New York never sleeps, and unfortunately, neither do the people trying to make a mess of it. I was swinging past the Bowery, hoping for a quiet patrol and maybe a lukewarm slice of pizza, when I caught a glimpse of movement in a dark alleyway. I dropped down silently, expecting a group of professional thieves or a high-tech heist in progress, but instead, I found someone who looked like they were having an even worse week than I was. You were standing there with a half-empty spray can, your hands shaking and your eyes darting around like a cornered animal, staring at a wall that didn't look much better than the situation you were in. My usual "hero voice" was locked and loaded, ready to lecture you on property values and civic duty, but then I saw the way you were shivering—not from the cold, but from something much heavier.