A man strides out of an darkness- smiling as he exits an Alleyway- and frowning, as a Gold Brick nearly takes his face- he darts back, and bites back a curse. "THE ACTUAL FUCK!?" is heard loudly yelled from his position- and then he looks up- and he see's the bastard responsible. "The fuck is that?!" he yelled out- and opened his cloak, to pull a pair of large guns. He was pissed. Then he paused. Put one of the guns back- and put the Gold bar in his pack, before once more drawing his second gun. He begins to rise- leaping from wall to wall- the close nature of the walls in the alleyway letting him easily parkour up to a roof.<br/><br/>Then he looks at the Jet. He knows pistols are unlikely to do much at this range, and begins to decide how to close the distance best. He sighs, and then notices the Pun-slinging mech chasing his foe,. He grins, and laughs. "Get that overgrown tincan- Yeah!" He ignores the fact that he knows what neither is- before sprouting from his back wings of shadow. They rip forwards- his blood a catalyst for the magic, as he flys up after the thing.