"You know who I am. You don't know where I am. And you will never see me coming."
8:30 PMHe had always been a problem to the company. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't. His heart couldn't be stopped and his blood had broken down every microchip they had placed in his system. They couldn't scare him into doing anything he didn't want to, and in the end they did nothing but strike deals with him. Most of the time he was on the most benefitting side in those bargains.
His pointer claw drew circles on the bottle cap on his wine, each revolution leaving an scratched indentation in the metal. He had no fear then, he had no fear now when the man hit the kill switch. All he was was a man with an invisible hammer attempting to become Obsidian 2.0. Sequels were always worse than the original. This was no different. Manhattan square... He hoped that whatever this person had planned he hoped he had the tools necessary to hold back everyone else who wanted to get their hands on him and the other operatives. Not that he'd care. They'd regret having him around as soon as he escaped whatever confines they had for him. He always did. Normally he'd have better things to do, but this person could give him something worth visiting for. He was always good at bargaining. Especially when he had higher ground and the other had nothing to threaten him with.
That and he was in New York already.
He released a held breath and flicked the television off. He was currently working in a sewer that he had changed to make his home. He wondered if this was how the teenage mutant ninja turtles would have felt if they existed. He stood up, minding his massive claws as to not tear the fabric of the couch as he stood. Life in the past few years had been rough, but he has survived. When his Quartz brothers fell he carried on. He was a survivor, just like the animals he took after. Primordial and so evolutionary sound that they had barely changed in millions of years. He dawned his huge coat. On most grown men it would be down to their knees in size. He was so much larger than the average person that attempting to blend in was impossible. He had to move, and feed at night or to stay hidden throughout the day if he wanted everyone to not know he existed.
He momentarily wondered if the others thought he was dead, and then he wondered how they would react to him being alive.
He popped the collar of his jacket. He was momentarily appreciative of the fact that he had been dressed at the time of escape. His huge sickle claw tapped on the concrete floor, and he moved into another room. It was like a kitchen actually. Not a super nice place, but it had some of the basic equipment. A fridge, stove, other things all hooked up to a generator. All of which he had stolen at some point or another. It had been hard to move some of the bulkier objects. He had the strength for it, but moving some of the equipment through man holes and entryways had been risky. He moved over and opened the fridge, and to any other person the semi-homely attitude would've been lost instantly. Out of the fridge the great reptilian man pulled a human head in one hand, and what looked like a butchered thigh in the other. He was feeling especially hungry tonight. Blood slowly defrosted and dripped down on the ground from both body parts, creating soft tacking sounds on the concrete floor. The soft light of the room illuminated a bloody cleaver stuck into what seemed to be a chopping block. setting the thigh down, the great reptile lifted up the decapitated head by it's hair to look it over. People had gone missing, mostly those that wouldn't be missed. He was a predator, and he sought out the prey he wouldn't be tracked for killing.
"Good evening, thank you for joining me for dinner."
10:00 AMHannibal had taken to the buildings the following morning, armed with nothing but a pair of binoculars, seeing no need for a weapon. He would wait and see if he wanted to involve himself in the situation. He was not feeling like fighting this day. His tongue flicked in and out of his mouth, constantly smelling the air. The air was foul, and polluted. Much like the sewers but in a different way. He wondered if any would actually show up to this, and if they did, then who would be there? Many of his Quartz-brothers and sisters had been killed through various means over the past few years. He was taking a risk being out in daylight, he worked at night for a reason. His body shimmered for a moment, his ability to camouflage adapting to the surroundings and making him appear as if he wasn't there. The image his body made was somewhat distorted, but a careful eye would spot the faint outline of his being if they were close enough. He dully remembered someone once saying that looking at him in this was somewhat stressing on the eyes, like looking through a pair of prescription glasses that are someone else's. His eyes moved separately in several directions, watching for anyone he remotely recognized. As finding their whereabouts and protecting them from harm should they need it would provide him with a valuable asset if he required them. A few people owing him a few favors couldn't hurt, and letting someone feel like they are getting close could lead to dinner, or someone willing to throw their life away to protect his... Neither of which really bothered him, as food in his belly was always good and someone willing to save him some pain later on was a welcome thing. Not that he'd ever return the favor. Of course they wouldn't know that. He was a lone wolf, and a vicious one. But the stag hunt philosophy stated that working as a pack can and will lead to better outcomes. He was all about choosing his battles. That was why he was here now.
"Come now..," the psychopath monologued, watching the square. "Fortune favors the patient... Give me something interesting to watch..."