Marlowe walks, shoulders stooped, to the basement door of his bunker at St. Jude's.  The morning light's slow wash casts a surreal glow on the cityscape of barrios and gutted industrial wasteland.<br/><br/>He hurls the now-empty glass whiskey flask sidearm, and removes the padlock before it shatters against the concrete somewhere down the street.  He brings the heavy chain and padlock within, throws the bar into place... relieved at the dark, he rubs his eyes and heads for his dry-ice cooler.  He clips on the radio, and hearing Soft Cell fade into the annourncer's voice, he flips the radio back to "off".<br/><br/>He closes the dry-ice cooler after removing a bottle of Gatorade, and chugs a few swallows as he rubs his eyes and settles on the torn, green Naugahyde sofa.  "Tainted love..." he mumbles as he rests the Gatorade against his swelled eye... not suprising, he and a guy from the shipyard had thrown a few punches around the dive next to the wharf... a good end to the evening, all considered.  The eye barely hurt, and the other guy was probably in the hospital having his jaw reset right now.<br/><br/>He sipped again and re-capped the bottle, sighing and letting his heavy eyes fall shut.