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cosmicarus

The job

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:17pm

MeetingHouse.jpg

There are sirens in the air mixing with the sounds of children playing and what could have been a car backfiring or a couple of gunshots. You arrive at the address specified to see a worn down old shop front. It wouldn't look like anything special except for the large man sitting out the front, watching the street - it's the international underworld sign of 'watch what you do around here'.

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:17pm

MeetingHouse.jpg

There are sirens in the air mixing with the sounds of children playing and what could have been a car backfiring or a couple of gunshots. You arrive at the address specified to see a worn down old shop front. It wouldn't look like anything special except for the large man sitting out the front, watching the street - it's the international underworld sign of 'watch what you do around here'.

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:17pm

MeetingHouse.jpg

There are sirens in the air mixing with the sounds of children playing and what could have been a car backfiring or a couple of gunshots. You arrive at the address specified to see a worn down old shop front. It wouldn't look like anything special except for the large man sitting out the front, watching the street - it's the international underworld sign of 'watch what you do around here'.

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Heavy grumbles as he walks forward. "I know it's a good thing that it's winter," he thinks, "but this is ridiculous. Why couldn't the leech've said that the meeting was late at night?" Of course, he knows that the guy was just passing on information he had heard someplace else, but walking around in a full-length trenchcoat and extra-large gloves doesn't do anything to make him look inconspicuous. Still, it's the best way he's found to cover up his armor when he is trying to be "subtle". The helm is in a gym bag on his side.

He doesn't bother messing around. Once he spots the lookout at the front door, he walks up. "Heard you were lookin' for someone to get a job done. Mind if I step inside to warm up?" His voice seems friendly, in a way, but there's something about the way that he stands there, massively oversized, that suggests that he could come in whether the answer is yes or no.

If the man tries to deny anything about a job, he says, "If you don't want the whole city to know about something, you don't let Myron hear about it. Now, you going to let me in, or do we have a situation here?"

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Heavy grumbles as he walks forward. "I know it's a good thing that it's winter," he thinks, "but this is ridiculous. Why couldn't the leech've said that the meeting was late at night?" Of course, he knows that the guy was just passing on information he had heard someplace else, but walking around in a full-length trenchcoat and extra-large gloves doesn't do anything to make him look inconspicuous. Still, it's the best way he's found to cover up his armor when he is trying to be "subtle". The helm is in a gym bag on his side.

He doesn't bother messing around. Once he spots the lookout at the front door, he walks up. "Heard you were lookin' for someone to get a job done. Mind if I step inside to warm up?" His voice seems friendly, in a way, but there's something about the way that he stands there, massively oversized, that suggests that he could come in whether the answer is yes or no.

If the man tries to deny anything about a job, he says, "If you don't want the whole city to know about something, you don't let Myron hear about it. Now, you going to let me in, or do we have a situation here?"

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Heavy grumbles as he walks forward. "I know it's a good thing that it's winter," he thinks, "but this is ridiculous. Why couldn't the leech've said that the meeting was late at night?" Of course, he knows that the guy was just passing on information he had heard someplace else, but walking around in a full-length trenchcoat and extra-large gloves doesn't do anything to make him look inconspicuous. Still, it's the best way he's found to cover up his armor when he is trying to be "subtle". The helm is in a gym bag on his side.

He doesn't bother messing around. Once he spots the lookout at the front door, he walks up. "Heard you were lookin' for someone to get a job done. Mind if I step inside to warm up?" His voice seems friendly, in a way, but there's something about the way that he stands there, massively oversized, that suggests that he could come in whether the answer is yes or no.

If the man tries to deny anything about a job, he says, "If you don't want the whole city to know about something, you don't let Myron hear about it. Now, you going to let me in, or do we have a situation here?"

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Satori watched from the shadows as the large man in the trenchcoat argued with the doorman.

Competitor? Or fellow mercenary? he thought idly, as Heavy argued for entrance. Waiting will reveal.

