[i]Just follow the red line... Simple enough.[/i] The sound of Eric's thoughts boomed over the passing of the subway cars overhead, mentally repeating the instructions he had been a short time ago. The memory had struck out sporadically and vividly in his mind since, the veiled face of "Booker Conway" imprinted against the backdrop of a burning police cruiser etched into his eyelids and the sound of the distorted voice of the masked man echoing through his ears even when other noise should have drowned it out. Since that days, the words, half instructions to a better way of serving the people and half directions to this new, subterranean abode, were all that Eric could grasp within his thoughts. 

[i]"If you want to help the [b]real[/b] people and serve [b]true[/b] justice, then you'll follow the red line...[/i]

There had been further instructions; a penned point-list and map of where to go and how to get there. Eric had set that into the first firing barrel he could find in the slums and let it burn; he had memorized the information quite quickly, through some mental rehearsal and visualizations. To no surprise of his, it had worked. He had found the red line that Conway told him about, and at that very minute was following it on the home stretch, carrying a suitcase and an expensive looking tack box overflowing with his tools-of-trade. 

With a shrug of his arm, he checked his wristwatch, accelerating without skipping a beat; he was running late, courtesy of the lovely people at the stage company who insisted on explaining everything he already knew about every product he had purchased. Soon thereafter, he caught a glimpse of another young fellow, entering a door that matched Booker's specifications. Sprinting silently to cover the distance, he slipped just before the door closed, and just in time to get the brief scoop on his new team's first assignment. "So it'll be a good old cast party to kick off our opening act eh? I like it."