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Gerard woke rather early that morning. After all, he needed to call someone for a ride. His equipment made it nigh impossible for him to move around the city normally. The antiquated lustre of his room became illuminated with the light of his phone. The phone itself was a relic of the past; rather than some ultra-thin, million pixel laser light display, it was a simple brick with a thick screen. It was a miracle the phone still worked.

He reluctantly called Cash. Not out of disdain of the man, of course. Rather, it was simply because Gerard didn't want to inconvenience him. After a short conversation, Gerard had procured his ride to Cash's estate.

With a few hours to spare before dawn broke, Gerard left to gather his bearings. He didn't need his cane today. It would be much too busy for that, after all.

He quietly left the cafe and began to prepare for the day ahead. He ate, cleaned up himself, and did whatever other morning routine one could do in that time. Once everything was finished, he left to collect his equipment.

His journey left him in a rather bad spot of town. Formerly an industrial block, the buildings were rather quick to be abandoned, turning it into a ghost town. Rust reclaimed any sort of metal. Any valuable baubles or riches had been taken years ago. It was the perfect spot to hide something.

Gerard had entered a half-destroyed building. The concrete was barely holding the thick metal roofing. It was a certifiable deathtrap, one that only a fool would walk into. He crept along, passing the remnants of the machinery that had been vandalized beyond the point of no repair. He paid it no heed. He only used this building to hold one thing.

A large gate of steel greeted him. Held down by thick weights and enough locks to open a lock store, it was impossible for anyone else to open it. Unless of course, they had some rich man's tool or ability to cut through the ancient metals to get inside. One by one, Gerard opened the locks, each one falling to the ground. He placed his hands at the bottom of the gate, lifting it up as it folded into the roof of the room. With dust settling, Gerard saw his old equipment - his past that he would never be able to part with.

He put on his equipment, the weight of each plate bearing down on him. It was rather hard to move in, indeed. He threw a large draping of rags on the suit, concealing its large appearance. It made it much easier to move in public while wearing it. Nobody questioned giant and possibly obese men wearing rags in this day and age. He left the facility, pulling down the gate to conceal his hiding place.

A van was already there to pick him up. He graciously entered, his body almost completely filling the inside. The van left on its long journey, leaving nothing but dust.

Entering Cash's property was always the experience. A perk of the filthy rich, no doubt. They pulled up to the lot and Gerard left the van. He stood behind the crowd watching Cash's demonstration. First it was the box and the plastic sheet. Next, it was the chicken. He watched intently as Cash placed the chicken inside of the box and taped it closed. As Cash finished writing the symbol, the chicken exploded, leaving an (albeit contained) bloody mess. Gerard didn't jump when it exploded. Rather, he was more concerned about the implication. Runes that anyone could draw to make [i]that[/i] happen? They didn't have any clues to [i]who[/i] was using this strange power. Gerard hated dealing with the more intangible nightmares. He was rather stuck in the physical realm, after all.