Walking silently across the rotting boards of the rooftop, a ghost in his black-and-gray skintights and face scarf, hair covered by a hood and the glint of slim night-vision goggles across his eyes, Satori finished casing the rooftop and selected a likely entrance point. Satori frowned with annoyance as, despite all his caution, a single especially-rotten board creaked slightly under his foot, but as far as he could determine he was still not overheard.

A regrettable lapse. Still, I needed to come this way. If this is not a trap, then I will have demonstrated my discretion and intrusion skills to my employer. And if this is a trap... then we will see.

In any event, it is better to enter by the path one has chosen, not the path chosen by others.

Having picked his entry point, Satori took his picks and began to discreetly work on the lock...

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Satori watched from the shadows as the large man in the trenchcoat argued with the doorman.

Competitor? Or fellow mercenary? he thought idly, as Heavy argued for entrance. Waiting will reveal.

Walking silently across the rotting boards of the rooftop, a ghost in his black-and-gray skintights and face scarf, hair covered by a hood and the glint of slim night-vision goggles across his eyes, Satori finished casing the rooftop and selected a likely entrance point. Satori frowned with annoyance as, despite all his caution, a single especially-rotten board creaked slightly under his foot, but as far as he could determine he was still not overheard.

A regrettable lapse. Still, I needed to come this way. If this is not a trap, then I will have demonstrated my discretion and intrusion skills to my employer. And if this is a trap... then we will see.

In any event, it is better to enter by the path one has chosen, not the path chosen by others.

Having picked his entry point, Satori took his picks and began to discreetly work on the lock...

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Satori watched from the shadows as the large man in the trenchcoat argued with the doorman.

Competitor? Or fellow mercenary? he thought idly, as Heavy argued for entrance. Waiting will reveal.

Walking silently across the rotting boards of the rooftop, a ghost in his black-and-gray skintights and face scarf, hair covered by a hood and the glint of slim night-vision goggles across his eyes, Satori finished casing the rooftop and selected a likely entrance point. Satori frowned with annoyance as, despite all his caution, a single especially-rotten board creaked slightly under his foot, but as far as he could determine he was still not overheard.

A regrettable lapse. Still, I needed to come this way. If this is not a trap, then I will have demonstrated my discretion and intrusion skills to my employer. And if this is a trap... then we will see.

In any event, it is better to enter by the path one has chosen, not the path chosen by others.

Having picked his entry point, Satori took his picks and began to discreetly work on the lock...

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:18pm

Heavy

The man at the door gives Heavy the once over, but doesn't flinch. Another, thinner man comes out of the house - he also glares at Heavy. One can't help liken him to a weasel or hyena. He clicks something - a pez dispenser - rythmically, obsessively. His tongue glistens behind yellowing teeth. Without looking at the other man, he speaks "What's this Bob? Who's this?" The bigger man, seemingly made of metaphoric granite shifts his weight, but doesn't take his eyes off you, "Seems we got an early bird. Meeting hasn't started yet - but you can wait inside." A chill wind blows at the two men eye you, one with malicious glee and the other with stoic indifference.

Satori

The latch easily opens under Satori's skilled fingers. The rusty skylight looks like it hasn't been used in years, much like the rest of the building. There is a small drop into a darkened, shallow attic. His night vision goggles reveal nothing in the darkness except for a few cracks in the floor and a hatch that would probably lead to stairs.

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:18pm

Heavy

The man at the door gives Heavy the once over, but doesn't flinch. Another, thinner man comes out of the house - he also glares at Heavy. One can't help liken him to a weasel or hyena. He clicks something - a pez dispenser - rythmically, obsessively. His tongue glistens behind yellowing teeth. Without looking at the other man, he speaks "What's this Bob? Who's this?" The bigger man, seemingly made of metaphoric granite shifts his weight, but doesn't take his eyes off you, "Seems we got an early bird. Meeting hasn't started yet - but you can wait inside." A chill wind blows at the two men eye you, one with malicious glee and the other with stoic indifference.

