Kid Arrow<br/>Veidt Industrial Complex, Tower II<br/>Afternoon<br/><br/>As the billionaire tycoon bestrode towards the door, the Kid glanced over his shoulder and said:   "Mr. Veidt?  Thanks.  For saving my life, I mean."<br/><br/>Alone, the Kid quietly pressed his forehead against the window pane before him.  All of the Financial District stretched out below, and he could see a thousand little ants in suits busily going about their day.  It was fascinating watching strangers, but the amateur investigator within him saw the distinctive traits of fear and of sorrow in their gaits.<br/><br/>It became difficult to breathe, so Arrow peeled his cowl off.  A mop of sweaty and bloodied brown hair hung over his narrow verdant gaze, but the side of his face had been sullied by burst blood vessels and a bruise the size of a golf ball near his left eye.  For an instant, Cristobal did not know that he was looking at himself, but upon realizing the identity of that sad reflection, the young man felt like vomiting.<br/><br/>"Why am I doing this?" he asked himself.<br/><br/>He sat in a chair for two hours, his chin pressed against his collar bone and his hands in between his knees.  Everything was up for consideration, but almost the whole of those two hours were spent in mentally steeling himself against doubt.  The next four hours were spent in bed reading--but he wasn't actually reading.  Words were glanced over, yes, but he had been in thought the entire time.  Once was he interrupted by the voluptuous nurse that had attended to him previously, but Cristobal politely declined her 'visits.'<br/><br/>Then, he fell asleep, but he didn't remember if he had dreamed.