You remain still. leaning against the wall for forty minutes. You hear one of those running shapes coming your way. You wait in ambush. When it rounds the corner you throw out an arm and strike the shitskin in the chest. The skin collapses in on itself with a putrid smell. you feel better, like you have gained something back that was taken from you. You are stronger now, you know it. You stalk the shit skins one by one, killing them taking back your essence. You begin moldy traps out of pliable shit. Traps that trip, traps that fall and crush. You are winning this war and soon the sewers are quiet again, you and you alone rule here.