Dagyov probably wants rent again, damnit. A quick succession of pounding assaulted a false-wood door, the dull metallic thuds assaulting the ears of a figure currently laying in the fetal position. They quickly unraveled themselves, leaping to their feet and quietly crossing the small, bleak room's length to reach the door.

"Jasper! Get your ass out here!" A muffled and gruff voice penetrated the heavy door. Yup, definitely Dagyov's men.

The slender boy carefully turned the handle, a hefty *click* sounding out as the lock automatically disengaged. Two large, quite large in fact, men saved the door the rest of the way open, knocking Jasper back, without giving the boy any time to right himself the closest one grabbed his arms, pulling them behind Jasper's back and holding them steady. This ain't good. "Hey fellas, how's your week been?"

"Cut the shit! You didn't forget what day it is, did ya?" The other one, his voice the same as the one earlier, stepped in, examining the room before leveling his gaze at Jasper. He wasn't amused it would seem.

"No, no. of course not, it should be all in my bag." Without the freedom to move his arms, Jasper nodded his head in the direction of one of the few items decorating the barren room, a small nylon travel pack, torn at the top and left half open. The man strode forward and yanked the bag up, digging around inside and pulling out a small grey card. He quickly inserted the card in a tablet-like device, taking it out after a few seconds and tossing the card at Jasper's feet. The one holding his arms let go, heading back out into the dim hallway, quickly followed by the talker, leaving Jasper alone and his door open. Assholes... I was gonna sleep in today, damn. 

Jasper took a few minutes after that to decompress and get ready for the day, he was due for a jog this morning, as always, and figured he'd try to get some breakfast today. He kept his head down as he traversed the dank hall, avoiding the gazes of those standing in the doorway alcoves, hurrying g through the double doors at the end, taking in a deep breath of outside air and coughing heavily with a smile on his face. What a beautiful day. After his coughing fit ended he took only a moment to stretch, after all, stretching is a key part of all workouts, and set off, taking a route that weaved through the low-rise complexes and disheveled businesses. He figured he needed to know every path around the slums, you never know who's going to give chase, and what better way than integrating it into his daily jog?

Weaving through narrow alleys and avoiding well overdue dumpsters he quickly made progress across the two-mile track, he paid no mind to his surroundings, at this point, most of his motion was muscle reflex and memory, he instead debated something serious, where should I eat? Raphlen's has good salad, but Flintstrike makes killer burritos... Agh, so hard to choose! He nearly trampled a limping figure, covered in a tattered overcoat of sorts, and had to leap to the side, connecting with a rusted wall, which he used as a springboard to right his path once more, giving no thought to the person he passed. Hm, let's do Ralphen's today. 

It took maybe twenty minutes, twenty-five? But Jasper made it, the buildings slowly but steadily looked less and less abandoned, though still very much ramshackle and with barely any upkeep, they were quite an upgrade to the stuff closer to home, which was more than enough for the famished boy.

Oh god, I hope they made something good! He looked longingly at the main sign, then made his way around to the back, scouting for any prying eyes before delving into the depths of their dumpster bin. Ah! Jackpot!

He emerged victorious, a nearly un-eaten bowl of synthetic leafy greens in his grasp, he clambered out of the trash heap and back onto the road, stealthily slinking away with his prize,  moving to his nearby favorite lookout point, the top of a defunct shop or apartment or something, from the top of which he could just see the tops of the Luxury-District. Once more he planned on waiting till dusk, to him nothing was prettier than the shine of its lights in the night sky, especially coupled with the sunset, perfection.

And so he munched and munched, getting absorbed in his mini-world of bitter leaf, metallic lingering taste, and the feeling of nearly fresh food in his stomach. Lost in his heaven Jasper made one main mistake, he forgot to look both ways, so to speak. His blunder came to bite him pretty quickly all things considered. Peacekeepers. He had no time to prepare, no head starts, they were on him in an instant. The moment he heard their shouts of "Stop!" and "Get down!" Jasper was rocketing towards the confines of the alleys.

Those blue bastards! Jasper ducked into an especially wide crevice, using its close walls to clamber atop the two-story building, yet the Peacekeepers were hot on his tail, one of the duo remained on the ground, unslinging a long, sleek rifle from his plate-armored torso, taking a pro's stance and aiming at Jasper's back while his partner climbed after the boy, their bracers indenting the wall and speeding up their climb time. A crack resounded out through the concrete jungle, Jasper stumbled but kept running, a sharp pain in his left thigh already becoming neutralized by the absurd amount t of adrenaline coursing through his body. Didn't even get to finish lunch...

