Wire
There was no mistaking it: the trail led here. Right to a manhole cover. Why anyone would consider this a safe haven was beyond him.
The job came to him like all of his others: with an appearance at his office. Of course, the only thing in his office were the words "Private Invesitgations" and a camera. The appearance this time, like so many others, was from the handler too afraid of consequences from above. They were all the same: men in suits with an air of pride and an almost implied demand of respect. Their reactions to the empty office had usually been a mix of contempt and superiority, but as word began to spread, they now knew what it meant to walk into that office and smile for the camera. It meant that you were about to be subject to hours upon hours of scrutiny and investigation, and if you were lucky, a visit.
A visit from Wire.
The walking stereotype that gave him this job was a veteran thug. Multiple counts of assault, theft, and a long history of bribery and blackmail. And with a surprisingly strong legal team. He was the same. Well it had turned out that one of his charges had messed up: they had recently gotten a bit angry at a lack of service in a nice coffee shop and had smashed a table, a few ribs, and at least one kneecap. And they were a low tier meta. There weren't any potential homicides attached to this case, but the police were still pissed. And rightly so, with a madman like him wrecking such a nice coffee shop. And for the aggravated assault of course. Of course. Its just that he had seen so many now, and helped keep those creeps out of prison that he rarely thought he deserved to sleep so soundly at night. No matter. It would all be worth it in the end.
Anyway, mask on, Wire approached the man and listened to the details. Howard Phillips wrecked the nice coffee shop, and then promptly left. He had been off the grid since. The League didn't get involved because this guy fell under the umbrella that can keep the media at bay. His favourite coffee shop got no coverage when this barbarian demolished it. How unfair. And now he was being asked to track him down before an unapologetically incorruptible group of police officers manage to, and work hard to open up pandora's box. Not that he cared about pandora's box.
He accepted the job, and made his way to the usual haunts of his new mark. None of them had seen him since before the incident, and seeing as this was 3 days after the fact, it was distinctly unusual. The meatheads were always at a place they thought was 'safe', whether it was a bar, some club or their mum's house, which meant only one thing: no place seemed safe to this guy. He was going to be a problem. And with a quick search of the manhole covers in the surrounding area which were usually welded into the concrete, his suspicions were proved correct. One had been pried off, with indents of fingers on both sides. The fingers were the right size, and once again, Wire was happy to declare that memorising everything was still good practice. He lifted the cover with ease, and strapped on his gloves. With a slight groan of annoyance, he prepared to climb down the hole.