The baseball bat had acquired the scent of death, though it wasn't clearly noticeable until it spent a few minutes in the car.  Something akin to rotten meat, but so aged that it was simple enough to put from one's mind.  Passing through the mostly empty streets, no one attempted to stop Vincent, but if they were coming, it was entirely possible that he wouldn't even notice them until it was too late.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://desmond.imageshack.us/Himg221/scaled.php?server=221&amp;filename=safehaveny.jpg&amp;res=medium)</div>One building in particular, however, quickly catches the eye.  The run-down club Sunset, with a few of the letters missing and the paint worn out from months of being unused, but with a particular symbol spraypainted in red upon the wall.<br/><br/>Two dots, three lines connecting them together like some sort of unfinished box, but the meaning is as clear as if it had been written in English or known in some sort of residual memory: Safe Haven.  The spraypaint was likewise faded, as if it was added weeks or months ago.<br/><br/>The doors to the building are closed, but not barred up like the windows have been.