The Darksiders pulled up on bikes and skates outside Grand Central and descended, rolling down the ramps to the main concourse where the ticket sellers and guardians were located. The guardians were in boots and bullet-resistant vests but the Darksiders carried crossbows slung over their shoulders and knives in their boots, belts or hip sheathes. Below and off to the sides of the concourse were the trains, and with them, the Engineers. When the Third Rail rallied them to his cause, nobody expected they’d become such a threat. But here they were, making sure the juice flowed and the trains made their stops on schedule. Darksiders elbowed their way through the zombies flooding the concourse, ignoring the guards and the booth drones. Each was jacked up on bean smuggled out from the Darkside fortress, Baruir.

Darksiders: the Queens of the Bean, gangs of Eastern European bloodsuckers and the odd ghost or two from Ireland, all looking for something that goes down easy. There’d be no blood on the tracks of New York, so long as everyone got their fix.