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Quick breaths, the sensation of the muscles within his legs igniting, his body being pushed to it's limits as sweat seeped down his face. Each step sending shock-waves through his body, each step pushing him forward. Ducking under clotheslines and avoiding clutter on the surface, he pushed himself off of the building, somersaulting onto the pavement, rolling as he did. His grey baseball-T dirtied with mud, dust and blood, holes in the sleeves from the cuts of knives and a shred in the chest from a stray bullet. His boots were worn and his jeans were torn, the belt buckle he worn – the steel stained with blood and vile, showing to the trained eye that it had been used as a weapon.

Continuing his sprint, he ducked between stalls in the crowded street, people yelling, trying to sell their produce to anyone who would buy. The marketplace was buzzing with life, as the red-haired man dashed into an alley, certain that his pursuers were still chasing him. Panting, he leaned against the brick wall in the dark alley, it was quiet there, the acoustics of the buildings keeping the sounds of the marketplace away.  Hearing footsteps, he held his breath. The other man crept up, moving slowly, two hands on his pistol, he was clearly trained in the army, or law enforcement, possibly both. As he came around the corner, he broke out of his hiding, lunging at the gunman, swinging his arm from underneath, hitting the man's wrists hard enough to knock the gun into the air. He hunched down, avoiding the swing coming for him, jamming his elbow into the man's thigh, using the momentum to strike upwards in a uppercut. The man staggered before he was met with a kick in his chest, colliding with his Kevlar, the kick had enough force to easily shatter his ribs, as he hit the ground, knocked out cold.

Catching the falling gun, still catching his breath, he secured it and put it on his back, under his belt. There were two more guys coming for him, scaling the building, he got up onto the rooftop to get a better vantage point. Sitting on the edge of the building, tearing his sleeves off to make into makeshift bandages for his bullet wound, and the one deep cut he got in his left arm. Tying the bandage around his chest, he looked around. No hostiles inbound, the highway was half a click to the north, if the thugs that chased him would call for backup, they would come on the highway. 

[i][color=Salmon]”Take on the Hong Kong Triad yourself” Talia told me, what could go wrong, she said. Well, turns out there's enough gangsters in this town to take over a small African country. Come on Jason, you can do thi- [/color][/i] His train of thought cut short, as the friends of the man he had taken out were now climbing up the fire escape. [color=Salmon]“I hate this country...” [/color] Jason cursed under his breath. Reading himself for a fight, three versus one, they had picked up a friend since he had last seen them.

Two of them charged him, both armed with butterfly knives. Jason grabbed the first man by the arm, using the momentum of the thug's swing against him, hunching down Jason threw the man over his shoulder, out over the side of the building and into the street below. Jason caught the second thug's hand, just as the knife was about to slice his face. The man punched the vigilante, whom caught the fist mid air, a struggle of strength ensued for but a moment, as Jason headbutted he man, kicked him in the right knee, forcing him to the ground, before sending his elbow into the back of his head, his limp body falling off the side of the building.

Jason grinned at the last thug – whom had seen his allies get decimated in but moments. He was certainly brave. Charging Jason, he leapt three feet into the air, aiming to bring his fist down onto Jason, whom stepped to the side, sending the man off the edge of the building. It would have, if the man with the red hair hadn't grabbed him by the collar. [color=Salmon][b]“Hold on.”[/b][/color]


***

Having interrogated the man, Jason found himself on the streets with the information he wanted. The Triad's warehouse. He had the address, this would be a major blow to the criminal underworld of Hong Kong. But first, he had to get armed. Calling in a supply drop from the League was out of the question, so he would have to improvise. Walking to the market, he browsed the various shops and stands, he came to a clothing store carrying male clothes. Looking, he asked for the most sold shirt the vendor had, and the vendor pointed to a white and black baseball-Tee, almost like the one he already wore. Jason grinned as he got out what money he had. His grin turned sour when the vendor turned the shirt around, showing off the chest.

Getting a leather jacket, a red beanie and a pair of cheap shades as well as the shirt, Jason was set. He moved into a changing room in the next store over, where he put on the new shirt, turning his old one completely into bandages, leaving only dirty scraps of the cloth behind.  Brandishing the shirt with the insignia of his home - the bat, in red, the jacket and the headgear, the Gothamite stole a pair of black driving gloves in passing of the same clothes shop. [color=Salmon][I] Now, let's see how Hong Kong's finest stack up..[/i][/color] the young man thought to himself, tightening the gloves on his hands, moving towards the motorcycle he previously had stolen..