Victor leaned his head against the glass, sweat build up running down his face and onto the glass pane, his vision interchanging between blurred and regular, almost reaching tunnel-like vision. He then took this uncertain moment to pass out, unaware that he was near the End of The Line.

When he awoke, he jumped with a start, swearing and grimacing at the pain in his leg, the blood leaking out the bad scrape and starting to containmate the floor. For a moment, he didn't recognize the man before him and lunged painfully, slamming his head against the opposite window, nearly breaking it with the man's head. Then his vision went on it's regular path and the man he had just beaten was the bus driver. "Shit," Victor swore,

"Please," the overweight driver cried out, though a little muffled, "please let me go man,"

"And why would I do that? Do you know what Gotham does to beggars? Well, do you?" Vulture growled, digging the man further against the broken window,

"Please," the man repeated, this time resorting to tears, "please, I, I have a family,"

For a moment it didn't register what the man said, Victoria's pained cranium too slow to react, then he heard the statement and the sweat from his head ejected something from his eyes, tears. "I-i'm sorry," he stuttered and pushed the man into the seats.

He hobbled along until he fell out of the bus, growling in pain at his leg, taking a moment to register that he was at the Gotham Public Transit Center. He got back up and limped away, wiping sweat from his face every few seconds, trying to avoid eye contact with passersby. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Victor, now ever so sluggish and near passing out, entered a barbershop.

He pointed quietly at the old hair stylist in a threatening manner as the man was sweeping up his last customer's chopped off bits and pieces of hair. Slowly the old balding man realized who he was and looked from Victor to a door nearest him, "he's not busy, you can go inside," the man's voice was hoarse, and seemed scratchy, but there was an undertone of resignation.

"I better," Victor spat at the spineless old man as he limped past him, but the old man reached out with his broom, and tripped Victor, causing him to scream in pain and making the door behind them open suddenly.

"Oh dare you, old man!" Victor screamed and cradled his wounded leg, "oh i'm so going to-" he started to form a threat on his chapped, sweaty, and exhausted lips, but he was cut off by another man,

"What are you going to do, kid? We die, your mommy dies," the man, dressed up in green surgeon scrubs and wearing highly reflective glasses, the frames shaped like stars.

And the Crime Doctor laughed at the man bleeding out on the hair covered floor.