[hr][h1][center][color=lightblue]Logan Kensington[/color][/center][/h1]
[hr]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/IUTOj2f.jpg[/img][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y88LVU7MAe4[/youtube][/center]

[sub][i]Now arriving at... FRIENDSHIP HEIGHTS... *DING* Stand back doors opening. When boarding, please move to the center of the car.[/i][/sub]

A wave of people pushed back and forth as a crowd exited the monorail car while an oncoming crowd tried to push into the car. There was the dull noise of working men and women shoving and the occasional 'excuse me', as the crowd filtered onto the bright and clean station and off into the surrounding neighborhood of the poorly lit Friendship Heights. A low end residential neighborhood filled to the brim with cheap apartments, shitty housing projects, small mom & pop shops, cheap chains, pawn shops, and the occasional office building. On the corners and porches groups sat in lawn chairs sipping on brown bags and smoking while blasting music on shitty speakers. Crowded as all hell- mostly with minorities and blue collar workers, and nearly devoid of regular police presence, it was a combination of a crime den and a safe haven- provided you knew who to turn to. 

Quickly turning as he exited the station, one in the crowd disappeared into an alley, throwing his hood over his head as he did. Separating himself from the crowd, Logan hid himself in a corner in the alley, releasing a shaky breath. If it was fear, anticipation, or some combination of the two, Logan could never tell, but he always got them before he got into the shit. He unslung the nondescript backpack off his shoulders and pulled a black jacket out of it, which he threw over his hoodie. Logan pulled his mask out of his pocket and covered his face, and a pair of hard-knuckle gloves courtesy of the local military surplus store covered his hands. A pair of covered cans with different colored tape came out of the backpack and were set into the stretchy water bottle holders on the side of the pack, before the backpack was zipped up and thrown back over his shoulders. He hit his knuckles together, a small blue spark and the satisfying, familiar crackle of electricity made itself known for a moment. 

Some twenty minutes later, Logan was on the roof of a convenience store, overlooking a small townhouse on 34th East- an Immortal’s trap house. At a glance, it would have been indistinguishable from its neighboring houses- had it not been for the rather bored looking enforcer standing at the porch. Grabbing the camera he had set up on the roof the weeks before, Logan shoved it roughly back into his backpack- he had seen enough of it to know that not many Immortals came to the den that often. There were a couple guys who lived in the house, and they occasionally had deals there, one such deal was going to be happening soon, as Logan had spotted moving truck and a box in the morning.

Sliding off the roof, Logan pulled the hood lower over his face, shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, and began sulking over to the house, his head down and shoulders hunched. As he started climbing the steps up the porch, the enforcer perked up a bit, and held his hand out.

“Sup guy, dunno what you’re here about, but you’re at the wrong house. Turn around.”

Logan shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. The enforcer, a somewhat overweight white dude with beady, sunken eyes and a shaved head leaned in close to him, the fancy ‘I’ tattoo on his cheek easily visible. The Immortal lifted up his shirt and revealed a pistol in the center of his pants. The hammer was down, safety on- in short, ready for action. 

“See this buddy?” the enforcer goaded, “You don’t wanna fuck with me, so back the fuck up.”

Like a flash of lightning, Logan had his hand firmly around the grip of the Immortal’s pistol, still in his pants but angled so the barrel pressed against the man’s inner thigh. There was a click as Logan switched off the safety of the pistol. 

[color=lightblue]”Hey gangster,”[/color] Logan said with a grin- though his mask covered it. His offhand reached up and pressed a small button on the mask, the LED mouth coming to life. [color=lightblue]”I think they’re expecting me.”[/color]
 
The color drained from the Immortal’s already pallid face, as Logan withdrew the gun from the man’s pants and slammed his hand into the Immortal’s chest. There was a stutter of a cry as electricity surged through the Immortal’s body, as he half fell- half flew backwards and crashed into the front door, before sliding to the ground, shuddering. Logan took a step back, aiming the appropriated pistol at the front door hinges and fired twice.

