Tim hits the graveled roof with more force than he intends. His knees buckle and he catches himself against an airvent before shifting and pressing his back to the heated metal and slides down to his ass. The bifurcated, rehensile folds of his cape, designed to look like feathered wings when spread, drags limply behind him and pools under him. He let's his head hit the vent with a muffled thud, one hand pressed to his side. He thinks he might have cracked a rib, if the inability to draw a full breath without dizzying pain and spot vision are any sort of indication. His hair is a mess of sweat, grime, and dried blood that he scrubs absently at with his other hand. Armored gauntlet snagging loose strands and tugging them free of his scalp. It says something he doesn't notice the sting. His mouth tastes like smoke and blood. Copper metallic tang that makes his swallow reflexively the muggy night air. It's barely even that anymore. The distant horizon has begun to fade into indigo and burnished orange. A telltale signal of dawn being imminent. His knees quake, and he only manages to push himself partially standing before he sinks back to the roof and his ass with a shattered sounding gasp. His chest armor wasn't enough to stop an armor piercing round from finding its way into his side, and he hopes it missed anything vital. He fumbles for his utility belt, for the syringe of adrenaline, and the pack which will stem any bleeding so he doesn't flatten himself trying to grapple to his nearest safehouse. He just-- His eyes slip closed... ...needs to close his eyes for a minute.
plotted starter with @ownsthenight
