02-13-2018, 02:38 PM
Fucking snakes.
The moment he cut the connection with Wicked Truth, Jaxen lept from his chair, freshly energized by the prospect of mischief. Whatever was going down with Wicked, his friend, and the monster-hunters, Jaxen was bored enough (and curious enough) to head out and learn for himself.
Besides, he hated those snakes enough that the idea of cornering one was appealing. Especially now that the power was close at hand.
He wore black denim and a gray/green shirt for the occasion. The ends of his hair was still damp from the shower, spiked in myriad directions. The glint in his eye didn't dampen as he summoned a driver, nor when he input the location Wicked found into his Wallet.
The driver was none too pleased to penetrate a less-than-reputable part of the city, but Jaxen lit from the car with ease. He was hardly ignorant of the passageways, alleys, and streets in the Red Light District. Hell, this was practically his home-away-from home. His gaze dared anyone to screw with him, even as the power fluttered through his body like electric shocks. He had the girl's picture, Wicked may come to regret over-sharing. A civvy pair of Land Warriors blocked the gleam in his eye.
He entered a sort of tent-city that stretched along back roads off the main drag. Boxes, dumpsters and other temporary shelters became the neighborhood. Smoke wafted from trash cans. He stepped nimbly around steaming mounds of questionable material, whether from stray dogs or people, he didn't care to get his shoes dirty. They were nice shoes. Of course, he attracted attention. More than one dirty face peered up as he passed by. He flicked some digital coins on the asphalt and planted himself in front of a pair of men hunched over brown bag lunches. He crossed his arms and interrupted their meal while they scrambled for the digital money. "Anyone seen a girl about yay-tall, black hair, pale face and carrying a sword?"
They hadn't. He moved on.
The tech-sensitive fibers of his jacket sleeve powered up the Land Warriors and as he stood there, the world was overlaid with a reddish tint as he swung his gaze slowly around. The facial recognition alogorithms did their work, in case they caught sight of Aria before he did.
Wicked never explained why they wanted to find Aria. Only that she was either in trouble or was the trouble. Either way, it seemed like the perfect time for Jaxen to stroll onto the scene.
When he felt the yank of power darken his senses, a dark grin curled his lips and he headed toward the channeler, having a feeling he was about to encounter the very person he sought.
He saw her stalking toward the shadows while the residue of the power faded. Someone had channeled at her, and he had a feeling it was the friend that Wicked described. If so, he would be sensing Jaxen's presence by now, even if he may have trouble pin-pointing his exact location by sense alone. He huddled along a brick wall and surveyed his surroundings before they saw him back. The alley was wide enough to drive down, although it was too filled with refugees to allow any kind of vehicle passage.
The traceur in him was ready to spring to life. He retreated a few steps, eyed the ledging of a wall and the fire escapes dangling far overhead, and grinned with anticipation. He retreated a few steps, eased out the muscles in his arms, waggled his fingers and his legs sprung to life. He dashed at the wall in three bounds, pushed against the brick with one foot and threw his momentum upward enough to grab the under bars of the fire escape. A twist, kick and pull later, he hooked a leg through the ladder and popped up. The hollow bang of landing on the metal thudded louder than he anticipated, but hopefully no one noticed. From there, it was an easy walk around the building ledge to watch from on high, like some lazy, curious cat, what was about to unfold, hoping to learn whose side of trouble Aria was on.
The moment he cut the connection with Wicked Truth, Jaxen lept from his chair, freshly energized by the prospect of mischief. Whatever was going down with Wicked, his friend, and the monster-hunters, Jaxen was bored enough (and curious enough) to head out and learn for himself.
Besides, he hated those snakes enough that the idea of cornering one was appealing. Especially now that the power was close at hand.
He wore black denim and a gray/green shirt for the occasion. The ends of his hair was still damp from the shower, spiked in myriad directions. The glint in his eye didn't dampen as he summoned a driver, nor when he input the location Wicked found into his Wallet.
The driver was none too pleased to penetrate a less-than-reputable part of the city, but Jaxen lit from the car with ease. He was hardly ignorant of the passageways, alleys, and streets in the Red Light District. Hell, this was practically his home-away-from home. His gaze dared anyone to screw with him, even as the power fluttered through his body like electric shocks. He had the girl's picture, Wicked may come to regret over-sharing. A civvy pair of Land Warriors blocked the gleam in his eye.
He entered a sort of tent-city that stretched along back roads off the main drag. Boxes, dumpsters and other temporary shelters became the neighborhood. Smoke wafted from trash cans. He stepped nimbly around steaming mounds of questionable material, whether from stray dogs or people, he didn't care to get his shoes dirty. They were nice shoes. Of course, he attracted attention. More than one dirty face peered up as he passed by. He flicked some digital coins on the asphalt and planted himself in front of a pair of men hunched over brown bag lunches. He crossed his arms and interrupted their meal while they scrambled for the digital money. "Anyone seen a girl about yay-tall, black hair, pale face and carrying a sword?"
They hadn't. He moved on.
The tech-sensitive fibers of his jacket sleeve powered up the Land Warriors and as he stood there, the world was overlaid with a reddish tint as he swung his gaze slowly around. The facial recognition alogorithms did their work, in case they caught sight of Aria before he did.
Wicked never explained why they wanted to find Aria. Only that she was either in trouble or was the trouble. Either way, it seemed like the perfect time for Jaxen to stroll onto the scene.
When he felt the yank of power darken his senses, a dark grin curled his lips and he headed toward the channeler, having a feeling he was about to encounter the very person he sought.
He saw her stalking toward the shadows while the residue of the power faded. Someone had channeled at her, and he had a feeling it was the friend that Wicked described. If so, he would be sensing Jaxen's presence by now, even if he may have trouble pin-pointing his exact location by sense alone. He huddled along a brick wall and surveyed his surroundings before they saw him back. The alley was wide enough to drive down, although it was too filled with refugees to allow any kind of vehicle passage.
The traceur in him was ready to spring to life. He retreated a few steps, eyed the ledging of a wall and the fire escapes dangling far overhead, and grinned with anticipation. He retreated a few steps, eased out the muscles in his arms, waggled his fingers and his legs sprung to life. He dashed at the wall in three bounds, pushed against the brick with one foot and threw his momentum upward enough to grab the under bars of the fire escape. A twist, kick and pull later, he hooked a leg through the ladder and popped up. The hollow bang of landing on the metal thudded louder than he anticipated, but hopefully no one noticed. From there, it was an easy walk around the building ledge to watch from on high, like some lazy, curious cat, what was about to unfold, hoping to learn whose side of trouble Aria was on.