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[+] Kursha Vidari

New Hemisect was unfamiliar territory.

Behind the conceited grin and self-assured gait, Kursha regarded the cityscape with a kind of wariness. As he strolled down New Hemisect's streets, his gaze darted from troll to troll. Enemies were potentially everywhere; it was impossible to tell friend from foe. He could only guess at which ones might prove to be a threat. None seemed very likely though.

With a gun over his shoulder, a combat knife strapped to his hip, and even a single “emergency” grenade, he was better armed than most. Lowbloods gave him a generous berth while those on the cooler side of the spectrum ranged from suspicion to outright contempt. For the most part, Kursha ignored them. He was on the lookout for a particular target. He could not however resist a friendly wave towards a surly looking blueblood.

“It's like a squeakbeast nest...” he muttered, forcing himself through the crowd. He was in the thick of New Hemisect, where the lowbloods coagulated, infecting the city like a virus. They were kept in check only by a strong imperial presence, which Kursha found similarly distasteful. While he was doing his best to look innocuous, he had felt their lookstubs on him several times. The sooner he left the business district the better.

Lifting his gaze from the streets, Kursha studied the surrounding buildings. Most were small shops, selling... who the ******** cared, really. A couple blocks away though, a six story complex overshadowed its neighbours. Not an especially tall building to be sure, but tall enough for his purposes. From there, he could observe the territory and watch the traffic. The return trip back down would be relatively short too.

Destination set, Kursha pushed through the passersby with renewed vigour. He had little remorse for any he inconvenienced in his rush but upon bumping shoulders more than once, he was forced to respond to some of the more disagreeable victims. “Yeah, yeah...” “How about you watch where you're going, a*****e.” “Outta the ******** way.” “My foot, your face. Move.” And other such polite acquittals.

[+] Kursha Vidari

It felt good to be back in the game. The adventure back in the Phoenix Initiative had been fine and dandy, but he needed a break from all the excitement. Something to help him relax. Something without any additional complications. Something routine.

Ha! Who was he kidding? He could not stand routine any more than he could stand being shown up. The daily tedium, the grind... It did not matter what disguise it wore. Pursuit of friendships and a sense of purpose were a waste of time. Who gave a s**t about emotional fulfilment? He just needed a little havoc in his life to break up the humdrum dolour of normality. Something exciting. Something like bounty hunting.

Kursha circled around the building, searching for the fire escape. From the rooftop it would be easy to locate his target. Then it was just a simple matter of initiating. The only hard part would be predicting their escape route. If he lost them in the crowd, it was over. The city was full of nooks and crannies where a troll could take shelter. Ideally he would not even have to worry about them running though. He planned to take out their legs first.

As Kursha slipped into the alleyway around the side of the building, something on the opposite street caught his eye. For a moment, just very briefly he thought he had seen... His eyes darted up to the fire escape. He had a job to do, and if he was going to do it right he needed to focus. At the same time though... He glanced back towards the street. The figure was gone. That did not mean they had not been there though.

Temporarily abandoning his hunt, Kursha switched gears and sprinted down the alleyway. It would only take a moment to check. If he was wrong, then that was a few seconds of his life he would never get back. If he was right, then... As Kursha broke into the crowd, he glanced down either side of the street. It did not take long to find who he was looking for. Sure enough a bushy, blue-streaked mohawk stood a foot over the heads of the other passersby.

Struggling to maintain his excitement, Kursha debated how to best approach the blueblood. An outright attack was out of the question. It was not as though he were trying to kill Zeffer; just give him a little scare and show him where the cards lay. If Zeffer thought the little stunt he had pulled during the fight with Errade, he had another thing coming.

His original plans for the evening forgotten, Kursha tailed Zeffer. It was not long before the blueblood disappeared into a building. Kursha paused outside, regarding the neon-lit sign with curiosity. An arcade. A surprising choice. Not that it made any difference. He slunk inside.

It took a moment for Kursha's eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but by the time he had no trouble locating his target. The blueblood stuck out in the worst way. Creeping up behind him, Kursha drew his combat knife. The sound was masked by the arcade's noisy atmosphere. He gave the knife a twirl and the blade flashed dangerously between his fingers.

“An arcade, huh?” he drawled. “Not what I expected. Aren't ya a little old for that?”

[+] Kursha Vidari

Even as he spoke, Zeffer did not so much as glance his way. The corners of Kursha's mouth twitched. The blueblood did not consider him a threat. Apparently his lesson back in the caverns had not been enough to get through to him. That was fine. Kursha would show him that he was not a troll to turn his back on. Literally. For now though, he could not afford any weakness. Smile never wavering, he waited patiently until the blueblood finished his game.

“Maybe,” Kursha replied. Placing one hand on his hip, he made of show of turning his gaze away from Zeffer as though to take in the setting. The knife remained unsheathed in his other hand. If the blueblood wanted to play coy, then so could he. “Arcade games aren't really my speed,” he said innocently.

[+] Kursha Vidari

“Play.”

Yeah, right. As if this was a game.

Kursha expected as much from Zeffer. Even so, his temper sizzled as he grinned up at the blueblood. Zeffer leered down at him, confident and derisive. He was unshakeable. Kursha's pulse quickened in his throat. His fingers squeezed around the hilt of the knife. A second later he realised it, and forced himself to relax his grip. Not yet. The timing had to be just right.

“Is that so?” he asked, pretending to feign interest. Casually he twirled the knife between his fingers. Suddenly he slipped it back into its sheath. “I dunno,” he said. “I'm pretty competitive. You think you'd be able to keep up?” He lowered his lids in a lazy, almost bored smile.

The next move would be the last.

Bomp. I forgot to roll.