Following through into the dark night of Las vegas- it always seemed like day. With lights blazing into the deepest crease of every alley way, lighting up all those who skulk. Scratchy liked the symbolism, "Lighthouse Vegas", clearing out those who are here to defile, those who lampoon tradition and values.

Still, the reflection off the wet floor as water from the fountain expands throughout decayed floor - making him more lucid as the smoke from Scratchy's Cigar follow through into the air as it hits the moon. Looking up to the stars, Scratchy see's his fathers father, giving a half smile - knowing that he's made it further and undoubtedly made them proud. Looking back down as the soothing sound of water droplets cascading from the slow flow of the statue that places with pride, Scratchy decides to snuff out his Cigar, crushing it beneath his feat.

A few minute later of wandering - no important errands, knowing his way fully through the district of Summerlin - coming across some of the hotels and businesses that are placed for customers enjoyment or CEO's pleasure, a fight abruptly starts, well lit from the rays of bulbs coating. Punches connect as each participate are evenly match, an officer appears throughout the middle - trying to break it up;

"You two, stop. Now!" raising his baton, the Officer looks to prove his authority.

Without warning, a large suited man grabs Scratchy, with the audience concentrated on the main event - and the officer in deep shit - Scratchy is thrown into a car - getting up in a seated position, he tries to crawl towards the door hastily, but the door locks as it's shut - trying to break the windows with his elbow - his physical strength isn't enough;

"L-L-Let, m-me ou-out! yo-you bastards!"

Out of breath, still shouting - out of the corner of his eye - he see's a figure, just staring..