4:6:1

Damp and withered the wooden floorboards were, the surface not perfectly flat but instead with minor variations of angling from the individual boards, just partially poking out when observed keenly from the ground. To the perspective of the one who wouldn't even view this sight, there was silence. In front of the ripped base of the leather couch– black but with its foamy yellow cushion expelling out like guts from gaping wounds– only stretches of light reached the floor but dim at the point of contact, resulting in minimal stimulus.

The lack of stimulus was serene, in a void of nothingness there was an absence of the cruelty reality would bring, for in monotony the pain wasn't so excruciating, least not explicitly so. When there was nothing, there was no danger, there were no enemies, there was no conflict. A moment away from such chaos of the world was one rare, thus when it was received it was a gift, one that had to be squeezed for as long as the moment would last.

That tranquility showed on the open, relaxed hand hanging upside down from the wrist attached to the sky, a hand marked with faint scarring that obstructed the softness of the skin, but one that still has that baseline of youthful delicacy in its fair tones. The back of the hand had some reddening by the knuckles, but the fingers were so laxly hanging, not balled into a fist but not straightened intentionally either, instead in the balancing point where they make a gentle claw.

Especially when at the foreground in front of the black scratched couch, the brighter colors of the hand popped despite there being little light, only the thinned ends of yellow rays reaching the backhand such that the diminishment of luminosity could be studied on the skin alone.

Upon the emergence of shuffling and rummaging from afar however that hand immediately tensed as the fingers bent intently like claws, the tendons of the backhand redefined in greater intricacies. The body that the hand was attached to abruptly rolled to the side, throwing the hand up as the black cuffs of the sleeve beneath the wrist held on tight during the entire rotation of the barrel roll before the clawed hand alas landed on the wooden floor, its nails digging into the boards intensely like the whole arms covered in the black sleeve part of the full hoodie covering the upper half of the being whose lower half had black joggers tapered with thick black cuffs around the ankles but no shoes, her bare feet instead also gripping the floor; prompted by the force of the self toss flew a white sheet from the same couch's surface which drifted in front of the figure initially cloaking any sight ahead like a flag. At a low stance the body was, one hand on the ground and the other raised in a fist in preparation as the head faced onward, the head covered from the back by the amber asymmetry-cut whose bangs hung on the left.

The white sheet floated down gently before touching the floor to reveal that in front of the aggressive awakened was the corridor of the familiar room, and in that corridor stepping out of a doorway to the side was a man dressed in cargo pants with visible patches due to variations in coloration which had two holsters one on each side and several pouches attached with belts on the thighs and knee. He also wore a black half shirt albeit with visible hung strings and over it a black vest lined with pouches albeit some of them punctured with holes yet to be restitched. Without any sleeves, the wrinkled arms were visible along with a pattern of scars from slashes to bruises in points, although not all the wounds could be seen as some were covered by small white patches with one white sheet tied around his upper arm. Slung around his neck was a gray chain with a pocket watch-sized disk ornament over his chest, and above that was the scruffy dark gray beard same colored as his wavy albeit receded hair beneath his pacific blue eyes.

Those eyes faced the being in the combative stance, and upon turning to face them the man showed curious puzzlement, his left hand gripping a handful of white pills casually as his right's fingers were holding the disk on his neck before they slipped off to his side.

In a groggy voice drowned in fatigue, the man waved his left hand before awkwardly greeting, "Was I too loud?"

In front of the man leaned the woman, or more accurately the young teenage girl who looked to be around the age of thirteen. Upon discerning the man, her green eyes expanded and she relinquished her stance into an upright standing posture before lowering her head and shamefully assuring, "Oh hey dad sorry I didn't see you there. No you weren't."

After one more curious glance, the man tossed the handful of pills into his open mouth, swallowing them all at once with a single gulp lacking any necessity for fluids to help them run down, for he took the pills casually with the natural fluidity that came from experience.

He nodded his head and nonetheless apologized, "Nah that was on me, should've been quieter knowing you were there. I'd have carried you back up if I could, but you're getting a bit too big for your old man. You get good rest?"

"Yeah yeah of course," the teenager assured before contradictorily rubbing her eyes with her right hand, an instinct that the man immediately took to keenly with a judgemental glance and crossing of his arms.

