Khaled leaned against the wall of the alley, nestled between the darkness of two dirty buildings of The Underground. He was about 6", with caramel brown skin. His eyes hinted at his pacific islander heritage, but his fathers Irish side gave him his height and size. His dark brown eyes, stared intently across the street. A small orange-red ember flared in the darkness as he inhaled on the cigarette he held between his lips. Across the street from the alley, the abandoned hospital loomed in front of him. After walking around all day, looking for a place where he might be able to stock up on necessities, he stumbled across the hospital. Seizing the opportunity, he decided to stake it out for a bit. Even though it was obviously abandoned, he still hoped that he might be able to find some items of use. God knew that bullet wounds didn't stop bleeding by themselves. He simply waited in the darkness, determining if anyone occupied the building. Everyone knew that crazy people, and other gangs loved places like this. Big, with enough room to house a group and their supplies. Knowing full well that there could still be someone or a group of people there, he decided it was worth the risk. "Go big or go home" he muttered, and took another drag on his cigarette.
He slowly slid down the wall he was leaning against, sitting up on the floor of the dirty alley. Shaking his head to get his grey-black hair out of his eyes, he stared up at the vast ceiling of the Underground. Seeing it always made him feel depressed. Here in London Below, that view was a constantly giving people feelings of oppression and dominance. It was an every man for himself kind of place he thought, and after a moment gave a small chuckle. Or herself he reminded himself. Lord knew how many time he had almost died at the hands of a woman. Getting up, he brushed off his dark blue jeans, and plain black shirt. Finishing up his cigarette, he let it drop to the ground, and crushed it with his foot. Let's get to it he thought.
He took a moment to make sure he was ready. Patting himself down to make sure he had everything, he took a mental inventory. Small lock picking kit, padded gloves, wire cutters, and his trusty sub-nose revolver. Checking to see how many bullets he still had, he sighed after counting only two. Bullets were hard to come by, and he knew that he needed to find more. Getting those however would be extremely risky, and he knew that if he broke into the places where those were kept, he knew that he stood to lost more than his life. More like a few fingers and toes first. He hoped that he wouldn't have to waste the bullets, and tucked it away his his thigh holster.
He exited the alley, walking up the street away from the hospital. He kept a steady pace, until he neared the side of the hospital. He walked around the corner, and surveyed the area. The street was dirty, with papers and other debris being blown around from the poor excuse for wind blowing in the Underground. The street lights were dim, barely illuminating the street with their weak light. Seeing no one around to impede him, he turned to the nearest window. After picking the lock on the shutters, he exposed the glass. Peering inside, he saw that it was some kind of store room, dusty and cluttered with boxes, he figured it was as good as a place as any to start.
He gripped the window frame and slowly applied pressure. When it didn't budge, he frowned and pushed harder. He cursed to himself, and looked to see if there was some sort of lock. Seeing a simple latch that was turned from the inside, he began to grumble to himself. "I hate windows, stupid things." and glared at the window for a moment. Seeing as how his lock picks were useless to him, he took off his dark green jacket and wrapped it around his hand. After looking around to see if anyone was around, he hit the window once, twice, three times, until the glass shattered. Freezing for a minute, waiting to see if anyone inside heard it and was coming to investigate, he held his breath. After a moment passed, he reached through and turned the latch. Pulling his arm back out of the window, and throwing his jacket back on, he slowly slid it open.
Gripping tightly, he lifted himself up and through the window, barely making any noise as he touched the floor. He turned around and closed the shutters, concealing the broken window. Although it was almost pitch black, he managed to turn around, and quietly knelt to begin rummaging through the boxes on the floor. He cursed as he felt only papers in most of them, figuring that they were just hospital records. He rose, and slowly made his way to the door. Opening it as quietly as he could, he peeked out into the next room and grimaced, seeing the somewhat furnished room gave him hesitation. He argued with himself for a moment, and decided that he might as well see what he could find. If people were here, then they would have supplies for sure. He eased into the room, and began to slowly walk through it. Smiling as he spied an ashtray with a few cigarette in it, laying atop a desk, he felt a bit of respect for them.
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