The only thing more pathetic than these slums are the degenerates that inhabit it. Under Xander’s mask, his lip curls, and his nose scrunches up as he witnesses a man slam his elbow into a woman right Infront of him, as if the people here didn’t know he wasn’t a high ranking enforcer.

He’d circle back to that later, that isn’t why he’s patrolling these murky wastelands. His boots avoid people lying on the floor as he descends the crooked steps leading down to the square — where crime thrives.

All he has to do is take in some thieving lowlifes, then he’ll be back in the comfort in his upper class home, even if it does feel a little empty. Through his ultra vision goggles, he can see crime light up red, highlighting wrongdoers in crowds of filth, the waste under his boot.

His goggles show carrying shads of red for each crime, a balding, bespectacled man steeling a pack of elixir? He lights up a pink shade, but then flashes crimson as he takes in a scene, a vile man, raising his fist at a child no older than 8.

This was not the purpose of his dreaded descent into the slums, but his body moves without his permission, extending his whip and lashing at the raised fist of the putrid creature. The man however is not his concern, quickly being detained by subordinate officers. His eyes instead land on the terrified child, and behind the frightening gas mask, they soften.

This child, like so many, clearly has no parents, and whoever that man was, clearly isn’t a good fit. His house always has felt a bit empty, and with no interest in romance, maybe adopting a child would be a better option?

“Greetings, young snipe.” He’s very aware his gasp mask distorts his voice, making it raspy, and muffled, he’s aware enforcers are not taken to kindly here, that there are children’s scary stories about enforcers, and him, being a high ranking general, probably does not a lot to assure the child of safety.