Music thumped into his ear like a second hearth tythm. Pumping in his veins along his blood, making him more daring, more careless. He was running, but the world wasn't keeping up. ”White Rabbit” was the undisputed king of couriers. Light feet had him catjumping and vaulting over obstacles without slowing him down. He was the wind, he was fucking unstoppable. Feet hit the curved cheremics of a roof with the fleetest of movement and he was already running as if he had not jumped across a alley. Inside backpack was evidence of murder, sent to him from Black Queen. She needed him to get it to the some atorney dude, and make sure it didn't fall in the head of 'Chesire'. He picked up speed, feeling the chilly night air grow more humid as the night fell upon him.

There was a large leap just up ahead, between a 6 story building and a 4 stories building. People like him called it the 'Devils leap'. The fall made it easier to clear with enough momentum. But the big problem was the landing, due to the drop you gained to much momentum and were liable to break your legs with a bad fall. The second reason to its name was that the landing was not on a fla surface but the tiled slope. Rabbit knew however, that if you aimed towards the large chimney you could grab it and shift some of that momentum before landing in nice roll. Timing was everything. Rabbit drove his feet, the song in his head phones met a vivid, angry crescendo and he flew. For a few second he was weighless, a god in flight. Then two streets down, the air bristled with heat as a bomb went off. His concentration broke, he hit the goddamn chimney hard, and bounched panifully of it. Scrambling for foothold on the slippery slopes as he started to roll he just badely managed to keep himself from becoming a smeer on the pavement alone. Catching his breath he stared down toward the smoke and fire. 

“Holy.. Shit. They done it this time” He mumbled as he stared in awe at the destruction. What kind of ordinance did those guys have to make something like that. Getting back onto his feets, he winced and felt the side of his leg. Bruised and tenderized like a texas beef, but he had somehow avoided major injury. He carried on, getting on with his route. He mustn't be late.