Draku would stand at the edge of the Empire State Building, arms folded across his chest, lost deep in thought. After all the time he spent here in this new age, things were still so alien to him, and being no stranger to the supernatural, he still could not wrap his mind around how many super powered beings now occupied this world.

Many an opportunity to protect the mortals of this world did present themselves however, Draku seemingly always being in the right place at the right time. In the time he resided in this era, he had saved countless innocent lives from all sorts of disasters. Natural and man-made alike. He didn't always have the smoothest way of doing things, sometimes causing more damage to the surrounding area than the original disaster itself would have caused, but he always saved lives.

Though he took no side, he also answered to no one for what he considered a good deed. Saving lives seemed more important than bothering with the governing forces that ruled these lands, earning him the title of Anti- Hero by the presses and several other media outlets. It was a bit comical to him, the term made little sense, yet it filled him with a sense of accomplishment. But for that very reason, he wasn't on good standing with the law.

He was here in this very spot when the incident unfolded. He could have intervened, but he didn't, he didn't raise a single finger, nor move a single muscle. Rather. He chose to watch it all with unwavering attention to detail. He knew nothing of the cause for this massive attack on this city, but he did know that the beings protecting it were worthy heroes indeed and had decided that his own services were unrequired. They had seemed to be doing enough damage on their own as it stood. 

With a heavy sigh, Draku would step from the edge of the building out into open air; allowing himself to plummet towards the ground below, taking the 1,250 foot drop without so much as a spike in his heart rate. Within the near 10 seconds it took to reach the ground below, he would have created a powerful gust of wind beneath him; compared to that of a vertical wind tunnel used in indoor skydiving facilities, to slow his fall. As he saw it, he'd rather kick up some dirt and debris than crater the concrete from the impact of his landing; limiting the amount of collateral damage he was capable of causing altogether. He would land fully erect, his coat billowing about him as the wind dispersed, sliding his hands into his coat pockets and walking away from the awe struck bystanders. He needed a drink and knew of this interesting little bar he could get one at.