With the boss and his goons taken care of, Don made his way back through the swirling mist, the heavy stench of blood and leaking fuel hanging thick in the air.
As he walked, he thought over the only real lead he'd gained from this mess: 'Johnny Black, Deadly Damsels, 5th Street.' Not much, but enough to work with.
As he reached his car, he cast a final glance around the scene, his superhuman senses on high alert. But the only sounds he could make out were the squawks of birds and the faint hum of the wrecked cars' engines.
No survivors, no movement—just silence and death. 'Good, no one left to tie me to this,' he thought, before glancing down at his gloved hands. 'No prints either, so no obvious evidence.'