Ace and Block, Up on the roof:
The dwarf waves off the chip. "Sorry son," he grouches, albeit amicably, "I already know this area far too well. Betchya' don't have any information on the New York Netherworld on there, do ya?" He chuckles, a not-altogether unpleasant sound. "The sewers don't look like much --- and they smell even worse, but there's some mighty fine treasure down there, too. Maybe someday we can slip down there, do some spellunking. Change your world-view, that much sure."
"So," he grumbles, seemingly to himself, "You've got odds on the game? That what made you come up here? What made them come out here, anyway? Kreigers aren't really a problem, hereabouts these days. They keep to themselves, maintain a respectable distance, feed on the homeless," he chuckles agains, "Mother nature's little helpers, really. And you're hunting the hunters? D4ed impressive." He steps to the edge of the roof wall, looking off toward the park. "Dunno why, but you guys sound just screwed up enough for me to enjoy." In the failing light reflecting up from the street, you see what could only be a grin playing across the features of the otherwise unreadable dwarf. He slings the heavily-modified HK Urban Combat SMG over his shoulder to his back. "I guess we're brothers in duty, if not flesh. I'm Leeson. Sorta' the neighborhood healer-for-hire, shaman-at-arms, mystical mojo for the people here. Mostly the poor people here. And you're standing in what amounts to my living room." He strolls confidently to another air handler, leans against it. "If you don't mind, what exactly are you guys doing here? Sure, the view is killer, but unless you're sniping --- and neither of you are adequately prepared for that --- this wouldn't be the natural 'first choice' of vantage points, now would it?"
Mr X, in the other neighborhood:
As you do your recce, maintaining the corner of the alley as cover (hey, that's *my* assumption: you can tell me if you are doing otherwise. Just giving you the benefit of the doubt.) your attention is drawn to the far end of the parking area by the ceramic-sounding "chunk!" of door closing. Based on the sound of it, a fairly heavily-armored door. The vehicle it is attached to is already in motion, and you don't need to consult your crystal ball to realize that your quarry is panicked, gone. The fact that you caught up to him as he left is pretty much a miracle - bet nobody expected that! But there you are, semi-crouched agaisnt the corner of the alleyway holding your sidearm at the ready, point down, body twisted/rotated clockwise around the corner as you watch the late-model two-tone Black-and-Slate-Grey Mitsubishi NightSky disappear into the street off in the distance. |
