Whale Oil Beef Hooked

The streets were crawling with life; which wasn’t unusual just before the skies went dark. Throngs of people breathed these corners into existence, and he felt almost comfortable. Jack had been at this a long time, his track record littered with a myriad of successes and failures. Going over the figures and information in his head the whole while. However, being the prowl, so soon to actually sinking his teeth into a fight; he wouldn’t have it any other way. He trudged, slow and calm, through the streets his body bundled in a linen shirt, light brown almost khaki pants, and a pair of combat boots. Blue hair brushed against his forehead, the stubble had just started to set in on his face, which made him look older. He was rugged, pronounced jaw tightened while icy blue eyes stared down at the pavement. Recanting how the streets seemed to serve as a reminder to his punishment, moved up to more active duty. Something about all of it made him feel more excited, the cracks in the ground, it showed him that everything couldn’t be perfect and the flaws are what made people stand stronger.

His body burned with energy, heat licked at his muscles, fingers danced tracing the lining of his pockets. Jack listened to the city. While she was a beguiling mistress of misdirection and infinite patience From the screams of mothers that called their children, to the faintest sound in the distance of a bird. Hands were pulled from his pockets, someone bumped into him—completely ruining the calm; and moments spent in vain attempts to find the epitome of the city, where everything just sort of met. However, when he turned to make a fuss at this stranger that was more than eager to make trouble this day; didn’t he realize that this was Jack’s happy place? Often he forgets that people didn’t abide by his rules, but when Jack turned he realized that yelling shouldn’t have been his first reaction. Making eye contact with this stranger set off a chain of events. Pictures flashed across his eye lid, murmuring an apology, and zeroed in on a document that he left on the desk—brain switched to autopilot, so when everything synced up he knew what had to happen. It wasn’t until the FIVE FOOT FOUR man in BROWN SLACKS started to dash off, collar turned high on his GREY PEACOAT did he give chase. Jack was determined, but like in a bad action movie the moment the culprit ran the crowd formed. They bustled and tussled only to make a seemingly impenetrable wall that he could only frantically squeeze by.

“You’re going to lose him.” His subconscious remarked softly. Jack named her Eliza, and she spoke as if she sat at a desk, filing her fingernails. It was a welcomed thing to hear her, for it wasn’t for a while that they had last spoke; even if she did take up residence in the deep recesses. She was comfort, and probably the first sign of his own insanity.

“Shut up.” He spit back at her while he had just reached the end, the target was still in his sight. Determined he sprinted forward, as Fredderick Eisenford (target’s name ) dashed across a walkway, sprinting inside of a building. Jack was far from pleased, shouldering down the door, and rolling to a crouch. The tail end of the coat caught in his periphery heading to the stairs.

Fingers groped for a weapon, but the chase was already a foot. Equip with only his sense of duty, and the hunger for something other than noodles. Obviously someone didn’t want to get caught today. Jack, with renewed vigor, darted down the hall way close on the trail. That was until they reached the roof—from here New York looked immaculate, he couldn’t help but take in the sight. However, he was quickly pulled back to see his prey prepping the jump off of the buildings lip. Before he could even shout Fredderick was gone, soaring across to the adjacent building. The sound of boots against the roof, then down the side with the use of more than exceptional skill, and a fire escape.

Through the fervor of frustration, such a tumultuous rage built on the foundation of another strike Jack jumped after. Unequipped for the fall, but he landed clumsily landed on the ladder, losing balance and winding up in a trash bin. The pewter necklace thronged against his chest—sparking pain. Direct contact made him dizzy, staggering to his feet after rolling off back on the ground. Pushing forward still, Freddrerick was still before him, but Jack didn’t notice himself bumping into another. Attention taken away for just a second “Hey are you ok?” Pulling him out of super-cop mode, and into a world of hurt. The distaste of being chased through the city, especially when such an important date hung in the balance, pushed the culprit to violence. A third of a two by four struck true against the back of Jack’s head.

Almost causing a full tip forward, catching the loose weight with the stamp of his foot, and a hand on the knee. Groaning loudly which could have been mistaken for a roar.

878, NAVEEN, LETS ROCK THE CATBOX