A lone man sat in a doorway down the street. His golden eyes were shining through the shadows cast by the walls of the ruined building. Atma decided it was time to go and do something. He stood up and brushed off his pants, taking care to avoid the sharp tips of the kunai thrust through his belt and the daggertail on his right side. He readjusted the rope that was slung across his torso and prepared to move out.<br/><br/>Someone looking at him now would see a man standing at 5'10" wearing a faded tie-dye shirt and a pair of jeans with holes in them. His shoes were thin soled and would make very little noise. A scarf was wrapped around his face and an old pair goggles with a crack in the lower right corner was resting around his neck. Underneath the scarf one would find shoulder length black hair and a short beard. Atma knew where the Hunter's club was as many of the experienced hunters did.<br/><br/>He started walking towards the club down the street, his six kunai clanking against each other; the segments of the daggertail weren't too quiet either. He'd have to fix that later. Atma made it to club moments after he saw someone leave and walked right in. He walked down the stairs to where all the tables were and sat down, taking in his surroundings. He didn't see anyone he knew so he kept quiet.