[center] [hr] [hr] [b][u][H1][color=c4df9b]Corvus Rodin Helston, the Arclight[/color][/H1][/u][/b] [hr] [hr] Location: Rooftop, looking out from a sniper's scope Interaction - Quasar Mentions: Picture Perfect, Archangel[/center] [i]I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you You, baby…[/i] The lyrics of 'All I Want For Christmas Is You' wafted in from a nearby restaurant directly below Corvus' vantage point, filling his ears with that same tune that had been nearly played a hundred times today. It wasn't like he minded, but he often wished that they'd switch to something else after the first fifty times that this song had been blaring out. He had often told them to try other songs when Christmas came, but alas… Mr. Alonzo just liked it a bit too much. Old man didn't want anything to change, and so there it was, ringing out for the 101st time. He would sometimes scroll through Picture Perfect's Instagram feed, but that was just to pass the time a bit more. He just had dinner... Corvus peered back into the scope of the antiquated Lee Enfield rifle; a precious relic that had been maintained for the last fifty or so years. It was used by his grandfather during the Second World War, a soldier that had barely evaded capture by the Wehrmacht during the evacuation of Dunkirk. When the war ended and the soldiers returned home, the gun was kept at home, maintained throughout the years as a display piece. That would have been the weapon's continual state… until the Chitauri attacked New York. Corvus quickly banished those thoughts of the past as he focused upon the present. There wasn't anything in particular that he was looking or waiting for today; he was merely on a sort of patrol. Criminals were plentiful in these parts, so days weren't usually dull. So far though, there hasn't been anything. Maybe Kingpin had been gracious enough to lay off for the holidays, unlikely as that might be. Or the mafias and crime groups had been busy in their own private celebrations, perhaps? *Caw*. The crow sitting on his shoulder, whose name was Ted, complained, letting out several cries that would have been quite out of place in Christmas season New York. [color=c4df9b]"What?"[/color] Corvus glanced towards the bird after whom he was named. [color=c4df9b]"I just fed you five minutes ago. That wasn't enough?"[/color] *Caw*. [color=c4df9b]"Okay, you want me to get up and go to another watchpoint?" [/color] *Caw* "You don't? Then what?" *Caw* [color=c4df9b]"You want me to give Archangel some food? It's not like he's easy to find, big wings notwithstanding?"[/color] *Caw* Corvus simply shrugged, peering through the scopes once again… and lo and behold, he saw the incorporeal form of Quasar floating around an old mechanic shop right across the street. It wasn't that easy to see, but he had sharper eyes than what was humanly possible, so he saw it, somehow. He and the Quasar knew each other, to an extent at least. Ted was a bit iffy around the space ghost, but he wasn't all that too terrified. For now, at least. [color=c4df9b]"Now does he have a phone…? No, unlikely…"[/color] Corvus sighed. "I gotta come down there myself by the stairs, then…" The man stuffed the gun into a cloth covering, and proceeded to walk down the stairs of that dilapidated building...