[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230318/2bc27b73fde45b7d63b4526753a61957.png[/img]
[sub][color=gray][b][i]"This is where the Law stops, and I start."[/i][/b][/color][/sub][/center]

It was the cold of night. The sun had set over Steel City over three hours ago. The outskirts of town were pitch black, lit only by occasional flashes of lightning as the rain poured down and thunder rumbled in the distant skies. On the old road approaching a dairy farm, a patch of road was dimly lit by the flaming wreckage of a motorcycle. The dim light revealed a masculine figure laying nearby. Shot in the back, the uniformed policeman lay face down in a muddy puddle of blood and water. His right hand clutched the handle of a Mauser CP6 pistol, while the left hand clutched the handle of a Bowie knife.

The [url=https://i.ytimg.com/vi/DojOeA3quT0/maxresdefault.jpg]symbol[/url] engraved on the blade almost appeared to pulsate with a soft glow in time with the flashes of lighting and flickering of the nearby flame. A haunting wind whispered its way across the scene, washing over the surely dead man. And when mixed with the pattering and splashes of raindrops, one could swear a distant voice could be just made out among the blowing wind.

[i]"Rise."[/i]

After moments of nothing happening, a bolt of lighting struck much nearer than any previous. The accompanying thunder roared alongside the now-howling wind. The distant whisper became a closer, more sharply-toned command.

[i]Rise!"[/i]

Hector's eyes shot open and he bolted upright in his cot. He looked around at his surroundings, confirming that he was indeed in the abandoned barn that he had repurposed into a hideout. It was spacious enough to park his bike inside of like a garage, and located outside of town where he would be allowed solitude and privacy. Hector wiped cold sweat from his face and stood upright. Sunlight peaked through the occasional cracks and spacing between planks, informing him that it was daytime - though he wasn't sure what time it was specifically. Even so, he set about his usual wake up routine.

He grabbed a bucket and used it to draw water from a nearby well outside. Then hung the barrel onto a simple pulley system he constructed in order to dump it on himself so that he could wash and clean himself. He turned on the radio of his bike, allowing himself to listen in on SCPD radio chatter while he went about getting dressed. At this time he picked up on some dispatch chatter, officially being labeled as a "drunk and disorderly" incident but with a certain code number attached to it that Hector recognized. It meant that there was a possible Doctor Death connection to this incident that the police were keeping quiet from the public until further investigation.

Hector had heard that name before, as anyone might have. And while he had yet to encounter Death personally, Hector had been diligent in trying to keep the reports of his activities on his radar. Perhaps Doctor Death was just another psychotic freakshow... or maybe he [i]wasn't[/i]. Hector had been investigating his "awakening" on the side, trying to piece together how and why he was able to survive something he surely shouldn't have. And there was a possibility - however slim - that this Doctor Death character had an answer. Or, if not that, a clue at least.

In the next moments, Lawman was suited and burst out of the main doors of his barn/hideout aboard his motorcycle. Going on "rides" like this during the day wasn't his usual M.O., but he was willing to buck his own patterns if it meant getting a shot at Doctor Death. With his bike's engine giving its signature haunting roar, he sped into Steel City en route to Kirby Park.