It was an absent habit, really, flicking the tab on an ivory-handled pocket knife. It was his newly favored blade, having lost the previous one in a recent altercation that required swift action. The switch was heavy enough to do some damage between the ribs, especially if planted with an upward angle in a lung, but small enough to slip unnoticed into his pocket. He had no real need for knives or guns, with one true exception. The powers that other men claimed easily remained blocked by tricks and rituals to him. Pain summoned the power to his grasp - if delivered in the right amount.
Ryker had no need for height to watch the crowd. One sharp eye danced nonchalantly through their weaving and warping, a twig riding the waves of a churning sea. The other filtered dim and fuzzy, and together the world was slightly disjointed. There were street-dressed patrols in the vicinity: not surprising for a street fair in the CCD capital, but unlike the government placed agents, others were clearly private personnel. They watched everyone as he did; as Ryker watched them.
It was without surprise when Mik found him. He offered the slick kid one of the spare cigars, pulled from his pants pocket. “Light it up, yes?” He offered the cold end of his own to the guy who flicked fire like others spat saliva.
Ryker had no need for height to watch the crowd. One sharp eye danced nonchalantly through their weaving and warping, a twig riding the waves of a churning sea. The other filtered dim and fuzzy, and together the world was slightly disjointed. There were street-dressed patrols in the vicinity: not surprising for a street fair in the CCD capital, but unlike the government placed agents, others were clearly private personnel. They watched everyone as he did; as Ryker watched them.
It was without surprise when Mik found him. He offered the slick kid one of the spare cigars, pulled from his pants pocket. “Light it up, yes?” He offered the cold end of his own to the guy who flicked fire like others spat saliva.