A gentle sigh emitted from the man amidst the shaking of his head before he commented in dismay, "The mattress is much comforter than that couch, your back will give out quicker if you sleep like that."

After glancing down at the white sheet on the floor and promptly unfolding his arms, the man anticipated more optimistically, "I hope that made it a little easier on you, but I don't know when you went to bed so I don't know. You need to start going earlier, sleeping in doesn't do your mind and body enough."

Noticing the tossed blanket, the teenager's eyes widened in guilt and she promptly bent down and picked the sheet off the ground, standing upright and stiffly relaying, "Ai ai sir, I know," before balling up the sheet lazily.

"Not like there's anything I'm allowed to do in the day anyways," muttered the girl under her breath before tossing the scrunched sheet onto the couch, causing it to explode back out into a wrinkled mess lacking the same meticulousness as when it was first applied.

Disgruntled by the show of attitude in the place of sincerity, the man groaned and shook his head before broaching back, "You should know that-," before abruptly halting himself and again shaking his head, resetting his own attitude.

He glanced back down on the floor before muttering under his own breath, "Ah…never mind."

Focus was returned to the man perhaps by the stare at his own vest to which he brought his gaze back up and announced, "Right, speaking of, I was in the process of heading out. Got somewhere I need to be," before turning around and beginning a walk away from the teenager and down the corridor.

That teenager just watched initially with an irritated glare to the initial lecturing, but upon the shift in objective her glare morphed into a daze, one that was held for a few moments as though in bafflement.

Eventually the teenager awoke with two blinks before opening her mouth and pursuing on foot, "Wait, now?" no longer with that antagonistic attitude.

Continuing down the corridor past the doorway he originally emerged from, the man made calm yet urgently projected references, "There's more tosses back in the kitchen, you can get your own helping once you're rested enough. I'll be back later so maybe we can get thirds today if you're up to it."

Following him was the teen girl in the black hoodie and pants, passing the same doorway and reaching the end of the corridor out to the living room while exclaiming astounded, "Wait, thirds? What about seconds?"

Onwards the man strolled towards the dining room to the right of the opened space, walking up to the triangular table with the three chairs, and slung on the chair closest to him was the belt over the brown leather jacket in front of the table with the scattered arsenal.

Firstly the man picked the belt off of the chair's back and drove it around his waist, tugging on it tightly to get a solid fit as he grunted from the aching. Eventually he did manage to click the belt, allowing him to let go of his grip yet maintain the belt's position on his body.

Next he drifted around the chair and focused on the table, picking up the pouches of golden pellets and stuffing them in his vest's pouches as he explained, "Today's going to be a longer day out for me…hopefully a bit shorter if the Marauder doesn't come out, damn Exhuman monster," with the lowering of his head and a tone shifting to one of greater resent, eyes sharpening to a glare. Behind him the girl oddly lowered her head as if guilty, but he then raised his head with an optimistic grin and assured, "But no matter, that myth's been tossed around for a year now and it's been none but talk, so you have nothing to worry about. This is going to be good, if it all goes well I think I'm going to hit some of those items off your list, maybe start getting you a diet more than just tosses. You're only going to grow so much off that stuff anyways."

Placing his wrinkly, scarred hand on the wooden table grounded to the floor on legs, the man slipped his fingers around a firearm resembling a 44 Magnum revolver in its long barrel and traditional drum design in the back. The weapon was also rather large despite being a handgun, requiring some keener care when handling given the man's sharper eyes as he tilted it from side to side before making a click which revealed the drum to the side, allowing him to inspect the slots none of which were yet full.

He then with his other hand gently pushed the drum back into its compartment, and after a quick check he confirmed to himself with a nod and pushed the handgun into one of his holsters as behind him the teenage girl just stood behind and raised her head up with the goal of imbuing more optimism into herself with the snarky remark: "Please, I'm catching up to you," before knocking her hair with her backhand, letting it swing like a pendulum which appropriately swung back.

Only able to chuckle to the retort, the man just nodded and admitted, "Maybe you are," before he grabbed another handgun off the table, this one familiar in the handle being part of the weapon's butt, providing that sleek straight design that he began inspection on.

Despite the jest made that was reacted to pleasantly, the teenage girl just frowned in dismay before lowering her head, understanding the inevitability of the departure, for it was an inevitability she had long given up on fighting back. Only for so long could one try to beg the clouds to leave, as eventually the truth would be given that no amount of begging could do such a thing, whether it be handed gently or stuffed down the throat.

