The days weren't terribly long yet, and it was getting dark as Dave traveled the streets of Miami.<br/><br/>That didn't really matter.  Even in total darkness, he'd never have been touched.<br/><br/>He was ducking well before the baseball bat cracked into the brick wall next to where his head had been.  "<em>Fuck!</em>" the angry young man wielding the now-broken bat exclaimed, even as his fellows emerged from the alley nearby.  There were seven or eight of them, dressed in similar gang colors, with a variety of weapons, all rushing toward Dave.<br/><br/>To the demigod's eyes, they might as well have been moving in slow motion.<br/><br/>(OOC: They're normal humans.  They have about as much chance of harming Dave as they do of extinguishing the sun by spitting straight up.  Do as you like.)