Satori

The latch easily opens under Satori's skilled fingers. The rusty skylight looks like it hasn't been used in years, much like the rest of the building. There is a small drop into a darkened, shallow attic. His night vision goggles reveal nothing in the darkness except for a few cracks in the floor and a hatch that would probably lead to stairs.

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:18pm

Heavy

The man at the door gives Heavy the once over, but doesn't flinch. Another, thinner man comes out of the house - he also glares at Heavy. One can't help liken him to a weasel or hyena. He clicks something - a pez dispenser - rythmically, obsessively. His tongue glistens behind yellowing teeth. Without looking at the other man, he speaks "What's this Bob? Who's this?" The bigger man, seemingly made of metaphoric granite shifts his weight, but doesn't take his eyes off you, "Seems we got an early bird. Meeting hasn't started yet - but you can wait inside." A chill wind blows at the two men eye you, one with malicious glee and the other with stoic indifference.

Satori

The latch easily opens under Satori's skilled fingers. The rusty skylight looks like it hasn't been used in years, much like the rest of the building. There is a small drop into a darkened, shallow attic. His night vision goggles reveal nothing in the darkness except for a few cracks in the floor and a hatch that would probably lead to stairs.

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Satori looks around the attic, then walks noiselessly to the stairs. Focusing his mind on the correct meditative technique, he becomes as the still pool, as the drop of water that falls without leaving ripples. As quietly as a dream, he heads down the stairwell and, using another of his supernal martial arts talents to cling to sheer surfaces, leaves the steps behind for the very walls themselves, and the ceiling itself at need. Despite the lack of cover and the interior lighting, he still moves in such a way as to never draw the eye, as to be overlooked even while being seen, as he lurks in the corner high up near the ceiling and wall, moving down to where he anticipates he can gain a discreet overview of the room where the meeting is to take place...

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Satori looks around the attic, then walks noiselessly to the stairs. Focusing his mind on the correct meditative technique, he becomes as the still pool, as the drop of water that falls without leaving ripples. As quietly as a dream, he heads down the stairwell and, using another of his supernal martial arts talents to cling to sheer surfaces, leaves the steps behind for the very walls themselves, and the ceiling itself at need. Despite the lack of cover and the interior lighting, he still moves in such a way as to never draw the eye, as to be overlooked even while being seen, as he lurks in the corner high up near the ceiling and wall, moving down to where he anticipates he can gain a discreet overview of the room where the meeting is to take place...

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Satori looks around the attic, then walks noiselessly to the stairs. Focusing his mind on the correct meditative technique, he becomes as the still pool, as the drop of water that falls without leaving ripples. As quietly as a dream, he heads down the stairwell and, using another of his supernal martial arts talents to cling to sheer surfaces, leaves the steps behind for the very walls themselves, and the ceiling itself at need. Despite the lack of cover and the interior lighting, he still moves in such a way as to never draw the eye, as to be overlooked even while being seen, as he lurks in the corner high up near the ceiling and wall, moving down to where he anticipates he can gain a discreet overview of the room where the meeting is to take place...

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"Figures he couldn't even get that much straight," Heavy says. He steps to the side of the lookout, going inside. He wasn't kidding about wanting to come in out of the cold, and besides - this gives him a chance to put the helm on. Once inside, he takes off the trenchcoat and gloves and gets his helm out of the gym bag. He's now fully battle-ready, just in case.

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"Figures he couldn't even get that much straight," Heavy says. He steps to the side of the lookout, going inside. He wasn't kidding about wanting to come in out of the cold, and besides - this gives him a chance to put the helm on. Once inside, he takes off the trenchcoat and gloves and gets his helm out of the gym bag. He's now fully battle-ready, just in case.

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"Figures he couldn't even get that much straight," Heavy says. He steps to the side of the lookout, going inside. He wasn't kidding about wanting to come in out of the cold, and besides - this gives him a chance to put the helm on. Once inside, he takes off the trenchcoat and gloves and gets his helm out of the gym bag. He's now fully battle-ready, just in case.

