Finding fault

Dominick left the building through a fire exit. The alarm had long since been disabled. He emerged into an alley and sought somewhere away from the streetlights. Flopping down against a dumpster, he leaned his head back for a moment to gather his thoughts. When his mind was a bit clearer, he decided he had to do something about the situation at hand. Or on his hands. Staring at the circles of steel around his wrists, he began to concentrate.

"Please..." he muttered, and tiny tendrils of smoke appeared. The cuffs clattered to the pavement. He was stretched the muscles in his arms and wrists, then carefully examined the wound on his head. His hands had just touched blood when Magdalena appeared.

"... Dommie..." Dominick held his bloody fingers out, a mute accusation. He got to his feet and began to walk away.

"Dommie, please! I tried to come tell you..." She saw that her pleas were having no affect on him. "Dommie!"

He paused for just a moment.

"I'll help you find her. I'll do anything, I swear I will..."

His voice came out sounding as lifeless as his brother's corpse. Upon hearing it, Mag curled into herself, agonized.

"...You let him die."