I hate days like this. They’re depressing. No one’s coming in today; it’s already 3 o’clock.
I won’t be eating lunch today, lemme tell you. Clients is how I eat. It’s an expense while I’m working their case, see? I haven’t eaten lunch in three days—it’s like the Depression all over again.
I mean, it’s real nice they’re saving this city from all the crap it usually has to take. The murder rate this year is stupendously low, and muggings are happening in only the darkest of alleys on the stormiest of nights. I mean, I guess I should be thanking them, as they seem to love justice as much as I do.
But I’d really appreciate being able to order a sandwich. Being able to fire my gun. Tearing down the street. Ducking into shops. Staking out. Lying. You know, it’s fun.

Goddamn superheroes are killing the private eye business.