Runner…

The rooftops are liberating, the wind in his hair is cool with the city's morning dew and steam form ovens and furnaces warming up the day. A man running with a sword on his back jumping from rooftop to rooftop carrying a small yellow briefcase, a runner. His face and physique hidden by the still dark morning. He stopped for a minute catching his breath, contemplating where he should leap to next, he ran foreward on top of the roof of a restaurant, jumping onto a cooling fan he jumped from that to the other rooftop, throwing his package to the other side, he grabbed onto the side of the building almost falling. Looking down he realized just how close he was to death, that or seriously injuring himself. He was far away from the hideout, and his friends would take a while getting to him and recovering the package if he fell. The man pulled himself up as the sun gradually peaked its orange head, bathing the rooftop in sunlight, revealing a dace and body covered by a tattered red poncho, the man now registering the newfound heat, threw off his poncho to reveal a tall man with short brown hair, he wore two black rubber and leather gloves on his hands, he wore an orange tracksuit with the shirt unzipped, the Nike symbol brandished on its lapel, under it was a white wife beater, his eyes blue in the sun shone. He sucked in a deep breath taking the morning in. The man ran to a doorway where the package landed. He picked it up, and ran. Ran and ran and ran.