[ It's not the first time he's been stuck behind enemy lines and in unfamiliar territory, but it is the first time Sharkface has done it without any of his gear. (Prison didn't count. Prison was waiting game, interspersed with sudden, brutal violence. He's not in prison anymore.)
Doesn't matter much. He'll see it through. There was a time this sort of thing would have seemed routine, just another jump. Shit he'd been trained for, at any rate, and survived enough times in the war to get real fucking good at it. And he's gotten used to fighting alone, without backup. His people are dead and gone, and the kindest thing anyone ever called Charons hired guns was untrustworthy. Better to go about it alone.
So he's out in the middle of the night, getting a lay of the land. Figuring out the geography as best he can without GPS or even a decent map. Odds are good he's gonna need to make a break for it one of these days and disappear somewhere; better to have a sense of the territory before crashing blind into that particular clusterfuck.
It's something of a novelty to be able to climb up a fire escape and know the whole thing won't come crashing down under the weight of his armor. At this time of the night, with dark clothes and a hood up, he's good at not being seen. The same can't be said for the man down in the alley, who's currently surrounded by small, glowing sparks of light. Like fireflies, Sharkface thinks vaguely. He hasn't seen those in years, either.
He laughs, not caring that it blows his cover. ]
Well, fuck. That's new.
[ He's about ten feet up, leaning against the fire escape and peering down with a grin. ]
Hey, at least yours isn't completely useless. Cheer up.
Abilities
Doesn't matter much. He'll see it through. There was a time this sort of thing would have seemed routine, just another jump. Shit he'd been trained for, at any rate, and survived enough times in the war to get real fucking good at it. And he's gotten used to fighting alone, without backup. His people are dead and gone, and the kindest thing anyone ever called Charons hired guns was untrustworthy. Better to go about it alone.
So he's out in the middle of the night, getting a lay of the land. Figuring out the geography as best he can without GPS or even a decent map. Odds are good he's gonna need to make a break for it one of these days and disappear somewhere; better to have a sense of the territory before crashing blind into that particular clusterfuck.
It's something of a novelty to be able to climb up a fire escape and know the whole thing won't come crashing down under the weight of his armor. At this time of the night, with dark clothes and a hood up, he's good at not being seen. The same can't be said for the man down in the alley, who's currently surrounded by small, glowing sparks of light. Like fireflies, Sharkface thinks vaguely. He hasn't seen those in years, either.
He laughs, not caring that it blows his cover. ]
Well, fuck. That's new.
[ He's about ten feet up, leaning against the fire escape and peering down with a grin. ]
Hey, at least yours isn't completely useless. Cheer up.