As the healer speaks, Hawkshaw notices belatedly that his mask's straps were loose, as though they'd been unfastened and then refastened. He nods, and tightens the small leather strip, looking unconcerned.
"It doesn't matter. The mask isn't about my identity. I'm nobody. It's about making them fear me." He pauses, a hint of self-aware irony slipping through. "And occasionally preventing concussions."
It had done its job well enough in that respect today, judging by the fact that there was a dent in the metal on the helmet's right side. Between that, and the chunks that had been taken out of his armor, Hawkshaw will need some time to repair his equipment before he can get back out on the streets. That wouldn't be quite so frustrating if Mars and Sheer hadn't both gotten away relatively unscathed, too.
Still, every loss is a lesson, and his abilities only grow stronger with every battle. Not to mention identifying a potential ally... even if this woman seems uninterested in the conflict for the city's soul at present.
"Thank you," he repeats, less uncomfortably this time, as he accepts the thermos. "I won't be staying long."
Lingering here would only put these people at risk. However, it's not as if they'd be completely safe without the Deathwish Detective around, either.
"You can deny what you are if you want, but someone else is going to find out eventually, and when they do, you're going to have to pick a side."
Hawkshaw hopes the healer won't interpret that as a threat- it wasn't meant as one. More of a warning. The Bloodhound has no interest in conscripting anybody, but the corps, cops, and criminals all lack his scruples. Reaching into his belt- slowly, to make clear he isn't going for a weapon -he retrieves a Cryptophone, one of the encrypted radio communicators he uses to contact his small network of allies around the city. There's only one number programmed into it- his own.
Snowflakes whipped against his skin like a swarm of little Siberian blades. The mouth of the cave beckoned him into its darkness where the beast waited with baited breath. His right arm igniting as he ran as fast as his 10 year old legs could carry his body. A roar shook the mountain from within and then his eyes sprung open.
Rising to his feet on the gravel covered shore he took a moment to try and remember how he got here. He was fighting Mars and then there was some kind of explosion. Everything after that was choppy like an old dvd skipping through scenes. He was running from the cops, there was another explosion, the splash of water, and then he was here...wherever here was. Clearly he had made it some distance from the city since he wasn't in cuffs and it had been a few hours given his wounds had healed up. There was still some residual soreness from the severe shit but, he could breathe without his ribcage piercing a lung so that was a good sign.
"The Triad shits taken care of. Nobody else survived. Hawkshaw and Mars showed up. Heading home now." and send. Thank god for life proof cases; was almost impossible being a supervillain like him without one.
Opening up his maps application he started off towards the closest Bratva safehouse. The streets would still be hot after what went down so he needed to let em die down. Damn shame too cause he really wanted a burger.
paperwork: It says "meatball" on my end?
Sept 13, 2022 6:37:36 GMT
paperwork: Willow, of course I know how website blocks work. The website puts up its arms into a blocking position, which stops you from getting close to it. To break through the block, you have to exhaust its stamina bar, ideally by punching it. It's easy.
Sept 13, 2022 6:38:43 GMT