i_havenoface Downtown, the harbor.
The talk with the strange girl? Had not helped. Not surprisingly.
Questions grew in number, and he was getting more frustrated. Some pieces in the city he recognized, others he did not. He had stopped to inquire some citizens, some were just as baffled as him. Others... well.
"Are you blind? That's the Baxter Building. Psh. Oh, wait -- sorry, man, I didn't know you had no eyes. Er."
Baxter Building? What the hell was...
The Question found himself at a harbor that he was sure was a combination of cities he knew and cities he did not know. It was annoying. He held his head, sighing.
No logic or sense to it.
He felt the chill of metal rest against his skull as a rather cliched gruff voice demanded behind him, "Wallet, man. Gimme yer wallet."
Turning sharply, in one fluid motion, the Question knocked the gun from the man's hand with a foot. "Don't carry a wallet," the faceless man grunted.
However, he found himself rather surrounded by several men.
Jack lept into the mix without hesitation. That faceless stranger looked like someone new. He was visibly confused (and battling what looked like either a headache or a hangover). A mugging was hardly a good welcome into this fucked-up place. And, you know, Jack hated to miss out on the chance for a good work-out.
The black-haired man landed hard, his bare feet seeming to pull the asphalt up to them, as his dark eyes narrowed. One big hand clenched into a fist, he sent a punch flying. He had checked himself well enough to be sure that the jaw he hit didn't break, but whomever he'd just floored wouldn't be singing his praises or anything when he came too.
"Hey," he tossed nonchalantly over his shoulder, like he just jumped into street fights all the time. His smirk was broad. "I'm Jack."
"The City," Jack said, as he moved his weight onto his hands and effectively slammed his heel into one man's sternum, sending him flying back with one hand grabbing at his chest.
"You won't be able to get out for a while, either, unless something serious changes." Jack was using jovial tones, all very casual, for being in the middle of a brawl.
If the faceless stranger had been paying close attention, he probably would've seen that the bottoms of Jack's feet had traction, like a tire or a tennis shoe. Jack had to assume that he could see without any eyes the same way he could talk without any mouth.
Leaping, the Question grabbed onto another man's shoulders, using the momentum to throw the thug through a window, shattering it.
"And elaborate: what is the City?"
He observed Jack best he could in the moment. Traction, on his feet. Ah... Very interesting.
Suddenly, he stopped, hand going to his chest.
"...Ngh...?"
It was burning...
A knife from one of the men found its way between his ribs; it was a struggle to not admit to pain, but he managed not to. His elbow smashed into his foe's face before he struggled to yank the blade out.