Evidently, the beast in the alley would vastly prefer dishing the blows to receiving them. When Steve's fist buries itself in its side, it lets out what can only be a howl of pain, though even that is almost indistinguishable from the roaring of before. Wary of what might come next, Steve begins to move away, putting some distance between himself and his foe before it can even begin to think about launching a counterattack. Now that he has an audience, he has to begin thinking about how to end this scuffle as soon and with as few injuries as possible. But as he and the beast slowly begin to circle one another, each attempting to anticipate the other's next move, he begins to consider T.J.'s question. The legends go back decades, originating sometime before even Steve can remember. Long ago, he might have thought it impossible, but he no longer has the luxury of disbelief.

"I think it might be Bigfoot," he calls back, feeling stupid even as he makes the suggestion. Then again, it isn't as if he's relaying the story hours later to a skeptical audience. The proof is right here in this alley, waving two enormous, balled fists over its ugly head.