True to his name Truant is absent, though not necessarily by choice - running from the crime scene, again, mistaken for the criminal, again - just his luck, isn't it, whenever he tries to help it blows up in his face, sometimes literally. He's not very good at this, is he? But he has to do it. He has to atone.
Skinny leather pants are not exactly suited for running, so he banks a sharp right at the end of the block and starts scaling the wall, straight up, up to the roof. Safer up there, generally. Of course, leather pants and studded jacket aren't really suited for this, either, but he does what he has to. Sure, he could use his powers, but that's what he's atoning for. Powers are the problem. No, he'll use those only in times of true emergency, thank you. The rest of the time it's all vaguely developed parkour and macgyver tactics. He's like Batman, if Batman were more of a sewer rat than a billionaire philanthropist.
Finally ascended to relative safety, he curls up against the little wall running around the roof and lets out a slow breath, tugging his jacket tighter around himself in meager defense against the wind. He stares dully across the empty expanse, thinking over the scene he'd had to vacate, what he might do better next time (yeah right) - then, with a weary jerk of the wrist, takes out a cigarette and lights up. He really needs a break. But he doesn't deserve one. He has to keep fighting back against everything he's done, everything he is, right down to the name he gave himself.
no subject
True to his name Truant is absent, though not necessarily by choice - running from the crime scene, again, mistaken for the criminal, again - just his luck, isn't it, whenever he tries to help it blows up in his face, sometimes literally. He's not very good at this, is he? But he has to do it. He has to atone.
Skinny leather pants are not exactly suited for running, so he banks a sharp right at the end of the block and starts scaling the wall, straight up, up to the roof. Safer up there, generally. Of course, leather pants and studded jacket aren't really suited for this, either, but he does what he has to. Sure, he could use his powers, but that's what he's atoning for. Powers are the problem. No, he'll use those only in times of true emergency, thank you. The rest of the time it's all vaguely developed parkour and macgyver tactics. He's like Batman, if Batman were more of a sewer rat than a billionaire philanthropist.
Finally ascended to relative safety, he curls up against the little wall running around the roof and lets out a slow breath, tugging his jacket tighter around himself in meager defense against the wind. He stares dully across the empty expanse, thinking over the scene he'd had to vacate, what he might do better next time (yeah right) - then, with a weary jerk of the wrist, takes out a cigarette and lights up. He really needs a break. But he doesn't deserve one. He has to keep fighting back against everything he's done, everything he is, right down to the name he gave himself.
Johnny is Truant.
[leave it to Johnny to make this prompt a bummer. he looks approximately like this]