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:20pm

The wooden floor underneath Heavy's feet creaks, the antithesis to Satori's invisible footfalls who makes his way from the attic, through the second floor and to the ground floor. The place is dimly lit - a little bit of disappearing light eking through the boarded up windows, and a light bulb hanging in the centre of the room. The shadows on the wall dance and this latter light source flirts with the wind whistling through the well ventilated abode. The truth is, the building around you is falling apart. To call it a 'renovators dream' would be like calling the ocean a tiny puddle. This bottom floor is empty save for a few, mostly broken, wooden chairs and a derelict table standing awkwardly toward the centre of the room. There is only one obvious exit - the front - although there are two closed doors at the back of the room and, of course, the windows and stairs.

14 Gordino St, Southside - 7:02pm

For a while, nothing happens. The thinner man from outside makes a pilgramidge into the building, announcing his arrival with the constant click...click...click of his pez dispenser. His eyes never leave Heavy; in fact, they seem to slime their way over him. In the room there is total silence save for the whistle of the wind and the click...click...click...click...click... Just when it looks as though the thin man is about to speak, there is a loud thumping from the front door. It preceded a large man, about the size of a bear, pushing his way into the building, "What a stinkin' 'ole this is." His accent is distictly English, cockney to be precise, although that isn't his most distinctive feature. Besises his heavily scarred face, the large Englishman in the dirty singlet and trousers looks like he has a large metal ball in place of his right hand. The thing is larger than his head, but he seems to be able to lift it with ease. In direct contrast to the thin man's actions, this new arrival doesn't even glance at Heavy. Not long after, more arrivals make their presence known - most look to be normal people, but you can never really tell in this town. Some of the more odd ones are a man who looks as if he's constantly melting, a six armed woman encased in ornate armour and a skittering man sized rat. By the time everybody seems to have made their way in, it's about 7:30 and there are about twelve people there, not including the two manning the door. Even Myron slinks in towards the end and finds a secluded position at the back of the room. He disturbs the six armed lady, who hisses at him, and so he quickly relocates himself the other end of the room. There is a little conversation in the room but, for the most part, people seem to be keeping to themselves.

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:20pm

The wooden floor underneath Heavy's feet creaks, the antithesis to Satori's invisible footfalls who makes his way from the attic, through the second floor and to the ground floor. The place is dimly lit - a little bit of disappearing light eking through the boarded up windows, and a light bulb hanging in the centre of the room. The shadows on the wall dance and this latter light source flirts with the wind whistling through the well ventilated abode. The truth is, the building around you is falling apart. To call it a 'renovators dream' would be like calling the ocean a tiny puddle. This bottom floor is empty save for a few, mostly broken, wooden chairs and a derelict table standing awkwardly toward the centre of the room. There is only one obvious exit - the front - although there are two closed doors at the back of the room and, of course, the windows and stairs.

14 Gordino St, Southside - 7:02pm

For a while, nothing happens. The thinner man from outside makes a pilgramidge into the building, announcing his arrival with the constant click...click...click of his pez dispenser. His eyes never leave Heavy; in fact, they seem to slime their way over him. In the room there is total silence save for the whistle of the wind and the click...click...click...click...click... Just when it looks as though the thin man is about to speak, there is a loud thumping from the front door. It preceded a large man, about the size of a bear, pushing his way into the building, "What a stinkin' 'ole this is." His accent is distictly English, cockney to be precise, although that isn't his most distinctive feature. Besises his heavily scarred face, the large Englishman in the dirty singlet and trousers looks like he has a large metal ball in place of his right hand. The thing is larger than his head, but he seems to be able to lift it with ease. In direct contrast to the thin man's actions, this new arrival doesn't even glance at Heavy. Not long after, more arrivals make their presence known - most look to be normal people, but you can never really tell in this town. Some of the more odd ones are a man who looks as if he's constantly melting, a six armed woman encased in ornate armour and a skittering man sized rat. By the time everybody seems to have made their way in, it's about 7:30 and there are about twelve people there, not including the two manning the door. Even Myron slinks in towards the end and finds a secluded position at the back of the room. He disturbs the six armed lady, who hisses at him, and so he quickly relocates himself the other end of the room. There is a little conversation in the room but, for the most part, people seem to be keeping to themselves.

