"We have all kinds. Adrenaline junkies, lone wolves, know-it-alls, you name it, we've probably got one."

She shrugs one shoulder as they walk. It's a little late for operational security concerns, all things considered.

"Hopefully they're not." That would mean one of two things: dead or disavowed. Neither would be good. "As bad as things are here, it must be worse out there." It's not a pleasant thought. But it's interrupted by a welcome sight up ahead. "We're here."

The store is just as ransacked as most of the businesses in New York City. The front window is smashed open, the slide-down grate forced upward. The door has been kicked in. It's a sad sight. At least there's enough light to be able to see inside easily.

Lindianne vaults over the windowsill and vanishes into the dim interior. "Can't hurt to look, right?"