“My city. She’s always there for me. Every lonely night, she’s there for me. She’s not some tarted-up fraud all dressed up like a piece of jailbait. No. She’s an old city… old and proud of her every pock and crack and wrinkle. She’s my sweetheart, my plaything. She doesn’t hide what she is, what she’s made of. Sweat, muscle and blood of generations. She sleeps. After midnight and until dawn, only shadows move in the silence. My city screams. She needs me. She is my love. She is my life. And I am her Spirit.

She provides for me, my city does. She gives me everything I need. All the enemy has is guns and knives. I have an entire city as my weapon. My arsenal. Iron-jawed fire escapes. Man-made lightning. Unforgiving pavement. She provides for me. She protects me. She is my mother, my city is. She’s a good mother. She always shows me the way.

I don’t know what I am or how long I got. Heck, maybe I’ll live forever. I hope not. That’s nothing any man ought to have. That’s nothing any man ought to want. Denny Colt is dead. I’m something else now… and I can never give my heart to anyone but her. She will always be mine and I will always be hers. She owns me, body and soul. She is the love of my life. She is my city. And I… am her Spirit.”

Frank Miller
(The Spirit)