After another successful assessment, the man nodded his head and stashed the handgun in his other holster before then grabbing different magazines on the table and slotting them into his belt, not needing as thorough of examinations other than the occasional glimpses.

Only the sound of shuffling and rummaging filled the house, for there was no speech in this extended silence, not other than the occasional grunts exuded by the man as his aching body had to bear more equipment.

While in front of her the man started to grab for canisters and sticks which he placed in the pouches on his vest, the teenage girl glanced over to one of the chairs, not the one with the coat slung over nor the one facing the window, but rather the one whose back is to that very window, the window breathing in the yellow light that provided the room its life.

That yellow light emitting from behind that very chair being stared at properly illuminated the table and man working on it, but fewer rays struck the teenage girl who stood off to the side, still lit but only by the dim edges of the bridge.

For that yellow light was most prominent in the living and dining room, adequate in making known the stern expression of the man who was grabbing more pouches of pellets to slip into his vest, same for the somber expression of the girl who just awkwardly stood behind, grabbing her arm with her free hand still without anything to say, her amber hair now in full strands but still relatively short, or at the very least conservative in its bloom as it only draped down one half of her head and wasn't long enough to run down her back or even to her neck.

The girl just stared and watched in silence as the man placed the last few sticks in his vest before achieving content in the equipment on his body, all but for the last piece which he took a step back for, picking the brown leather coat off the back of the chair to throw it around him.

He slipped his arms in through the sleeves with fists before rolling his back to let the jacket poof on him, unzipped and open to reveal the vest underneath, although only a sliver compared to prior as also all the patches on his arms have vanished.

After tugging on the lapels to straighten the coat, the man just turned his focus towards the chair in front of the light before he froze up, randomly caught in a daze for a few moments such that even his grunts wouldn't push out.

That one wooden chair with four legs just stood behind the triangular table, empty, only its back being shed with light from the window behind it for in truth the seat itself was cast in darkness, missing the rays of light, for in fact when faced on the contrasts defined the chair as a silhouette; darker than it would have been if not for such a concentrated light source.

The wood of the chair was solid albeit clearly aged, the grooves in the skin visible but also the chippings off the surface, breaking into the smooth surface from chinks bitten off to leave the rough flesh gaping out.

Although despite the chinks made in the chair, it was still far from unusable, far from uncomfortable, far from garbage. Even if nobody may take a seat on that chair again, it was still part of the table, forever as that table stood with its other companions.

Gazing at that chair through those gentle pacific irises, the man released a soft sigh and closed his eyes, lowering his head for a second before raising it back up and opening his gaze yet again. He then turned around and resumed his movements, now walking towards the exit door at the end of the living room, his wavy gray hair ruffling ever so slightly.

To the continuation of the departure, the teenager raised her head up and tracked the man with a frown, still currently silent.

It only took a few steps for the man to reach the door, one that lacked any visible door knobs but one that did not need them despite such a fact being a violation of safety. The man however did not immediately step through the door even upon approaching it, for instead he just stood in front of it, his head down in contemplation, waiting almost.

Behind the man the teenager just stood still in anticipation, despair with a frown but anticipation with eager eyes nonetheless. She waited, her arms by her side and her bangs beside but not obstructing the aim of her mint green eyes which twinkled, the pupils black but irises vibrant.

Still remaining in front of the door, the man's head finally rose up, and he pivoted his body halfway between the door and the girl but turned his head completely to her, frowning clearly conflicted but nevertheless wishing, "See you later, Breadhead."

Not needing to initiate as he did for her, the girl blinked to the gesture before letting go of her arm with her hand, dropping both to her side and nodding her head.

That dull frown raised up to just a subtle smile, not gleaming per se but at the very least genuine as she wished back with a reluctant optimism, "See you back home, dad."

Infectious was that subtle smile as it grew on the man's face too, despite being more weary with creases and wrinkles, dark bags beneath the man's eyes not so abrasive against his complexion but detectable nonetheless. Perhaps in truth he was around the age of forties, yet he did not appear so, for the baggage in his eyes and weathering of his skin gave the approximate more in the sixties or more, a man who should be well beyond retirement or at the very least not in a line of work so physically demanding.

