There was a huge crowd outside the Detroit court. Most of them looked rough and beaten while the rest held cameras and were scribbling furiously into their pads. News that would feed thousands of citizens the next day. News which also happened to be written as dictated by men who held guns discreetly behind the reporters' backs. One child passing by with his cotton candy remarked that it looked like a scene from the wild west. Other passers-by avoided looking at the scene. If they hadn't actually looked at anything, they couldn't pick anyone out of a line-up.

Suddenly, there was a great sound of cheering. As there were sounds of benches scraping, out came a man. A medium sized man who wore clothes of bright but terrible taste. He was chewing on an unlit cigar. Behind came a lump of rock which gradually resolved into the famous bodyguard 'Man-mountain' Martin. Everyone knew that he had paid $10k just to come up with that name. Not exactly a person re-known for his flair in mental activities. But an effective lump of flesh anyway.

The man mountain cleared the way while the pimp, night club owner got into his protected car. Fifth time accused and fifth time cleared. One might see some of the jury rushing home, eager to enjoy a few hours of female company, compliments of the accused. A few others might be rushing home, praying their family was still intact. The rest could be counting their fat wad of money or their bad luck for being ignored. After all, only the majority counted.

The car wandered about for a while, before finally stopping at a gloomy end of town. Two women whose IQ could accurately be compared with that of an oyster got into the car. The man mountain could be seen moving to the front of the car. Then, the car picked up speed and moved to the estate of the man in question. For identification, he shall be referred to as Pimp.

As the car moved past the fairly big gates, a few security men stood at sized distances from the car. One man went forward and opened the gate. He then stepped into a smart salute.

With a resounding explosion, the car, the security men, and part of the estate exploded into fire and smoke. The Pimp, mountain, women and security guards were scattered over a few square miles. As the flames died down, one lucky security man saw a face with a bloodied mask on it, before the shifting smoke hid the apparition.

The next day, reporters joyfully declared that the blasts had killed the people as well as several handsome beech trees. The article continued for half the third page. One response remarked that it was a damn shame about those beech trees.

As Wraith read that particular response, he kicked himself for ruining those poor trees.