Stiletto woke from the lack of sound. The city was never silent. Wherever you'd go, you'd hear the cars, the angry buzz from the kid bikes departing from the down trodden pizza joint across the street. People were shouting, laughing, crying... whatever. But they were never silent. Before he opened his eyes, Stiletto knew he was no longer in the shabby apartment he jokingly refered to as 'home'. A smooth, sinuous stretch brought him to his feet and he ducked instinctively into that fighter's crouch, hands spread and low. The Mage's voice was answered with an ominous narrowing of the man's eyes and almost impercible twitch at the corner of the thin lips.<br/><br/><i>A maze, eh?</i>That was nothing new. The streets resembled a maze sometimes and he had to rely on his memory and sense of direction more than once when fleeing from a vengeful crowd. He was no sissy, but picking one's fights was one of the basic rules of survival Stiletto swore by. There were other rules, codes and laws but almost all were born of common sense. Without them, you didn't survive.<br/><br/>He searched his memory for this 'mage' but nothing came to mind. As far as he knew, he didn't have an enemy of that name. Maybe one of those jokers he'd humiliated last sunday had grown some balls and called in some fresh muscle. It didn't matter.. He'd get out of here and whoever was responsible would pay...<br/><br/>He moved forward, his outstretched fingers gliding along the walls. His gaze flitted over the corridor. Left, middle, right, up... Back to left... His progress quickened, but the caution never wavered.