Regardless though by the smudging of that smile, the man had to turn around back to the door, and he had to make the push against it which swung the door open with a repulsive creak, bleeding the bright yellow light into the home as he stepped through the doorway. He continued walking onwards down the street as the door reached its point of return, swinging back the other way like a pendulum, back to its original state of rest.

Thus in front of the teenage girl, body lit golden by the light, the wooden door swung back, concealing the figure of the man who strolled on ahead, covering him like a curtain would in a theatrical stage, for he was exiting the scene of the home.

The curtain closed completely as the door swung wholly shut, not with a bang but rather another creak, for there wasn't enough power in the door to mark with such dominative force. The instant the door closed however that gust of light was robbed, substantially darkening the teenager as it deprived her of that golden glow, the one that had encased her body like a hide, like an armor.

The footsteps grew quieter from the outside before silencing altogether, leaving the girl just standing yet again alone in the living room, seemingly longing, seemingly waiting, the only one yet again left in the residency.

That smile that the teenager managed to push out couldn't hold eternally, so it fell back to a frown as her eyes dimmed grim. She lowered her head ever so slightly, contemplating to herself, her forehead scrunching as her eyes sharpened not only in a gloom but rather an inner argument, a discussion.

She held that glare to the ground for a few moments to ponder, her eyes diverting back to the closed door for an instant before returning, sharpening only more as though beginning to sway onto one side, beginning to reach her decision even if still indecisive.

At last however a decision was made with a nod given to only her. She then turned around, away from the door, away from where her father had left, but instead faced the corridor from which she came from and took off in a sudden energized sprint.

Into the hallway the girl ran, her arms swinging back and forth and her body leaning forward, her head straight as she passed right by the kitchen doorway where the aforementioned food was as told by her father, yet this time she did not even grant it a thought but rather left it behind.

Instead the girl continued to the other end of the hallway, back into the other living room past the grounded couches whose stuffing popped out from the ripped hide, worn like the accompanying tables whose wooden surfaces were chipped with discolorations in the hues not meant to be. One of those tables the girl leapt and slid over not altering her path as she pushed on even when she had to jump onto one of the couches and jump again over the sofa's back, mantling with the thrust of her hands to throw herself around back on the ground and continue ahead to the spiral staircase whose steps were narrow and steep.

Regardless of the difficult design of the steps, the girl speedily ran up them by skipping every other stair, not needing to slow her speed as she just ran up the spiral with a determined glare, one that she wore all the way up the staircase in seconds away from the light from the lower room, letting herself distance from the glow from the ground floor on her travel to the dark skies.

She did reach the top of the staircase as well, continuing down the narrow hallway, every step creaking the floorboards beneath her, also causing them to bend down due to their natural instabilities, for the whole house warped under her footsteps.

From one end of the corridor to the other, the girl ran up to one of the closed doors, her bangs thrashing back and forth until she at last had to stop with a heavy halt, only to push against one of the doors, forcing it to swivel out to let her in which she took the chance of in an instantaneous dash simultaneous with throwing the black hood over her head, now inside the room that she panned around to.

In front of her was the closet-sized room substantially smaller than the living room downstairs, with wooden furniture along the eroded brown walls, dressers chafed with markings that let wounds bleed out. Higher above the furniture against the walls was the window which bled in its own yellow light for the room, a different source than from below, but one that still provided its own guidance as it properly lit up the room.

That furniture was only off to the edges of the room as most of the floor was occupied instead by a large elevated mattress, one that was truthfully only slightly larger than a twin sized mattress yet was a vast upgrade from the past. On the mattress were a few white sheets as comforters, one that could function as an additional bed sheet and another as a separate blanket as they were layered over each other but not stuck together. The sheets were also made more of a cotton material, something with more thickness, although some strands were pulled out and the sheets truthfully were not pure white but instead were grayed from dirt.

Her focus was primarily on the bed mattress as she dropped down to her knees swiftly, slipping her fingers between the wooden floor and bottom of the mattress, and with a brief grunt she lifted it up off the ground albeit at the result of the sheets sliding off.

However the lifting of the mattress had another and perhaps more interesting result, for beneath it there revealed to be a disorganized mess of devices many of which resembled dismantled pieces of handguns, but her focus centered on an open black backpack in the center that she tugged out.

