Heavy, slow breathing. The mechanical cogs and conduits span and sputtered as inside the dark, warm helmet the man's eyes tried to analyse the events. While terrorist attacks were new to Tokyo, there seemed to be much more to this tale than some petty Muslim extremist. 

"Hmph. Omega. Whoever named themselves that really needs to find a bit less a cliche name." 

The man sighed, standing up with his prosthetic and synthetic body. Taking a few trudges to the corner of his small room, he grabbed a pole with a cloaked arm and gloved hand, using it to yank down a ceiling panel. The figure took a few more steps up this staircase to what should be an empty loft, used for storage for unwanted things. But nothing in this small apartment block was what it looked like. Inside this loft were 4 dusty canisters, attached to the wall and large enough to contain a human being. A light flickered up on the left panel of the wall, waiting for something.

"Sicarius, activate." 

Smiling, the figure took off his cloak, revealing a mutilated body. His left leg all mechanical, and his right leg fleshy up to the knee. His torso peppered with mechanical ribs and leathery shoulder pads, connecting his body to his both prosthetic arms. The pistons in his limbs were powerful, as he stood in a posture better than some healthy peoples'. However, his head was completely covered in metal and plastic. A WW2 gas mask gave him a menacing stare, as his eye sockets were tinted over. The breathing came from the respirator attached to his neck, pumping out terrible gas and taking in everything he needed. The cylinder he was staring at slowly opened sideways, revealing a high-tec suit of armour.

"We'll just have to see whether his name lives up to the man."