Suitin' Up

I've been laying low for the past few weeks. Just going over it all in my head. Regrouping, sorting things out, but above all else, healing.

I still can't believe I let it happen. My getting stabbed and having my back torn open sure wasn't part of the plan. It's just made me realize I wasn't ready. I was more than prepared physically, no doubt about it, this has all been years in the making. But mentally, not so much. I let my emotions play too big a part. I enjoyed it too much and I let the pleasure and the sheer thrill of it all distract me. It won't happen again.

I pace around my apartment endlessly, trying to burn off some energy but before long I can't take it anymore. I feel like a caged rat and I've got to break free.

So I suit up.

Black hat pulled low. Matching bandana concealing my face.

Black duster with the collar pulled high, hiding the japanese armour underneath.

Twin six-shooters on my hips with dragon-head handles and two ancient-as-shit kitana blades strapped to my back.

The perfect combination of the east and the west.

All this plus a few surprises of course.

Minutes later I'm hop-scotching across the rooftops, looking for a workout.

Looking for trouble.