Ben walked hurriedly off the cold streets into his lukewarm apartment building. He took the elevator to the 7th floor, and walked to the end of the hallway, to apartment 14. He took the key from his pocket, and unlocked the door. As he stepped through, he threw open his coat, and watched the blood pool on the floor. He stared at it, watched it leak through the bandages he'd laid down. This, he thought, is the consequence of bad planning.
This is the consequence of not listening to me, said something. A something he knew well, one that called itself the Hand of Anyone.
You're not the boss of me, thought Ben. He knew the response that was to