The rain hits the pavement of Old New York; gravel crunches under foot as he runs. He can hear the sound of police-bots chasing after him, their rubber wheels quickly making work of the semi-rough terrain of the bombed out city. He sucks air between his teeth, eyes darting about before they fall onto a broken fire escape hanging off a crumbling building. He runs over, gloved fingers encircling the rusted metal and boot clad feet lightly propelling him upward.
He flops down on to the roof of the building, holding his breath till he can't hear the police-bots' sirens. A loud gush of air leaves his lungs and he tugs down the red bandana tied around his mouth. Gold eyes flutter closed, and he lets his heart return to a normal pattern before he stands back up. One hand digs into his black pants pocket; fingers wrap around the sharp edges of the info-cube he risked his neck getting. He pulls it out, studying it with a small scowl plastered on his scarred mouth. All that...for this? He remembers the sting of the gun shot and glances at his torn and bloody sleeve. He clicks his tongue and pockets the info-cube, pulling back up his red bandana. The Master'll have to elaborate as to why this is so important. Sucking air silently through his teeth, he runs to the edge of the building, lightly soaring off of the lip of the concrete.
His head pounds, and his vision swims as he walks down the cracked streets, avoiding bums and Alters drunkenly stumbling into one another while they exclaim about their rousing night in the barbaric Old New York. The aches and pains from the mission finally catching up with the Runner. He sucks in a short breath of air, hand going up to cup his fiercely bleeding arm, hissing lightly as hot liquid dribbles through his fingers.
Altair glances up towards still standing buildings, eyes blinded by the cheap neon signs barely clinging to the blackened brick. He grits his teeth and scrambles up the side of one 'business' establishment, gracelessly flinging his weight through an open window. Sweat sticks to his brow as the Runner stumbles toward a neatly made bed; he collapses against the crisp white sheets, eyes fluttering closed while the faint odour of jasmine greets his nose.
()Part 1()
This one's gonna be broken in parts :I