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The other Peacekeeper leaped with unnatural strength, propelling towards Jasper, who suddenly wasn't there anymore. They landed on empty concrete, peering around they saw no sign of anyone, nor did they hear any noise indicative of a runner. They swept their respirator-covered face from side to side, eventually turning and walking the other way, mumbling something incoherent into a black circle on their bracer's wrist. Shit, that wasn't as good as it could've been. Jasper sat just a few feet away from that Peacekeeper, having ducked back down into the alleyway as the Peacekeeper was temporarily airborne, luckily for the boy, that ploy worked, he wasn't exactly sure why the Peacekeepers were so angry at him, but tensions in the area had been high, so he tried not to take it too personally.

His walk back to the rundown, overpriced, dank apartment was much longer, but with how sad he was at the lost salad, he couldn't work up the energy to jog back. He was maybe a minute away from the complex when he encountered something in the alleys, something he hated. He rounded one corner to one of the larger pathways, and what immediately entered his eyes were four people, two men, a woman, and a boy, by Jasper's guess, that had cornered another, a hunched-over person wearing a tattered overcoat... Where have I seen them before... right! The jog. He knew what was going on, whoever they were, they were getting robbed. Jasper hated it, cause it meant that his route was disturbed, he'd have to go around, and the inconvenience caused was an utter annoyance. He sighed and went to quickly backtrack, leaving their indecipherable conversation, but something caught his ear.

It was always his strong suit, his hearing, so he figured even in their proximity the assailants didn't notice it. A slight whine, a series of clicks and whirs, ever-so-slightly overpowering the gloating demands for possessions. Well, that's a bit odd... He slowly peeked his head back around the corner, peering at the scene unfolding, the noise ceased, and one of the men, hereby named Tank-top, approached his target.

"Come on! You heard us, drop the damn coat and all your shit!" He lifted his arm, making a vague grab for the hood of the tattered rags. His hand had a snowball's chance in hell.

It got maybe a few inches from the fabric, then, in a literal blink, Tank-top was on the ground clutching his arm and writhing in agony. It was broken, that much was certain, and Jasper could tell, well, anyone could, that the hand was severed, it was pretty easy to figure out seeing the pool of blood forming and the separated left hand at the figure's feet. Everyone seemed stunned, Tank-top's cries of pain froze his pack's actions, and the removed hand was likely stabbing their minds with fear.

It was the man who broke first, his fight-or-flight response overrode his panic, causing him to mindlessly charge toward the still-hunched figure. Another blink and he too was repelled, sent stumbling backward, gasping silently for breath that wouldn't come, a decent-sized impression adorned his ribs when he turned to face his compatriots. What the fuck is happening!? Jasper was enraptured by the events playing out, and with each attack, he heard that same whine, it was truly fascinating.

He missed the woman reaching into her dirtied cargo pants pockets, he barely caught the raising of her arm, and he was unable to see what she held from his current angle. What he didn't miss, was the figure leaping forth, dodging the small projectile rocketing their direction, and pulling their arm out from the confines of the coat, grasping the woman's wrist, and squeezing. The woman gasped, this sound overruled by Tank-tops incessant cries, as her wrist cracked under an unnatural amount of strength, the oblong black-steel gun left her grip, clattering to the concrete below. The boy was gone he took the flight option and escaped in the quick commotion. The figure released its hold, rearing back and sending its fist deep into the woman's gut, crumpling them in an instant. The figure stood up straight, turned its back to the spying Jasper, and surveyed the two men. Tank-top's whimpers of pain were dimming, the bloodless was getting to him for sure, while his companion hasn't made a sound. They subtly nodded, and turned back, facing Jasper. Despite only the top of his head and eyes being displayed, he felt the figure lock onto him.

Fuck! He ducked back, scrambling to his feet, but he knew he wasn't fast enough.

He blinked slowly and found himself on his back, staring up at the shadowed hood of the figure from before. Its foot was firmly planted in his sternum, and a sharp pain resonated from his left side. Well, I'm dead. It was a good run. "Can you at least not make my death as painful, or as long rather, as Mr. Tank-top over there?" Jasper wheezed, the hard boot pressed further into his chest.

"You think this is a joke? Some fun game?" Their voice was pretty pleasant overall, Jasper felt it resound through his mind, piercing the ambiance of the bustling slums around him. Are they, a she?

"Ack! Of course not. I genuinely would rather die quickly than like those goons back there. Plus, I hate bleeding." Jasper pleaded his case, letting out a slight smile, and he felt the figure's motion still, then the pressure on his chest lessened. They removed their foot, stating it on the ground beside Jasper.

He gasped for deeper breaths of air, relief flooded his body as it regained the oxygen it had been lacking, followed by wonder as the figure peeled back its hood, light glinting off the dark grey of its left arm as it extended to remove the hood. He was curious about that arm but also bemused with himself. I was right.