He saw the leather jacket at first, and couldn’t help but think: “How cool is that?”; then the curved blade and animal skull mask… The Masked Hunter stalked purposefully through the rain; Skids knew that he was no match against it. Skids pressed himself close to a wall, feeling terribly frightened. Breathing steady, shallow puffs, gripping the makeshift garrotte, a cheese wire, he waited for it to pass by.
He wiped bloody fingers upon his trouser leg as he looked around the train station. There were so many passengers that he groaned in despair: he’d never be able to burgle the place. Some careless person had left a parcel unattended; he picked it up, took a few steps away, and was quickly swallowed by the crowd.