's the problem?" Ruin recalled the past night's events and added "this time?" Jack looked past him and at the bridge, obviously troubled.

"Blink isn't back yet."

"Eh?"

"He went to Harlem. Three days ago."

+ + +

End.