Letting the mattress drop back down now with the acquisition of the empty sack that she slinged through her arms, she stepped on and over the mattress towards the window as her right hand reached to the top of her head beneath the hood, grabbing on and pulling down what's revealed to be a long black bar that began secreting black plates horizontally, swiftly covering both halves of the face as each layer would allow another to slide from beneath it. Further sheets bent at angles that wrapped around the head similarly to how the end of the bar also wrapped underneath the chin and down the front of the neck before the grip was relinquished, letting the rest of the panels mask the face in a blank design that lacked any decals or identifying details other than the ravines between the laminas. 

With that right hand freed along with her left, the girl was able to grab the bottom of the window, firmly gripping the edge so with one swift motion –albeit requiring some stress given her minor grunt and straining– she could lift the window up thus allowing a gust of the outdoor breeze to strike her.

First the right leg was raised, but from underneath the cuffs of the joggers slipped out more metallic panels, freefalling seemingly but sliding so smoothly amongst each other, forming a longer base below the grimy foot like a sole which swiveled when met by the windowsill due to the joint; the foot was then pushed to sit on it which triggered more plates along the edges to clamp around the foot and spread until converging along the center thus fully covering as a shoe, the shape vaguely resembling an actual foot all but for the substantially larger toes rather sharpened like claws that gripped the windowsill.

Staring forth with one hand gripping the top of the window as another joined for the additional support of the other foot to be raised, the girl examined the sky as the cuffs above her second foot released a flood of sheets that similarly encased the foot with those sharp claws that bent as though alive, albeit with the stiffness of hard metal mechanisms.

Those stiff mechanisms only endowed the claws a greater sense of strength, for the girl was able to relinquish both of her hands and bring them instead inside the pockets of her hoodie, balancing entirely on her feet.

Not only that, but by the flash of green light emitted from the creases between the plates, the girl was propelled up from the window with superhuman force that left behind a faint residual trail as she drew both of her hands from her pockets, revealing them to now be reinforced by large metallic gloves with wrists that slide panels down to her sweater's sleeve cuffs which secreted their own subtle plates that integrated to form a seal. Simultaneously the gloves which originally were exposed on the nails extruded extensions that not only cover the nails but fortified them with elongated claws.

Every bending of the finger triggered the claws to rearticulate mechanically, the weight of the metal apparent, but so was the strength exemplified by the support it provided when she sunk them into the concrete wall of the opposing building, the fingers able to dig deep enough to hold her on as the ripped concrete rained down. Promptly she swung her feet onto the same wall, digging her claws onto them such that she could begin climbing up like a spider. Her crawling was quick, animalistic even, as she passed windows emitting yellow lights before reaching the ledge of that building which she threw herself over.

Immediately she broke into a sprint, running along the flat rooftop cluttered with grayed metal pipes for venting which she mantled over with quick leaps that allowed her to effortlessly slide over like railings, landing back to then make a high jump over another metal vent that she used as a jumping point for a greater leap that thrusted her onto a thick concrete pole resembling a chimney, one that she clung to with one foot and hand.

From that vantage point the faceless beast surveyed around at the colossal concrete city, for all buildings that could be seen through the thick gray fog were cuboid structures made of similarly smoky concrete livened only by the windows that radiated the yellow glow which exclusively composed the city's lighting for the sky did no favors. In fact the smog could not be distinguished from the clouds, as even though in truth the rooftops were far from skyscrapers but instead mostly only standing at the height of apartment complexes, it felt as though the beast was high amongst the clouds. Yet her focus was down on the world below to the empty streets and many surrounding blocks: her playground.

The second foot gripped to the pole as between the plates of both boots green lights flared as though a source of energy was overwhelming the container, for it's that source of energy that propelled her forward with a residual green trail as she soared past the rooftop over to another that she landed on with a quick roll up to her feet. She continued to run, arms swinging back and forth with a low posture focused on speed, approaching two short poles with rags and clothing dangling over a hanging beam overhead, one that she slid beneath before leaping in a partial midair roll over a tall metal generator box exuding a hum which was followed with a vent being raised from the same surface extending in a tube that she ran on top of, every step echoing across blocks.

