It was usually business that brought Daken to the city, but tonight he had come back for the singular thrill of being in the only place on Earth where anyone knew who he was. No other city held that threat, that potential to turn the corner and see Frank Castle through a window or Scott Summers getting out of a cab.

Of course, Scott Summers would never deign to be seen in this part of town. His idle path had taken him to a darker street: a late-night talk show flashed blue through barred windows in place of neon lights; trash and dead leaves mingled in the gutters, and he was-- following something.

It was faint, but it was new; not yet destroyed by the wind. He moved faster, hugging the buildings. It was Laura, he realized, and then he was almost sprinting. What would Laura be doing out here at night? Inevitable answer: something entertaining.

He turned into an alley. Empty now, but she had just been there. She was nearby.

He looked up. A vantage point, maybe. "Oh Laura," he called, spinning around; there had to be a fire escape, "come out, come out, wherever you are."