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A week after Easter, 2014, in an alley somewhere in the western Fens... "It's over." 'Another day of this, lungs burning, legs shaking...I'm in great shape, but it's never enough. And this,' he risked a moment's glance away from the desperate-eyed young man in the baggy clothes holding a gun to the alley around them 'must be the fifth time this month I've chased someone here. Or maybe it isn't, perhaps I am merely losing my mind after years of this with nothing to show for it.' "This will solve nothing, you know." Turning back to his quarry, the King of Suits kept his eyes on the general outline of...Carl? It was probably Carl. The important thing was not to let him fire without knowing where that bullet was headed. "Where will you be in a month? Can you even go that long, Carl, before something happens? And then what about Sherrie? What about your son? Is this what they need?" Nobody who fought crime for a hobby stayed careless around guns, unless they really didn't need to. In the wrong hands they were modern talismans of destruction and fear, and even in the hands of the just they could wreak horrors. Taking a deep breath, the King of Suits began to approach the man. Very slowly. "Carl, listen to me. This can not go on. The people who have you trafficking, will they just let you stay like this? They will want you deeper and deeper in their debt. They want to have power over you, but I can help you escape them. It is my duty to protect everyone in this city, Carl, I am not your enemy. Now," he smiled a little "could you put the gun away? Please?"