Leaping off of the vent's edge, she ran towards a rooftop bulkhead with a closed metal door at the edge of the building which she then jumped towards, digging her claws into the gray eroded concrete, flakes falling as she swung her feet into the same vertical surface to climb up until reaching the ledge which she threw herself over to run the final strip over the bulkhead as the crevices in her boots flared green in preparation for the propelled bound that raised her to the following wall which she contacted after a breezy partial flip that oriented her facing upwards, her boot claws spading the rotated ground that she began running up on, every step sinking the metallic teeth into the gray soil for traction. Despite being tugged at by gravity there seemed to be minimal resistance pushing against the beast who sprinted up the building with a hunched back and swinging arms, leaving footprints in the dirt. Buildings once standing off the ground now appeared to be lanes following the same direction onwards, the clouds not above but rather ahead.

At the top she dashed with lit propulsion beyond the edge of the ground, flipping forwards as the whole world behind her rotated: the city blocks, the infinity where the smog melded into the clouds, the opposing expanse of vacant street, all of it reverting to its default orientation once the feet land on the next rooftop to carry onwards past the additional ventilation chambers that had to be lept over or ran across depending on if they were tall arrays of openings or long shafts reaching the tailend of the system.

Amidst the blissful jog across rooftops, a distant shout was caught and amplified through the blank black mask, a somewhat young feminine voice crying out: "Leave me alone!" to which the head tilted in the direction of that shout; the beast drove her feet into the ground to a swift skid that pulled bits of concrete off the ground like dirt upleveled in a tornado, and she swerved to the direction of the shout which became her new focus that she resumed her run towards, mantling over generators jutting from the ground at first and springing onto the last one for a point that she could use for a far more impactful leap, one that propelled her vastly further at the head of a green trail as her eyeless glare kept onwards.

"I said get off me!" roared the clear feminine voice, the voice coming from the young woman somewhere in her mid twenties who jerked her arm back from the clutches of a hairy hand, although the sudden action caused her to stumble back towards the concrete wall of the alley. She was dressed in a dark gray jacket–strands loose and holes apparent– with a black bowl cut and brown eyes, gritting her teeth as her short sleeves revealed scratches and marks on her skin.

Her expression was initially of fear, her gaze directed to the source of the hairy hand, but in a swift motion she reached for her jacket's pocket and immediately aimed that hand now wielding a small handgun resembling a Ruger LCR, a stubby revolver that could fit its whole body on a palm, her second hand reinforcing her grip although on a handle so small it's more that she's reinforcing her own hand.

Still, she aimed it with a determined glare and commanded, "Back off!"

In front of the woman backed up by the corner within the tight alley were three men who were deeper in age, perhaps in their forties even, most with similarly skinny bodies. In the center was a bald man in a white tank top and beside him was one in a black T-shirt and one dressed in a gray jumpsuit. The man in the center was the one being aimed at by the woman, who raised his hands up and sarcastically pleaded, "Oh no no, looks like Miss here brought a toy!"

Yet beside him the two men whose hands were already by their hips both revealed that from their own pockets were handguns too, these ones even larger with traditional Colt styles, both instantly aimed at the woman whose determined glare immediately fell to fear as the central man betrayed, "But so did we."

Now no longer the one in a position of authority, the woman slowly raised her weapon up in show of surrender and in a tone swapped with anxiety she beseeched, "Wait no, please I didn't, wait just let me go please I won't be any trouble!"

The man to the right in the jumpsuit took a step towards the woman, his gun aimed for the head as he sneered abhorrently, "Aww, but things are just now getting interesting!"

"Those are some big guns," suddenly complimented a voice, although it wasn't from either of the men or the woman, for in fact it didn't sound human entirely but rather heavily distorted to be deepened significantly with a tone almost reminiscent of a synth: electric.

Immediately all four of the adults shifted to a similar shocked expression and they all faced the direction of the new voice, one not beside them but rather above, up the wall to the being sitting on said wall, the feet and hands dug into the concrete such that it can perch without slippage. In the darkness of the alley the being was only a black silhouette, no features distinguishable from the dark figure, instead it just sat on the wall as a blank shadow. That voice was certainly coming from it however as it retorted in that same synthetic voice: "Maybe this can be interesting."

"Oh shit that's the fucking Marauder!" exclaimed the man in the tank top while reaching into his pocket to pull out his own pistol which had a pronounced hammer unlike the others, and he immediately fired it with a blinding flare and deafening bang.

