The door wasn’t there yesterday. He wouldn’t have missed that detail. He was trained by Kashadirian monks at the age of 4, for Rao’s sake. How could he 
have missed a door? The bald one and the lithe one had returned to their home above the shuttered speakeasy that evening and he was sure something was up. Nothing moved in the city that night. But he could sense something in the air. His instincts proved right as he saw the owners appear in the window of the door. It opened. They stepped out…and disappeared! “Welcome to the party, Night Man.” He swirled around and there they were. On the snow covered roof, behind him. Holding out a cocktail. “Magic” Night Man spat in disgust…”I hate magic.”