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14 Gordino St, Southside - 6:20pm

The wooden floor underneath Heavy's feet creaks, the antithesis to Satori's invisible footfalls who makes his way from the attic, through the second floor and to the ground floor. The place is dimly lit - a little bit of disappearing light eking through the boarded up windows, and a light bulb hanging in the centre of the room. The shadows on the wall dance and this latter light source flirts with the wind whistling through the well ventilated abode. The truth is, the building around you is falling apart. To call it a 'renovators dream' would be like calling the ocean a tiny puddle. This bottom floor is empty save for a few, mostly broken, wooden chairs and a derelict table standing awkwardly toward the centre of the room. There is only one obvious exit - the front - although there are two closed doors at the back of the room and, of course, the windows and stairs.

14 Gordino St, Southside - 7:02pm

For a while, nothing happens. The thinner man from outside makes a pilgramidge into the building, announcing his arrival with the constant click...click...click of his pez dispenser. His eyes never leave Heavy; in fact, they seem to slime their way over him. In the room there is total silence save for the whistle of the wind and the click...click...click...click...click... Just when it looks as though the thin man is about to speak, there is a loud thumping from the front door. It preceded a large man, about the size of a bear, pushing his way into the building, "What a stinkin' 'ole this is." His accent is distictly English, cockney to be precise, although that isn't his most distinctive feature. Besises his heavily scarred face, the large Englishman in the dirty singlet and trousers looks like he has a large metal ball in place of his right hand. The thing is larger than his head, but he seems to be able to lift it with ease. In direct contrast to the thin man's actions, this new arrival doesn't even glance at Heavy. Not long after, more arrivals make their presence known - most look to be normal people, but you can never really tell in this town. Some of the more odd ones are a man who looks as if he's constantly melting, a six armed woman encased in ornate armour and a skittering man sized rat. By the time everybody seems to have made their way in, it's about 7:30 and there are about twelve people there, not including the two manning the door. Even Myron slinks in towards the end and finds a secluded position at the back of the room. He disturbs the six armed lady, who hisses at him, and so he quickly relocates himself the other end of the room. There is a little conversation in the room but, for the most part, people seem to be keeping to themselves.

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In what would be a highly uncomfortable and strenuous pose for anyone else, Satori perched in an upper corner of the room, muscles simultaneously tensed and relaxed by exotic breathing techniques and fingertips and toes bracing his full weight effortlessly against cracks and irregularities that a full scientific analysis would swear was physically impossible of supporting him. Quietly, he looked over the curious assemblage gathering below him..

I need to learn more about Freedom City's supervillain community if I am going to most effectively practice within it. I do not think I recognize any of these people.

Turning his gaze away from the overt curiosities below, he then turned to a methodical study of the room -- lines of fire. Routes of exit. Possible choke points. He even closed his eyes for a short period of time, sensing with his ears and skin alone, straining to hear to the quietest noises that might reveal the presence of ambushers moving up outside, of others such as himself who might have chosen the path of spying on the meeting covertly instead of boldly walking in.

If anyone else is out there, their stealth is commendable enough to have earned them their opportunity.

Finally, he looked at the guards manning the door. Men often reveal their intent in their stances. If this were a trap of some kind, they would be wary in a different way than if they were merely doorwardens, moving differently, also trying to keep one eye out at all times for clear sight lines and a clear escape route.

What do you know, little thorns? What does your master intend here?

(edit) Satori nodded to himself.

