He walks out of the hotel, carryall slung over one shoulder, camo hat pulled down just above his eyes. Earlier that day, people would look at him and see another bum; camouflage jacket, hat, leather gloves with exposed fingers, black tee-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of combat boots. Now it was different; no one could see much of anything. The lights are still out. His eyes are still able to make out heat signatures, but not much other than that. The elf pulls out a pocketflash and his pocket secretary; with one quick command, he brings up Jackson’s address. He knew Jackson had come to Seattle after the military. He wanted to look up his old friend while he was in the area. The two of them haven’t seen each other in years, not since he was in the hospital, recovering from the accident and Jackson came to visit. The accident…a hand reflexively reaches up to his throat, brushing the scars…
Shaking off the memory, the elf mounts his Triumph RK30 and heads off towards the address. He has to maneuver carefully around accidents left and right; the paramedics look like they have the situation well in hand, so he continues onward. Passing a piled-up bunch of Spikes, he draws his Colt Manhunter and fires a few explosive rounds at their gas tanks, resulting in a major explosion. Then, like his namesake, he breezes out of there.
Breeze makes no noise as he rides; Seattle has been plunged into chaos by this blackout, and he wants to get to Jackson before something happens to him. He can only hope that his old friend is there when he arrives; it’s been a long time. He pulls down his Army hat tighter to his head as it starts to get carried away, then adjusts his camouflaged jacket so it can flap freely in the wind. His carryall is a reassuring weight on his back. Breeze notes various locations; in case he ends up coming out to help, he wants a good idea where he can be most useful.
Recalling the address again, Breeze notes that he’s getting close. It’s time to go see an old friend.