That shot already wasn't perfectly aimed, but it was fully evaded as the silhouette released their grip on the wall to plummet straight down, or at least closer to the ground before plunging its feet into the wall again in a rotated squat, those feet revealed to have long animalistic claws that penetrated the solid wall. Those feet also had cracks that lit up green just as the being sprung off the wall, grabbing the face of the man in the shirt with a hand vastly larger out of proportion to the black arm, those hands too with sharp claws and visible cracks when examined intimately.

Yet examination was brief as the being picked the man off the ground before slamming the back of his head into the opposing wall with a loud thud and scream cut off in immediate concussion, the body going limp beside the woman who shrieked in terror.

"Not Rob!" cried the man in the jumpsuit before firing his own shot, not exactly as intense as the former shot yet it blared like a cymbal that lit the whole alley for an instant.

At the head of the explosion bursted from the flashing muzzle was a single brazen bullet, short as a stub nearly proportional to a pellet with just slightly more length and refined tip even if not particularly sharp.

Regardless that bullet was already anticipated by the being who hung onto the wall, facing the other way to reveal that its entire body was black, the torso specifically covered in a black hoodie with the hood up, but even where the face should've been was instead a black veil void of sculpture that'd mimic a face, rather it was as though the being was alien entirely. The face was made of distinct plates with a narrow strip down the center and larger panels over each half, leaving cracks in between.

That anticipation of the bullet allowed the head to already be in an evasion motion, the shoulders moving the head to the right just as the bullet flew straight into the wall, not even a foot off target yet nonetheless failing to land its intended mark.

Promptly the Marauder faced down the alley where it lept towards as the man in the gray shirt just collapsed to the ground and the two remaining men as well as the woman faced down the alley to see the beast land on the ground on all fours facing back at them.

"I'm gonna gun this sonuvabitch you'll see," roared out the man in the jumpsuit before charging straight down the alley shouting, the left arm swinging as the right one was straightened out to aim his gun as both the woman and previously central man just stood back in stupefaction. 

"Or maybe not," jested that monstrously deep voice of the Marauder who stood upright before charging straight the other way, both clawed hands open and ready as it ran with a low posture, head facing straight for the next target who ran at her firing several roaring shots.

From side to side the Marauder strafed, able to evade each bullet despite the narrowness of the alley, for it was clear her opponents weren't able to deliver excellent precision.

In seconds the distance was closed as the Marauder clenched its right fist and ducked below the man who tried to lower his head in bewilderment before that metal fist was driven straight up the chin lit up with green cracks, such brutal force lifting the body high up in the air and losing grip of the gun as the whole body went limp.

Following the body mercilessly, the Marauder sprung off the ground and kicked off of the wall, bouncing to the other which it also bounced off of, gaining altitude until it reached the body in the jumpsuit which it grabbed by the collar. It then arced its shoulder back, and with all its strength it threw the body back down at the last enemy.

That body flew straight at the man in the tank top who leapt backwards to narrowly dodge his ally who he looked down to, aghast and terrified, before then raising his enraged glare down the alley same with his handgun as he bellowed, "Come on!" before firing shot after shot, every one nearly deafening him yet he fired every one.

Those shots were directed at the Marauder who ran along the right wall –the open black backpack held on tight with minimal jiggling– before jumping off and bouncing onto the left wall that it continued to run across to elude those first few bullets, and again it sprung back to the right wall when the second set was fired, able to catch up scarily fast.

One more jump off the wall and the Marauder flew upwards at the final man who shifted aim but with shaky arms that did no good as the sharp claws of the feet gripped the shiny bald head, lifting him too off the surface and high up several feet before doing a forward flip airborne and throwing the man hard with a green burst that chucked him straight into the ground.

In one great thud the man slammed into the asphalt floor, his body sliding back face down, limp the instant contact was made as the woman shivered at the sight before facing the shadow in the sky who completed the flip, upright in the air before gliding back down to the ground straight on the body of the man who wore the jumpsuit.

A reaction wasn't even made despite the loud impact that could've cracked the floor, for there was no consciousness in either of the three assailants; all of their hands were open to let their pistols sit on the floor.

On top of one of its defeated combatants, the Marauder stepped off the body and squatted down before reaching for that man's handgun as the woman shut her eyes and looked away, clearly paranoid but mustering the gesture: "Thank you so much for saving me! I-I don't know what I would've done!"

