The policia finally get paid off by a victim's relatives and Kell is arrested on suspicion of mass murder.
"He's the one?" one cop says to the other.
"None other. Can you see it in his eyes?"
"He ain't got no eyes, padron."
"Well if he had a set of eyes, you could see it in him. Look at the blood on his collar. Look at this robed figure beside him. Matches a description, sure as shit."
Big lieutenant is brought in to sort out the mess. They refer to him in third person, calling him "The Man".
"The Man wants to help you out," cop says. Angry, malicious glare from The Man. Cop touches his dick to check for safe packaging.
Other cop says, "He does something for you, but you gotta do something for him. You think The Man has time to deal with everyone that comes his way?"
Kell says, "Dreamed of a fever that would cure me of these winter blues. Burning fire in my chest until the cold is sucked right out and I'm left a charred body."
"Write that down," The Man instructs. "Include in statement that suspect was intent on suicide by fire, influenced by Buddhist monks of Vietnam era, so forth and so forth. Get it down, wrap it up."

Kell turns to Death and says, "Hey, Anthony, how about you touch them and we get back to the B?"
"B train don't run in Eberhart," The Man says, misunderstanding.
"Just a touch. Set us right, on our way."
Death is puking black insect guts because he hasn't had the Baroline in over twenty minutes. His robe is rotting in the humidity and his bony ankles are visible at the bottom.
"Time to clone," Kell says and Death kicks The Man in the crotch and jagged chunks of concrete fall in heaven. Angry concrete passages leading further and further from the light. Right turns, left turns, t intersections, dead ends, empty fingers use Braille and empty ears hear all. Loose lips don't sink ships but fuck you if you're not Navy, Navy is do or die.

Policia swarm forward and Death holds them back with a single hand raised, shouting, "We're not here to redistribute wealth, god damn it! This is a matter of life and death, personal urgency."
Cop takes a step back and says, "Not me, no way. Don't take it up the ass from no guy in a robe, not this one."
"That's not what you said at the Christmas party," another cop chimes in.
"Okay, I'm gonna need you to let that go now."

Kell has broken his hand so he can pull free of the handcuffs and now he flaps the boneless thumb at the policia and says, "As one groundhog said to the other, 'Dig deep and if you can't dig, shit.' And then Kell and Anthony escape the station through cyborg interface, severed eyes helping pass infrared retina scanners.
The Commandant hears the news on the squawkbox and kicks a hole in the jelly wall of his office, his leg sucked up into the heating ducts and severed at the knee. Dr. Stevenson is brought in for treatment but Commandant throws lit matches at him until he goes away.
"Thing like this," Commandant explains to one of the young bandholioes, "you've gotta let the wound stop itself. Some would say that you bleed to death waiting for a clot but I say clots are instantaneous if you so wish. I'll be hopping around in minutes and then you'll see."

Commandant does not die because he's turned away Stevenson. Anthony should have taken Commandant but he's retreated with Kell to face the uncertain odds on the street, Baroline for pay, dick-suck and assfuck, all great creatures returning to the sea, the primordial ooze. And a twenty-one gun salute in honor of the Commandant's lost leg results in twelve deaths caused by falling bullets.

Stevenson has, naturally, fled Eberhart just ahead of federal agents, there to detain him and extradite back to civilization, to face charges of brutality, malpractice, unprofessional behavior, and (if possible) a few crimes against humanity charges. Stevenson is a brilliant thinker and has a knack for avoiding prosecution, but he's looking at execution here and there's not a man out there that won't shite out under those circumstances. Kell and Anthony's Baroline needs are no longer met and Kell goes on an intensified killing spree to block out the voices in his head. Anthony begins to degrade, bones chipping and peeling, drool threatening to drown him.
"We'll beat it," Kell assures him. "There's a whole mess of pork in this pad."

They enter a brownstone doctor's office and demand to know where they can find Baroline. The doctor makes a move for the phone and Anthony holds him down while Kell cuts his throat with a letter opener. They ransack the office and find a supply of M that keeps them twisted enough to ignore the gray pain of Baroline withdrawal. They re-enter Eberhart and the bronze statues come to life and stalk the streets, eating children and breaking doors down to strangle pregnant women. Kell surveys the damage and says, "The center can not hold."