Haven’t slept in days, resorting to bouts of seconds-long microsleep while maintaining his watch over a target.
Enduring the process of removing a lodged bullet and tending to the searing wound. The pain is not lost on him, yet still he lacks the capacity to flinch to it.
Retrieving the weapon and symbol of a fallen Strider, his like one step closer to extinction for the era.
In the process of disassembling and repairing Cypher, cleaning out the dense caking of blood and guts from its mechanical components.
Sprinting along the rooftops, seamlessly turning would-be obstacles into feats of acrobatics as he soars like a streak of crimson.
No mission today, however keeping his body rehearsed is his responsibility.