"Oh huh really," muttered the deep voice of the silhouette who walked up to the bald face planted body and reached for the pistol beside it. It straightened its posture to examine the weapon, more intrigued as it glanced at the hammer distinguishing it from the others while the woman continued, "I-I swear I wasn't trying to get into trouble, I was just on my way to the store and I didn't hear them at first," and then the handgun was brought over the opening of the black backpack where it was dropped in, making a clunking sound as though striking another metallic body.

"I-I've never seen you in person, I only heard about you in myth recently and I didn't even think you were real, I mean this city's seen it's fair share of chaos but never something like this! B-but I never thought you'd turn out to save me-," rambled the woman in gratitude as the shadow insouciantly approached the body of the man in the gray shirt who was limply sitting against the wall, the head tilted and the hand hovering over his gun.

After bending down, the Marauder plucked the gun off the floor with its metal claws, and after one brief inspection it then tossed it in its bag with the others.

"Ma-maybe everyone was wrong about you, they thought you were some evil Exhuman terrorizing the streets but I guess you're not such a bad person!" chattered the saved woman as the Marauder took one last glance at the three bodies before finally focusing on the woman who immediately froze upon noticing the attention.

The Marauder slowly crept towards her, causing her to take steps back only to once again hit her back against the wall with a grunt, wincing in discomfort to the faceless beast who tilted its head curiously.

"Wa-wait, you're not going to hu-hurt me right-?" cried out the woman with shut eyes as she held her hands up, still tightly gripping the small pistol which the shadow inspected before then inquiring, "That's a Nixon 16 isn't it? Haven't seen those around much."

Terrified first, then rather perplexed by the question, and finally slightly alleviated to the seemingly harmless curiosity, the woman opened her eyes and loosened her grip to better exhibit the handgun to the curious inquisitor before innocently answering, "Ye-yes it is. My family's owned it for generations, it's nice because it fits in just about anything so I can carry it whenever I need to go out."

Examining the compact weapon from the hands of the saved, the Marauder just hummed before deciding, "Interesting, thank you."

Further puzzled by the strange interaction, the woman's winced and tilted her head before lowering it to her hands and apprehensively assuring, "My pleasu-," only to find that no longer was there a weapon in her hands, but rather she was empty handed.

Instead, walking away from her was the Marauder who took one more glance of the weapon which was now in its metal grasp before it then slipped the gun into its own backpack before its stroll accelerated into a sprint down the alley.

Behind the Marauder the woman reached her hand out and pleaded, "Wait a second, but I need that-!" as the Marauder leaped onto one of the walls and began climbing up it with its newly freed hands.

"You'll find another," the deep voice shallowly assured as it crawled up the building as far down in the alley amongst the bodies the woman just shouted desperately, "Bu-But that was-, wait no come back!" That plea fell on deaf ears however as the Marauder instead reached the top ledge of the building where it threw itself onto the rooftop, walking down the vacant top with a bulkhead and array of chimneys all emitting thick smoke into the gray sky.

Swerving around and walking backwards while rolling its wrists and moving its metal fingers to assess the armor, the Marauder then turned forward away from the distant beg, no longer comprehensible. Instead it again started to break into a run, unchained by any responsibilities as it finished looting one site and continued off to search for the next, free as it swung its arms back and forth.

It jumped and climbed up the bulkhead of the roof before throwing itself on the roof of said bulkhead, and after a few more strides it leapt off the building, off into the dark city, one that it prowled over, one that it ruled.

That city lit in golden was murky yet simultaneously beautiful for its boundless potential, the infinite playground for fun to be had, for that was what this activity ultimately was. Not the heroic sacrifice of selflessly saving lives, but the search for simple pleasures in looting what could be found and not needing to deal with the consequences of lives affected.

That playground was reflected in the black mask of the Marauder, albeit cracked by the separation of plates that composed the veil, the cover between the vulnerable young girl in a cruel world and the invincible demon who could bend that very world to its whims.

Even if those whims were dark like the cracks between the mask, the black gaps in between that were on their own so minor to the canvas, yet plentiful that they couldn't be ignored. 

Deeper into even one of those cracks was the reality past the veil, one so bleak it couldn't even be seen from outside, for between those metal plates was the abyss that went deeper than merely the thickness of the plates, but rather extended far into the future, many decades past the present that seemed it'd never end.