[i]BANG. BANG.[/i]  

The door fell to the ground as Logan applied a powered kick to the now hingeless door. There were confused voices inside as Logan pulled one of the cans with gray tape out from his backpack and pulled a pin. Almost immediately a thick white smoke began pouring out of the canister, which he promptly lobbed into the townhouse. The confused cries and coughing grew in volume as Logan took a breath and dived into the smokey townhouse. Quickly moving through the smoke, Logan grunted in surprise as he bumped head first into a gangster who was making his way towards the front. The gangster was covering most of his face but was coughing up a storm, and held a gun in his hand as he waved it wildly back and forth, trying to disperse the smoke. The two made eye contact, and Logan moved in close before the Immortal could aim his gun and slammed both fists into the man’s torso, sending him flying backwards as electricity coursed through him, plaster spraying the side of Logan’s face as the gun discharged and took out a chunk of the wall next to him.

In the smoke, Logan ducked into what appeared to be a kitchen as the deafening crack of low caliber handguns began to fill the townhouse as the remaining enforcers fired at what was likely the front door- and the source of their apparent invader(s). There was the sounds of plaster showering the ground as bullets tore through drywall, as Logan made his way through the kitchen around to what appeared to be the living room- coffee table upturned, TV playing the current football game, and a pair of Immortals blindly firing at the other room. Logan waited until the two emptied their pistols, reaching into their pockets for spare magazines before he sprung at them. 

The first fell almost immediately as Logan sprang out of the smoke and sucker punched him in the face. The second saw Logan in time, and backed out of the way of the second punch, his brow furrowing as recognition registered in his eyes. Grabbing the upturned coffee table, he lifted it and charged at Logan, taking the young vigilante off his feet and pinning him against a wall. Logan ducked his head to the right as a fist flew at it. After a second miss, the Immortal took his arm and instead used his forearm to push against Logan’s throat. Still pinned against the wall, Logan kicked at the man’s shins, as he grabbed at the pistol at his side. 

[i]BANG.[/i] 

The Immortal instinctively loosened up as he started to back up from the pistol, allowing Logan to push off of the wall and out from under the table. Logan attempted to point his pistol in the relative direction of the Immortal and managed to fire a few more times before the Immortal dived on top of him, one hand on the gun as he tried to wrestle it out of Logan’s hands while trying to beat the life out of Logan with his other hand. Wrestling under the weight of the much larger man, Logan managed to land a blow to the man’s temple, the following electric shock sending him spinning off of the top of him.

[color=lightblue]”Fuck.”[/color] Logan managed to groan as he pulled himself off the floor, collecting himself as he looked about the house, the smoke slowly clearing. The house was about what he’d expect, dirty and [i]well[/i] lived in, crampt and crowded with now more than a few dozen bullet holes for decoration, alongside so overturned furniture and a particularly broken coffee table.

The crate wasn’t that difficult to find- the townhouse was small, and they didn’t really bother hiding it. Cracking it open, Logan pulled the top off the box to find what looked like a dozen AK-47s, neatly packed in racks surrounded by a bed of straw. Logan smirked underneath his mask. 

[color=lightblue]”Bingo.”[/color] 

He pulled one out of the box and inspected it. Not that he knew much about guns. It was heavy, with steel and wooden furniture and a folding metal wire stock. He debated keeping one for himself, but a quick look through the box concluded that there were no magazines inside the box, just the weapons. The Immortals were smart enough not to sell loaded weapons. Throwing the AK unceremoniously back into the box, Logan grabbed the other canister with red tape out of his backpack and pulled the pin, dropping it into the box with the AKs. Stepping back, there was a loud pop, and then the sounds of fire, as the canister began spewing flames and sparks, and straw inside the box began to burn. 

Exiting the townhouse and back onto the streets of friendship heights, Logan turned off the LEDs on his mask, and drew his hood closer around him as he fled into the alleys, the sounds of sirens growing in the distance.