Normal watchfulness, but nothing suspicious. So. Let us wait and see.

Satori shifted position slightly to where he could take a clean shot at wherever the speaker to this assembly would be standing and still have a clear escape route back up and out through the roof or through a side exit, and waited stealthily, his bow held in one hand but no arrow nocked.

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In what would be a highly uncomfortable and strenuous pose for anyone else, Satori perched in an upper corner of the room, muscles simultaneously tensed and relaxed by exotic breathing techniques and fingertips and toes bracing his full weight effortlessly against cracks and irregularities that a full scientific analysis would swear was physically impossible of supporting him. Quietly, he looked over the curious assemblage gathering below him..

I need to learn more about Freedom City's supervillain community if I am going to most effectively practice within it. I do not think I recognize any of these people.

Turning his gaze away from the overt curiosities below, he then turned to a methodical study of the room -- lines of fire. Routes of exit. Possible choke points. He even closed his eyes for a short period of time, sensing with his ears and skin alone, straining to hear to the quietest noises that might reveal the presence of ambushers moving up outside, of others such as himself who might have chosen the path of spying on the meeting covertly instead of boldly walking in.

If anyone else is out there, their stealth is commendable enough to have earned them their opportunity.

Finally, he looked at the guards manning the door. Men often reveal their intent in their stances. If this were a trap of some kind, they would be wary in a different way than if they were merely doorwardens, moving differently, also trying to keep one eye out at all times for clear sight lines and a clear escape route.

What do you know, little thorns? What does your master intend here?

(edit) Satori nodded to himself.

Normal watchfulness, but nothing suspicious. So. Let us wait and see.

Satori shifted position slightly to where he could take a clean shot at wherever the speaker to this assembly would be standing and still have a clear escape route back up and out through the roof or through a side exit, and waited stealthily, his bow held in one hand but no arrow nocked.

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In what would be a highly uncomfortable and strenuous pose for anyone else, Satori perched in an upper corner of the room, muscles simultaneously tensed and relaxed by exotic breathing techniques and fingertips and toes bracing his full weight effortlessly against cracks and irregularities that a full scientific analysis would swear was physically impossible of supporting him. Quietly, he looked over the curious assemblage gathering below him..

I need to learn more about Freedom City's supervillain community if I am going to most effectively practice within it. I do not think I recognize any of these people.

Turning his gaze away from the overt curiosities below, he then turned to a methodical study of the room -- lines of fire. Routes of exit. Possible choke points. He even closed his eyes for a short period of time, sensing with his ears and skin alone, straining to hear to the quietest noises that might reveal the presence of ambushers moving up outside, of others such as himself who might have chosen the path of spying on the meeting covertly instead of boldly walking in.

If anyone else is out there, their stealth is commendable enough to have earned them their opportunity.

Finally, he looked at the guards manning the door. Men often reveal their intent in their stances. If this were a trap of some kind, they would be wary in a different way than if they were merely doorwardens, moving differently, also trying to keep one eye out at all times for clear sight lines and a clear escape route.

What do you know, little thorns? What does your master intend here?

(edit) Satori nodded to himself.

Normal watchfulness, but nothing suspicious. So. Let us wait and see.

Satori shifted position slightly to where he could take a clean shot at wherever the speaker to this assembly would be standing and still have a clear escape route back up and out through the roof or through a side exit, and waited stealthily, his bow held in one hand but no arrow nocked.

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Heavy grunts to himself. "So maybe they thought I was a statue or something. Can't sit in them. Might as well wait."

Of course, after 20 minutes, he's bored. After 40 minutes, he's entertaining thoughts of just leaving. Thankfully, the radio in his helm is tuned to sports radio, so he can listen to the game while he waits. Every once in a while, he moves just to stretch out his legs. When the others start arriving, he gives them a quick once over. It's pretty clear, however, that he considers most of them to be beneath him, or at the very least, not competition. He doesn't bother to give them more than one look before he goes back to his game.

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