[b][h1][center][color=black]Reed[/color][/center][/h1][/b]

He was asleep when the knock came at the door, which was hardly surprising. He spent most of his time asleep, the sounds of clashing swords echoing throughout his mind. The sounds of heavy feet, weighed down by weapons and armor, sloshing through dirt-become-mud from the blood spilled on the battlefield, the cries of men fighting and dying all around him, horses screaming, cannons and guns firing, all of histories battles blending together in one cacophonous roar. He ignored the knock.
Half a minute later the knock rang out again, louder and harder, but still he ignored it and tried to drift back to sleep. The knock came again. They weren't going away. Sighing, Reed sat up, swinging he feet over the edge of the mattress and rubbing his eyes. In the back of his mind, amidst the sounds of battle, an irritation was forming but he consciously ignored it. Walking to the door and swinging it open, something fell to the ground. There was no one there. Stooping down to pick up the item, he found himself holding a letter, his name written on the envelope.

It couldn't of been his landlady, he was paid up for rent for the rest of the year just so he could avoid these kinds of interactions.  Tearing open the envelope he read the letter and sighed, turning around to walk back to his bed before collapsing onto the mattress once more. He tried to fall back asleep, but the irritation was there again. Louder this time. He sat back up.
So someone was knew what he was and was summoning him under threat of exposure. He didn't really care, but if he was exposed that would mean dealing with people. Lots of people for a very long time. He was better off going there, telling this person to fuck off and going home, it'd take less time and effort.

He made a few calls to a few pawn shops and made a few trips. By the end of the day he had a single long term storage shed payed up for the next year, $20,000 in cash and a small private plane taking him to Seattle. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a passenger plane full of people. He slept the whole way there.

[hr]

"Fuck." Reed muttered as he stood in the room. He'd been referred to the airport upon arrival and found himself staring at a crowd of several other people, and that's what bothered him. People, and people who drew attention no less. He thought this was going to be some one-on-one "I want you to do a job for me" thing that he usually got when people found out he couldn't die, but apparently this was a heist crew or something stupid. The last thing he needed was more people making more noise. Reed found a wall and leaned back against it, closing his eyes and trying to sleep.