HockeyNerd
New member
"It's good to be back in Pittsburgh", Jack thinks as he passes the city limits sign. No one really understands why Jack decided this is his favorite place to spend his vacation, not even Jack understands it. Maybe it's the hustle bustle, after all the criminal life can be a lonely one, so maybe it's just nice to be consistently surrounded by people for two weeks. He's even made a few friends here over the years, a rare occurrence when you spend most of the year on the run, changing from one false identity to another. But here, at last, he can be Jack for two weeks straight with no questions and no fears. Of course it's fun changing from one person to another, planning and scheming, and dodging the police, why else would he spend most of his year doing that? Its easy to get caught up in that though, to get lost in the facades and forget the real him, lose his identity to the act.
And so here he is, on break. Normally He'd go straight to his condo and crash for a while, but he'd heard a lot on the news in the past year about some interesting meta happenings in the city and wants to know more. The news isn't always very trust worthy, having a habit of being biased or exaggerating details. So he decides to walk around for a bit and see what he can piece together, or maybe pick a good place to sit down and strike up a conversation.
Jack parked his green '95 F-150 in the lot near the condo complex. It wasn't a particularly remarkable truck by most peoples standards, but he'd gotten a handful of compliments from fellow mechanics and those older guys in the mid-west and the south who know trucks like a second language. Everyone knows the type. Typically in their 60s or 70s and sit in a diner most of the morning over a hot coffee, telling stories to whoever will listen. And when people do listen they usually walk away feeling a bit wiser. One of them is also probably making moonshine in a trailer in their backyard, and most of them are veterans of one or more wars. There's a group in Kentucky that Jack stops to see every time passes through the state. He reminisces about them for a minute as he gets out of his truck and makes sure everything is locked. He stops when he gets to his trailer with his bike. A red Tiger T-100 he rebuilt better than new, it is his most precious possession and needs to carefully make sure it's still securely strapped in and locked up so no one can steal it. Then he begins his walk.
Jack himself doesn't stand out much besides his fiery red hair and surprisingly memorable blue eyes. He has a fairly average build, though its clear he works out regularly, not to where he's sculpted, but enough to keep on the good side of "in shape". He walks for a while before he finds a nice park about a mile from his condo with some comfortable benches to sit on and wait for a passerby who feels like talking.
And so here he is, on break. Normally He'd go straight to his condo and crash for a while, but he'd heard a lot on the news in the past year about some interesting meta happenings in the city and wants to know more. The news isn't always very trust worthy, having a habit of being biased or exaggerating details. So he decides to walk around for a bit and see what he can piece together, or maybe pick a good place to sit down and strike up a conversation.
Jack parked his green '95 F-150 in the lot near the condo complex. It wasn't a particularly remarkable truck by most peoples standards, but he'd gotten a handful of compliments from fellow mechanics and those older guys in the mid-west and the south who know trucks like a second language. Everyone knows the type. Typically in their 60s or 70s and sit in a diner most of the morning over a hot coffee, telling stories to whoever will listen. And when people do listen they usually walk away feeling a bit wiser. One of them is also probably making moonshine in a trailer in their backyard, and most of them are veterans of one or more wars. There's a group in Kentucky that Jack stops to see every time passes through the state. He reminisces about them for a minute as he gets out of his truck and makes sure everything is locked. He stops when he gets to his trailer with his bike. A red Tiger T-100 he rebuilt better than new, it is his most precious possession and needs to carefully make sure it's still securely strapped in and locked up so no one can steal it. Then he begins his walk.
Jack himself doesn't stand out much besides his fiery red hair and surprisingly memorable blue eyes. He has a fairly average build, though its clear he works out regularly, not to where he's sculpted, but enough to keep on the good side of "in shape". He walks for a while before he finds a nice park about a mile from his condo with some comfortable benches to sit on and wait for a passerby who feels like talking.